#the starfield tag begins.

[nukaposting]

starfield is amazing. i am having so much fun fighting in space

[novaursa]

Of Gods and Men (contact)

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Paring: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: exodus

- Next part: daenys

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: The reader will have much more larger role in the next part as plot is established better.

The transport starship of House Vex shuddered as it emerged from the shimmering folds of space, settling into the cold, dark void at the exact coordinates it always did. This part of the unknown universe was rarely traveled, its stars dim and uncharted, hidden far beyond the grasp of the Imperium’s prying eyes. The black and sleek ship, known as Vassel's Edge, gleamed under the faint light of distant stars, its wing-like solar collectors retracted as it prepared for its next stage of the journey.

Captain Harl Vex, a stout man with sharp green eyes and a graying beard, stood at the helm, his fingers tapping methodically on the command console as he surveyed the coordinates. This route was familiar to him, yet today something felt different. His ship was not carrying its usual crew; today, several guests from House Ix were aboard, their curiosity piqued by the mysterious buyer House Vex delivered to.

Harl glanced over his shoulder to where the members of House Ix were seated—three of them, watching the starfield with a mix of intrigue and impatience. The leader of the group was Serus Ix, a tall, thin man with cold blue eyes and a keen intellect that had earned him a reputation as one of the finest minds in his House. Beside him sat Xyla Ix, his younger sister, who shared her brother’s sharp features but had a more cautious demeanor. Lastly, there was Daric Ix, an engineer known for his fascination with all things technological, his mind always whirring with possibilities.

“Coordinates confirmed,” Harl muttered under his breath as the ship's scanners hummed to life. “Now, we wait.”

As if on cue, the space before them flickered, and a green light began to sweep over the ship. The Ixians exchanged glances as the green light pulsed along the ship’s exterior, scanning it methodically from bow to stern.

“What is that?” Daric asked, his curiosity piqued as he leaned forward. “Some sort of advanced scanning technology?”

Captain Vex glanced at him but continued monitoring the readouts. “Precautionary measure,” he said calmly. “From the station where we’ll be delivering the spice. They’re very particular about security, especially with the type of cargo we’re carrying.”

Serus leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “Station? I thought we were meeting a buyer directly. Why all this secrecy?”

Harl gave a thin smile, knowing better than to reveal too much to his guests. “That’s how things are done out here, Serus. House Hightower controls the sentinel stations in this part of space. They keep watch for intruders. We deliver the spice there, and it’s transported elsewhere. And today…” He turned to face Serus fully. “…the mysterious buyer has agreed to meet with you, as per our arrangement.”

Before Serus could press further, the comms crackled to life.

“Vassel’s Edge, you are cleared for docking,” came the calm, authoritative voice of the station commander. “Proceed to docking bay three. You have passengers aboard from House Ix?”

Harl nodded, toggling the comms. “Confirmed. House Ix representatives are aboard, as agreed.”

There was a brief pause before the commander’s voice returned. “They will be escorted to the meeting hall upon arrival. Follow docking instructions precisely.”

The communication ended abruptly, and Harl guided the ship forward, feeling the slight pull of the station’s gravity field as they neared the massive structure. The sentinel station loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the backdrop of stars. Its angular design was distinct, built for both defense and secrecy, with long spires extending outward, each armed with powerful weapons and sensors capable of detecting any intruder who dared approach this part of space uninvited.

The docking process was smooth, as it had been many times before for Harl. The massive bay doors of the station slid open, revealing the illuminated interior where several other ships, all smaller and less significant than Vassel’s Edge, were docked. The ship glided in silently, its wings folding back as it gently touched down on the docking platform.

As soon as the docking clamps secured the ship, the bay doors sealed shut behind them, and the interior lights of the station grew brighter. The docking platform was already bustling with activity—station personnel moving about, preparing for the next phase of the spice transfer. But amidst the commotion, a group of armored guards stood waiting by the entrance to the station’s inner corridors.

Captain Vex stood and turned to the Ixians. “This is where we part ways for now. The commander will escort you to the meeting hall. I suggest you tread lightly—our hosts are not known for their patience.”

Serus, Xyla, and Daric rose from their seats, adjusting their formal House Ix attire. “We can handle ourselves,” Serus said coolly, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty.

The group exited the ship together, stepping down the ramp onto the station floor. The guards were waiting for them, each clad in dark, matte armor that seemed to absorb the station’s artificial light. Their helmets were faceless, their identities concealed, but their presence alone was enough to signal the station’s seriousness about security.

“Welcome to Sentinel Station,” one of the guards said, his voice distorted slightly by the helmet’s modulator. “Follow us. The meeting will begin shortly.”

Without another word, the guards turned and led the group down a long, sterile corridor that wound through the heart of the station. The walls were smooth and metallic, illuminated by thin strips of white light that cast long shadows as they walked. The air was cool, almost too cool, and there was an unsettling quiet that settled over the group as they moved deeper into the station.

As they walked, Daric couldn’t help but whisper to his sister, “This place feels…off. Like there’s something they’re not telling us.”

Xyla gave a subtle nod but kept her gaze forward. “Keep your thoughts to yourself, Daric. We’re guests here, not investigators.”

Serus remained silent, his mind turning over the possibilities of what they might encounter. The technology they had seen so far—advanced scanners, cloaked guards, and now this hidden sentinel station—was far beyond what they had imagined. Whoever this mysterious buyer was, they were clearly operating on a level House Ix had not yet attained. And that intrigued him more than anything.

Finally, they reached a large, reinforced door at the end of the corridor. One of the guards stepped forward and keyed in a code, and with a soft hiss, the door slid open, revealing a dimly lit meeting hall. The room was circular, with a wide table at its center and chairs arranged neatly around it. The air here felt different—charged, as if something unseen was watching them.

As they entered, Serus glanced around, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “Where is our host?”

Before anyone could answer, a new voice echoed from the shadows at the far end of the room.

“Patience, Serus Ix. All will be revealed in time.”

The Ixians turned as a figure emerged from the darkness—a tall, slender man with sharp features and piercing eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the low light. He was dressed in dark robes that shimmered like liquid, and though he moved with grace, there was an unmistakable air of authority about him.

Serus stepped forward, his curiosity now fully piqued. “And who might you be?”

The man smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “I am simply a representative of the one you seek. And today, we shall discuss matters of great importance. Matters that will shape the future of your House…and perhaps the galaxy itself.”

Serus, Xyla, and Daric exchanged silent, uneasy glances as the figure before them—the one who had introduced himself as their host’s representative—lingered in the shadows. But something else caught Daric’s eye.

In the far corner of the room, barely visible in the low light, a creature crouched silently, watching them with glowing yellow eyes. Its body was massive, covered in thick, jagged plates of rock-like exoskeleton. Its breath was slow, rumbling, almost volcanic in nature. Daric stiffened, recognizing the creature from his brief studies on unknown ecosystems. It was a Volcanic Stalker, one of the creatures rumored to inhabit remote planets in uncharted territories. The beast’s eyes locked onto him, unblinking and watchful.

Xyla noticed it next, her hand reflexively inching toward her belt where a concealed blade rested. But before either of them could act, the man from the shadows spoke again, his voice calm, almost amused.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a hint of a smirk. “It doesn’t bite—unless commanded.” He stepped fully into the light, revealing more of his features: dark, sharp eyes, and long silver hair tied back in a neat braid. His presence was both regal and intimidating, every movement deliberate. “I am Vaegor, Master of Whispers for House Targaryen. You’ve been brought here to discuss matters that transcend your understanding, but first, sit. We have much to discuss.”

As the Ixians sat, the doors to the chamber opened with a soft hiss, and four figures entered the room. Serus, Daric, and Xyla turned to see who approached, and their breath collectively caught in their throats.

Leading them was Dragonlord Aenys Targaryen—a figure of unmistakable authority. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his regal face framed by long silver-blond hair, eyes a deep violet that seemed to glow with the intensity of one who commanded dragons. His presence filled the room with palpable power, his black robes embroidered with a subtle red three-headed dragon, the sigil of his House. His gaze was calm but fierce, the weight of centuries of tradition behind him. He moved with the grace of someone who had nothing to fear.

Behind him were his three children. First, his eldest son Aelor Targaryen, a young man with strong, chiseled features. He shared his father’s silver-blond hair, but his eyes were darker, like polished amethyst. He wore armor under his cloak, displaying his role as both prince and warrior, his expression cold and unreadable.

Next was Maelor, the younger brother. His resemblance to Aenys was striking—almost identical in appearance except for a faint scar that crossed his left brow, a mark of some past battle. His lilac eyes scanned the room with a playful glint, though his presence was no less commanding. His movements were more fluid, almost casual, yet there was an undeniable danger lurking beneath his calm demeanor.

And finally, you, Daenys Targaryen, Maelor's twin. Your pale blonde hair framed a regal face that bore the marks of your father’s lineage, though it was softened by a scattering of freckles across your cheeks. Your eyes were lilac, like your twin brother’s, but there was a depth to them that seemed to flicker with fire, as if the very soul of a dragon rested within. You were dressed in dark, flowing garments embroidered with symbols of your House, and you carried yourself with the grace of someone who spent more time on dragonback than on land.

Vaegor’s voice broke the silence, gesturing toward the newcomers. “May I present Dragonlord Aenys Targaryen, and his children: Aelor, Maelor, and Daenys.”

At the mention of the name Targaryen, the Ixians immediately stiffened. Serus, who had been the most composed, shot up from his chair, his face a mixture of shock and disbelief. His hand instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn’t there.

“House Targaryen?” Serus blurted out, his eyes darting between the four figures. “Impossible. You—you’re supposed to be—”

“Sit,” Aenys commanded, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. It wasn’t a shout, but the sheer authority behind the word was enough to make Serus’s knees buckle. He slumped back into his chair, unable to defy the Dragonlord’s presence. The room fell deathly silent, the tension thick enough to choke on.

Aenys’s violet gaze lingered on Serus for a moment longer before he slowly took his seat at the head of the table, his children standing behind him, their expressions unchanging. He leaned forward, fingers steepled beneath his chin, as he addressed the Ixians.

“I believe you called this meeting to negotiate an exchange,” Aenys said, his voice measured, cold, and powerful. “You seek our technology, and in return, I wish to know—what do you offer?”

Serus, still visibly shaken, struggled to regain his composure. Xyla, quicker to adapt, took over, her voice steady despite the tension. “We… we offer you more spice, the strain your House has required in the past. We can increase the quantity and—”

Aenys waved his hand dismissively. “We have no shortage of spice,” he said. “What you fail to realize, Ixian, is that on this side of the universe, spice is not the driving force behind power. We care little for your melange beyond its limited use. Now…” His voice darkened slightly, “I suggest you rethink your offer.”

Xyla faltered, unsure of how to proceed, but Serus quickly interjected, trying to salvage the negotiation. “Perhaps, then, we could offer something more… lasting. A mutual exchange of knowledge. We control a harvesting field on Arrakis—one with access to the specific strain of spice you seek. We can offer you independent access to it, so your House may harvest the spice for your needs without reliance on intermediaries.”

Aenys’s eyes narrowed slightly, and a smile—more predatory than pleased—touched his lips. “Interesting. It seems you understand your position well, Serus Ix. You’re desperate, I see, but clever.”

Vaegor, the Master of Whispers, stepped forward, pulling out a piece of parchment from his robes and placing it before Aenys. The Dragonlord signed it with a flourish and then slid it across the table to the Ixians. Xyla’s breath hitched as her eyes fell on the parchment. In the corner of the document was the unmistakable seal of House Targaryen—a three-headed dragon in red wax, sealing the agreement.

Aenys leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on Serus. “You will deliver this agreement to your Emperor,” Aenys said, his voice soft but laced with an unmistakable threat. “And let it serve as a warning to him. House Targaryen has returned, and the things to come will make even the most powerful Houses of the Imperium tremble.”

Serus, his heart pounding in his chest, nodded stiffly, unable to tear his eyes from Aenys’s cold, violet stare.

As the Ixians gathered their things, preparing to leave, one thought echoed in their minds: House Targaryen, the House thought to be destroyed millennia ago, was not only alive—they were stronger than ever. And they were preparing for something that could change the balance of power in the galaxy forever.

The grand chamber of the Imperial Palace on Kaitain, with its towering columns of polished marble and intricately woven tapestries, was unusually quiet. Normally bustling with courtiers, representatives from the Landsraad, and the Emperor’s various advisors, today it was a scene of growing anticipation. Serus Ix, along with his House delegation, stood before the Emperor himself, flanked by the shadowy figures of the Spacing Guild’s representatives.

Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV sat upon his gilded throne, his expression unreadable as he held the parchment in his hands. His elaborate robes, adorned with the finest silks and jewels, did nothing to soften the cold fury building in his gaze as he scanned the document. The Imperial Court had never been known for warmth, but today annoyance in the room was well felt.

Serus shifted his weight uneasily. He had delivered the parchment just as instructed, but now that it was in the Emperor’s hands, the weight of what he had seen on that distant sentinel station seemed heavier than ever. The Targaryens—an extinct House by all accounts—were not only alive, but they were thriving, powerful enough to conduct negotiations that would change the galaxy. And now, the Emperor was reading their terms.

As Shaddam’s eyes reached the bottom of the parchment, they landed on the seal—the unmistakable sigil of House Targaryen: a red three-headed dragon imprinted in wax. His expression darkened, and the room seemed to grow colder.

Shaddam’s gaze snapped up, fixing Serus with a piercing look that seemed to burn through his very soul. “Is this a joke?” the Emperor asked, his voice low and deadly, laced with disbelief and a simmering rage. “You bring me this? An artifact of some long-dead House? Have you lost your mind, Serus?”

Serus straightened, trying to steady his voice. “It is no joke, Your Majesty. I saw them with my own eyes. I spoke to the Dragonlord himself, Aenys Targaryen, and his children. They are very much alive. They control a strain of spice unlike anything we’ve encountered—”

Shaddam stood abruptly, his robes billowing as he stepped down from the dais, his face mere inches from Serus’s now. “And you claim to have made a bargain with them? With ghosts? With the very House that once tried to challenge the rule of House Corrino?”

Serus swallowed hard, his mind racing. “Yes, Your Majesty. House Targaryen is no ghost. They’ve remained hidden in the unknown regions of space, and they have advanced far beyond what we could have imagined. They agreed to terms—”

“Terms!” Shaddam interrupted, his voice echoing through the chamber. “They have no right to terms.”

The Emperor’s fingers tightened around the parchment before he thrust it toward the nearest representative of the Spacing Guild, a tall, pale figure with a cloak that seemed to shimmer unnaturally in the dim light. The Guild Navigator, whose face was obscured by the folds of his robe, took the document without a word, but the air around him seemed to shift as he examined the seal.

For a long, tense moment, the chamber was silent as the Navigator carefully inspected the parchment. Then, slowly, the Guild representative turned his head slightly, his voice a low rasp. “This sigil…is authentic.”

A murmur rippled through the chamber, but Shaddam silenced it with a single gesture. His fury had turned to cold calculation now, his eyes narrowing as he looked back at Serus.

“You claim to have spoken to this Dragonlord,” Shaddam said, his voice calmer but no less dangerous. “And you saw his…children?”

Serus nodded quickly. “Yes, Your Majesty. They are powerful, and they are not afraid to make their presence known. They have offered House Ix a chance to share in their technology in exchange for exclusive rights to a specific spice field under our jurisdiction on Arrakis.”

Shaddam's eyes darkened further as he processed this. His mind was already calculating the implications of this revelation. House Ix, aligned with a surviving Targaryen faction—this was more than just a political inconvenience. This was a threat to his rule, and to the entire balance of power in the Imperium.

He turned sharply to Serus. “You and your House will not speak of this to anyone,” Shaddam commanded, his voice brokering no argument. “Not to the Landsraad, not to the Spacing Guild, and certainly not to the Bene Gesserit. This stays between us until we confirm the validity of these claims and until this…danger is contained.”

Serus hesitated for a moment but then bowed low, his heart racing. “As you command, Your Majesty.”

But as he straightened, his mind was already working. The Targaryens had offered something far more valuable than the spice itself—knowledge, power, and a chance to align with a force that could potentially rival even House Corrino. If what Serus had seen was real, the balance of the entire galaxy could shift. And he knew one thing for certain: whichever side he chose in this coming storm would determine the future of House Ix.

The Emperor, meanwhile, turned to the Guild representatives. “You will investigate the location of this spice field. I want every detail. If there’s any truth to what Serus claims, we cannot let this go unchecked.”

The Navigator’s cloaked head dipped in acknowledgment, though the inscrutable expression behind the robes remained hidden. “We will investigate, Your Majesty. But be warned… if House Targaryen has indeed returned, they may not be as easy to contain as you think.”

Shaddam’s jaw tightened at the Navigator’s words, but he gave no reply. Instead, he turned back to Serus, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “You are dismissed, Serus Ix. You and your House are now bound to this silence. Fail to obey, and the consequences will be severe.”

Serus bowed once more, backing out of the room as the Emperor’s gaze followed him, cold and threatening. The doors to the chamber shut behind him, but Serus’s mind was already far from the gilded halls of Kaitain.

As he stepped into the shadowed corridors of the palace, Serus felt the weight of his decision pressing down on him. On one hand, obedience to the Emperor. On the other, the potential alliance with the most powerful House the galaxy had never forgotten—House Targaryen, reborn in exile.

For the first time, Serus truly understood the danger that lay ahead. But his mind, ever pragmatic, began to turn toward the future. The Emperor could issue his orders, and the Guild could investigate all they liked. But once dragons returned to the stars, no command from Kaitain would be able to stop them.

And Serus Ix would need to decide—whether to stand with the crumbling Empire of Shaddam Corrino or to pledge his allegiance to the rising flame of House Targaryen.

For in the coming war, neutrality was not an option.

The icy winds of Arctis howled across the desolate expanse of the frozen planet, biting through even the most advanced thermal suits of the Atreides forces as they huddled in the shelter of a hastily constructed outpost. The sky above was a constant swirling gray, the heavy clouds thick with snow, casting an eternal twilight over the ice-covered landscape. This world was a brutal, inhospitable place—its temperatures always well below freezing—but it was also strategically vital. Positioned at the very fringe of Atreides territory, it served as a critical point of control in the ongoing struggle between House Atreides and their bitter rivals, the Harkonnens.

Duke Leto Atreides stood at the edge of the outpost’s overlook, his cloak flapping in the wind as he stared out across the snowy plains. His breath formed faint clouds of vapor in the frozen air, but his gaze was steady, focused. This was not the first time the Harkonnens had made a move in contested space, but something about this situation felt different. Strange. And it concerned him.

Duncan Idaho, his most trusted swordmaster, approached from behind, his footsteps crunching in the snow. “My Lord,” Duncan said, his tone quiet but urgent. “Our scouts have confirmed Harkonnen forces are moving deeper into the eastern sector. We’ve also detected strange activity near their base. It’s… divided their attention.”

Leto turned, his expression darkening. “What kind of activity?”

Duncan glanced toward the tactical console set up inside the shelter. “Unknown, my Lord. But it’s enough to pull Harkonnen resources away from their main defense. They’re not focused entirely on us.”

The Duke’s brow furrowed as he considered this. “They’re being distracted?”

“More than that,” came a gruff voice from behind them. Gurney Halleck, Leto’s loyal warmaster, approached, his scarred face creased with concern. “We’ve picked up starship signatures entering and leaving Arctis’s orbit—unknown ships. Our sensors can’t get a clear reading, almost as if they’re cloaked by some kind of technology or interference. The planet’s extreme conditions are messing with our equipment, but it’s more than just the cold.”

Leto’s eyes narrowed. “Cloaked ships?”

“Or something close to it,” Gurney replied grimly. “Hawat is already analyzing what we’ve got, but he says whatever’s happening here is beyond what either the Harkonnens or we have access to. This is something… different.”

Thufir Hawat, Leto’s master of assassins and the greatest Mentat in the Imperium, stood nearby, watching the exchange with his cold, calculating eyes. His mind worked faster than most, and he had already drawn several conclusions before any of them had finished speaking.

“We don’t have much data,” Hawat said, his voice clipped, efficient. “But we know this: someone else is playing in this frozen field, and they don’t want to be found. They’ve drawn the Harkonnens’ attention, but we’re not immune to the consequences of whatever game they’re playing. The unknown activity is concentrated near the Harkonnen base, but it’s close enough to our location that it could interfere with our operations.”

Leto’s expression hardened. The cold winds of Arctis might have frozen the planet, but the battle for control here was heating up. The Harkonnens had escalated their presence on Arctis, no doubt hoping to force a confrontation, and now it seemed they weren’t alone in their schemes. The unknown starship signatures added another layer of complexity to an already volatile situation.

“If the Harkonnens are distracted,” Leto said, “this might be our best chance to strike before they consolidate their forces. But we can’t ignore this other activity.”

He looked to Duncan and Gurney. “We’ll investigate both—whatever the Harkonnens are doing, and this unknown presence. I want answers before we engage in a full-scale confrontation.”

Duncan nodded. “We have a tactical advantage if they’re divided, my Lord. If we move quickly, we can investigate the source of these unknown ships and the activity near their base without drawing their full attention.”

“I agree,” Gurney added, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. “But we need to be careful. Whoever’s out there isn’t playing by the same rules. They’ve got technology that’s far beyond what we’ve seen, and if they’re operating here, it means they’re invested in this conflict. We don’t know what they want yet.”

Leto paced for a moment, weighing the risks. The cold bite of the wind and the ever-present tension between the Atreides and Harkonnen forces swirled in his mind, but there was something deeper gnawing at him—this unknown factor. The possibility that a third party was manipulating the situation couldn’t be ignored.

He stopped and turned to face his men. “We can’t wait for the Harkonnens to make the first move. Duncan, Gurney, prepare the men. We’ll send strike teams—one to probe the Harkonnen base and watch for retaliation and the other to investigate the unknown activity. We’ll hit both targets simultaneously and find out what’s happening here.”

Hawat stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “I’ll oversee the scouting of the unknown presence. If there’s a larger plot at work, I’ll find it.”

Leto nodded, his decision made. “We move at dawn. Prepare the forces. We’ll take control of this planet, but we’ll do it on our terms.”

Duncan, Gurney, and Hawat all gave sharp nods before turning to leave, their tasks clear. As they walked away, Leto stood alone for a moment, staring out at the endless white expanse of Arctis. The wind howled louder, and in the distance, he could see the faint glimmers of movement—Harkonnen forces, just on the horizon.

But beyond them, there was something else. Something hidden. Something dangerous.

As Duke Leto turned back toward the outpost, preparing for the battle ahead, one thought kept echoing in his mind: the Harkonnens weren’t the only threat on this frozen world.

And whatever this unknown presence was, it could change the balance of power in the galaxy.

He only hoped they were ready for what they would find.

The winds of Arctis were relentless the next morning, cutting through the layers of thermal gear worn by Duke Leto and his elite soldiers as they pressed forward into the endless snowfields. The cold was so biting it seemed to seep into their bones, but the Atreides were disciplined, their determination unwavering despite the planet's hostile environment. The icy terrain crunched underfoot as they made their way deeper into the region where the strange activity had been detected.

Duncan Idaho had split off with a squadron to the east, tasked with probing the Harkonnen base and the surrounding areas, while Gurney Halleck led another group to the west, scouting for potential ambushes. Leto had remained with Thufir Hawat, the Mentat whose abilities made him invaluable for solving the riddles of this mysterious situation. Their own squad of Atreides soldiers—veterans of countless engagements—moved like shadows in the frozen landscape, their black and green armor stark against the white snow.

As they pressed on, one of Leto’s men, Sergeant Kellor, held up his hand, signaling for a halt. His visor was scanning the horizon, his breath clouding in the freezing air.

"Sir," Kellor said, his voice crackling over the comms. "We’ve picked up a strange communication frequency. It's intermittent, but definitely coming from somewhere nearby. We can’t make heads or tails of the language used, though. The computer’s unable to translate it."

Leto's brow furrowed as he glanced at Hawat, who had moved closer, his analytical mind already at work. "Play it," Leto ordered, his voice calm but with an edge of curiosity.

Kellor nodded and tapped a few commands into his handheld device. The crackling static of the transmission cleared for a moment, and then a strange, melodic language filled the airwaves, harsh yet flowing, each word clipped yet carrying an odd rhythm. The sound was like nothing Leto had heard before—alien, otherworldly.

The Duke exchanged a glance with Hawat, who remained silent as he listened carefully, his sharp eyes narrowing as he absorbed the unfamiliar cadence. The rest of the soldiers stood quietly, their faces tense with confusion as they waited for Hawat’s assessment.

After a moment, Hawat shook his head, still staring at the ground as if deep in thought. "This… this is unlike anything I've encountered," he said, his voice quiet, as though admitting the strangeness was something unnatural for a Mentat. "I've processed hundreds of languages, dialects, and communication codes—this doesn’t match any known language or communication in the Imperial database."

Leto frowned, feeling the weight of the moment. "Are you saying the language is alien in nature, Thufir?"

Hawat looked up, the cold wind making his aged features appear even more severe. "I can’t say for sure, my Lord," he replied carefully. "But this language isn’t recorded in any of the archives I’ve accessed, not even in obscure historical records. If it's from the known universe, it has evaded detection for centuries. It could be something ancient… or it could be something entirely unknown."

Leto's eyes flickered with unease. "Could it be something the Harkonnens are involved with? Perhaps they’ve found some way to mask their communications."

Hawat's lips pressed into a thin line, calculating. "Possible, but unlikely. Even the Harkonnens don’t have the capability to create an entirely new language that doesn’t register in the databases. They might be brutal, but they’re not that subtle."

Leto folded his arms across his chest, looking out over the icy landscape as the strange transmission continued to play softly in the background. The language—though unrecognizable—held a sense of power, a kind of ancient authority that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. What was happening on Arctis? Who—or what—was behind this?

Before Leto could respond, the communication channel crackled again, this time shifting to a frequency they recognized all too well: the harsh, guttural tones of Harkonnen comms.

A voice came through, cold and authoritative, instantly recognizable. It was Feyd-Rautha, the sadistic nephew of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen and heir to the Harkonnen dynasty.

"All units, this is Feyd-Rautha," his voice came through the comms, clear despite the interference. "We’ve detected Atreides forces in the region. Press forward and engage them if they approach. Do not let them interfere with the operation. Prepare artillery in the ravine and set an ambush. I want her captured alive. No mistakes."

Leto’s head snapped toward the comm device. "Her?" he repeated under his breath, exchanging a puzzled glance with Hawat.

Hawat’s keen mind was already racing, analyzing the situation. "Whoever this 'her' is, it seems important enough for Feyd-Rautha to mention specifically. And they’re setting an ambush, expecting her to fall into it."

Leto's face hardened. "Who could they be after? We haven't received any reports of an allied presence here, and no one outside House Atreides should be involved in this sector."

Hawat nodded thoughtfully. "It’s possible the unknown presence we've been detecting is their target. They could be focusing on this other entity—whoever or whatever it is—and they’re trying to capture it alive. This would explain why their attention has been divided between us and this unknown activity."

Leto ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. Between the mysterious language, cloaked starships, and now a Harkonnen ambush set for an unidentified target, things were growing more complex by the minute. This was no longer just a skirmish for control of Arctis—it was a web of intrigues with more than two players. The unknown ships that had evaded detection, the strange communications in an unrecognizable language, and now the Harkonnen pursuit of someone—or something—they wanted alive.

Leto turned to his men, his voice steady and commanding. "We proceed as planned. We’ll investigate the source of the unknown activity first and gather more intel before engaging the Harkonnen forces. Be prepared for anything—we don’t know who or what we’re dealing with, and we need to avoid getting caught in Feyd-Rautha’s trap."

The men nodded, tightening their grips on their rifles and checking their equipment. Kellor and the other soldiers moved quickly, their faces hard with focus as they prepared to head into the cold unknown.

Leto glanced at Hawat. "Stay sharp, Thufir. If this is something beyond what we understand, we’ll need every ounce of your expertise."

Hawat’s face remained impassive, though his eyes gleamed with the intensity of a man whose mind was already unraveling the strands of a complicated puzzle. "I’ll do what I can, my Lord. But this situation is like nothing I’ve encountered before."

The wind howled as the squadron of Atreides soldiers began their march across the frozen terrain, their black silhouettes cutting through the snow. Somewhere ahead, in the icy ravines and under the gray skies, lay answers to the mysteries that had plagued this mission from the beginning. The Harkonnens were closing in on a target they desperately wanted captured, but Duke Leto knew there was more to this than just a battle over territory.

There were new players in the game—players who wielded unknown languages and technology that defied Imperial understanding.

And whatever forces were converging on Arctis, Leto was determined to uncover the truth.

The cold air bit into his face as they pressed forward, the distant hum of unknown ships hidden in the clouds above, while Feyd-Rautha’s voice still echoed in the back of his mind.

"I want her captured alive."

Who was she?

And what secrets did she hold that could sway the balance of power in this frozen war?

The biting wind of Arctis clawed at Duke Leto’s face as he and his men pressed forward, the ice beneath their feet cracking with each step. The cold felt more oppressive now, not only because of the temperature but because of the growing tension. The mysterious communication, the Harkonnen ambush, and now the unknown forces—it was all a dangerous puzzle, and Leto knew they were walking into something far bigger than a mere territorial skirmish.

They rounded a bend in the frozen terrain when Sergeant Kellor, moving ahead of the group, stopped abruptly and signaled the others to halt. His visor focused on something embedded in the ice just ahead, partially hidden by the snow. Leto stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he approached.

There, carved into the rock face and faintly illuminated by the low light of Arctis’s sun, was a sigil. A three-headed dragon, carved with precision, its wings stretched wide in a majestic, powerful pose. It was unlike any emblem Leto had seen in his years as Duke, and as he studied it, he felt a strange chill run down his spine—something beyond the cold of the planet.

“I don’t recognize it,” Leto said quietly, running his gloved fingers over the smooth carving.

One of the more experienced soldiers who had been trailing behind with the rest of the men, stepped forward to examine the sigil. “Nor do I, my Lord,” he said, his voice thick with caution. “It’s nothing like any House sigil we’ve encountered in the Imperium.”

Thufir Hawat, ever calculating, approached last, his eyes scanning the sigil with intense focus. “It’s not in any of our records,” he confirmed after a moment. “No known House or faction uses this symbol. This is… ancient, perhaps. Or new—something we’ve never encountered before.”

Leto stared at the three-headed dragon for a moment longer, his mind racing. Something about the design felt intentional, as if it held a deeper meaning. He didn’t know what it was, but he could feel its significance like a weight pressing on his chest. The unknown forces they were dealing with—whoever they were—had marked their presence here, and it was clear now that the Harkonnens were aware of them too.

“We press on,” Leto ordered. “Whatever this is, we need to know who or what we’re dealing with.”

As they continued deeper into the icy landscape, the faint sound of distant gunfire reached them. It was intermittent at first, but quickly grew louder as they approached. The sounds of a skirmish—blaster fire, the roar of engines, and the unmistakable clamor of combat—echoed through the frozen ravines.

Before Leto could issue new orders, the comms crackled to life, and Duncan Idaho’s voice came through, tense but composed as ever. “My Lord, we’ve just engaged Harkonnen forces. They’re not willing to negotiate—they’re attacking on sight. They’ve set up an unauthorized military base in this region and appear to be mining something.”

“Mining?” Leto repeated, his eyes narrowing. “Any sign of the unknown presence?”

“None yet,” Duncan replied, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. “So far, it’s just angry Harkonnens. But whatever they’re mining, they’re guarding it fiercely.”

Before Leto could respond, the sound of engines roaring overhead made the entire squad stop and look up. Through the swirling snow, they saw Harkonnen ornithopters streaking across the sky, their dark, beetle-like bodies weaving through the clouds.

But they weren’t alone.

Leto’s eyes widened as he spotted other ornithopters engaged in a furious dogfight with the Harkonnen craft. These new ornithopters were unlike anything he had ever seen before. Their design was sleek, almost organic, with dragon-like wings that flapped in a rhythmic motion, propelling them through the air with an uncanny fluidity. Their hulls were dark, shimmering with strange patterns that shifted in the light, making them difficult to track as they maneuvered with extraordinary agility.

“Those aren’t Harkonnen,” Kellor said, his voice laced with astonishment. “Or any craft from the Imperium. I’ve never seen designs like that—not even from Ix.”

Leto’s mind raced as he watched the alien ornithopters engage the Harkonnen forces with brutal efficiency, their strange, draconic forms weaving through the air as if they were living creatures rather than machines. Blaster fire lit up the sky as the Harkonnen ornithopters desperately tried to keep pace with their attackers, but it was clear the unknown craft were superior in every way.

“What in the name of the Emperor…” Leto muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled, and the sounds of combat intensified from the ravine ahead. Without wasting a second, Leto signaled for his men to follow him as they moved to a nearby vantage point overlooking the ravine. What they saw below sent a ripple of shock through the Atreides forces.

The ravine was a chaotic battlefield. Harkonnen soldiers, their black-and-yellow armor standing out against the snow, were locked in brutal combat with unknown forces. These new combatants moved with an elegance and ferocity that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Clad in dark armor that shimmered with the same shifting patterns as the alien ornithopters, these warriors fought with a combination of energy weapons and what appeared to be swords—sleek, deadly blades that carved through Harkonnen soldiers with ease.

Leto scanned the battlefield, his heart pounding. The unknown forces were smaller in number, but they fought with a precision and intensity that was overwhelming the Harkonnens. And above all, there was something… regal about them, something that reminded him of ancient stories of noble warriors, legends of long-lost Houses.

“What are we seeing?” Kellor whispered, his voice filled with disbelief.

Leto didn’t answer immediately, his eyes locked on the chaos below. He could see the Harkonnen forces were struggling, and the sounds of artillery preparing in the distance confirmed that Feyd-Rautha’s plan was already in motion. They were trying to capture someone—whoever these unknown forces were, they were the target.

“We need to make a decision,” Hawat said, his voice low and urgent. “Do we engage the Harkonnens now, or wait?”

Leto’s mind raced. The Harkonnens were setting up an ambush, preparing to take one of the unknown fighters alive. The mystery of who these new players were gnawed at him, but one thing was clear—they were not Harkonnen allies. And in this frozen war, an enemy of the Harkonnens might just be an ally worth risking.

Leto made his decision, his voice firm and steady. “We aid the unknown forces.”

Kellor nodded, already moving into position. The Atreides soldiers, disciplined and battle-hardened, began their advance, preparing to enter the fray below.

Leto glanced at Hawat, who simply gave a small, knowing nod. Whatever was happening here, the Atreides were about to gamble on a new piece in the deadly game of Houses.

The battle was chaos, pure and unrelenting. Leto and his men charged down into the ravine, their rifles and blasters cutting through the freezing air as they joined the fray alongside the unknown forces. The sound of energy weapons echoed across the icy terrain, mixing with the clatter of steel and the guttural shouts of Harkonnen soldiers. The Atreides elite moved with precision, each strike calculated, their disciplined tactics overwhelming the scattered Harkonnen forces caught in the heat of battle.

But as the skirmish raged on, the sky above began to darken further, the winds of Arctis growing fiercer. A blizzard was rolling in fast, the snow whipping around them in thick, swirling clouds that obscured vision and muted sound. The temperature plummeted, the icy wind slicing through their gear with cruel efficiency.

Leto ducked behind a rocky outcrop, scanning the battlefield. The unknown warriors fought like a well-trained phalanx, their movements fluid, graceful even. They fought hand-to-hand with swords that shimmered with a strange energy, their forms difficult to track in the blizzard, while Harkonnen forces struggled to hold their ground.

Just then, a sudden rumble beneath the ground signaled the arrival of more Harkonnen artillery. Leto’s comms crackled to life as one of his soldiers shouted over the noise, “Heavy Harkonnen reinforcements inbound, my Lord! Artillery moving into position!”

The ground trembled as Harkonnen tanks and artillery rolled into the ravine, their massive cannons swiveling toward the embattled forces. Explosions rocked the frozen ground as heavy artillery shells began to fall, sending plumes of snow and ice into the air. The battlefield had descended into a brutal slugfest, and the freezing winds only made it harder to see, hear, or strategize.

“Push forward!” Leto shouted, his voice barely carrying over the storm. “We can’t let them surround us!”

The Atreides forces continued their advance, but as the blizzard intensified, something strange cut through the howling wind. It was a sound, sharp and high-pitched—a shriek that seemed to come from above, distant at first but growing louder with each passing second.

Leto looked up, straining to see through the swirling snow. His heart pounded in his chest as the shriek pierced the air again, this time closer. He could make out flashes of something—dark shapes moving through the storm, circling overhead. He tried to focus, to make sense of what he was seeing, but the blizzard was too thick.

Then, suddenly, fire exploded from the sky.

Two Harkonnen ornithopters, their engines roaring as they maneuvered through the storm, were struck by something unseen. They burst into flames, spiraling down from the sky, crashing into the icy ground below in fiery explosions. The shockwave knocked several Harkonnen soldiers off their feet, while the remaining ornithopters struggled to evade whatever had attacked them.

Another shriek cut through the storm, followed by the faint whistle of something large slicing through the air. Another Harkonnen ornithopter was struck, its hull exploding in a brilliant flash of fire as it fell in a blazing arc toward the ground. The heat from the explosions briefly warmed the frigid air, casting flickering shadows through the blizzard.

Leto’s eyes narrowed as he tried to discern the source of the attack, but the storm obscured everything. All he could hear were the shrieks and whistles, and then more explosions as Harkonnen forces began to retreat, their voices echoing in panic through the comms.

“They’re retreating!” Gurney’s voice came through, his tone both surprised and urgent. “The Harkonnens are pulling back, my Lord!”

Leto crouched behind the cover of a large boulder, his breath coming out in heavy clouds as the explosions gradually subsided. The sounds of battle were fading, replaced by the howling wind and the eerie quiet that followed. Whatever had attacked the Harkonnens had forced them into retreat.

Suddenly, through the snow, Leto saw a figure approaching, emerging from the storm like a ghost. The figure wore sleek, dark armor that shimmered in the dim light of the fading explosions. As the figure drew closer, Leto could make out the faint glow of a symbol on the armor’s chest—the same three-headed dragon sigil they had seen carved into the ice earlier.

The figure stopped a few paces from Leto and his men, lifting the visor of his helmet to reveal a young man’s face, though most of his features were still obscured by the armor.

“I am Aelor,” the young man said in a calm, confident voice, his eyes sharp and piercing beneath the helmet. “And I believe I owe you thanks for your assistance, Duke Leto of House Atreides.”

Leto blinked in surprise, his breath catching for a moment. The man had spoken his name with certainty, as though he had known exactly who they were all along. “You know who we are?” Leto asked, his voice steady but filled with curiosity.

Aelor smiled faintly beneath his helmet. “Of course. We have been watching your House for some time, though you may not have been aware of it.”

Leto’s eyes narrowed. “And who are you exactly? This planet is under Atreides jurisdiction.”

Aelor’s expression became more amused, the cold wind whipping around him as he crossed his arms. “This planet,” he said slowly, “and all the others you call your domain, once belonged to us. Long ago.”

The cryptic response only deepened Leto’s unease, but before he could press for more answers, Aelor gestured toward the stormy landscape. “This is no place for conversation. There is much to discuss, but not out here in the cold. Our base is not far from here. Follow me, and I will explain everything.”

Aelor spoke a few quick words in the same unknown language Leto and his men had overheard earlier, and moments later, several alien-looking vehicles rolled up through the snow. Their design was unlike anything Leto had seen in the Imperium—sleek and organic, as though they were crafted from living metal. The transport vehicles stopped beside Aelor, their hatches sliding open with a hiss.

Leto hesitated for a moment, his instincts warning him against walking into an unknown situation, but there was no denying that Aelor and his forces had saved them from being overwhelmed by the Harkonnens. Whoever they were, they had power—power that Leto needed to understand.

He turned to his men, his decision made. “We’ll follow them. But stay alert.”

As Leto and his men began to climb into the alien transport vehicles, he activated his comms, reaching out to Duncan and Gurney. “Duncan, Gurney, report.”

Duncan’s voice came through, steady despite the wind. “My Lord, we’ve just secured the area. The Harkonnens have retreated, but they’ve left behind traces of their mining operation. Whatever they were after, they were pulling resources fast.”

“Did you encounter the unknown forces?” Leto asked, his eyes scanning the strange interior of the transport vehicle.

“Negative,” Duncan replied. “We’ve only dealt with Harkonnens so far. No sign of anything else.”

Leto paused, glancing at Aelor, who was giving orders in his own tongue to the other soldiers. “We’ve made contact with an unknown force. I’m following their leader now—he’s taking us to their base. Keep an eye on the Harkonnens and secure our position, but be ready for anything.”

“Understood, my Lord,” Gurney chimed in. “Be careful. Whatever this is, it’s not something we’ve seen before.”

Leto cut the comms and settled into the transport as it hummed to life, gliding smoothly over the snow and ice. As the vehicle moved through the storm, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they had just stumbled upon something far greater than they had ever anticipated.

The transport vehicle hummed steadily as it glided through the blizzard, cutting a path through the thick snow that swirled around them. Inside, the atmosphere was stifling. Duke Leto Atreides sat near the front of the transport, observing the man seated across from him—Aelor, the leader of these unknown forces. Beside Leto, Thufir Hawat sat in silence, his sharp mind undoubtedly racing to process the implications of everything they’d witnessed. A few of Leto’s most trusted men, who had managed to fit into the vehicle, remained quiet but alert, their eyes darting around the strange alien interior.

Leto, his curiosity piqued but tempered by caution, turned his gaze to Aelor. The young man sat with his helmet still on, but through the visor, Leto could see the faint glimmer of his eyes, steady and watchful.

“What are your people doing here?” Leto asked, his voice measured, though his instincts told him there was far more to this situation than a mere skirmish with the Harkonnens.

Aelor leaned back slightly, his armored form relaxed yet commanding. His voice was calm when he replied, though there was an edge to it. “House Harkonnen became aware of our presence some time ago. They’ve been trying to dig out what remains of our underground structures—structures that have been buried for centuries. They seek to take what does not belong to them.”

Leto raised an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. “And what exactly were these underground structures used for? They must be important to draw the Harkonnens’ attention.”

For the first time, Leto saw Aelor hesitate, his eyes briefly widening behind his visor, though he quickly composed himself. There was something deeper here, something that Aelor wasn’t revealing.

“They can’t use what’s inside,” Aelor said after a brief pause, his tone more guarded now. “But it is not theirs to collect. The Harkonnens are digging for something they don’t understand.”

Leto studied Aelor carefully, but before he could press further, Hawat leaned forward, his cold, analytical voice breaking the silence. “We intercepted Harkonnen communications before we engaged them. Feyd-Rautha mentioned they were after someone—her specifically. Who is this person they’re so desperate to capture?”

Aelor’s gaze shifted to Hawat, and this time, there was no hesitation. “They’re after my sister,” he said plainly, his voice carrying a note of protectiveness. “She was the one who disrupted their operations. The Harkonnens know they can’t use what’s in the structures, but they believe capturing her will give them leverage.”

Leto exchanged a glance with Hawat, their minds both running through the implications. The Harkonnens were desperate—enough to launch an all-out assault to capture one person. Whatever was buried in those ancient structures, it was important enough for them to risk everything.

Before Leto could ask more, the transport began to slow, and Aelor’s voice cut through the silence. “We’ve arrived.”

The vehicle came to a stop, and as the doors slid open, a blast of cold air greeted them. Leto and his men stepped out into a base unlike anything they had ever seen. The structures were sleek, dark, and seamless, built with a design far more advanced than anything in the Imperium. But what struck Leto most was the banners that hung from the tall spires around the base—banners bearing the three-headed dragon symbol he had seen carved into the ice earlier.

“This way,” Aelor said, gesturing for them to follow.

As they moved deeper into the base, Leto couldn’t help but notice how the design felt both familiar and alien. There was an elegance to the architecture, a flowing, organic quality that reminded him of ancient stories from his studies as a boy.

They entered the central structure, and Aelor led them into a large command center. Inside, a team of soldiers worked at strange, holographic consoles, their faces hidden by sleek helmets. A massive map of the surrounding area was projected above them, showing the positions of both Harkonnen and unknown forces.

Aelor turned to face Leto and his men, and with a quiet hiss, he removed his helmet. The sight of his features caught Leto off guard. Aelor was young—his face regal, with high cheekbones and silver-blond hair that fell in soft waves around his shoulders. His eyes, the same piercing violet that Leto had only seen in old records, glowed faintly in the dim light of the command center.

For a brief moment, Leto took a step back, his heart racing as a flood of recognition washed over him. The sight of Aelor’s face—his silver hair, his violet eyes, the unmistakable grace of his movements—triggered a memory long buried in the depths of Leto’s mind.

“Welcome, Duke Leto,” Aelor said, his voice now softer, more formal. “To House Targaryen’s command center.”

The words struck Leto like a blow. House Targaryen. The name sent a shockwave through his thoughts, dragging him back to his youth, to the old histories he had studied in the Atreides archives. He had read of House Targaryen—once a powerful dynasty, one of the most feared and revered Houses in the galaxy, known for their dragons and their near-mythical strength. But they had been eradicated—wiped out thousands of years ago in a war that had shaped the balance of power in the galaxy for millennia.

Yet here they were. Alive. And not just alive, but powerful—strong enough to face off against the Harkonnens with technology far beyond anything Leto had ever seen.

Leto felt a surge of disbelief as the implications of what he was witnessing set in. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form words, a sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

“Duke Leto,” Hawat said, stepping forward, his voice a warning. “Stay focused.”

Leto blinked, his mind snapping back to the present. He glanced at Hawat, who was watching the situation with the same sharpness as ever, though Leto could see the tension in the Mentat’s eyes. This was no ordinary encounter. Whatever House Targaryen had been in the past, they were a force to be reckoned with now.

Aelor, watching Leto carefully, smiled faintly. “I see you recognize the name. Good. It saves us some time. There is much to discuss, Duke Leto, and many answers I’m sure you seek. But for now, we must prepare. The Harkonnens won’t stop their pursuit of my sister. And if they succeed, they may uncover things that should remain buried.”

Leto, still processing the magnitude of what was happening, nodded slowly. His thoughts raced, but there was one question at the forefront of his mind.

“What do you intend to do?” Leto asked.

Aelor’s violet eyes gleamed with determination. “What we have always done, Duke. Protect what is ours. And in the process, perhaps we can show you that this galaxy is not as small as you once believed.”

The warning in his words hung heavy in the air, and Leto realized with certainty: whatever lay ahead, the fate of House Atreides—and perhaps the entire galaxy—was about to change.

- A/N: The timeline of these events will be made clear as the story expands. Everything written here has a purpose for future events that will happen.

[silent-moons-camp]

OC Introduction

Tagged by @silurisanguine from the Coemancer Crew - thank you!

Introducing: Kanan McCarthy

Fandom: Starfield

Role: Spacefarer, Captain

Basics

Full Name: Kanan McCarthy

Nicknames: Cowpoke, Kane (really only ever referred to as such by their twin sister)

Pronouns: They/them, not strict on pronouns though.

Sexuality: Pansexual

Occupation and Titles: Freestar Militia Infantry (formerly), Shaw Gang Outlaw (formerly), Argos Extractors Miner (formerly), Smuggler and general criminal (currently), Constellation Member (currently)

Birthday and Age: At the beginning of the game (May 7th, 2330) Kanan is 37. They turn 38 shortly after. They were born on May 27th, 2292 in Akila City.

Physical Description: Kanan stands at exactly six feet tall (about 183 cm). They are physically active and as such have a sort of athletic build.

Clothing Style: Kanan wears masculine leaning clothing and mostly sticks to more "wild west" themed apparel. They are often seen in their signature red poncho and cowboy hat.

Background

As I don't want to spoil things, I'll keep this vague. Kanan was born and raised on Akila in Freestar space. Them and their family lived on the McCarthy Homestead just outside Akila City walls.

Kanan took part in the Colony War at a young age, having gotten caught up in the war propaganda. As such, they lied about their age in order to fight for the Freestar Collective. The Colony War took a huge toll on both Kanan and the McCarthy family as a whole.

Kanan went to college after the war and earned a bachelor's degree in engineering, having majored in engineering and minored in astronomy. They fell into a life of crime afterward, having joined the Shaw Gang for some time and then branching out on their own.

As seen in my fic titled The Man in Red, Kanan joined Argos Extractors about a year before the story of Starfield after encountering an odd bounty hunter in the Red Mile who wanted them alive.

They joined Constellation after encountering the Artifact on Vectera, and their story is currently being written in my fic titled Event Horizon.

Combat and Skills

Preferred fighting style: Kanan prefers mid to close range combat with guns, though they are not against getting very close and engaging in close quarters combat with melee weapons or hand-to-hand.

Favorite Weapon(s): Kanan carries a modified razorback revolver named "Penumbra." Kanan also carries around and prefers shotguns, but also keeps a sniper rifle handy as well as small blades.

Special Skills: Like any wild west gunslinger, Kanan is highly skilled at using pistols. They also use Starborn abilities (although they are not Starborn themself). Kanan is charismatic and knows just the right buttons to push when it comes to enemies, but also which words to choose when trying to de-escalate a situation. As they went to college for engineering, Kanan is well versed in various means of engineering, which includes spaceship building and design, outpost construction, weapon handling and management, and spacesuit technology. They are an excellent pilot as well, capable of coming out on top in even the most dangerous dogfights.

Relationships

Family: Kanan's father is James McCarthy, a former Freestar Ranger and former member of the First Cavalry mech division. Their mother is Charlotte McCarthy, a scientist and astronomer. They had an older brother named Owen who was also apart of the First Cavalry mech division during the Colony War. He was killed in the later years of the Battle of Niira. Lastly, Kanan is a twin; their twin sister is named Senya, a ronin by trade who currently lives with and takes care of their father at the McCarthy Homestead.

Kanan would later consider Constellation as their own "found family."

Love interest: Sarah Morgan. Before Sarah, Kanan rarely ever had any serious relationships out of fear of commitment. Instead, they often wandered from lover to lover and held many "friends with benefits" type relationships. One night stands are not uncommon for Kanan, though their more promiscuous behavior settles down once they end up in a serious relationship with Sarah.

Best Friend(s): Kanan is very close with all the members of Constellation, but finds a close friendship in both Andreja and Matteo.

Personality

Positive traits: Passionate, caring, ambitious, loyal

Negative traits: Stubborn, tends to isolate, reckless, greedy

Likes: Nature, animals, astronomy, books, Old Earth relics, exploration

Dislikes: Most governments and politicians, corruption, spacers, high-horse attitudes, cops, Neon

Fears: Being lonely forever, losing their family (both found and blood family), losing those they care about, another war

Guilty Pleasure(s): Smutty novels, Old Earth spaghetti western movies, whiskey

Hobbies: Playing guitar, exploring, reading, collecting Old Earth trinkets and relics, listening to music, cleaning weapons and armor, building spaceships, and somehow managing to herd ashta.

[littlelostmabari]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

I spent my whole weekend writing One of the Good Ones and planning out some one shots. Then I got tired and didn't post the WIP snippets

"One of the Good Ones"

(DA2/DAI : Cullen x OC : in progress) Check out the story on AO3! (Rating: M)

This chapter is going to be a little messed up, sorry in advance. You'll want to mind the tags when it's posted.

The chamber where phylacteries were made lay just outside the wards of the vault — wards that only a select few Templars and the First Enchanter knew how to deactivate. It was one of the most heavily guarded areas in the Circle, a thought that only crossed his mind as he realized he was letting a wanted apostate get close enough to the vault to see its secrets. Flashes of a soft smile, a head of wavy blonde hair worn down across her shoulders because he told her once that it looked nice that way. A melody of a laugh at a passing joke. Then a wail as sword met flesh and iron and stone and the last time he let a mage this close to him, this close to a phylactery vault she and Jowan had used blood magic to — He cursed under his breath and stopped Orsino and Antsa before they could round the corner. It took some convincing, and some promises that she would get everything back in just a few minutes, but he relieved Antsa of both her ragdoll and the pocket around her waist before he fell back and allowed Orsino to lead the child towards the chambers. This needed to be over. He needed the Witch out of the Circle. He needed his afternoon ration of lyrium. He needed everything to go back to normal.

Currently Unnamed Starfield Smutty One-shot

(Starfield : Sam x f!Reader) (Rating: E / 18+)

It's date night in Neon.

A pair of eyes, watching. You could always sense his gaze, as if he had called your name loud enough to cut through the music. He was there, at your two o’clock, in the shade of a small booth. A glance confirmed. One hand swirled a whiskey, neat, while the other stretched lazily over the back of the booth, his legs crossed and steady against the vibrations of the music. The brim of his cowboy hat was pulled low, which was good. Meeting his eyes at a time like this inevitably turned you into a puddle — because you knew what you'd find there.  A deep, all-consuming hunger. And you were, as always, the prey. The whiskey glass raises to his lips with a smirk and a nod. The game begins. 

[eliteseven]

EliteSeven’s Fic Masterpost & Directory

Figured it's probably time to do one of these!

This is my primary writing blog, where I post HC’s, screenshots, and discuss fics! Use this guide to navigate fics and related tags.

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Baldur’s Gate 3:

-Modern AU’s:

Consonance

Follows Shadowheart and Tav in a modern AU band setting, in which Shadowheart is coming off a disastrous relationship with her ex, Shar.

Tags: Consonance Fic

Art by @ araneapeixes

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-Canon Divergent Works:

Series: Of Night Orchids, Lace, and Steel

(AKA: "NLS Series")

Follows Shadowheart x Serena Tavyndír (Human/Noble/Fighter) towards the end of Act 3 and into the epilogue.

To read in order:

A Change of Heart

2. As Long as You’ll Have Me

3. Better Than You Remember

4. Home Is Where the Heart Is

5. Envy in Ink

6. So Hold Me (Until it Sleeps)

7. And Many More

8. A Hand Offered

9. A Beautiful Weapon

Tags: NLS Series, OC: Serena Tavyndír , Baby Jen

References:

All NLS Posts Here

-Read additional HC's for this series here

-See related gifs, stills, and videos here

-Serena/Tavyndir Family History: Here

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"NobleHeart" Prequel (for NLS Series)

An addition to NLS series, this prequel explores the possibility of Serena and Shadowheart meeting ten years prior to the events of BG3. Sent to a social event as an emissary for her failing patriar house, Serena meets a younger Shadowheart, there to complete a mission for Viconia. The two instantly hit it off- Serena finds herself falling for the charismatic, secretive stranger- and Shadowheart realizes the naive noble woman has captured her heart and affections.

But when Viconia catches wind of this disobedience, she aims to have Shadowheart's memory wiped clean, forcing her to forget she ever knew Serena, until she's rescued from the mind flayer pod an entire decade later.

-Read HC's for this prequel here

__________________________________________________________

Redemption AU (DJ! Shadowheart)

Follows a canon divergent storyline in which Shadowheart, against Tav's advice, kills Aylin. As the regret and doubt begin to build within her, Shadowheart realizes she must spare her parents and spurn Shar. But the road to redemption is not an easy one, and Tav might have already moved on. Shadowheart can only hope their love can be reignited, and that her soul can be spared in the process.

-Read HC's for this series here

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Starfield:

Stellar Collision

Follow @stellarcollisionfic for everything pertaining to Stellar Collision, Jade, Sarah, etc.

Synopsis:They’re on the cusp of the greatest discovery in the history of mankind, and Sarah Morgan can’t seem to understand why all she wants is her.

Or

Sarah falling in love with the Captain.

[silurisanguine]

Music Tag game

thankyou @vorchagirl for the tag, this sounds like a fun game!!

List 2 songs or a playlist that represent your OCs or characters who you love - and don't forget to tag some other people so they can have fun! Well I have -playlists for my main OCs, but i think I'll share four tracks from each for each OC.

Seren (Coe) Jones. Starfield, from my story series Starborn Odyssey Seen here before and after becoming Starborn.

Starset-Starlight Evanescence - Far from Heaven Sevendust - Not Original Hybrid - Calling your Name

Zofie Orel - Deus Ex/Assassin's Creed crossover OC. Augmented Assassin from a future planned story called Long Game

Hybrid - Truth from Lies Foo Fighters - Pretender Breaking Benjamin - Blow me Away ft Valora Neoni x Arcando x ThatBehavoir - End of the World

Kiara Black - Thief/Dishonored . From my story Emerging Shadow

Maduk & Lexurus - New Beginnings Hybrid - Lost Angels Christopher James Dececio - You'll Never Catch Me Far From Saints - Take it Through the Night

I tag @fangbangerghoul @eridanidreams @atonalginger @code1r15 @staticpallour @toxiclizardwrites @samcoesclub @lisa-and-shadow @therealgchu @a-cosmic-elf @thatsgoodsquishy0 @bearlytolerant @aro-pancake and anyone else who want to do this!!!

[fangbangerghoul]

Hello, my lovely mutuals and fanfic readers! I am happy to be here again to share some of one of my current fics for Snippet Sunday!

Tagging: @eridanidreams, @silurisanguine, @atonalginger, @staticpallour, @5oh5, @booburry, @bearlytolerant, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, and @therealgchu (I'll leave some off, so the others have people to tag! As usual there is no requirement to participate!)

This is going to be a snippet from Chapter 9 of Fleeting Pleasures. I know my writing has been taking a bit longer than it did in the beginning but with my classes and winter taking a toll, it's been difficult to stick to a good writing routine.

Feel free to check out my tag #The Coemancer Crew to check out some other lovely Starfield fics and art while you wait for the update! If you are interested in joining a Starfield community I do host a Sam Coe Discord Server. Everyone under my The Coemancer Crew tag is a community member!

Chapter 9: bad decisions snippet

Ghoul exited through the doors and away from the noise to see the mess from the night before still lingering about. There was dried blood all over the place, glass bottles, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a pack of cigarettes left on one of the small crates. She swiped it before anyone else came walking by and immediately used the lighter that was with the pack to light one. Ghoul felt a small rush of relief when the smoke entered her lungs and the nicotine bled into her system. As she blew out the smoke, she saw Jessamine kick a bottle on her way out of doors from The Last Nova. She huffed something and that was when she noticed Ghoul standing there smoking the cigarette. Her dusty pink hair and yellow eyes akin to Ghoul’s always caught her attention in the bar but they never spoke much. Jessamine strode over with confidence and held out her hand, her two fingers stretched out waiting. Ghoul looked her over with a quick glance and then smirked, handing her the cigarette without protest.  “I heard Delgado is finally off your back. You must have really pissed him off.” Jessamine sounded amused at the thought and her accent sounded straight out of a Celtic fairy tale she was forced to read before. Jessamine puffed on her cigarette watching her with keen eyes. Ghoul was unsure what the approach this woman was trying to take with her, but she thought she could play along, as a distraction.  “From what I have seen, that isn’t too hard to do. He can be a real dictator sometimes.” Ghoul said with a smile they both started to walk forward as they spoke, their step-in rhythm.  “You gotta be with all the people who join, considered.” She shrugged and the slight draw on some of the vowels she pronounced were fun to hear her say. They had no destination set but aimlessly walking around The Key. It was a change of pace of what Ghoul usually did and it helped keep her mind off of her empty stomach.   “All hail the king, hmm?” Ghoul rolled her eyes at the thought. Though she knew at this point it wasn’t like she was in a position to say much, not after what she just did for Delgado.  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Jessamine laughed and stopped them in the center of the front end of The Key. The docked spaceships were on the other side of the door ahead and it seemed they were going to come full circle if they continued anymore. “When is the next time you are going on a run? Care to hire someone?”  Ghoul knew she shouldn’t be too surprised. She had heard Jessamine’s pitch a few times while drinking in the bar, but she never thought about it herself. Jessamine was itching to get off The Key which was the exact opposite of Ghoul right now. Ghoul thought perhaps maybe she should be itching to get off this damn space station. She had been locked in here for months, now she was starving again, and for that time was supposedly undercover for a government ran authority she didn’t give a shit about until she blew her own cover. Ghoul took in a deep breath and sighed before answering the eager face standing before her.  “I have a ship and that’s it.” Ghoul said with warning and her arms crossed. Her body was stiff, and she leaned back a bit with one foot pointing at Jessamine and the other out to the ships. “I didn’t ask for the ship, but Delgado relinquished it to me anyway. I don’t have any credits, but I guarantee we'll have some soon.”   Jessamine now was the one sizing her up. Ghoul could see the hesitance in her body language, and she didn’t blame her. Ghoul probably wouldn't take up her own offer.

[tau1tvec]

Honestly, I'm shocked that starfield doesn't have a bigger tumblr presence. I've been seeing skyrim and Fallout content on my dash for years now, so I figured starfield would have the same grab. I know that the elder scrolls and fallout are long-established series' but I had to go out of my way to find starfield content

Hell I even made a tag on my blog for starfield before it even came out!

I can’t say a lot about older Fallout, or Skyrim, I wasn’t on tumblr when they were released, but contrary to popular belief tumblr actually took its time to warm up to Fallout 4. Much like Starfield, it got a lot of hype leading up to it, a lot more a few weeks following its release, then the think pieces on it dropped, esp comparing it to older installments, which began dragging its engagement down. I only know this bc between its announcement, and release, and about two years of playing nothing but Fallout 4, I posted it constantly, and could see my likes reblogs kinda going down a bit in the first year, then ticking up the second, and following years.

I think it kinda depends on the content, and “aesthetic” quality of that content as well. My Skyrim gifs and sceneries do numbers, same with my Fallout ones, where as pics of my player character tend to do less, esp compared to established characters like Dogmeat and Nick Valentine, but who could resist those two. 🥹

Starfield suffers from two things, it’s a new IP, it doesn’t have the years of strong established canon or well known faces and factions Skyrim and Fallout 4 had behind it. Two, peer pressure. There are sooo many ppl talking about how terrible it is, people are actually afraid to admit they like it, hell people are still afraid to admit Fallout 4 and Fallout 76 are actually fun games, I can’t count how many times I’ve seen people start a post with “despite its problems ( insert Bethesda game ) is actually ( insert positive adjective )”, ppl are actively apologizing for stuff they like, or having to prove why, which creates a tumultuous environment where fandom and fanon even fanart can’t grow, bc everything is so focused on whether it’s even good enough to deserve it to begin with. This inevitably creates low engagement, and if you aren’t seeing a lot of engagement, its likely you don’t see a point in posting it, esp if you don’t feel it’s up to par of social media standards to show to begin with, and I don’t blame anyone who thinks this btw, I just personally don’t care about likes and reblogs enough in the way of motivating myself to post, just that I enjoy doing it and can look back on what I did and how much fun I had.

Just bc you don’t see it on your feed doesn’t mean it isn’t a good ( insert media ), and doesn’t mean ppl aren’t enjoying it in their own personal time.

[maximuswolf]

Modern "Feels Like a PS2/360 Game" Games

Modern "Feels Like a PS2/360 Game" Games this tag has gotten applied to recent games like Evil West, Stellar Blade, Outcast: A New Beginning, Starfield, and The Callisto Protocol either as a criticism or a compliment. personally i've really enjoyed them all and their more old school designs.what other games would you recommend that fall into this category? Submitted May 11, 2024 at 10:00AM by ebrownzzz https://ift.tt/rH2y6d3 via /r/gaming

[govindhtech]

ROG ALLY Z1 versus Z1 Best Competitive performance

COMPARISON OF THE EXTREME PERFORMANCE AND FEATURES OF THE ROG ALLY Z1 AND THE Z1

At the beginning of this year, we showed the rest of the world the ROG Ally, a Windows gaming portable that is capable of playing all of your games regardless of where you are. The ROG Ally is a AAA monster that pushes the capabilities of current handhelds to a whole new level with to its brilliant and colourful 1080p 120Hz screen, ergonomic form factor, and fantastic AMD Ryzen Z1 Extreme APU.

Now, we are pleased to inform that the Ryzen Z1 model of the ROG Ally is now available for purchase, with all of the same capabilities and a price tag that is more reasonable.

The AMD Ryzen Z1 comes with the newest RDNA 3 graphics engine and full support for AMD’s fantastic upscaling technologies, such as FidelityFX Super Resolution (FSR) and Radeon Super Resolution (RSR). It is based on the same Zen 4 architecture as the Ryzen Z1 Extreme.

The Ryzen Z1 offers the same strong power delivery and ROG Intelligent Cooling innovations that make the Z1 Extreme so powerful, but at a price that is more accessible. Additionally, the Ryzen Z1 includes six cores and twelve threads in addition to four graphics compute units.

Compare the performance of AMD Ryzen Z1 with Z1 Extreme

Even the most extensive game libraries are no match for the AMD Ryzen Z1, which is capable of running anything from AAA to indie to vintage games. In our testing, we discovered that even resource-intensive games like Cyberpunk 2077 and Diablo IV were capable of 30 frames per second or more at 1080p when set to Turbo mode.

Furthermore, several other games surpassed 45 or 60 frames per second for a seamless experience when played handheld. The following is a collection of games that we examined, followed by a comparison of the two different ROG Ally models:

And if you want to play at 720p with RSR scaling it up to 1080p, you may increase performance even more by doing the following:

In the end, the model that you choose will be determined by the kind of games you play, the framerate and quality settings you want, as well as your available cash.

Since its debut, the ROG Ally has had many updates that offer new functionality.

In addition to this new processor, the Ryzen Z1 iteration of the ROG Ally comes with all of the features that you have come to expect from the ROG Ally. These features include a 1080p 120Hz display with FreeSync Premium Pro, an ergonomic design with outstanding button feel, and ROG Intelligent Cooling for cool and silent operation.

Additionally, all of the software enhancements that have been made to the ROG Ally since its release in June will be included with this model when it is shipped. The following are some examples, however the list is not exhaustive:

More customization options for the controller, including a tool for calibrating the triggers and joysticks, a slider to adjust the anti-deadzone, and the ability to hold a button to repeat a sequence,

Additional user interface components that are helpful have been added to the Armoury Crate and the Command Centre. These new items include the battery level, the Wi-Fi status, and the current system time.

Additional options, including a “End Task” button, have been added to the Command Centre.

A better manual art selection, as well as the manual insertion and deletion of games, have been added to the improved game library.

Compatible with a wider range of USB-C ports for desktop play at 30W,

Additional choices for the FPS limiter and memory that may be assigned to the GPU, so that users can further tailor their performances to their preferences.

The capability of the display to get even darker, making it more usable in settings with low levels of illumination.

GPU drivers that have been brought up to date include compatibility for recently released titles such as Starfield.

as well as a large number of less significant bug fixes and enhancements to the overall user experience.

In addition, we’ve added more information to ROG Ally to help enhance your gaming experience. This new content includes optimised settings for newly released games, more game suggestions, and how to instructions such as how to play your games offline.

[commanderquinn]

im quinn!! a fandom ancient baby-stepping back into posting because i missed writing. you can find the most up-to-date versions of my work on ao3, but i will Attempt to keep tumblr updated as well

this is gonna be a fandom blog for the duration, with the occasional ao3 links and such. if you dont want my personal/rant posts block #quinn speaks & #quinns rant tag. im a slut for that one-armed grouch, bucko barnes, so most content is probably gonna revolve around him. i do get distracted with other fandoms from time to time tho

and i do have a bg3 side blog

tag nav:

my masterlists/oneshots

metas ive written for fandoms AND metas written by others

the inspo tag for all my ammunition plot device needs

posts that are My Vibe

my favs is a junk drawer tag at the moment. i will eventually refine it into multiples

free serotonin (post abt my doggo)

my current writing projects:

-Good Space (12/40 chapters posted) / masterpost: a bucky/reader fic! reader is named (Ava) bc i cant write a fic that long without one. i need Something, but physical description is left purposely vague (well. okay. refs to ava being Curvy and having glasses, you're welcome to picture Whatever You Want). plot is fully mapped, it'll just take me a bit to write something That Big

-Kinktober '23: the posting has begun! ive mapped all 31 days and they're focused on my MCU canon that you can find in good space. i dont consider the end of october the cutoff. im a writer in this for Good Vibes, not a time crunch. all fics will eventually be posted

fandoms i vibe with/write for:

im not gonna sit here and list every single fandom i know bc i have adhd and that'd be a Bad Idea, so if you wanna know if im down to write for your fandom but dont see me blogging about it, you can go ahead and shoot me an ask. that said, here's the fandoms i like/intend to write for on my own end at the moment:

-marvel -bg3 -mass effect -dragon age -outer worlds -starfield -fallout

writing requests:

i am open to taking writing requests!! you're welcome to submit them through my inbox or you can leave 'em on posts. up to you how descriptive you wanna get. seriously, any detail you can think of, go for it. you're not offending me by getting specific by any means

Some Blanket Rules:

-you can ask me to tw tag my posts. you can ask me to tw tag my fics. you have, at all times, my ACTIVE ENCOURAGEMENT to try to make my work safe for you. im happy to help in any way that i can, you're NOT bothering me by asking to put up warnings for things, its okay bb.

-however. please try to respect that im still A Person With Feelings. more importantly, to you, i am a stranger on the internet. acting like you've got some weird kind of authority over what kind of content im allowed to post is Really Fucked Up. please keep that attitude away from me. id recommend a therapist, but that's your call.

-i can, and will without hesitation, block anyone at the DROP of a hat if i catch bad vibes. im old. this is my house. i will make it a house i want to be in, anyone who fucks with that is no concern of mine. im just gonna block you and move on with my day.

-this is an anti-fandom-wank zone. i. am. old. (im not even 30 yet i should really stop saying that but i AM) and. tired. i cannot begin to describe to y'all how much i do not care about an internet stranger's biased view of something. leave me alone. im busy writing smut.

-in this house we believe in comfort fic supremacy

[drippingmoon]

No Longer Canon Tag

@sleepy-night-child nightfriend<3 I'll be jumping on this one since it sounded like a lot of fun and also, time for melancholy:') they did say that thinking back to how it started rekindled your love for a wip, and they were right

Of course, leaving it open!

Also I'll be doing this from memory because most of draft 1 is lost to the wind 🤣

Anne loathed Heaven. She felt trapped there, and disdained the angels for keeping her from what she loved -> this did a perfect 180 turn and in happened in the first three chapters of draft 1, no questions asked hahaha

She also returned to her original Aspect of Wisdom at the end, to show how she changed and wouldn't stand with them anymore

The entire plot of the sick star and how it died -> actually, in the beginning Anne took care of a cloudfield, not the starfield, before I realized exactly what the stars were to the angels

The Mother mysteriously vanished in the first few chapters and never came back after she nearly got killed by Anne. This didn't even make it into draft 1, she got too powerful 🤣

There was supposed to be much more emphasis on the Aspects and how humans relate to vices and sins... but it wasn't the right book for that kind of philosophy

The entire Hroa plot and how Anne nearly got sacrificed and was too scared to return to Heaven because to them it wasn't much of a thing and she wasn't doing her duty (funny how beliefs work)

That said, with Hroaviu removed, there's no more angel-hunters in Heaven because I got a better, more at hand idea that's more unsettling hahahaha I'm happy with that one:')

The angels' exodus and founding of Heaven was going to be a bigger thing. Demons too, as an ideology, now that I remember🤔

Imera now survives

Also there were going to be a lot more star and angel stories Anne told Tyrone, but... 🤣 this obviously couldn't work as a format unless it got impossibly long *and* wrecked the flow of the present-time plot

Rewind was going to actually function as magic and influence the plot, but it worked better subtly and from the background

The stars had an honest-to-God conversation with Tyrone at the end

Another lil plot of Anne and Malchior teaming up in the past times and infiltrating a shady establishment for his chapter instead of the Abel-fueled madness it is nowadays

Tyrone doesn't abandon Anne at the end

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Severed Bonds

Summary: Edge, Jedi Knight, is lost in a Galaxy without the Jedi Order and the only one left to him is one who already betrayed them all.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Star Wars AU, Darkfic, Angst, Minor Character Deaths, Friends to Enemies to ?, Hatesex...?, Trauma, Implied Possible Insanity

Note: In the Star Wars Universe, Order 66 was a direct command for the Clone Troopers to kill their Jedi leaders. In the movies, this happened in the Revenge of the Sith, and it nearly wiped out all the Jedi in existence.

This story is set directly after that. So...yeah, it gets a little dark. 

Ah, but Star Wars was one of my very first fandoms and imagining Rus as a Sith Lord and Edge as a Jedi Knight was too much to resist. Particularly when you have Cheapbourbon's gorgeous art to thank for planting the idea in my head.

Check it out here!

I've taken liberties with both the Star Wars and the Undertale universes, of course. Played fast and loose with canon. It's more fun that way. As an extra warning, this isn't my normal fluffiness and I can't exactly call it a happy ending. None of the character deaths references are either of our boys.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Consciousness came slowly, painfully so. Edge barely opened his sockets, enough to glance around the room he was in.

It was an unfamiliar medical bay and there was no one in sight. He sat up, stifling a groan at the ache in his skull. A medical droid powered up and left its charging station to come to him, metal hands urging him to lay back.

Its mechanical voice said with bland urgency, “Sir, you should lay down.”

He pushed the droid roughly aside and staggered to his feet. It moved back, out of his way, watching in silence, but if it was alerting a captor, it was too late to stop it.

All his clothing was clean and folded on a tray at the end of the bed. By time he pulled on his outer robe, Edge had found his balance, suppressing his headache with practiced ease, and no one came to investigate his waking.

His lightsaber was also on the tray and Edge took it automatically, clipping it to his belt.

Memory of what happened was fragmented; the suppressed pain did not eliminate the injury. His team traveling to seek out the Sith, that much he recalled, and there had been…an attack? An ambush? He needed answers before he chose his path.

He sank to his knees with the fluid grace despite his injuries, closing his sockets and reaching out with the Force. What he felt made him gasp, an unexpectedly wrenching cry of pain from within the universe itself and he hastily blocked it, kept his touch light, close. Memory came, as shocking as the pain flowing through the Force, and Edge opened his sockets.

There was only one other living presence on this ship and it was one he knew, all too well.

The ship was small and the walk to the cockpit was a short one. The other was sitting in the pilot’s seat, but the star field told Edge they were in hyperspace. His hands on the controls meant nothing. Familiar hands, long fingers of bone.

It was the first time in years he'd seen Rus anywhere except from the other side of a battlefield.

The lightsaber at his side was not a design that Edge knew, but he knew the color of its crystal. Red, as blazing crimson red as his own eye lights, though the meaning behind it was not one of a chance of birth. It was a choice.

Once his lightsaber had been green, complimenting the blue of Edge’s. They’d made them together, the one Edge still possessed and the one that Rus abandoned all those years ago.

Rus did not reach for his lightsaber, did not so much as look at him, even when he spoke.

"Where are the others?" Edge marveled at his own calm. He was a Jedi Knight and yet even he had his limits. The memory of the troopers who were supposed to be their allies turning on them, their blasters firing, of his fellow Knights falling beneath that deadly rain was fresh in his mind.

"they're gone," Rus said curtly. “all of them.” His voice was unchanged, even after all this time. Except for the underlying note of gentle humor that it had always held. His endless laughter was gone.

As gone as the other Jedi. "That's not possible."

But the Force told him otherwise; it cried to him, a universe worth of mourning and there was nothing but gaping emptiness at the other end of every bond. His team, Jedi he'd known and trusted for years were gone. Friends, teachers, students. Every mental path led to ragged emptiness. Where once the collective consciousness of the Jedi was a galaxy, now there was only the rare twinkle of a dying star.

It was no wonder he was so calm, he was probably going into shock

It was only his years of training that allowed him to keep his control. "You did this. This is because of you. You turned against us, turned to the Dark side."

Rus did not deny it but even as he said it, Edge could feel that it wasn't entirely true. He’d watched in quiet despair the depths that Rus sank to since his turning, watched as he killed when he should have been fighting at their side and yet. Rus had betrayed them, true, but this genocide was beyond even what he’d shown himself capable of.

They’d begun in the same crèche, he and Rus. Trained together as children, worked together as Padawans. They were knighted together, well on their way to being permanently teamed. Until with one desperate, reckless kiss, Rus destroyed it all.

On a mission with only the two of them, negotiations failed and turned violent. They’d only barely survived and ended up in the hold of a rickety transport they’d managed to barter passage on, huddled together against the cold. They were exhausted beyond reckoning and too tired to sleep. Edge trying to meditate, to reconcile what they’d gone through coming so close to dying, when there was a whisper in that darkness, his name.

“edge—“

Rus’s mouth had been hot, desperate against his own, pleading wordlessly, and Edge pushed him away.

He could still remember the look on Rus’s face, the raw emotion that no true Jedi would show.

It all collapsed so quickly after that, like a child’s balancing game destroyed by an ill wind.

And now they were here and the emptiness in his mind was as raw, as anguished, as Rus had been that day.

"Where are you taking me?" Edge asked, finally.

"i don't know. far away." Rus made a ragged sound, a mockery of his past laughter. "my Master has been calling to me, demanding my return. we need to get as far away as we can."

It would never be far enough. Through the Force all things were possible. Even darkness.

Edge sank into the co-pilot seat, staring at the starfield speeding outside. "You could have let me die."

Again there was that laughter and Rus shook his head. "i couldn't. i never could. not you, never you. it was always you, always, you were my downfall to begin with!" His anger trailed away into a low, broken chuckle, even now finding humor. “i gave up everything for you.”

"You gave up everything for yourself," Edge told him coolly. That was the truth of it, that was the Master’s teachings. The Jedi used their power for the benefit of all. To want for yourself was the path of the Sith and the proof of it was sitting before him. "I am not a possession for you to own."

"i didn't want to own you, i wanted--" Rus let out a low, shuddery breath. "it doesn't matter anymore. probably never did.”

"You left my lightsaber."

His laughter was bordering on hysteria now and Edge wondered if Rus was completely sane. Wondered the same thing about himself, if his preternatural calm was closer to a loss of self.

"i did,” Rus giggled, rocking in his seat. “i did. i wasn't entirely sure we'd be able to escape, and i didn't want to leave you helpless if we were boarded. me, they would probably spare, my master prefers to mete out his punishments himself, but you? you would only be another dead Jedi."

His control was slipping, cracking, Edge noted distantly, wondering again at his own sanity. "They are truly gone, all of them."

"most of them, yes. i expect a few have managed to escape. like you."

"Even the younglings, the little ones."

"yes." Rus swallowed hard, that maddening humor slipping away. “i didn't know. i wouldn't have--when the order came..." He shuddered with a thin rattle of bones, muffled beneath his dark robes. “this wasn’t the war i was meant to be fighting. the jedi are wrong, they expect us to cage our emotions and hide from the power that's possible, they are...were…"

"Rus--"

"they killed them all," Rus whispered. He never looked away from the hyperspace surrounding them, but his hands fell away from the controls, "i have blood on my hands, on my soul, i've never pretended otherwise, this was a war, but they...they shot them in the back. honor is a useless construct for those who choose death, but they killed children, they…that…"

“It was a war, this was what you wanted,” Edge said. The numbness in his soul was spreading, leaving him as empty as the Force. “And now you’re running away from it.”

“not you,” Rus said, softly, and he finally looked at Edge. There was nothing to mark his fall, nothing that named him Sith, save for the burning eye lights in his sockets. “that was too high a price.”

“Higher than your own soul?”

“too high a price,” Rus repeated. He grinned and it was savage.

If Edge was emptiness, then Rus was an overfilled cup and his hatred spilled out to sear them all.

His lightsaber was heavy at his hip. He could kill Rus right now, finally end this; the years of searching, of watching others being cut down beneath the glow of crimson. Edge didn't reach for it and wondered distantly if Rus had known he wouldn't or if he didn't care. “Asgore will find you.”

That smile turned bitter, a dead remnant of his former self. “he will, eventually, and my master will kill me. but then, it’s hardly the first time i’ve given up everything for you.”

Edge stood, striding out of the cockpit and away from what was left of his friend. And the Jedi.

~~*~~

In the weeks that passed, Rus mostly stayed away from him. It was a small ship, some interaction was unavoidable, but passing by each other in the common areas was more like walking past a ghost, a wraith who hardly looked at him.

Those fleeting glances told him that Rus was exhausted, darkened shadows sinking in beneath his sockets. The courses he plotted seemed nonsensical, likely trying to avoid Imperial forces.

Edge paid it little mind. He spent his nights sleeping and his days meditating. Reaching out for others through the static of emptiness, feeling through the Force for survivors.

But no one came.

There was nothing but the pulse of the one already on the ship. Rus’s Force signature was nothing like his former exuberance, all his gentle light darkened with anger, with hate.

It still felt like him. Edge pushed it to the side, and reached out further, searching for others that never reached back.

~~*~~

Another week passed and they landed on Soonia to refuel. An outskirts planet, the sort where power was law and the Empire had no control. It was little more than a trading post, but there was an outdoor market, shouts from those hawking their wares ringing through the growing heat of the morning.

Edge walked through it, his robes concealed beneath a dark cloak. Small stalls lined the walkways, with questionable meats turning on spits as they displayed a colorful array of the local fruits, fish, stolen wares, and everything else beneath the double suns.

He had no credits, not a thing to barter with. He was, however, not without skill and it only took a few nudges, a couple waves of his hand to net some fresh supplies, better than the gruel that has been sustaining them.

The afternoon was getting unpleasantly warm by the time he carried them back to the ship and he was preparing an evening meal when Rus returned. Edge had no idea what Rus traded for fuel, but he was limping and there was a ghost of bruise on his cheek bone that made his soul clench.

He stopped when he saw Edge.

“you came back,” Rus said, blankly.

For the first time, it occurred to Edge that he could have left. Bartered for passage on one of the other ships and Rus expected him to do it. They would be hunting him, true, as they were hunting all Jedi, but he would be infinitely safer away from Rus, who was marked as a traitor to be executed by the Emperor himself.

Distantly, he found himself saying, “Where else do I have to go?”

Edge turned his attention back to the fresh pala fruit he was slicing, sticky juice sluicing over his fingers. It would be delicious when it was warmed.

Rus stood for a long moment, watching. Then he limped slowly to one of the chairs and sat, waiting in silence until Edge set a plate in front of him.

They still rarely spoke but from that day forward, they took their meals together.

~~*~~

At the hour for his nightly meditations, Edge couldn’t focus.

Every day, morning and night, he searched for others, other Jedi who escaped, and every time he was greeted by nothingness. There was no one out there, the tendrils of the Force that tethered him his entire life were severed, still raw and bleeding even with the passing time.

They were gone, all of them. He knew it, had known it, but tonight was when belief sank in its teeth. They were gone and he was completely, utterly alone.

The taste of salt broke his concentration and Edge opened his sockets, wiping his tears away roughly with his sleeve. The Jedi were gone, dead, destroyed. Everyone he knew was dust.

All but one.

Edge rose slowly, walked out the door of his tiny sleeping quarters. The next room was barely two steps away and it was unlocked. He opened it, stepping inside.

On the narrow bed Rus stirred, his skull lifting from the pillows as he asked, “edge? what are you doing?”

There was only sleepiness in his voice, no hint of fear or his endless anger. Almost, Edge could pretend this was another time, another place.

Rus said nothing as Edge stripped off his robes and climbed into the bed, finding bones that matched the bareness of his own.

Edge had been with others. Sexual intercourse was not strictly forbidden, and he’d found momentary pleasures before, both between the thighs of another and others between his.

This was not sex; this was punishing Rus’s body and his own. Not with pain, no, the hurts they bore weren’t of the flesh, but of the soul.

It was an echo of that first kiss so long ago in a clammy, rusted hold; this was that moment, frozen in time, twisted and darkened and waiting for him.

He swept his hands over Rus, touching the sleek bones he’d denied himself before. There were new scars, stories gouged into him that Edge did not want to learn. Pain that he couldn’t bear to share, not on top of what he already carried.

The need within him burned and he pushed Rus’s knees apart almost desperately, settling between his femurs as he sought the only connection he could.

Rus cried out as he slid into him and the sound of it was the most honest thing they’d shared since that single, damning kiss.

Rolling his hips, Edge fucked him slowly, watching Rus coming apart beneath him. Fingers clawed at his rib cage, clutching him, holding him desperately and Edge allowed it. Giving him the body he’d denied Rus before.

He took his own back, scraping his teeth against the line of Rus’s jaw, tasting his mouth again and again, sharing his own desperation, his own raw need.

The brink came too fast, inexorably, and he could feel Rus reaching for him. Not with his hands, those clung to him, refused to release their hold. It was a shaky, tentative mental touch through the Force, reaching out to him.

Edge didn’t hesitate, opening himself up to the first Force contact he’d felt in weeks. The torn bond between them that had broken when Rus abandoned the Order was waiting for him. It was as damaged as the others that lay within Edge but when he reached for this one, it connected.

Despite everything, despite all the anger, the hate, Rus splayed open his soul to him and Edge did not cringe from the poison of his mental touch. His soul was filled with the Dark Side, layers of darkness, of rage and hate drenched in blood, and beneath it all, flaking away like layers of paint, was the Rus he knew, that he had always known and wasn’t allowed to love.

So broken, so hurt, so angry, that gentle soul buried in pain. But there.

In the shimmer of merging thought, he saw memory that wasn’t his own. The moment Edge’s team found him and before they could attack came Rus’s realization of what was truly happening. The clone troopers raising their weapon and—Rus caught the one aiming at Edge’s back with a brutal use of Force, lifting him from the ground and throwing him into a wall. His shot went wild, left Edge with only a graze on the side of his skull rather than a fatal injury. The other Jedi fell beneath the onslaught, dead and dying, while Rus’s lightsaber flashed, crimson slashing through the troopers until their screams faded.

Rus, picking him up, carrying him to the ship. Rus, caring for his injury. Rus, here and now, writhing beneath him.

When he came, his seed fell over Edge’s hand, dripping onto his rib cage, and only then did Edge close his sockets, losing himself in the slick heat, in this moment, in this life that was now his, theirs, until his own pleasure fell over him, raw and real, burning within him, flaring in his own soul.

Within the Force they reclaimed their bond and in that embrace, Edge learned what it was like to fall.

-finis-

Read Chapter 2

[the-foxwolf]

A Quest for Vengeance: The Docks: A Short Story

Time for another episode of my “A Quest for Vengeance” Series!

In today’s episode, @actualborossoldier‘s Marius and @confused-phyrexian‘s  Thaclel meet at the docks and make new friends...and new enemies.

If yall want me to tag you in future episodes, let me know!

You can read the other episodes –> here <–

Gather `Round! It’s Story Telling Time!

           Why did I come to Theros? Thaclel thinks to herself as she sits on a heap of shipping containers aboard a heavy-laden boat on the docks. Theros. The land where the night sky lives more vibrantly than the sun.

(Starfield of Nyx: Magic Origins) (Art by Tyler Jacobson)

           A little ways off comes Marius, wearing a long white chiton. Little more than loose squares of cloth held together by a couple of well-placed pins. Thaclel would never understand fleshlings. On some worlds, fleshlings wore so many clothes one never saw the true shape of their form. In other worlds, the fleshlings wore so little clothing that they might as well not be wearing anything at all. The only reason Thaclel chose to wear anything is because it made fleshlings uncomfortable to see her in her compleated form. Perhaps ashamed at their imperfection.

           The human of Ravnica walks towards her, sword at his hip, and moving as stiffly as a reed in a gentle breeze. Ever the soldier.

           “Why did you wish to meet, Marius of Zelzo?” Thaclel says from her perch.

           “Zerriko brought us here, didn’t he?” Marius says, stepping onto the boat. “To slay a great evil god.”

           Thaclel watches as Marius attempts to climb up the pile of crates and responds. “You have not answered the question.”

           Marius clumsily makes his way up the pile of crates and sits himself down beside her. “Well…I guess I was just wanting to make friends is all.”

           She makes a noise half the sound of scraping metal and half the sound of grinding gravel. “Friends? With me?” Marius simply stares at her, his expression steady. “Why?” Thaclel demands. “Does my form not…discourage you?”

           Marius simply shrugs and shifts his gaze to the Nyx sky. “We’re all different, Thaclel. That’s what makes life such an awesome experience. We meet new people. We see new things. Without that… life just wouldn’t be the same.”

           At length Thaclel says somberly, “Thank you. I accept your invitation for friendship.” For several silent moments they just sit together, contemplating the colors of the night sky. At length, Thaclel says, “Few people accept me for who and what I am. I had almost given up hope that things would ever be different.”

           The human grins at her. “Have faith in us fleshlings. We’re not perfect by a long stretch. We’re ignorant and arrogant. But the truth is we’re mostly just scared. Scared of the unfamiliar and the unknown. What terrifies us the most though, is fear of the realization of how little we are. The more we learn and discover the more we have to swallow our pride and accept that we aren’t the foundation of what is defined as normal or good. And that’s intimidating to a lot of people.”

           Thaclel shakes her head and leaps off the crates onto the docks. She approaches the edge and gazes into the water at her own reflection. “I will share with you a secret, Marius of Zelzo… I do not understand my own self. I look into this reflection of mine and all I see is what everyone else has taught me to see. Never once have I appreciated who and what I am. Perhaps I never will.” The Phyrexian reaches out a claw and traces the shape of her figure on the water. “Maybe…maybe it is time to try.”

           “Wow.” Marius says, standing up and beginning to descend the pile of crates. “I did not expect this to get so deep so quickly. But I’m glad I brought a smile to your metallic face.”

           She continues to contemplate her reflection as she responds. “Why did you come to Theros, Marius of Zelzo?”

           “Zerricko,” Marius replies as he finishes his descent and sets his feet on the boat. “told me there was an evil god here that needed slaying. I came because…well… I must.” He crosses over from the boat to the docks and walks up to Thaclel. “A friend of mine once told me that if someone has the power to help, they have the responsibility to help. And I can help. I’m a Planeswalker. Why are you here?”

           Thaclel rises from her crouch and sighs. “I’m trying to figure that out too… This friend of yours sounds wise. Who is it?”

           “He’s a good man. Goes by the name Foxwolf.”

           Thaclel turns to face him. “Foxwolf?”

           “Yeah. Got to admit, it’s a real strange name. He’s never really-“

           “Is he a fox?”

           “What? No. He’s-“

           “Is he a wolf?”

           “No. He’s not a fox or a wolf. It’s just a-“

           “So why does he call himself a Foxwolf?”

           A shirtless man with thick brown dreadlocks, a braided beard, and a heavy, strong voice, walks toward them along the docks accompanied by a well dressed goblin and a confident and wild looking leather clad woman. “Look at what we have here. Not one, but two World Walkers.”

           “World Walkers?” Marius asks, hand resting on his sword’s handle. “You mean Planeswalkers?”

           Thaclel growls and reaches for her war hammer. “Who are you?”

           The dark skinned, heavily built, stranger chuckles and raises his palm. “My work name is Snatcher. This here is Seeker.” He says, indicating the goblin in the dress suit, shoes, pants, tie, and fedora. Then, pointing to the red haired woman with the half shaved head, leather pants, boots, fingerless gloves, and a long sleeved but short trunked leather jacket, he says, “And this is Taker.”

           Marius draws his sword and scowls. “Those names aren’t exactly subtle. I’d ask what you wanted but I get the feeling I already know.”

           Thaclel hefts her war hammer and snarls. “Hail strangers and remember. What you are about to experience you have brought upon yourself…if you yet live.”

           Snatcher chuckles and raises his palm. A strange blue and red light emits from it and Marius’ and Thaclel’s weapons tear free from their owner’s hands and attach themselves to his hand. “Take them.” He orders.

           Seeker disappears in a puff of smoke and appears behind Marius. Before the soldier can respond, the goblin presses two batons against him, one against his knee and the other against his lower back. A powerful electrical current rips through Marius’ body, dropping him unconscious almost instantly.

           Thaclel reaches out its claws at the goblin that disappears in a puff of smoke before she touches him. Grabber stretches out her arm and extends her palm. A blast of frost launches from her hand and slams into Thaclel. Almost instantly, the Phyrexian is surrounded in a thick cocoon of ice. The cold is extreme. While breathing is almost optional for Thaclel, heat is not. A newfound weakness. Darkness closes in around her vision and overwhelms her…

(Encase in Ice: Dragons of Tarkir) (Art by Mathias Kollros)

           Why? She thinks just before unconsciousness claims her. Why did I come to Theros?

 If yall liked what you read, hit that “Reblog” button. For more stories, memes, and informative MTG Story related articles hit that “Follow” button.

@pepperjaq @confused-phyrexian @actualborossoldier @askkrenko @foilmountain @obi-one-drop @animar-smol-of-elephants  @fogothefighter @vorthosthewillis @nantukohunk @verumlumen @foilmountain @baldore-of-the-boros @jolly-ob-saint-nixilis @kahalaomapuana  

[nvijork-planeswalks]

A Fan-Walker is Born

Hi all, I’m a huge nerd, so I’m going to share a fan-walker I’ve been working on for a while, and I want to get more involved in the community.

Tychon of Meletis

Race: Human Planeswalker

Plane of Origin: Theros

Colors: Blue, Green, Black (Minor)

Specializations: Navigation, Seeking, Precognition, Weather

Accoutrements: Shield (also used as a scrying dish), Starfield Cloak, Dowsing Compass

Early Life and Ignition:

Tychon was brought up in a trading family based in Meletis. Though he was expected to grow up to run the business from the shore like his father, he grew to love the sea. Fueled by an insatiable curiosity, he eventually ran from home and responsibility and took ship anonymously. Eventually he returned to his family, now an able sailor and navigator of repute. Grateful to have him home and glad to see he had talents to put to use, his aging father agreed to let him captain one of the ships owned by his family. He turned the ship toward the horizon and never returned.

Feeling above all the desire to explore, his exploits took him all over Theros, to the edges of the known world. He became a legend in his own time, boasting that he was as good as Callephe the Mariner come again. Consumed by his hubris, at last he truly followed in her wake, and tried to sail into Nyx itself.

Boldly swearing to Thassa that soon he would need her no longer, for he would sail only the seas of Nyx, he set his sail and drove the ship over the final waterfall at the edge of the world. As he and his loyal crew fell to their inevitable deaths, spitting vile curses at the gods, Tychon’s spark ignited, allowing him to survive as the wreckage plunged into the infinite depths of the Blind Eternities.

Planeswalking:

Though crushed at the death of his crew and loss of his ship, Tychon was truly overjoyed to discover the other planes of the multiverse. His greatest dream fulfilled, his greatest prayer answered: to sail the seas of a thousand worlds, beneath the light of stranger suns.

For a while he did just that, visiting strange lands, gathering a trove of trinkets, stories, and maps. Eventually, he fell in peripherally with a cell of the Infinite Consortium, primarily acting as a scout to find rare or legendary objects of desire. When eventually orders stopped coming to them, the cell drifted apart without fanfare and without regret.

Now, Tychon continues to roam where the wind and the will take him, never letting go of the wonder that spurred him on from the very beginning.

Alternate flavor text: It’s good at whats, whos, and wheres, but hows and whens often escape it.

I’m just going to tag a few people in the fandom who I think may appreciate this, since I’m really proud of it, even though it is a work in progress.  I Hope y’all don’t mind.

@flavoracle​, @bace-jeleren​, @vorthosjay​, @pepperapb​, @sarkhan-volkswagen​

[thran-duils]

May 2017 Reads

I AM GOING TO DO THIS EVERY MONTH TO SHARE WHAT BOOKS I HAVE READ (OR ABANDONED) IN MY 50 BOOK CHALLENGE FOR THE YEAR. AND I’LL ADD BOOKS I’M STILL READING THAT I’M SURE I’LL FINISH BY THE END OF THE CURRENT MONTH.

MY READ COUNT THIS MONTH: 13 ABANDONED THIS MONTH: 4 IN PROGRESS: 2 2017 COUNT: 41

JANUARY 2017 || FEBRUARY 2017 || MARCH 2017 || APRIL 2017 || MAY 2017 || June 2017

In progress from last month...

The Paper Magician

Ceony Twill arrives at the cottage of Magician Emery Thane with a broken heart. Having graduated at the top of her class from the Tagis Praff School for the Magically Inclined, Ceony is assigned an apprenticeship in paper magic despite her dreams of bespelling metal.Yet the spells Ceony learns under the strange yet kind Thane turn out to be more marvelous than she could have ever imagined.  Ceony also learns of the extraordinary dangers of forbidden magic. An Excisioner — a practitioner of dark, flesh magic — invades the cottage and rips Thane’s heart from his chest. To save her teacher’s life, Ceony must face the evil magician and embark on an unbelievable adventure.

Author: Charlie N. Holmberg

Genre: Teen, Sci-Fi

Rating: ★  ★  ★  ☆  ☆

NEW

I Don’t Like Koala

What’s not to love about a cute, cuddly...creepy toy koala? This is the story of a boy and the stuffed animal he just can’t seem to shake. Adam does not like Koala. Koala is a little creepy. Adam tries explaining this to his parents. He tries putting Koala away—far away. He tries taking Koala on a long, long walk. Nothing works. Will Adam ever be rid of Koala? Author: Sean Ferrell Genre: Picture book (more adult humor) Rating: ★  ★  ★   ★  ☆

Finding Home

A remarkable story of survival. The creators of A MOTHER'S JOURNEY and LITTLE LOST BAT, Sandra Markle and Alan Marks team up again to chronicle the challenges faced by a mother koala: protecting herself and her joey from a raging bushfire, and finding food and a new home after their home range is destroyed. Based on a true story.

Author: Sandra Markle

Genre: Picture book

Rating: ★  ★  ★   ★  ☆

Deadpool: Annihilation

Deadpool has now become fixated on achieving the one thing that's always been beyond his reach-death. Not an easy thing for an unkillable man to achieve, but that's not gonna stop him from trying. But first, he must figure out the all-important question: How? What in the world can kill Deadpool? It has to be big. It has to be powerful beyond description. It has to be...green?

Author: Daniel Way

Genre: Graphic Novel

Rating: ★  ★  ★   ★  ☆

One Punch Man

One blow heresy! A hero "Saitama" which is too strong, knocks down any evil monster with one punch. Legend opening of the strongest heroes in the world!

Author: ONE

Genre: Manga, Humorous Manga

Rating:  ★  ★  ★   ★  ☆

The Incredible Journey

Instinct told them that the way home lay to the west. And so the doughty young Labrador retriever, the roguish bull terrier and the indomitable Siamese set out through the Canadian wilderness. Separately, they would soon have died. But, together, the three house pets faced starvation, exposure, and wild forest animals to make their way home to the family they love.

Author: Sheila Burnford

Genre: Young Reader, Fiction

Rating:  ★  ★  ★   ★  ☆

Batman: Arkham City

Video game tie-in reveals real motivation behind Mayor Sharp's plans for the new criminal walled-in city -- insane psychiatrist Hugo Strange with drugs and hypnotism angers good soldiers into rabid anti-Bat Tyger private force. Emaciated Joker, obese Penguin, scrawny Riddler, bulky Bane, and mostly Two-Face with exposed side of blood sinew and bone.

Author: Paul Dini

Genre: Graphic Novel

Rating: ★  ★  ★   ★  ☆

If We Were Villains

Enter the players. There were seven of us then, seven bright young things with wide precious futures ahead of us. Until that year, we saw no further than the books in front of our faces.On the day Oliver Marks is released from jail, the man who put him there is waiting at the door. Detective Colborne wants to know the truth, and after ten years, Oliver is finally ready to tell it. 

Author: M.L. Rio

Genre: Fiction, Suspense

Rating: ★  ★  ★  ★  ★  

Assassination Classroom (#1)

A gunshot meeting the classroom with the command! Yuigaoka Junior High School E group is an assassination school where all the students aim for their non-human teacher's life. Life of target and assassin begin...

Author: Yusei Matsui

Genre: Manga, Humor Manga

Rating: ★  ★  ★   ★  ☆

Girl In Pieces

Charlotte Davis is in pieces. At 17, she’s already lost more than most people lose in a lifetime. The broken glass washes away the sorrow until there is nothing but calm. You don’t have to think about your father and the river. Your best friend, who is gone forever. Or your mother, who has nothing left to give you. Every new scar hardens Charlie’s heart just a little more, yet it still hurts. It hurts enough to not care anymore, which is sometimes what has to happen before you can find your way back from the edge.

Author: Kathryn Glasgow

Genre: Teen, Fiction

Rating: ★  ★  ★  ★  ★  

Smoke

Pattyn Von Stratten’s father is dead, and Pattyn is on the run. After far too many years of abuse at the hands of her father, and after the tragic loss of her beloved Ethan and their unborn child, Pattyn is desperate for peace. Only her sister Jackie knows what happened that fatal night, but she is stuck at home with their mother, who clings to normalcy by allowing the truth to be covered up by their domineering community leaders. Her father might be finally gone, but without Pattyn, Jackie is desperately isolated.

Author: Ellen Hopkins 

Genre: Teen, Fiction

Rating: ★  ★  ★  ☆  ☆

Assassination Classroom (#2)

A beautiful foreign language teacher is newly assigned to E group. Her true identity is a fierce killer who approached the target with her good looks and skillful talking! Preparation for  assassination of Koro-Sensei steadily progresses...

Author: Yusei Matsui

Genre: Manga, Humor Manga

Rating: ★  ★  ★   ★  ☆

Everneath

Last spring, Nikki Beckett vanished, sucked into an underworld known as the Everneath. Now she’s returned—to her old life, her family, her boyfriend—before she’s banished back to the underworld . . . this time forever. She has six months before the Everneath comes to claim her, six months for good-byes she can’t find the words for, six months to find redemption, if it exists.

Author: Brodi Ashton

Genre: Teen, Romance, Fantasy

Rating:  ★  ☆  ☆  ☆  ☆

The Girls of Atomic City

The incredible story of the young women of Oak Ridge, Tennessee, who unwittingly played a crucial role in one of the most significant moments in U.S. history.

Author: Denise Kiernan

Genre: Non-Fiction, History

Rating: IN PROGRESS

Sweetbitter

"Let's say I was born when I came over the George Washington Bridge..." This is how we meet unforgettable Tess, the 22 year old at the heart of this novel. Shot from a mundane, provincial past, she's come to NYC to look for a life she can't define, except as a burning drive to become someone. After she stumbles into a coveted job at a renowned Union Square restaurant, we spend the year with her as she learns the chaotic, punishing, privileged life of a "backwaiter," on duty and off.

Author: Stephanie Danler

Genre: Fiction

Rating: IN PROGRESS

Prudence

When Prudence Alessandra Maccon Akeldama (Rue to her friends) is given an unexpected dirigible, she does what any sensible female would under similar circumstances - names it the Spotted Custard and floats to India in pursuit of the perfect cup of tea. But India has more than just tea on offer. Rue stumbles upon a plot involving local dissidents, a kidnapped brigadier's wife, and some awfully familiar Scottish werewolves.

Author: Gail Carriger

Genre: Sci-Fi, Steampunk

Reason abandoned: The writing was just... awful.

Given to the Sea

Khosa was born to be fed to the sea, to prevent the kind of wave that once destroyed the Kingdom of Stille. She can’t be sacrificed until she produces an heir, but human touch repulses her…except for the touch of the Indiri. Dara and Donil are the last of the Indiri, a native race with magic that’s seductive—a force of nature—but dwindling since the Pietra slaughtered their people. Witt leads the Pietra, the fierce warriors who are now marching on the Kingdom of Stille. The stone shores of Witt’s kingdom harbor a secret threat, and to ensure the survival of his people, he’s prepared to conquer every speck of Stille’s soil.

Author: Mindy McGinnis

Genre: Teen, Fantasy

Reason abandoned: This story was going N O W H E R E fast. And the plot was so disorganized, I couldn’t handle it.

A Study in Charlotte

The last thing Jamie Watson wants is a rugby scholarship to Sherringford, a Connecticut prep school just an hour away from his estranged father. But that’s not the only complication: Sherringford is also home to Charlotte Holmes, the famous detective’s great-great-great-granddaughter, who has inherited not only Sherlock’s genius but also his volatile temperament. From everything Jamie has heard about Charlotte, it seems safer to admire her from afar.

Author: Brittany Cavallaro

Genre: Teen, Fiction

Reason abandoned: Again, bad writing.

Geekerella

When geek girl Elle Wittimer sees a cosplay contest sponsored by the producers of Starfield, she has to enter. First prize is an invitation to the ExcelsiCon Cosplay Ball and a meet-and-greet with the actor slated to play Federation Prince Carmindor in the reboot. Elle’s been scraping together tips from her gig at the Magic Pumpkin food truck behind her stepmother’s back, and winning this contest could be her ticket out once and for all—not to mention a fangirl’s dream come true.

Author: Ashley Poston

Genre: Teen, Fiction

Reason abandoned: I CANNOT EXPLAIN HOW MUCH I DISLIKED ELLE. SHE IS SERIOUSLY THE PERSON OR TYPE OF PERSON I AVOID IN A FANDOM. So pretentious and annoying, oh my god. Insufferable is a good word to describe her.

~~~

Tags: @jamiemelyn