#until their balloon popped and they landed on a passing ship where one of them could make a deathbed confession

[fictionadventurer]

Everything I learn about Rose Wilder Lane makes me more and more aware that she was a hilariously outrageous person who needs a movie made about her immediately.

After leaving Missouri, she moves to California and marries a real-estate guy who once tried to get her to help him con the railroad.

She gets hired at a San Francisco newspaper known for its yellow journalism, where she does things like writing a series of columns featuring the "real-life stories of a police detective" who, in real life, was a high-end jewel thief.

Her first book is a first-person "autobiography" of Charlie Chaplin that she (after a few interviews with Chaplin) completely made up, and that Charlie Chaplin immediately threatened to sue her publisher for.

Her second book is a biography of Jack London, which his wife only reluctantly allowed her to write because Rose presented herself as "someone who had never written for the newspapers before and needs a chance to break into the magazines." This book was also almost entirely fictional, and her publisher also almost got sued over it.

Third biography is the first-ever biography of Herbert Hoover, also a heavily-fictionalized account. (Doesn't seem to have been sued for this one. Steps in the right direction!)

Traveled as a reporter through Europe (to places like Albania and Poland) post-WWI. (If we want to talk about legal things that she did).

Wrote a book based on Laura's late-childhood pioneer experiences while Laura was writing the early books of the Little House series, and did not tell Laura about it. (Laura was ticked off).

Kept trying to insert a story into Laura's memoirs (and Little House on the Prairie) casting Pa as a member of a posse that hunted down the infamous (and never-caught) serial-killing Bender family (despite the fact that this was historically impossible). (It got to the point that Laura herself told this story to the public as an example of "a true story I couldn't out in my children's book." Despite the fact, I say again, that this was historically impossible).

During WWII, endured a minor incident (it involved one cop coming to her house) where the FBI investigated her as a potential communist based on a postcard she sent that was critical of the government. Turned this into a short story that presented herself as the righteously-outraged American citizen fighting against an oppressive government, and used this to whip up a nationwide media campaign against J. Edgar Hoover for spying on American citizens.

Flew to Vietnam as a war reporter when she was in her seventies.

[whitecatindisguise]

Taking It Too Far

So I've watched Fan Friction episode and immediately I was struck by how wrong they approached the subject. Hiro was right to be upset, but the producers didn't give him the right reason. This story is an attempt to right the wrongs. That, and there are also other changes to the basic episode plot because 1) I didn't remember everything and didn't really have time nor mood to rewatch it, 2) I thought some things would be better if changed a bit.

Anyway, I hope you like it and enjoy yourselves.

AO3 link here

... and there, inside the lab, was Captain Cutie’s beautiful girlfriend, Karmi. The two locked eyes and-

“Hey, Fred. What are you doing?” Hiro popped out from behind the man and looked at the other’s screen. He squinted his eyes, skimming through the words. “Is that-?”

“A fanfiction about us? Sure is!” Fred cut in enthusiastically, grinning wildly. “And I gotta tell you, man, it’s amazing! The plot, the characters, the action, the characters!”

Hiro rose one eyebrow, clearly not siding with the other’s enthusiasm. His gaze wandered back to the screen and he stopped dead.

“Why am I called Captain Cutie? And why Karmi is my girlfriend? Who wrote this?!” He asked angrily. Him and Karmi? Never in a lifetime!

“I don’t know, but they post as KHeartsQT.” Fred waved his hand dismissively, his focus solely on the story.

Hiro hummed and moved the cursor to the author’s name and clicked on it, recoiling the moment a pop-up window showed a profile picture.

There, on Fred’s computer screen, his greatest nemesis was staring back at him.

***

“I can’t believe it!” Hiro burst into the main lab, stomping past Honey Lemon and almost bumping into confused Wasabi, who barely managed to jump away. Without a word of apologise, the young teen approached his working space and shoved his backpack onto the desk, sitting down heavily on the chair.

“What’s up with him?” Go Go popped a balloon as she stated at the clearly upset boy.

“Nothing. He just doesn’t like Karmi’s fan fiction.” Fred shrugged as he strolled inside and flopped onto his armchair. “Can’t really relate. It’s amazing! And did you see how she named me? Flame Jumper! Not as cool as Fredzilla, obviously, but points for awesomeness.”

“Oh, I read it.” Honey Lemon chimmed in. “It’s really well-written. Although, I don’t know why my name is Tall Girl. I’m not that tall, aren’t I?”

A series of weeeeell’s and ummmm’s echoed in the lab and the ginger-haired woman dropped her head down in response.

“She called me Chop Chop.” Wasabi added. “I can see where it’s coming from, but it makes me sound like some character from the kid’s show, and not a proper superhero.”

“Speed Queen.” Go Go spoke from her side of the lab, tinkering with some kind of miniature scooter. “Sounds cool.”

“All of you have normal nicknames. But she called me Captain Cutie. And made herself my- ugh- girlfriend.” Hiro cringed as he spoke. “Who even gave her a right to write about us? I don’t remember giving my permission, do you?”

“Calm down, Hiro. It’s just a story.”  Honey Lemon put a hand on his shoulder but he shook it off.

“Well, maybe I don’t appreciate being put in a story that’s clearly fake and totally unrealistic?!” He snatched his backpack and stomped towards the door. “I’m going to work in my lab. Away from that nonsense.”

With these words, he stormed out, his angry footsteps and muttering audible until he turned the corridor.

“Wow. Talk about negative energy.” Wasabi commented, as they stared at the door.

***

In the coming days, Hiro’s mood only got worse. Everyone on the campus seemed to enjoy Karmi’s story, some even starting to ship Karmiutie, as they began to call the imagined pairing between Karmi and Captain Cutie. Hiro couldn’t even take a step without someone saying something about the story or the ship, or, which happened more often than he would like it, mentioning both.

Karmi seemed to love the attention. Other students called to her on the corridor, expressing their enjoyment of her story and some even daring to ask whether she and Captain Cutie really were a couple. Hiro didn’t stay to hear the girl’s response, stomping away angrily, to the confusion of the students.

With everything going on, he was unfocused and started failing classes he usually had no trouble with. Professor Granville seemed to be both upset and concerned about this change. He couldn’t tell her what bothered him, however, so he made an excuse about not feeling well lately. He wasn’t sure she believed him.

To make things worse, his upset state started to affect his superhero work as well. He kept making mistakes leading to the whole team getting into trouble and only barely managing to catch criminals they encountered. This only led to his mood worsening.

The young teen was walking down the hallway, trying to tune out the conversations revolving around the newest chapter of the fan fiction, when he suddenly collided with someone and they both landed in the floor, stunned by the hit.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” He heard an annoyingly familiar voice and he looked up to see Karmi picking herself up from the floor, snatching her phone from where it slid off during the crash.

“I was. Which you would notice if you wasn’t gaping at your phone, producing those abominations of yours all the time.” Hiro seethed, picking himself up from the floor.

“Excuse you!” Karmi huffed in response. “What’s your problem?!”

“Oh, I don’t know?” Hiro replied, anger seeping into his voice. “Maybe that you write about real people and forcing them into fake relationships to release your crazy fantasies? Or maybe that you give stupid names which don’t fit the characters at all?”

“For your information, everybody loves my story. I even have some faithful fans that comment on every chapter, like Fredelicious24.” Karmi replied defensively. “And since nobody knows what their real names are, I’m allowed to use whatever I want.”

“I’m sure Captain Cutie is thrilled to be called that.” Hiro rebounded, rolling his eyes at the nickname.

“Maybe he is!” the girl shouted back. “What do you know, anyway?”

“Ugh, forget it!” The dark-haired teen shoved his arms apart and stomped away, trying to ignore the whispering from the students who watched the encounter.

It was around lunch time, when his friends found him, sitting alone in the cafeteria, poking his food with an upset expression.

“Hiro, what’s wrong? We heard about your argument with Karmi.” Honey Lemon started, as they all took their seats.

“Yeah, so? Are you also going to tell me what a jerk I am? I heard it at least twenty times by now.” He huffed, impaling one of the fries onto the fork and biting on it angrily.

“We just want to help.” Wasabi replied, eyeing as the teen gathered several more fries and stuffed them all into his mouth, munching aggressively.

“But we can’t, until you tell us what’s going on.” Go Go added.

Just then, several students passed by, the pieces of their conversation about Karmi’s story and the Karmiutie ship reaching their eyes. Hiro grunted and picked up his tray, pushing the chair away.

“I’m going to eat in my lab.” He said and walked away.

“That is highly insanitary!” Wasabi called after him.

Honey Lemon looked thoughtful, as she stared at the retreating back of the young teen, and gazed at the group of students, who had now taken over one of the tables nearby.

“Of course! Why didn’t I notice that before?” He exclaimed triumphantly. The others looked at her questioningly. “Come on, we have to talk to him!” she gathered her stuff and rushed off, others staring in the direction she went.

“So... Do we follow or...?” Wasabi asked. Right then, Fred’s phone buzzed and he gasped.

“The creepy knife-lady escaped from prison!” He exclaimed. They shared a look.

“Guess we’ll talk to Hiro after that.” Go Go commented, as they left the cafeteria.

***

To say the action went well would be a major understatement. Not only did Momakase escape, but she also cut through Go Go’s disks, left Honey Lemon and Fred stuck in the goo, Baymax lost one of his leg thrusters and rocket fist, and Wasabi’s blades needed a serious repair.

Hiro was trying to help, but the conversation with Karmi was still fresh in his mind and he couldn’t properly focus on the fight. It was pathetic, even he had to agree.

He angrily took of his helmet and shoved it towards the wall. It hit the divider with a metallic clang and fell to the floor, leaving a small dent in where it met with the structure.

“Your body language indicated extreme anger.” Baymax spoke from behind. Hiro huffed.

“Oh yeah? How did you figure that one out?” He asked, sitting on his chair with arms crossed.

“You are making a face expression known as frown.” Baymax said. “Your body is tense and you are-“

“I was being sarcastic, Baymax.” Hiro interrupted. Baymax blinked.

“I am not programmed to recognise sarcasm.” The robot replied and Hiro groaned.

“Hiro? You there?” Honey Lemon called out and the whole gang entered his garage, suits off.

“Just peachy.” The young teen answered, starting to take off Baymax’s armour.

“Don’t worry, dude. We’ll get the crazy knife-lady next time.” Fred patted his friend’s shoulder comfortingly. Hiro glared at him and the man slowly backed away.

“We’re worried about you, Hiro.” Honey Lemon spoke again, her eyes matching her words. “Is it about Karmi’s story?”

“What? Noooo.” Hiro waved his hand nonchalantly. Everyone stared at him, unimpressed.

“It’s totally about the story.” Go Go said.

“Definitely.” Wasabi agreed.

Hiro sighed and turned away, hugging his arm.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He mumbled.

“Your body language indicates discomfort.” Baymax spoke.

“Hiro... You are clearly upset about it.” Honey Lemon said. “And I think I know why.”

“Y-you do?” Hiro asked, but backed down really quick. “I-I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, Honey Lemon, why would he be upset with it! The story is epic!” Fred joined in, unaware of Hiro’s frown deepening as the male kept on talking. “The plot is amazing, there are so many cliffhangers and, of course, the cherry on top being Karmiutie, of which, by the way, I am the president of the fanclub and-“

He was interrupted by the slam of the door and he blinked, only now noticing they were left alone in the garage, Hiro nowhere to be seen.

“Way to go, dumbass.” Go Go commented as she popped a balloon.

“What did I do?” Fred blinked. There was a collective slap as everyone else facepalmed.

Honey Lemon put on a determined face and followed the way the teen went. The others followed, saying their greetings to Aunt Cass on their way past, making a beeline towards the back and up to the living area. Hiro was, unsurprisingly, sitting by his desk, tapping furiously at his laptop.

“Hiro?” The ginger-haired woman softly spoke up. The said teen huffed in response.

“I though I made it clear I don’t want to talk about it.” He said angrily.

“She’s not letting this one go, so you might as well stop being stubborn.” Go Go crossed her arms and leaned over the doorframe, clearly making sure his only escape route is blocked.

“Hiro, please.” Honey Lemon kneeled down to find herself at his eye level. “We just want to help.”

“There is nothing any of us can do to help.” The teenager mumbled, looking away. “Besides, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. And you have every right to be upset.” The woman replied softly.

Hiro pointedly looked back at his laptop, attempting to ignore them. The redhead didn’t back out, however.

“We were all so caught up in how good Karmi’s story is that we failed to notice how upsetting it is for you. After all, it’s your hero persona she chose to pair herself with.” Honey Lemon spoke up. The tapping of the keyboard stopped, but the teen didn’t turn around yet. “And, knowing the characters are real, people started to assume the relationship is real, too. And that’s wrong. What Karmi is doing is wrong. You can’t just- what’s the word they use for saying two characters are in a romantic relationship...?”

“Ship.” Helpfully suggested Fred.

“Yes, thanks, Freddie.” Honey Lemon smiled thankfully and turned back to Hiro. “You can’t just ship two real people. It’s wrong. It shouldn’t be acceptable.”

“And yet I seem to be the only one who has problem with that.” The teen mumbled, his back still to his friends.

“I think it’s because the story is about our superhero personas.” Fred interjected and everyone, even Hiro, looked at him in confusion. “I mean, superheroes themselves feel like fictional characters. And, even though everyone knows we are real, it’s still hard to distinguish that if we’re also the characters in a work of fiction, which, by definition, means it’s not real. It creates somewhat a paradox and people just don’t completely realise the fiction part actually refers only to the story itself and not the characters.”

Everyone stared dumbfoundedly at the millionaire, who blinked and starred back.

“What?” He asked.

“We just didn’t expect you to say something so... thoughtful.” Wasabi finally said, the others nodding in agreement.

“Hey, I can act smart too, you know?” Fred argued and then promptly took out an unwrapped candy from his pocket, have it a testing lick, shrugged and put it in his mouth. Everyone shuddered.

“Aaaand the usual Fred is back.” Go Go commented while Wasabi tried to not puke.

“Even if what he said is true, it’s not like I can just go and tell her to stop.” Hiro picked up the conversation to take their minds of Fred and the candy. “What should I even say? Hey, Karmi, you know this story you write? You should stop because I don’t like you shipping yourself with this guy, whose name is definitely not Captain Cutie. Cool? Cool.”

Fred snorted but Go Go quickly elbowed him in the ribs to stop. Hiro groaned and hid his head between his arms. Honey Lemon approached the teen and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe not as Hiro you, but if you explained it as your superhero you?” She suggested, smiling encouragingly.

“I am not going to change into my armour just so I can talk to Karmi.” He replied sternly and sighed. “I just- gonna have to live with it... somehow...”

“If you have a problem with something or someone, you should speak up, genius.” Go Go said.

“Talking is the key to the healthy communication.” Baymax agreed.

“Ugh, fine.” Hiro said. “I’ll talk to her. If I see her on a patrol or something.”

“Hiro-“ Honey Lemon started to say but the robot cut her in.

“I’ve found a disturbing information in the local news. Playing it now.”

The screen on his chest turned on and a reporter appeared, speaking about some message being sent to their station this afternoon. The view changed, and they saw Momakase, grinning at the camera.

“Welcome, Big Hero 6.” She said, looking far too happy about something. “I advise you to come to the Akuma Island. And make haste, unless you want something bad happen to someone’s girlfriend.”

She smirked and stepped aside to show a chair. And on this chair, tied up and sputtering curses, was-

“Karmi!” Everyone, sans Hiro gasped.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Hiro shouted.

***

“Okay, we go in, take Momakase down, free Karmi and get out of here.” Hiro said as Baymax flew them towards the remote island. “Baymax, as soon as you are in range, scan the place for both Karmi and Momakase.”

The robot didn’t reply, but the teenager knew he acknowledged the order and will get to it whenever it’s possible.

“Oh, this gives the perfect opportunity for you to talk to Karmi about you-know-what.” Fred piped up from where he was held by the scruff of his costume in Baymax’s right hand.

“I’d rather focus on the current problem first.” Hiro mumbled back.

“I’m just saying.” The millionaire shrugged, but, luckily, dropped the subject.

Several minutes later, they were creeping the abandoned hallways of old Krei Enterprises facility, Baymax leading them in the direction he sensed Karmi from. Momakase, surprisingly, didn’t turn up on the scan.

“Karmi is inside.” Baymax said, stopping in front of the metal door.

Hiro nodded and looked to Wasabi and Honey Lemon, pointing his head towards the door. The woman tapped the keys on her purse and produced a green-coloured ball. She plastered it to the frame and pulled on one side, the goo expanding to create something like a line. Each one of them, except for Wasabi, caught the goo-line and held strong, while the said man cut through metal around where the goo was stuck. When the cut was finished, they pulled the piece out, managing to not hit it on anything, hence making their entrance silent.

Baymax put the cut-out metal aside and they climbed through the opening one by one. In the middle of the room, under a single spotlight, stood a chair. And on this chair, quite unsurprisingly, Hiro had to say, was Karmi, tied and gagged.

As soon as the teen noticed the heroes, she started to squirm and let out muffled noises, trying desperately to communicate with them. Hiro secretly turned on his voice-modulating device, motioning for the rest of the team to do the same, before approaching the captured girl. It was in situations like this, he was glad he once decided to equip their armours with both face-covering visors and voice modulators. It lowered the chance of being recognised if they had to be around people who knew them personally.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out in no time.” He reassured Karmi and reached for her gag. As soon as it was off, Karmi gasped and screamed.

“It’s a trap!”

At this precise moment, purple-coloured bars rose from the floor and circled around the heroes and Karmi. They all whirled around, shocked by their sudden appearance.

“Like stealing a candy from a kid.” A familiar voice said from the shadows, and Momakase strolled into viee, a smirk on her lips.

“You think you can keep us in here?” Hiro asked and nodded at Wasabi.

Before going in, they decided they were not going to use their names around Karmi, since figuring out new nicknames would take too long, and Hiro was not going to use their fanfiction names, for obvious reasons. So they agreed on silent communication instead, which, so far, worked perfectly well.

Wasabi approached the bars and slashed at them with a cocky grin, but just as fast he jumped back with a pained yelp, when the bars zapped him.

“What in the world?!” He squeaked, rubbing at his arm.

“Did you really think I would use regular cage, knowing of your abilities?” Momakase laughed, strolling slowly along the bars. “You’re not getting out of this one.”

“Oh really?” Honey Lemon challenged and quickly produced a pink-coloured chem-ball from her purse. She let it drop to the floor and quickly side-stepped, as it bounced off the bars and hit the chair, acid eating through the wood.

“I told you it’s not a regular cage.” Momakase smirked and looked extremely pleased with herself. “This one was created by our mutual acquaintance specifically to hold you lot in place.”

“Mutual- what are you talking about?!” Hiro asked angrily.

“I believe he goes by the name Obake.” The woman replied and watched the heroes faces morph into horror as they recognised the name. “Well, anyway, it was nice to chat and all that, but I have to go. As for you...” She produced a small device from her pocket and pushed the button, the lights in the room suddenly turning red and the alarm ringing. “Have fun getting out of here before this whole place blows up.” She waved her hand at them and ran away, leaving them to their doom.

“Ohmigosh-! This place is going to blow up! We’re stuck in a impenetrable cage in a building that’s going to blow up any second now and-“ Wasabi spoke in a high voice, his eyes wide and breath hitching.

“Calm down.” Hiro said. “We’re getting out of here in no time.”

“How?!” Wasabi squeaked. “You saw what happened. My blades don’t work, and neither does the acid!”

“We just need more strength, that’s all.” The teen replied calmly and turned to Baymax. “Initiate Overdrive Mode.” He ordered.

At those words the robot started to change. Pieces of armour hid, others extended. A moment later, a completely unrecognisable Baymax, sans his colours, stood in front of the group.

“That’s... I wrote about it!” Karmi breathed out, astonished. “You read my story?!”

“Can we talk about it after we escape?” Hiro suggested, and Go Go noticed how he shuddered slightly at Karmi’s exclamation. “The sword, please.”

Baymax reached his had to his back and produced a heavy-looking blade. He took a swing and sliced right though the bars, Hiro grinning at the performance.

“Good job. Turn it off before it drains all of your power.” He said and Baymax swiftly came back to his original look. “Now everyone hop on and hold on tight. We don’t know how much time we have and I’d rather not risk running back the way we came from.”

One rocket fist later, they shot out of the roof. And not a moment too soon, as the facility blew up just as they managed to get to the safe distance. Baymax flew them back to the city and they all jumped off to the ground.

“Um... Thank you... For saving me.” Karmi mumbled, blushing as she took a glance at Hiro. The teen was painfully reminded she had a crush on his superhero persona.

“That’s what we do.” He replied, looking away. Honey Lemon came closer and gently nudged his shoulder, an encouraging smile on her lips. He sighed and turned towards Karmi. “Actually, there is something I want to tell you. It’s... it’s about your story.”

“My- YOU READ IT?!” The girl squealed, her eyes almost turning star-shaped.

“Of course, it’s amazing and-“ Fred was painfully elbowed in the stomach by Go Go before he could say anything more.

“I... How do I..?” Hiro scratched the back of his neck as he searched for words. “I read some of it, and you’re really talented but- I don’t really feel comfortable with it, you know?”

“I don’t understand...” Karmi cocked her head to the side in confusion. “Why?”

“It’s because of how you portray us. Portray me.” The teen elaborated. “I’m not- we’re not a pair, Karmi. I know it is a work of fiction and it’s not real, but writing that you are my girlfriend, having all those people read it... It’s not right.”

“Oh...” The girl looked down, suddenly not able to meet his eye. “I didn’t mean to-“

“I know.” He reassured. “I know you really want this to be true, but this is not the way. How would you feel if someone wrote a story about you and put you in a romantic relationship in said story? No matter if you like this person or not, it’s wrong to ship real life people.”

“I- I’m sorry.” Karmi said, still looking away. “I guess I was so caught up with my own fantasy, I didn’t stop to think how would you feel about it.”

“It’s alright.” Honey Lemon spoke up, smiling kindly. “You didn’t know.”

“But I should have thought about it. And I didn’t.” Karmi admitted. “I.. I will delete it once I get home. I’m sorry I upset you.”

“Thank you.” Hiro smiled thankfully at the girl. “And I meant it, you’re an amazing writer. Maybe you could still write about us, just no shipping this time.” He winked and Karmi blushed.

“You... still want me to write about you? Even after...?” She asked, puzzled by the suggestion.

“Between the two of us...” Hiro leaned closer and whispered to the girl’s ear. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with our story.”

Karmi blushed fiercely, mumbled something that sounded like “thankyouihavetogonowbye” and ran away, her cheeks red. The heroes looked at her retreating figure.

“You didn’t mention the name.” Go Go pointed out as they started on their way back to Fred’s manor to leave their armours there.

“I can live with Captain Cutie.” Hiro shrugged with a smile.

---

That's it. I hope you liked it. Reblog if you did. I live for reblogs.

[spoon-writes]

Chapter 22 | Ends of the Earth

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse, and soon they travel across the galaxy looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 22 - A Mandalorian Walks Into A Bar

The trepidation that had been clinging to the back of Din's mind ever since they entered the system ballooned into a whole new beast as soon as he stepped out of the ship. The hangar on Alpha was crowded, ships and sentients packed tightly together, recycled air thick with smoke and harsh chemicals. Eyes bored into his armor, and he made sure his blaster was ready and within reach. Two Bothans stood in the shadows between two ships, and one of them nudged the other and nodded not so subtly towards Din.

So it was going to be one of those days.

In front of the nearest access gate, a dead Twi'lek lay on the floor, a blade buried deep in his chest and a pool of blood slowly growing underneath him. The crowd stepped over the body, tracking blood into the station. A Jawa scurried across the floor and dove for his pockets, but it seemed like someone had already grabbed whatever there was to steal.

The gate led down a dimly lit corridor that curved all the way around the station. It was clear it hadn't been built to serve as a haven for pirates; through the murk, he spotted a flickering sign leading to the mess hall.

It had been the right call to leave the kid on Zessol, but Din still had a nagging worry that something was going to happen. He knew Sinead would keep him safe - she had risked her life for him before – but the people hunting the child would never stop. The sooner he got out of there, the better.

He passed a cantina, music blasting through the open doors loud enough to make his teeth rattle. The ground was sticky with drink and other mystery fluids that were spilled on Alpha.

Sinead's face kept popping up in his mind, unbidden, and smoldering anger made his pulse speed up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget the look in her eyes when realization struck back on Seavo. She’d looked broken. And now Kyen was just like those who’d brought her to Sriluur. His hands curled into fists.

The next cantina was darker and less crowded, the air hazy with smoke and grease from an open fire where a Wookiee was roasting a slab of unidentifiable meat. He stepped inside, and what little conversation there was fell into a hush. The bartender put down his tankard when Din approached.

"Looking for someone," he said, putting a hand on the countertop to show he was unarmed.

"Not gunna find 'em here."

A couple of credits landed on the table between them. They disappeared into the bartender’s sleeve in the blink of an eye.

"Aye?"

"Kyen Beck. That mean anything to you?"

"Nope."

"What about Red Vekkass?"

The bartender's eyes flickered. "Might know a thing or two. Might not."

More credits landed on the table.

“Some of his crew stops by now and then, you know, to lay off steam. S’long as they don’t give me any problems, I don’t ask questions.”

“Where is he?”

“You’re asking the wrong person.”

Din’s fingers twitched. “Where do I find the right person?”

Had Sinead been there she would have had the bartender wrapped around her little finger by now.

“Dunno.”

"That's not good enough." Din stared at the man, clenching his teeth under his helmet.

For a fraction of a second, the bartender's eyes flickered to something behind Din. Stepping back, he grabbed two bottles from behind the bar and hid them under the counter.

"Evenin', fella."

Din didn't take his eyes off the bartender.

A large Nikto leaned against the bar to his right, tapping a rhythm on the worn wood. "Don't see many Mandalorians around these days. Thought you all died, or somethin'."

"Nice armor." A human man appeared on his other side. "Very shiny, isn't it."

"Very shiny, yeah. Say, how much you pay for a thing like that?" The Nikto leaned closer, his breath slightly fogging Din’s visor. He could smell the stink of alcohol.

Breathing slowly, Din widened his stance and analyzed the situation. The human seemed clearheaded, but the Nikto was leaning heavily against the bar, his eyes slightly unfocused.

The anger grew from embers into flames.

"Ay." The Nikto grinned, and there was a sliver of grey meat caught between his front teeth. "I'm talking to you." He reached for the helmet.

Stepping back, Din grabbed the Nikto’s wrist, twisting it around and slamming his other hand down on his arm until there was a sickening crack. The Nikto crumbled to the ground with a scream.

Metal glinted in the light, and Din ducked under a blade aimed at his throat. The human grunted in frustration and swung the blade again, which scraped against the beskar. Din dispatched him with a sharp knee to the gut and a punch in the throat.

A flask smashed on the ground. A human halfway out of his seat sat down slowly and averted his eyes.

Din rounded on the bartender, who slunk back, hand inching beneath the counter.

"Don't even think about it," Din barked, and the bartender froze, fearful eyes straying to the patrons, who all looked stiffly into their drinks.

"I'm not gonna ask you again." Din leaned over the counter and grabbed the bartender by the collar. "Where is Red Vekkass?"

"I-I don't know, I really don't! Some of his gang were in here not long ago, you might be able to catch them!"

"Where?"

"Level 25. The big Twi’lek calls the shots, is sweet on one of Madame Jath's girls. I'm sure you'll find him there. It’s down in the old morgue.”

Din watched the sniveling little man for a second. He could be lying, but Din had to get out of there. It was only a matter of time before whatever fear gripped the rest of the patrons dissipated.

"If you're lying to me, I'll be back."

He left the silent cantina and started pushing his way to the lift that would take him to level 25.

The fight had been too short. His body thrummed with adrenaline; every sound, every change in the air felt like a shock to his system. Starting another fight would be easy; if there was one thing Alpha didn't lack it was hostility. Had he been younger, he probably would have stayed for another brawl, but now he had two people waiting for him on the planet below.

Level 25 was near the bottom of the station, a labyrinth of seedy establishments and darkened apartments where groups of sentients sat around open fires. The harsh air found its way under his helmet, making his eyes sting. Multicolored lights broke through the haze, streaming from open doors that led to spice dens or brothels where tired-looking women of various species called out to possible patrons.

He found the old morgue tucked into a dark corner. A Wookiee leaned against the wall beside the wall. He glared at a Snivvian who dared to cross the threshold. Other than that, the place was quiet.

Finding a spot in view of the door, Din leaned against the wall and waited. A sickly smell of trash filled the air, and he concentrated on breathing through his mouth, trying to push all thoughts of Sinead and the child out of his head.

He was about to go in there himself when a young human man appeared, looking around before stealing into the bordello. He was small and wiry, out of place among the pirates and smugglers. Five minutes of standing in the choking stink and greasy smoke later, the human finally came back out, supporting a Twi'lek that dwarfed him in both height and weight with an almost visible cloud of alcohol. A stumbling Gamorrean with one large tusk broken at the tip made up the rear.

"Get your kriffin' hands off me," the Twi'lek burbled and tried to tug himself free.

"Wait!" The human struggled under the weight. "We need to head back-- Vekkass said-"

Din perked up at the name, and he followed as they stumbled through level 25, taking care not to lose them in the crowd.

"You think I give a flyin' kriff wha’ he s-says ..." The Twi'lek lost his balance and hit the ground with a crash. The Gamorrean threw up against the wall. "Don't just stand there, boy, help me up!"

At last, they ended up in a hallway void of anyone except a small rodent scurrying across the ground with a piece of moldy bread in its mouth. As sounds of sentients fell away, Din heard the engine humming from somewhere below.

The Gamorrean stopped to dry heave, clinging to an overflowing dumpster, while the other two shambled ahead. Din moved silently, his footsteps concealed by the hum and bangs that came from the station. He lowered his center of gravity, got ready to attack.

The Gamorrean let out a squeal. Din grabbed one flailing hand by the wrist and slammed him into the side of the dumpster with a crash. He was out like a light.

The Twi’lek whirled around, yanking the kid with him. His watery eyes widened, and a strangled gasp escaped his mouth before he pushed the kid towards Mando and started running. He made it two meters where a patch of uneven ground tripped him up, and he fell headfirst into a wall and slumped to the floor.

The kid pulled out a blaster. Din started running, letting one blaster bolt ping off his armor, before reaching out and yanking the weapon away. He pushed the kid to the ground, who crawled until his back hit the wall. "Y-you d-don't know who you're dealing with."

"Red Vekkass," Din snapped. "Where can I find him?"

"I-I don't know-"

"Don't try me. I know you work for him. Where is he?"

The Twi’lek groaned.

The human took a deep breath, ready to yell when Din grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet.

"He's not gonna help you. Tell me now!"

“He’ll kill me for this.”

“I’ll kill you. Where?”

"H-he's in the Dalchon sector. A mining station above Dilo."

Dalchon sector. They were close enough.

Din looked down at the pale face with a mop of unruly dark hair and blue eyes bright with fear. He looked too young to be mixed up with all of this, even though Din had been younger the first time he had picked up a blaster. This kid, though, didn't look like he was cut out for the pirate life.

A sudden, uncomfortable knot formed in the pit of Din's stomach.

"You from Seavo?"

The kid swallowed. "How do you know that?"

Of course.

Din gritted his teeth. He released the kid and gave him a hard shove down the hallway. "Go home," his voice was deep with threats. "Don't come back to Alpha. Don't go anywhere near Dalchon. Find the first ship out of here and go. Home."

"But what-"

Din took a step forward and sent the kid skittering through the doors without looking back. Giving him a moment's head start, Din started back towards the hangar, grateful that he didn't have to spend any more time in the suffocating, smoke-filled station. He left the Gamorrean bleeding and the Twi'lek trying to pick himself off the floor. Killing them wasn’t worth the plasma.

When the ramp to the Crest closed behind him, he allowed himself to breathe out deeply, relax his shoulders and close his eyes for just a moment. The stink of Alpha clung to his armor like sludge.

Finally, after waiting for the swarm of starships to let up, he had permission to land back on Zessol. Through the window, he saw a minuscule Sinead stand by the landing pad with a bundle in her arms. He paused in his tracks when the ramp came down; Sinead was spattered with mud and grime, her braid partly undone, the loose strands hung limply down her face. The kid sat in her arms, chewing happily on a piece of candy. His face and hands were covered with sugar.

"What happened to you?"

She let out a slow sigh. "You know what? Don't worry about it."

As she came closer, a stab of sewage met Din’s nostrils. She handed him the child. "He needs a proper name."

"... okay?" Din turned and watched her disappear into the ship. The kid left a sticky handprint on his vambrace.

Inside, he found her carefully peeling off her jacket on throwing it on the floor. There was a small gash on her arm that she carefully examined.

"Uh, Mando? Can you ..." she gestured to the ladder. "I need a shower …”

A small jolt went through him, and he cleared his throat. “Uh, right.”

Once the door to the cockpit shut, Din looked down at the child, who was happily chewing on the candy. "What've you two been up to?"

He placed the kid in his chair and booted the navicomputer to calculate the route to the Dalchon system. He tried not thinking about Sinead. The sound of running water was audible beneath the noise of Zessol.

One last trip, and it would all be over. They would both get what they wanted; Sinead would get answers, and he would get the nau’orar. He could go back to dodging bounty hunters and keeping a low profile. Without Sinead, his life would become marginally easier; at least, the amounts of life-threatening situations would decrease.

He flexed his hand that had been damaged by the nexu, a tremor of pain prickling across his skin.

Finally, the navicomputer beeped, and the ship rose from the platform, jumping into hyperspace as soon as it was out of Zessol’s orbit.

The door opened, and the scent of soap announced Sinead's arrival.

"You okay?" He gave her a quick glance; her cheeks were tinged with pink, her long hair left wet trails on her shirt.

"Yeah. It looked worse than it was." She leaned forwards and peered at the navicomputer. "You find out where we're going?"

"They're holed up somewhere in the Dalchon sector."

She released a slow, shaking breath. "Alright."

He wanted to say something, but his mind was drawing a blank and all the words burned in his throat. The anger was back, intense, and insistent. He wanted to punch something. Preferably Kyen. He chanced another glance at Sinead, who was staring into the whirling mist of hyperspace, the pulsing blue light simmering in her eyes.

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

[ckret2]

Godzilla Recycles

It’s been more than a month since the reawakening of the titans. In that time, they’ve been a constant fixture in the world’s news headlines. But... generally not for the expected reasons. More for things like starring in YouTube language lessons, stealing cars, and recycling their plastic.

This is part of an ongoing series of Rodorah one-shots. It’s not ABOUT Rodorah but mentions of the ship are made. If you don’t wanna read the others... tbh this sorta sums up a lot of the stuff that’s been going on in them, just from the perspective of the humans who have no idea what’s going on. All you really need to know going in is that Ghidorah (grudgingly) yielded the fight before he otherwise would have killed Mothra. Half of the fic is a sum up of the bizarre crap the titans have been up to; the other half, is, indeed, the promised Godzilla recycling. Fic hasn’t been proofed yet because this sonuva took me almost two months to write and I want to get it out already. EDIT: now proofed!! Links to the other fics are in the source at the bottom of this post.

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HEART OF MONARCH FOUND ALIVE

Throughout the titans' mass awakening, every news station, site, and paper in the world was filled with towering headlines screaming about the monsters crawling and careening across Earth's vast landscapes. Each and every individual titan had hundreds of live streams in both video and text, constantly updating the terrified world on the latest actions of the monsters storming through their cities.

The greatest number of cameras stalked Ghidorah and Godzilla's every dread-inspiring move, not just because anything that happened to the United States east coast always seemed to get disproportionate coverage, but also because someone had leaked intel revealing that Ghidorah had awakened the rest of the titans and appeared to be commanding them. Anyone dealing directly with a titan attack tracked their own beast's news, of course; but for the parts of the world situated between the attacks, watching clouds roiling far too fast overhead and listening to their homes rattle from earthquakes hundreds of miles away—their eyes darted between news about whatever nearest creature might menace them and news coming out of Boston about the titans’ supposed ringleader, waiting to see what was going to happen next.

In the aftermath of the fighting, for days there wasn’t a major paper or station that had a story that didn’t somehow feature titans, whether directly or tangentially. Every eye in the world was gazing fearfully into the distance, waiting fearfully for some several-hundred-foot-tall beast to lumber over the horizon.

And so it was somehow both amazing and completely understandable that the news totally ignored that Serizawa Ishiro had been found alive in Boston.

He was located the second morning after the fight. He was unconscious on the northern shore of Spectacle Island in Boston Harbor, within easy sight of the spot where the final titan battle had been fought. He was evacuated to the nearest operational hospital to receive treatment for exposure, dehydration, and what a week earlier might have been misdiagnosed as one bitch of a sunburn but which by then the doctors could unfortunately easily identify as radiation burns. It was another day before he was identified, and from there only a few hours before the room was full of balloons and flowers sent by dozens of Monarch employees. He hadn't woken up yet, but he was stable and expected to recover, and when he did wake up he was going to know he was appreciated.

Monarch had no idea how he'd survived. Godzilla must have saved him, everyone agreed; the leading theory was that Godzilla had stuck Serizawa in his mouth moments before the bomb exploded, driven some unknown godzillish instinct, to release him somewhere safe when he arrived in Boston just before attacking Ghidorah—and that was only the leading theory because nobody could come up with any others. (Rick Stanton's proposal that the explosion had opened up a vacuum-powered tunnel between Godzilla's lair and Boston was rejected out of hand.) Serizawa couldn't explain as long as he was unconscious, and Godzilla himself certainly wasn't going to tell them anything. But whatever had happened, they were grateful it had.

Serizawa's survival didn't make headlines; who was Serizawa to the world but another one of the many talking heads that sometimes spoke for Monarch, and not even the most frequently seen one at that? Only a few articles were devoted to his miraculous discovery, and most of them were in more specialized publications geared toward biologists, environmentalists, or titanologists. In most places, he was a two-sentence comment near the end of a longer article about Monarch's response to the tragedies or Boston's clean up efforts.

But the world was still reeling from the damage, struggling to sift through the rubble for any little signs to reassure them that this could have been a lot worse and that from now on, things could start to get better.

For Monarch, finding Serizawa alive was their sign.

GHIDORAH ROOSTS OFF EAST COAST OF MEXICO, AVOIDS FURTHER DESTRUCTION

For many others, their sign was Isla de Mara.

After the battle in Boston, when Rodan and Ghidorah began their slow flight south, Monarch was sure that they were going to head to Isla de Mara. Monarch operatives were surrounding the island when they arrived. The titans’ trajectory had been calculated, their arrival anticipated, and—although Monarch had no idea what they could actually do when the titans arrived—Monarch was sure to be there, all the same. If for no other reason than to document.

The town was still all but empty—under quarantine by the Mexican government. Rescuers were working their way through town, looking for bodies or survivors that hadn't joined the initial evacuation, in toppled buildings or buried by pyroclastic flow; but nearly everyone who could be removed from the island had been.

All the same, there was a perceptible tension over the quiet radio lines as the two titans descended into view through the clouds of volcanic ash. Just their arrival stirred tumult, kicking up clouds of previously-settled ash and rubble. Monarch and the few rescuers in the town braced themselves for hurricane-force winds to blow through what was left of the town, knocking over already-damaged buildings.

They didn't.

Although the ash on the volcano churned in the air around the two titans, not so much as a breeze stirred in the town below.

Then the titans were settled, Rodan sinking into his crater as comfortably as a vacationer into a jacuzzi, Ghidorah clinging to the side of the volcano like a bat.

And when the news got out, the world let out a tense sigh of relief. That was the sign everyone had been waiting for: the sign that, at least for now, this was really over.

PRELIMINARY FLUID DYNAMIC ANALYSIS OF AIR CURRENTS IN JOINT LANDING BETWEEN TITANUS RODAN AND MONSTER ZERO

It took days of analyzing Monarch's footage of Rodan and Ghidorah landing before a pack of fascinated aerodynamicists with expertise in computational fluid dynamics could run a proper simulation demonstrating how their wings affected the air. What the simulation revealed was that Rodan's landing should have blown devastating wind into the town below. However, Ghidorah's landing, facing directly across from Rodan and wings tilted at just the right angle, had pushed the air currents back the other way—effectively turning the force of Rodan's flaps out to sea.

And furthermore, they said it wasn't accidental. They had abundant footage now from the first time Ghidorah had landed on Isla de Mara, from his various takeoffs and landings in Boston, and from the few times he'd left and returned to Isla de Mara without being accompanied by Rodan. That wasn't how Ghidorah usually landed.

It was, however, what he had done when Rodan landed; and it was what he did in subsequent days every time Rodan returned to his volcano, until Rodan began habitually landing on the north side of the volcano instead.

The paper was released as a messy rough draft directly online, bypassing journalistic publication entirely to make it as easy as possible for everyone who might be concerned to get to the findings; in the aftermath of the titan attacks, the authors had the patience neither for peer review nor for the slow publication process and paywalls blocking off most of their usual journals. To everyone who read the preliminary paper—mainly titanologists and other aerodynamicists—the thought of a flying creature so consciously and precisely manipulating air currents like that was absolutely mind-boggling.

Even more mind-boggling was the thought that Ghidorah had bothered to do it.

Why?

TITANS EXPLORE LANDSCAPE: MOST HUMAN INTERACTIONS PEACEFUL

Over and over, they were discovering just how alarmingly clever the titans were. More than once, Kraken had camouflaged itself as a capsized ship, tentacles pressed together in the shape of a hull, just to splash any boats that came close to investigate and disappear beneath the sea, like it was playing a game with humans. Behemoth, on his way back down from Boston to Rio de Janeiro, had stopped in Guatemala to observe a construction site, waited there until the panicked workers decided he wasn't going to attack and returned to work, and then, after watching them a bit, had started doing the crane's job by picking up steel beams and putting them in place.

As articles about the damage, the deaths, and the global response to the tragedies began to receive smaller and less dire headlines, the articles about the titans' frightening and fascinating intelligence began popping up—usually not making front page news, but popping up regularly on page 2. Cell phone videos racked up millions of views.

Scylla had etched deep grooves in strange shapes in Death Valley before heading north; a few days later, the MUTO passed through, stopped and studied the grooves, before turning north as well. Which meant they were, what, a map? Instructions? It at least indicated that titans were capable of communicating with abstract symbols—that was ninety percent of the way to writing. It further suggested that the titans had language, mutually intelligible language.

Many of Monarch's employees already suspected as much; the titans vocalized at each other so much, it was completely plausible that they'd developed the capacity for speech.

They didn't expect the theory to be confirmed so blatantly.

"LANGUAGE OF THE BIG BIRDS"? MONARCH RELEASES TITAN LANGUAGE LESSONS STARRING RODAN, GHIDORAH

Outpost 56-B, which had been cobbled together within hours of Ghidorah's landing on Isla de Mara, consisted of five permanent employees, three trailers, two porta-potties, eleven (and decreasing) drones, forty cameras, one satellite, and one big red button to radio the Armada de México in case of dragon-shaped emergency. Along with the full-time employees, they had fifteen part-timers they'd hired from among the people slowly returning to town: fourteen to help monitor the titans through the cameras 24/7, and one to bike in from town with lunch each day. The outpost was stationed just north of the still-standing portions of the town of Isla de Mara, near the very edge of the volcanic rock that had been spilled when Rodan emerged. (They used to have four trailers, but the one that had been standing on volcanic rock had been kicked into town by Ghidorah. They took that to mean they weren't allowed to step on the rock.)

Outpost 56-B was surpassed for Monarch's most pathetic outpost only by Outpost 75-B, which consisted of two motorboats, a pair of walkie-talkies, a generous Airbnb stipend, and a rechargeable flashlight with a cord that, they'd discovered too late, wasn't compatible with Sudanese power outlets.

And yet, for what a ramshackle little operation Outpost 56-B was, it had been the one to provide proof of titan language. And god, what proof! They had recorded evidence of a giant pteranodon giving language lessons to a three-headed alien dragon. Slowly, and carefully; gesturing to each object or performing each action before giving the word; saying each word clearly, several times; using them in simple sentences based on previous vocabulary, each word kept separate and distinct. 

Consequently, Monarch was learning Rodan's language alongside Ghidorah. So far, they had eighteen nouns, seven verbs, five adjectives, a catch-all question word that seemed to mean "who," "what," "when," and "where" all together, the words for "yes" and "no," and one interjection that seemed to mean "look at me" or "pay attention." They knew that Rodan had words for compass directions—two of them, anyway—and that his language conflated the concept of "west" with "up" and of "east" with "down" into only two words. They had Rodan's name for Ghidorah—and Rodan's name for himself, a three-part carrying "Rrrr-DAAA-nnn" cry that they immediately identified as the probable source of the remarkably consistent name that cultures around the world assigned members of Titanus Rodan. Had this one Rodan been spotted in so many locations? Or had he given Ghidorah his species name rather than his personal name? Did members of Rodan's species have personal names?

Very soon, they might be able to ask him.

Outpost 56-B started a YouTube channel, titled it "lenguaje de los pájaros titánicos (para principiantes)" and started uploading videos with both Spanish and English subtitles for anyone who couldn't work out the translations just by watching Rodan. (When Monarch HQ emailed to complain that 56-B had to ask before declassifying that kind of material, they kept posting videos, blurred out the extremely easily identifiable titans' faces, and emailed back to request a third porta-potty.) There were human beings, alive today, all over the planet, learning alongside a literal alien how to understand a titan's language.

Over the next couple of weeks, while every titan's face battled for screen time on every major news station, Godzilla's and Ghidorah's gradually appeared less and less on North American stations as the recently-averted apocalypse became old news and full-blown sapient speaking life found off the coast of the Mexico-U.S. border became the new hot story. Between his face flashing on every major news station over headlines about titan language as talking heads speculated about the possibility of complex titan civilizations, and a wave of Tamaulipeco defenders eager to claim Rodan as a state symbol who were ready to point out that most of the damage on and around Isla de Mara had actually been caused by the U.S. military, Rodan was now the most popular titan on Earth.

And then he made a trip to Infant Island.

INDONESIAN INFANT ISLANDERS VINDICATED: "GODDESS" MOTHRA COMES HOME

Many articles mentioned the fact that after the battle, Mothra had retreated to a small island in the Indonesian archipelago. Some of them even mentioned the name Infant Island.

Very few outside of local and specialist publications discussed that the Infant Islanders were reveling in the fact that their previously derided "local folkloric" claim to having been the home of a goddess had been very recently validated when Godzilla ferried Mothra straight to their island, where she settled down into a well-worn groove in the middle of town square as though she'd never left it. One reason this news was under-reported probably had to do with the fact that they refused to let reporters on the island, fearful that it would become trampled as a new tourist destination; and the threatening psychic weight of Mothra's mind pressing down on any presumptuous reporters approaching in boats hoping to be the exception deterred those who tried to defy the ban. Instead, they arranged for interviews off island or online, and provided any requested pictures of Mothra—when she agreed, of course.

The only outsiders who had been allowed on the island had been the Chen twins, accepted as valid representatives for Mothra. Although their island still had descendants from the line of twin sisters that Mothra had gifted them, they had no living twins from that line. Mothra had already promised them that their next generation of children would have twin daughters. In the meantime, visiting twins from another of Mothra's nests were... well... acceptable, the Islanders supposed. They hastily established rules about how much the Chen twins could report to outsiders about the island and its people and culture, which they faithfully followed. (Even as much as it killed legend collector Ilene to not immediately ask a million questions about what stories they'd passed down about Mothra.)

They were, however, allowed to transcribe any of Mothra's telepathic conversations with visiting titans into Mandarin as long as she herself permitted it—and she did continue to permit it—and so it was when Rodan arrived to have a long, apparently one-sided conversation with Mothra.

TITANIC ROSETTA STONE? MONARCH TRANSLATES RODAN, MOTHRA CONVERSATION

It wasn't quite as cut-and-dry as Rodan's accidental language lessons; especially since there were parts of the conversation where Mothra had sought out information straight from Rodan's mind that the Chen twins couldn't make any sense of—except that Rodan’s thoughts had something to do with a very interesting hug-like display on Isla de Mara from the day before, and that they were rotten with fear.

(The “hug” from Ghidorah to Rodan—if that was what it was—was already infamous in Monarch. The 56-B team had eagerly circulated it throughout Monarch yesterday in the form of a several-second video that was set to the cheesiest pop song they could find and covered in heart emojis. Shortly before they’d uploaded the same video—without authorization—to their official Twitter and TikTok accounts. Stories about Rodan were beginning to pop up not just under news sites' World sections, but also under Entertainment. It was a jarring sight, considering how many of those stories also featured an alien dragon that had recently tried to destroy the world.)

But despite not having a word-for-word translation, Rodan's conversation with Mothra and its Mandarin translation did offer the possibility of a rosetta stone with which they could decipher far more about his language. Comparing his language lessons with Ghidorah to his conversation with Mothra was like comparing day one of a college Spanish 1 class to Don Quixote. It was a huge leap forward toward the day—which now seemed not like a possibility but an inevitability—when they would be able to pipe sentences in Rodan's language  through a speaker and have a real conversation with him.

Rodan's trip to Infant Island should have been the most noteworthy titan news of the day.

But noteworthy news was nearly impossible to predict.

GHIDORAH RETURNS TO BOSTON, LIVE UPDATES: ONE INJURED. EXPLORES RUBBLE, INTERACTS WITH HUMANS.

Two hours before Rodan's conversation with Mothra,  the eyes of half the planet had been glued to a constant live news stream coming out of the United States, as one local station after another trained its cameras toward the skies, following Ghidorah as he headed north. The world dreaded that the moment Rodan left him unsupervised, he'd decided to pick up exactly where he'd left off. It seemed that he’d even returned to Boston specifically to continue his apocalypse.

Instead, he stole a speaker and a car, made fun of the U.S. Army, complied with some demolitionists' request to help them take down a building, and went home.

After that, the far more academic matter of a new jump forward in titan linguistics was relegated to a small article on Monarch's official titan tracking website.

MONARCH ISSUES RED ALERT: GHIDORAH AND RODAN MOVING SOUTH OVER ATLANTIC

Another example of the unpredictability of newsworthy items:

Rodan—along with Ghidorah—was back in the news later that evening for what the 56-B crew was insistently calling a "lovers' spat," a brief skirmish that ended with Ghidorah literally storming off to Antarctica and Rodan charging into the hurricane after him.

For several hours, the world was braced, yet again, for the potential end of the world.

But before the next morning, it was clear that the skirmish was going to end with no further loss of human life—even the four Monarch employees stationed in what was left of Outpost 32 had evacuated long before Ghidorah had arrived to sweep the ruins into the very hole he'd emerged from. Coasts in the southern hemisphere on both sides of the Atlantic were hit with vicious waves as Ghidorah's hurricane passed by, but nothing that threatened seaside homes, and the worst they got in the way of weather was strong drizzles and stiff breezes. Satellite monitoring, a few absurdly far-off jets, and the evacuated Antarctic Monarch employees squinting through the blizzard caught fuzzy lightning-lit glimpses of another terrible titanic battle; but by the time anyone was close enough to record the fighting properly, it had ended with the two titans sitting on the coast of Antarctica together, having another language lesson.

(Outpost 56-B demanded that HQ send them the footage so that they could update their YouTube channel. HQ refused to do so until they'd reviewed the footage themselves. A traitor within the ranks sent 56-B the footage anyway, and the world was graced with the knowledge of Rodan's word for "snow.")

But despite the fact that the turbulence from Isla de Mara ultimately ended up having all of the newsworthy appeal of celebrity relationship drama, it still received far more coverage than the real breaking news happening halfway around the world:

GODZILLA RECYCLES

In the town of Kuta, on the island of Bali, in Indonesia, was the Ngurah Rai International Airport.

Godzilla had been harassing it for the last two weeks.

The airport crossed nearly the entire length of a peninsula, its runway jutting out into the sea to the west and to the east only separated from water by a strip of trees hardly a fifth of a mile wide. Kuta Beach stretched out along the coast both north and south of the runway. Located an equal distance away from the outposts that had contained titans "Typhon" and "Bunyip," Kuta was untouched by the recent attacks; but the beaches were still oddly barren, as the tourism that would usually be ramping up this time of year was reduced due to the vast swathes of the human population that had to instead turn their resources to recovering from the recent attacks. Still, there were some tourists out on Kuta Beach—enough that, when Godzilla's dorsal plates rose out of the ocean to the west, the wave of people running east to avoid him could be veritably classified as a stampede.

As Godzilla approached the Ngurah Rai International Airport, every airplane that hadn't taken off was grounded and those coming in were frantically redirected to nearby islands. He lumbered straight up to the side of the runway, feet still in the water of the beach as he leaned over the runway, dropped a massive pile of nets, and promptly turned around and returned to the ocean.

The airport shut down all operations and called Monarch.

As Serizawa, the world's only true Godzilla expert, was still in a coma, Monarch had to guess at what he'd say about Godzilla's strange behavior. They decided that Serizawa would probably say he was trying to restore Earth's natural order, which probably included dealing with its pollution; so Godzilla was returning human detritus to whom it belonged—the humans—so that they could properly clean up their own mess.

So the airport waited a day, removed the nets with a hazmat crew, and the next day was cautiously back in business.

And a day later, Godzilla was back with another delivery of nets. When he reached the spot where he'd dropped his first pile, he paused, looked around, and then climbed onto the runway and stormed along the length of it, apparently looking for his original stash. He pushed aside airplanes and bent over to peer into hangars and terminals, where terrified travelers who thought they'd be safer inside stared back at him. Eventually he gave up and, with a roar of frustration, sank back underwater.

This time, Monarch decided they were pretty terrible at roleplaying as Serizawa and advised the airport to leave the nets be.

They pushed the nets to the very corner of the airport grounds, near where Godzilla had left them and still out in the open but off of the runway itself. They stank. Apology signs were posted on the nearby beach and the tourists moved further south.

The third time Godzilla visited, he graciously accepted their relocation, added his new nets, and left in peace.

After several more such trips, he showed up in the middle of the night with a new piece of cargo: Mothra, riding on his back, her wings—one whole, one tattered since the battle in Boston—raised high.

A monarch ship, with the Chen twins on board, followed close behind, ready and eager to find out from Mothra just what in the hell Godzilla was doing with the nets.

Whatever the titans talked about on their way to Bali, Monarch had been too far away to hear. But now that they were on land and speaking to each other, in roars and in telepathy, the Chen twins began translating and transcribing their conversation:

"It's ugly," Godzilla said, "But I think it will work."

Mothra had climbed off of his back and onto the airport grounds, and was prodding at the pile of nets with one leg. I'm not so sure.

"We can try it! It'll be fine."

Why are we so close to humans? Mothra turned toward the airport, which was one again closed. At least at this time of night there were far fewer travelers. They're nervous.

"This is the only place with flat enough ground." He jerked his head toward the runway. "Lay down with your wing on the flat strip. I'll trace it."

Someone had produced some spotlights—Monarch didn't know who, they weren't working with them—and pointed it at the titans. Mothra had gestured for them to point the light down at the runway instead. Although whoever was behind the lights apparently didn't have enough sense to not shine a giant flashlight in a couple of city-destroying monsters' faces, they did at least have enough sense to listen when the less destructive one made a request, and pointed the light down. It shined off of Mothra's good wing as she maneuvered herself onto her back and lay it flat on the runway.

Godzilla knelt next to her and very carefully traced around the wing with a claw, scraping a gouge into the concrete. "I've melted the humans' floating weeds before," he said, and Mothra silently clarified to the Chen twins that he was referring to the nets. He did have a word for nets, but the word didn't convey his disdain for them the way "floating weeds" did. "If you get enough of it together, when it cools, it makes a solid layer. We just have to make a barrier around the outline and melt the weeds in it. The hard part is making a barrier that won't melt or catch fire. I still don't know what to use, but we can probably find something nearby. Maybe we can make glass on the beach."

Why don't you make a flat layer from the floating weeds without a barrier and then cut a wing shape out of it?

Godzilla stopped halfway through tracing Mothra's wing, looked at the gouge he'd already carved into the runway, and said, "I guess that would be easier."

As they dragged the nets onto the runway, Mothra said, Rodan visited today.

Godzilla's head jerked up. "Has the freak tried to kill him yet?"

No.

"Is he being mind controlled?"

I'm not sure. I don't think so—he doesn't think so—but I don't know.

Godzilla let out a low, displeased grumble. "What's going on over there?"

And Mothra didn't know—not for sure—so, for a moment, they were both silent. They finished piling the nets together in the middle of the runway. Godzilla's dorsal plates began glowing—not their usual piercingly bright blue, but a very dull glow that flickered near the bases of his plates like he was trying unsteadily to keep his power low. The light traveled far slower than usual up his back. He opened his mouth halfway as the light neared his head.

Finally, uncertainly, Mothra said, I think they might like Rodan.

Godzilla's plates flashed nearly white. He hacked out a ball of blue light, then let out a cough that rattled windows.

Sorry.

"Timing!" Godzilla looked at the bit at the edge of the nets that had been incinerated, whined, and started gearing up for another, more controlled burst. To the Chen twins' surprise, the conversation continued; apparently either Godzilla was also telepathic, or could simply think thoughts that Mothra could translate as easily as his usual speech. What do you mean, "like"? As a mate? As a meal? As something to beat up?

(Someone on the Monarch ship made a mental note to call up Mark and tell him that Godzilla also wasn't sure whether Ghidorah was looking to Rodan for food, a fight, or a fuck.)

As a mate, Mothra said. Or a friend? Something positive. Something social. Either they like him, or they're trying to trick Rodan into liking them—and if it's the latter, I don't know what they're after.

If it's not the latter? This time, Godzilla got it right. His atomic breath looked more like the flame of an oversized bunsen burner: translucent blue, mostly steady, faintly flickering. He began slowly melting down the massive pile of fishing nets.

If they really do like him... then I still don't know what they're after. I have no idea what someone from another world thinks mating is for.

You'll have a better idea than any of us. You're the only one that's been to other planets.

(Ling Chen clapped both hands over her mouth and let out a long, quiet, high-pitched noise. The Monarch employees, watching an automatic google-translated English copy of the conversation going up on the ship's main screen as Ilene and Ling typed it up in Mandarin, each silently flipped their shit in their own personal ways. One shouted "No!" Someone else just slid out of her chair to the floor, quietly repeating, "Oh my god." Another kicked over a waste bin, laced his hands in his hair, and stared at the ceiling, overcome with emotion. )

I've never been to their planet, Mothra said. I don't know what to expect. But, I think that it means that we're safe. For now.

For now. The nets were now a massive greyish-orange-teal ooze stretching out along the runway. Godzilla shut his mouth and straightened up. The grass sizzled where the nets ran over the side of the runway. "For now—as long as the freak stays interested in Rodan. And as long as Rodan doesn't turn him down. And as long as another Rodan doesn't hatch and try to mate him. And as long as Rodan remains alive."

(Ling made notes differentiating between the two different words Godzilla was using that she and her sister were both putting down as "Rodan" in their transcriptions: "Rodan (personal name; untranslatable?)" versus "Rodan (species name; 'volcano bird/pteranodon')." Ilene came back and changed "volcano bird/pteranodon," with a tiny smirk, to the English "volcanic roc.")

More or less, Mothra said.

"Then we should kill him while he's got his guard down."

Rodan will defend them.

"Then we get backup before we go."

You don't want to have to kill Rodan.

"No! I don't! But if it's between him dying or our whole world, I'll rip his head off!" Trees trembled with the force of Godzilla's roar. "If it's only a matter of time before the freak wants to destroy the world again, then we shouldn't wait around until he decides to. We can't let him make the first attack. It only takes him a few seconds to seize every mind on the planet. What if he gets me next time?"

I'd save you, Godzilla.

(Although Ilene wrote "Godzilla" in her transcription, she almost absent-mindedly included a parenthetical translation for the name that Mothra was really calling him. The watching Monarch employees were once again thrown into paroxysms of shocked disbelief.)

Godzilla was silent for a moment. "I know you would," he said. "That's not the point. The point is, we lost to him last time. We might not be able to beat him unless we take him by surprise. But you don't want to, do you? Why?"

Mothra didn't reply immediately. Instead, she lay back down, laying her wing along the length of the solid sheet of nylon on the runway. Godzilla started tracing around it with a claw tip again. What if they can change? she finally asked. Maybe we don't have to fight them again. Maybe this is a chance to get them to integrate into this world. Maybe they'll have a chance to heal.

(Underneath the word "heal" was this sense of massive, dark wounds, damage that felt as deep and ancient as Earth's very tectonic plates—something broken in Ghidorah's psyche that still ground together painfully inside him, spawning earthquakes and jagged mountains and chasmic trenches and volcanic explosions in his soul. The feeling was so strong and so dark that Ilene briefly had to stop typing, pressing a hand over her aching heart. Ling did her best to transcribe it, but ended up with only a string of characters that translated vaguely like "pain break scar wound darkness psychic hurt trauma?")

"Healing is the exact opposite of the thing I want to help him do."

I know. But if we can—wouldn't that be safer for the world? If we fight again, even if we win, people will die.

"Only small people."

Mothra ignored him. And that's if we win. They probably would have won last time if they hadn't gone to Rodan. If we don't have to fight them at all, wouldn't that be better for keeping the world safe?

Godzilla made a low growl that the Chens couldn't figure out how to translate any way other than "Noise of grudging resignation." He straightened up. "Okay, your new wing's cut out."

Mothra rolled over, Godzilla pried the wing off of the runway with a creaking cracking sound, and turned it around to hold it up to the remains of her injured wing.

How are you going to attach it?

Godzilla broke off another piece of plastic from the runway, held it on the other side of her damaged wing, and said, "I'm going to melt it a little bit to seal around your wing."

For a creature without anything in the way of human facial muscles, Mothra pulled off a very convincing look of utter disbelief.

"It might burn a little," he told her.

Okay, she said, resigned. Fine. I guess it can't make it worse. Do it.

She let out a long, shrill hissing noise as he melted the end of the new wing and the opposite piece of plastic together around the remains of her damaged wing, and both Chens' faces screwed up in pain. When it was done, Godzilla held her wing until it had completely cooled, and then stepped back. "Okay," he said. "Try it out."

She moved her new wing up and down slowly. It's light, she said. She attempted to flap it.

On the second flap, it snapped in half. Mothra and Godzilla both watched as the tip arced high in the air, flew off into the distance, and landed half a mile away standing up in the sand of Kuta Beach.

They looked at each other.

"We'll figure out how to fix it tomorrow," Godzilla said.

Mothra climbed onto his back. He trudged over to the broken wing, handed it to her to hold, and sank back into the ocean to swim Mothra back to Infant Island.

Although Godzilla's plastic-recycling jump into the brave new future of environmental conservationism was all but ignored by the media, in several days, one tiny detail out of the Chen twins' transcription of their conversation caught the fickle eye of mass media. A new headline dominated countless news sites' front pages:

GODZILLA'S REAL NAME: "SWEET FISH"?

Most of the articles were accompanied by an image of Godzilla photoshopped next to a pile of red Swedish Fish candy.

###

(Replies/reblogs are welcome & encouraged! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of KOTM fics and Rodorah fics in this verse, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

[snappedsky]

Fanatics Adventures in Space Part 18

We check back on Devi, Tenna, and Skoodge in the Massive while Zim pursues Carcas. Previous! Next! 

--

War Part Ten

           Johnny and Kio run across the barren land back towards the city. While Johnny picks off Irken bits from his clothes, Kio calls Zim and the others.

           “Everyone, check in,” she orders.

           “Ack-can’t talk,” Squee squeaks.

           “Little busy,” Pepito grunts.

           “In the middle of something,” Gaz snaps.

           “Have to focus,” Dib exclaims.

           “I’ll call you back,” Zim snarls.

           “Oh, stars,” Kio sighs with concern.

           “What’s wrong?” Nny asks.

           “It would seem the fighting started without us,” she replies.

           “Are they okay?”

           She hesitates for a second. “I have faith in their abilities.”

           “That doesn’t answer my question,” Nny points out.

           “I know,” Kio replies.

           They continue running but as they enter the city, a jolt runs up Johnny’s spine. “Look out!” he shouts, shoving Kio out of the way of a laser blast.

           She hits the ground and looks up, trembling as four heavily-armored Irkens carrying large guns hover around them with jetpacks.

           “Irken Bounty Hunters,” she whimpers.

           Without a word, the Irkens take aim. Kio quickly grabs a little device from her coat and dives in front of Johnny as she presses a button. The device creates a force field around them, protecting them from the laser blasts.

           “Aren’t we supposed to be helping these assholes?” Johnny snaps as he draws his knives. “Why are they attacking us?”

           “Irkens don’t care,” Kio replies, “they see all other species as either slaves or enemies. And we’re not kneeling to them, so we’re enemies.”

           “Then why are we helping this worthless planet?” he barks.

           She shrugs, sheepishly rubbing her horns. “I just wanna help the innocents.”            Johnny’s anger deflates and he groans as he faces the Irkens. They’ve stopped firing and have landed in front of them, readying their guns again.

           “Well, they aren’t innocent,” he points out.

           Kio’s eyes darken. “No, they are not.”            She reaches into her coat and pulls out a small metal ball. Just before the Irkens can begin firing again, she throws the ball to the ground and it explodes into a thick cloud of smoke. The bounty hunters immediately begin firing into the smoke but two figures burst out of either side. The bounty hunters split into pairs, each aiming at the figures before they realize they were both just humanoid shaped balloons; diversions.

           The Irkens quickly turn back to the smoke as it dissipates to find Kio, aiming a large plasma cannon at them. It fires, blowing through them and most of the buildings behind them.

           Kio sighs as she stands up and the cannon folds into a tiny square, which she slips back into her coat.

           “Nice,” Johnny grins, giving her a thumbs-up. She smiles back gratefully.

           Meanwhile, outside the Main Command Centre, Zim is having a face-off with Zinather, one of the Irkens responsible for giving him life; in other words, his father.

           They glare at each other with similar pink eyes. Behind Zinather, Carcas glances between them, curious for a second, before leaping away.

           “Hey!” Zim barks as the large alien bounds off the wall of the command centre and sails towards the nearby rubble of destroyed buildings. Zim starts to take aim with his spider legs when Zinather lowers his visor and aims his own gun at Zim. Zim reacts quickly and blocks the laser with a force field.

           “What do you think you’re doing!” he barks, “he’s the one responsible for destroying the Irken planets! He’s trying to destroy Irk! Forget about me, get him!”

           “My orders are to neutralize you,” Zinather replies, “it’s what the Tallest want.”

           “Oh, fer- if the Tallest told you to fly into a star, would you?”

           “Yes.”

           Zim groans and pinches his forehead. “I don’t have time for this.”

           He grabs his laser guns from his PAK and starts to take aim when something drops in between from the sky. They stumble away, taken aback, as the dust clears, revealing Mar in a tactical body suit, with a single goggle over her good eye and spider legs at the ready.

           “Mar!” Zim exclaims.

           She glances at him before facing Zinather. “Go on, Zim. Leave this to me.”

           “But-.”

           “Do as I say,” she barks then grins. “Go save our worthless planet.”

           Zim stares at with surprise at first before nodding. His spider legs stretch out to the ground and toss him into the air, towards where Carcas ran off. Zinather lets him go, glaring at Mar.

           “You expect me to fight a crippled retiree?” he scoffs.

           “Deflect all you want, Zinather,” she smirks, “we both remember who had the better scores in the academy.”

           Zinather growls and raises his rifle. “That was eons ago. And you’ve been out of commission for sweeps while I’ve loyally served the Empire.”

           “Your loyalty blinds you,” she states, “while my decommission has let me see.”

           “See what?”

           “That there’s something very wrong with our empire.”

           Zinather exclaims with offense and fires his rifle. Mar’s spider legs lift her out of the way and she charges him.

           Meanwhile, Zim chases after Carcas. He can’t see him, but the large alien leaves a trail of dents in the buildings he climb with his giant fists. Zim is slowly gaining on him with his spry spider legs and as soon as he catches sight of him, he starts firing his guns.

           The lasers brush Carcas’ shoulder. Snarling, he glances back at Zim before ripping out a chunk of stone from a building and whipping it at him. Zim narrowly dodges and continues firing.

           Carcas pays no mind to the lasers as he runs along a wall, ripping through the stone. The building starts toppling behind him, cutting Zim off. His spider legs scale the side as it crashes into the neighboring buildings. He leaps over it, runs along the back, and continues chasing Carcas.

           As he chases, a small communicator pops out of his PAK and into his hand. He barks into it, “Gir! Minimoose! Come to Zim!”

           Meanwhile, out in space, Devi, Tenna, Skoodge, Gir, and Minimoose are quickly making their way through the Massive. It’s dimly lit and quiet, which somehow makes them even more on edge. But they soon come to an open doorway with light and Irken voices streaming out. They creep up and peek out around the corner.

           It looks like all of the Massive workers have thrown a party in one of their break rooms. They’re hanging out, laughing, chatting, and eating snacks, enjoying their time off from the Tallest. None of them are facing the doorway. Skoodge motions for everyone to stay quiet and keep going. One by one, they slip past the doorway, until Gir starts to pass.

           “Par-!” he starts to exclaim at the sight, but Devi grabs him and pulls him away, covering his mouth. Thankfully, nobody noticed.

           They all sigh with relief and continue, Gir tucked under Devi’s arm.

           “We’re almost to the power room,” Skoodge whispers reassuringly.

           As promised, they soon arrive at a set of large double doors. Skoodge pushes the button and they slide open to reveal their goal.

           It’s a ginormous power cell, the size of a skyscraper, towering well over them into the darkness of the dimly lit room. It glows a dim red and hums as power runs from it into the countless power cables that disappear into the walls. Devi and Tenna stare at it, mouth agape as they enter the room.

           “The Massive Power Cell,” Skoodge states, “one of a kind, the most powerful power source in the galaxy, created for the sole purpose of powering the Massive.”

           “Wow,” Tenna breathes.

           “So how do we destroy it?” Devi asks.

           “We don’t,” Skoodge says matter-of-factly, “only something with equal or more power could destroy it and nothing like that exists.”

           “What!” Devi barks, “then what the fuck are we doing here?”

           “B-because,” Skoodge whimpers, withering beneath her anger. “We may not be able to destroy the power cell but we can destroy the cables.”    

           Devi looks up at the many power cables and sighs, facepalming. “Jesus. Fucking lead with that next time.”

           “But there’s so many of them,” Tenna points out. “Can we destroy them all?”

           “Definitely not,” Skoodge replies, “as soon as we start the alarms will go off. I say we have about five minutes before the guards arrive but we’ll have to start our escape before then so let’s say about three minutes.”

           “Fine,” Devi nods, “so how do we destroy them?”

           “I’ll do that, you guys just keep watch.”

           The girls nod and stand by the door while Skoodge’s spider legs extend from his PAK. They point at a grouping of cables and start to glow, but before he can fire, a communicator device on a metal arm pops out of the top of Gir’s head.

           “Gir! Minimoose! Come to Zim!” Zim’s voice shouts out of it.

           “Masta!” Gir exclaims, his voice muffled by Devi’s hand. His eyes suddenly turn red and he leaps out of Devi’s grip with ease before grabbing Minimoose and blasting down the hall before anyone can even figure what just happened.

           The sudden noise from his rockets causes the alarms to go off. As the red lights flash in the walls, Devi, Tenna, and Skoodge only stare after him with bewilderment.

           “Well, that cut our time in half,” Skoodge remarks.

  ��        “Quick!” Devi barks, “destroy something and let’s get the fuck out of here!”

           Skoodge nods, charges his lasers, and fires. He blasts through a cluster of cables, then turns and destroys another. The cables are sturdy; his lasers are only able to destroy a couple within very close range.

           They only have about a minute before Devi and Tenna hear rapid footsteps down the hall. Without wasting any time, Devi picks up Skoodge by the top of his head and they book it in the opposite direction.

           “St-stop!” Skoodge exclaims, tucked under Devi’s arm. “Our ship is back that way!”

           “Yeah, so is death!” Devi retorts, “we have to figure something else out.”

           “Uh…I’ll call Nar,” he declares as he grabs a communicator from his PAK. “Nar! We need someone to pick us up quick!”

           “Argh, I knew it!” Lard Nar responds, “I knew this was a terrible idea! Now you’re all in danger and Kio is gonna blame me when you all di-!”

           “Nar!” Skoodge, Devi, and Tenna cry.

           “Alright!” he shouts, “I’m sending over a ship.”            “Meet us on the port wall!” Skoodge orders before returning his communicator.

           “Where do we go?” Devi asks.

           “Just keep going straight,” he replies.

           Suddenly a small group of Irken engineers turn the corner up ahead, cutting them off.

           “Ah turn!” Skoodge screams. Devi and Tenna take a sharp right down an adjacent hall as the Irkens give chase.

           “Go through that door up ahead!” he demands. It opens as they skid to a stop in front of it and they race through some kind of rest room and out the door on the other side into another hallway. But the Irkens keep up with them.

           “They’re gaining!” Tenna yells frantically.

           Skoodge wiggles out of Devi’s arm and climbs up onto her shoulder. His spider legs extend and take aim at the wall.

           “Brace yourselves!” he cries before firing, blasting a hole through the wall. Immediately, everyone gets sucked out into space. Thankfully, Devi, Tenna, and Skoodge are all wearing vacuum bubbles, keeping them from suffocating, unlike those poor, unprepared engineers.

           Skoodge’s spider legs quickly wrap around the girls and create a force field bubble around the three of them, protecting them from the iciness of space. They all look around for a second, wondering what to do next, when a Vortian shuttle approaches. The hatch opens and catches them.

           “Woo,” Tenna sighs with relief as Skoodge retracts his spider legs and they all fall unceremoniously onto the floor of the shuttle.

           Nar turns in the control seat and looks at them judgementally. “Please tell me you at least accomplished something.”

           “We did manage to cause some destruction,” Devi replies, “thanks to Skoodge.”

           “Aw, well, I did what I could,” he shrugs humbly, “actually if you guys didn’t come up with the idea, I never would’ve thought to do it…or had the courage to.”

           “Wild cards,” Nar muses.

           “What?” Tenna questions.          

           “Nothing,” he replies then asks, “wait a minute, where’s Gir and Minimoose?”

           “That is a great question,” Devi comments.

           Meanwhile, back down on Irk, Zim is still in hot pursuit of Carcas. Despite the Xylaxian’s best attempts at knocking Zim away with large rocks, the lithe Irken keeps on him. However, he can’t get any closer.

           He spots something flying through the sky, zooming right towards him, and grins.

           “Ha!” Zim booms, “think you can outrun me? Well, what about my robo-.”

           Before he can finish, Gir and Minimoose knock Zim off his spider legs and to the ground far below. Carcas is a little taken aback by the sight but continues.

           Zim grunts in pain as he bounces off the cement but quickly sits up and looks around for Carcas. However it’s too late; he’s already gone.

           “Dammit!” Zim barks, punching the ground. “Gir, why did you knock me down?”

           “Masta!” Gir cries with elation and hugs Zim’s head. Minimoose squeaks and nuzzles under his chin. Despite himself, Zim’s frustration withers away.

           “Alright, alright. I missed you too,” he grunts, “I’m still upset though.”

           Unbeknownst to them, a nearby figure with two robots of his own watches the adorable reunion. Grinning, he lowers himself from the side of a building with his metal tentacles.

           “You must be Zim,” he says as he approaches.

           Zim immediately jumps to his feet, aiming his guns at the mysterious Irken.

           “Easy,” he says, hands raised. “I wanna help.”

           Recognizing Civ and Viv at the Irken’s sides, Zim lowers his guns and looks at him with surprise.

           He grins and bows his head respectfully. “I am Rory.”

[that-wimpy-cowboy-doll]

Let Your Body Be the Velvet of the Night

Happy Valentine’s Day @falcon-chill :)

Mantis/Nebula fluff and Nebula & Gamora sister love for the @womenofmcu Valentine’s exchange

title lyrics from ABBA’s “Andante Andante”

Let Your Body Be the Velvet of the Night

Nebula catches them late one night when most of the crew are in bed, though with how loudly the Terran song is playing, she’s unsure whether the rest of them are asleep or merely pretending, accustomed by now to the strange practice Quill and Gamora have adopted.

Her sister rests a hand on Quill’s shoulder, and places the other in his hand.  He holds her by the waist, swaying to and fro along with the music.  He watches Gamora through half-closed eyes, lips wrapping around words that even Nebula can’t hear.  This is dancing, Nebula thinks, and while the way that Quill wraps himself around Gamora makes her nearly want to immolate him, a fleeting image of Mantis wrapped around her the same way passes through her mind.

She goes back to bed that night without an idea of sleep and a pit deep in her stomach.

“I want you to teach me to dance,” Nebula tells her sister the following day, when most of the rest of the team are collecting a bounty, with the exceptions of Mantis and Groot, who are out foraging for roots and setting traps for small creatures on the planet they’ve landed on.

Gamora looks up from the maintenance panel she’s been working on, a crease between her eyebrows.  “What?”

Nebula closes her eyes and takes a deep inhale, feeling her lungs, now a grotesque combination of flesh and metal, expand, then contract.  “I saw you and Quill dancing last night.  I want you to teach me to dance.”

A pause falls between them, and Nebula wonders if this is what normal sisters do.  Ask for advice, whisper insecurities, teach each other things.

She remembers being eight years old, remembers the fresh pains in each of her legs when everything below the knees had been replaced with steel and springs and gears, and their father - not her father, not her father, not her father - had looked into her eyes and waved her into the small arena.  She remembers a moment of hesitation, looking into Gamora’s eyes, and then the next moment, lights that are too bright in a room that hurts, and Thanos watching her with a sour smile on his lips.

“Okay,” Gamora says, and pats the grease off her hands and onto the nearest rag.  “I’ll teach you how to dance.”  She tosses the small, square music device to Nebula, something that she’s heard Quill call a Zune.  “There’s a ‘Slow’ playlist on there.  Choose something that feels right.”

Nebula isn’t sure what she means by that, so she chooses the first song on the screen.

A lulling Terran melody fills the cockpit, and Nebula watches a slow smile rise to her sister’s lips.  “Good choice.”  When the older of the two offers her hand, Nebula doesn’t wait to take it.  “Now put your hand on my waist…”

“Why not your hand on my waist?” she snaps back, but does it anyway, not missing the deliberate sway of Gamora’s hips with the gentle beat of the music.

“This is how I’ve learned it,” Gamora says, her voice much softer, much lighter than Nebula surely deserves.  “You go back and forth with your feet.  Small steps.  Follow me.”

It takes a few minutes of watching Gamora’s pacing, listening to the pacing of the music to guide her feet, her hips, her shoulders, to get the slow hang of where her body is supposed to go and when.  Gamora instructs her to hold her arm up as she spins under it, but not to let go of her hand.  Nebula’s fingers are clumsy when they’re not wrapped around a gun, or a knife, but after about three more tries, the move doesn’t feel as unnatural as before.

They dance well into the following song, until the steps have finally started making sense, and Gamora looks genuinely pleased with her progress.

“That’s good.  A lot better, actually.  You’re a fast learner.”  Gamora fetches each of them a fresh canteen of water, then switches off the music.  “Are you going to tell me why you need to learn how to dance?”

Nebula brushes her fingers over the Zune, eyes training hard over the song title.

“No.”  She pauses a moment, and then looks up.  “Thank you.”

Nebula has already started up the stairs to her quarters on the upper half of the starboard wing of the Benatar when Gamora answers.

“You’re welcome.”

Not needing to sleep means not dreaming, but late at night Nebula lets herself think about the sparse things that have brought her joy over the past four years.  The music, though many times she doesn’t understand it.  The fresh tang of a ripe Yaro root.  Skies merging with seas on planets they visit once, for less than a day at a time.  Mantis’s never ending questions about the things Nebula has seen in the galaxy, things she’s done.

“You have piloted a ship before?”

“Yes.”

“A large one?”

“Yes.”

Her large, wide eyes had searched Nebula’s for a long moment.  “Was it fun?” Mantis whispered, and no one had ever accused Nebula of being good with emotions, but there was no mistaking the gleeful conspiracy in her voice.  When Nebula simply looked at her, nonplussed, she continued, “To pilot the large ship, on your own.  I’ve never been allowed.”

“Why?”  The word left her mouth flat, emotionless.

Mantis seemed almost shocked that she’d even responded.  “Ego did not want me to.  His ship was part of his consciousness.  An extension of his own mind.  There were no real ships on his planet.  I think piloting a ship would have given me too much control.”  Something like a laugh escaped Mantis’s lips.  “I think it is funny, because he gave me control over his emotions, but I could not be trusted to fly a ship.”

The day after, while the others were on a mission, Nebula took her out in the Benatar and taught her the basics of flying, and when they landed back at the meeting point, Quill at least bit his tongue looking at the scratches and dents on the bottom of the ship.

The morning after Gamora teaches her to dance, Nebula goes on a recovery mission with the rest of them, leaving Kraglin in defense of the ship.  It goes as well as she expects, with the raccoon ready to double-cross their buyer at the last moment, but a stern glance from the tree, who seems to grow larger by the hour, keeps him from following through with his half-hatched plan.

After the mission is over and they’re all still tense from the shock that comes with the surprise of the change of plans that was nearly sprung on them, Mantis walks past each and every one of them, presses her hand to their shoulders.  When her skin makes contact with Nebula’s a wave of relief washes over her, but that spike of nerves, that fleeting hope rolls through her stomach at the same time.

Nebula feels something tug at where her heart used to be, and a flicker of fear, certain that Mantis knows exactly what it was she felt when they touched.  Mantis’s wide, innocent eyes widen just a bit more, and she cocks her head to the side with her curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

“What?”  The word isn’t meant to come out as quickly as it does, but the abruptness is enough to make Quill raise his eyebrows and shuck his thumbs through his belt loops.

“Gamora, did you need me to check on...on the, uh…”  He gestures feebly behind him, quickly making eye contact with each of the other occupants of the ship before starting off to his quarters, hand closed around Gamora’s.  One by one the rest of them eventually make their way out, and Nebula feels her chest tighten and burn with the sheer awkwardness of it all.

Mantis, for her part, doesn’t just stand and ogle her.  Instead, she falls into the seat beside Nebula and taps at the buttons overhead to close the open hatch of the ship.

“What did you mean, when I touched you?” Mantis asks, her eyes directed down at her feet.  “You were very warm, but I don’t think you were warm before I touched you.”

Nebula swallows the heavy feeling in her throat.  When she looks up again, Mantis is listening with gentle intent, her head tilted to the side and her antennae bobbing in the air.  Nebula forces a deep inhale before answering.

“I want you to dance with me.”  She inhales again, feeling the air jet through her nose and down into her chest.  “Maybe then you can help me with some of the...feelings I’ve had.”  She stands, perhaps too quickly, and wonders whether this abruptness has become the recent trend of her life.  Mantis lets her eyes linger for a long moment on Nebula’s outstretched hand before taking it and standing as well.

Nebula makes sure to press play on the Zune before leading Mantis to the the small runway near the cockpit.  As the Terran singer begins to croon, Nebula can feel the sweat collecting at the base of her back, and although she knows Mantis is absolutely aware of the way she’s feeling, aware of the way her chest is always tight and hot when Mantis looks at her, aware of how it’s gotten tighter and hotter with Mantis’s hand in hers, she begins to sway.

“This is a nice song,” Mantis says softly, a quiet smile on her lips when Nebula places her other hand at her waist.  “It makes sense that you picked it.”

Nebula frowns, but doesn’t stop swaying to the easy beat of the music.  “Why do you say that?”

Mantis takes her hand off Nebula’s shoulder and lets her knuckles skim the lines of her jaw, the tips of her antennae glowing a tender, shimmering golden.  “It’s unexpected.”

She stands on tiptoe to press her forehead to Nebula’s, her hand drifting to the back of the taller woman’s neck, and when they kiss, it’s as though a balloon has inflated inside her chest and then popped, leaving a trail of molten...something slick on her insides.

She didn’t know it was possible to feel this way.

She didn’t know she was capable of feeling this way.

“I love you.  Mantis.”  The words are almost unnatural, almost mechanic coming out of her mouth, but she needs to hear them.  She needs Mantis to hear them.

Nebula may be awful with emotions, but she’s nearly certain that there’s a light in Mantis’s eyes that wasn’t there before.

“I know.”

[butteredonions]

Please tell me about Shiro's birthday camp-out! “Save the date,” from “Shiro thinks they’ve landed on this beautiful planet for reconnaissance” to “The look of utter peace and contentment on Shiro’s face makes sleeping on rocks and bugs absolutely worth it.” (Bonus points if you explain Coran's fascination with his weird kazoo-flute haha).

From Save The Date:

Shiro thinks they’ve landed on this beautiful planet for reconnaissance, traipsing through fields full of flowers as part of a mission Allura insists has to be done on foot. This time there’s no jumping out screaming surprise. Rather, when it’s 13:26 the team simply drops all their hiking materials, Hunk produces a slightly-squashed vanilla cake out of nowhere, and as Shiro’s jaw drops the team sings Happy Birthday, Put The Flute Away Coran loudly enough to scare the native birds out of the trees.

They celebrate when the beaming sun’s highest in the sky, chasing away all the clouds in brilliant, vibrant pinks. Shiro’s birthday is a day outside of the castle entirely, marked less with streamers and balloons but with swimming, laughing, hiking, and sleeping out of doors.

“That was fun,” Shiro says, as they camp out that evening by a fire. The Lions have moved their giant heads so the bright stars are perfectly visible. “But shouldn’t we get back?”

“Nope,” Hunk says, fiercely.

“We’re staying tomorrow too, Shiro,” Pidge says, yawning in her sleeping bag.

Keith pokes him until Shiro finds his voice again. “I -”

“You have two birthdays to catch up on, I believe,” Allura says, softly. “Let us give this to you.”

Shiro doesn’t cry, exactly. But he laughs harder when there’s a second cake the next day, and an even louder rendition of Happy Birthday, Coran Do You Have To, and the second night Hunk wakes up to Shiro sitting between his Lion’s paws as he stares up at the swirling stars.

The look of utter peace and contentment on Shiro’s face makes sleeping on rocks and bugs absolutely worth it.

Aww I forgot about that one! That was the first piece I ever did for a zine, so I really wanted to do something special for it. I was also hyper-aware of working underneath a word count, which is a challenge for me. Since the final piece had to be under 2000 words, I knew every word mattered twice as much as it might in an ordinary onion-piece. This could easily have been 4k or 5k. I almost think it’s sweeter for being short, though.

I knew right away that every Paladin was going to get a special birthday, and I knew they all had to be different and tailored to each Paladin specifically. Shiro’s birthday celebration was the first one that popped into my head, actually. 

The rest of the piece can read fairly comedic; I wanted Shiro’s birthday to be a quieter moment, more introspective and peaceful. Really I just wanted to give him a break. This was back when all we had in canon was Season One; Shiro needed a rest then just as badly as he needs one now. The Paladins had the chance to not only give it to him but surprise him into taking it. I deliberately wanted them to be as gentle as possible with him, too. They don’t jump out at him and yell ‘surprise’ because Shiro doesn’t handle jump-scares well right now. They trick him into landing on the planet for ‘reconnaissance’ because Shiro would never willingly take a day off to go camping at this point in the series, let alone two days to make up for something so belated. I wanted to stress how well the team - and his friends - already know him here.

If anything, I love how much this fic is a coming-together of the Paladins as they start to grow into the camaraderie we know and love later in the series. It’s seen here in the perhaps trivial exploration of birthdays, but there’s a progression of how much the team is involved with each birthday that passes. It started as just Hunk’s idea, but by the time we get to Shiro’s birthday everyone’s in on it. Voltron’s solid team dynamics and ensemble-work is one of the things that lured me into this season from the get-go. I definitely wanted to highlight that here, too.

Coran’s fascination with his weird kazoo-flute started as a running gag, at first for the comic relief, but then I fell in love with it. In my mind there’s some kind of Altean history behind the weird-kazoo-flute - if not the flute itself, certainly the “traditional Altean day-of-birth song!” Coran mostly uses it for. I like to imagine the kazoo-flute is his instrument of choice; he picked it up during the Altean equivalent of primary school, much like in our elementary school when innocent third-graders get handed a recorder.....so there’s that slightly-nostalgic element to the kazoo-flute going on for Coran as well. After he heard the Paladins were celebrating birthdays, Coran went on a desperate hunt through the entire ship his quarters for something to play the Traditional Day-Of-Birth Song with. (The Good Luck and Blessings the song bestows don’t work if the song is played from a recording.) The kazoo-flute is what he found. It’s been many years since his primary-school days, though...but the Earthlings will never know if the kazoo-flute squawks a little where it shouldn’t ;) Allura might, but she’s so charmed to hear the sound again that you’ll never catch her complaining. 

(Taking DVD commentary asks today!)

[shantalangel]

Stories written on the wall of one of the rooms in the game Armikrog.

It’s about everything happened before the game, P’s parents life, how they met and how she appeared.

Reading sequence:

The Blank Miner. Part 1

The Blank Miner. Part 2

Tools, Weapons, Food, Plants, Medicine, Magic and Pets

A Meeting in the Woods

Punishment and Crime. Part 1

Punishment and Crime. Part 2

Punishment and Crime. Part 3

Desperation

Punishment and Crime. Part 3

Meva and I spent many weeks trying to come up with an experiment that would give us clear results to our hypothesis.

Many other experiments were conducted, most of them mundane. I will not bore you with the details, but I will bore you with the results. We found that most living bodies could go without a soul for some amount of time. It may only be a few seconds, but none of the bodies could survive without a soul for longer than two minutes under normal room conditions. We tried a soul transfer in the winter on a hibernating hamstel, and its body survived after four minutes without a soul, but most did not survive that long of an ordeal. There were problems with the bodies we were using in that the stopped heart removed the ability to deliver oxygen to the subject’s brain. So some soul transfers were successful, but the brain damage of the body was often so great that the spird was incapable of flight, had no memory, or died some time later. We hated being the cause of these spird’s deaths, so we tried to return their souls to their bodies within two minutes.

The Disintegration of Specimen X

Specimen X was lost when we unhooked the claw from the spird’s body midway through a transfer. The body went transparent, then vanished completely. It was unclear what happened to the spird’s soul, but we could hear it chirping in the air around us even after the body was disposed. This was strange, since the spird’s soul was not attached to a body’s vocal chords, and yet both Meva and I could hear it. Specimen X’s chirping went more and more distant before it went silent, never to be heard again. It was unclear to us if the body was disintegrated by choice of the purple fuzz-ball, or because of the disconnect of the soul transfer machine. This brings us to Specimen Y.

The Disintegration of Specimen Y

During the soul transfer of Specimen Y, I prodded the purple fuzz-ball with a stick, and everything in the room came to a stop. The lamp in the room remained lit, but it went dim. For a moment, I experienced what Specimen Y was feeling, and at the same time I could see his body splitting from his soul. I felt my heart beating in my chest, then saw my body from Specimen Y’s point of view. I felt terrified. My body looked like a giant, poking the purple fuzz-ball with a stick and standing across from my little spird’s body. The room went bright white, and I was slammed back into my Tzurk body. Meva and I were flung across the room, our bodies pressed against the wall by an unseen force. When the room went back to normal, Specimen Y’s body was gone, as was the rock his soul was supposed to be cast into. The stick was still in my hand, but it made chirping sounds. The stick chirped for several days, but faded as the days went on, until the voice died entirely.

The Visit

We were eating breakfast when the cabin was shaken. It stopped. An intermittent hum came from the backyard. We rushed out to find a space ship covered in stars floating just above the ground.

It was half the size of our cabin. We walked around it. I put my hand on the hull. It was cool to the touch, and the ship moved even under the slightest pressure of my hand like a balloon.

"I wonder if it has a door?" I said.

Just then, as if by coincidence, the edge of a door appeared, then it disappeared again. Meva saw it too.

We tried to find the edge of the door with our fingers, but the remained smooth aside from two large gashes to the left of where the door was.

"I wonder if someone is inside."

Again the edge of the door appeared, opening only slightly, but enough to allow sound to escape from the ship’s interior.

"WAAAaaahhH!" a cry came from inside. Not the cry of something big but of something small.

"That sounded like a child!" Meva gasped. "We have to get in!"

As if moved by her demand, the hatch opened wide, a small set of stairs extending to the ground. The cry came louder now that the hatch was open. We couldn't see inside because white lights flooded from inside. Meva was halfway up the stairs before I grabbed her arm.

"Meva! We don't know if it's safe!"

"WaaaaahhhhH!" came the baby cry again.

There was fire in Meva's eyes. "Someone needs us! We'll find out if it's safe later!"

She pulled me up into the bright light. I stumbled on the steps, and then we were inside. Meva tripped over something beyond the door, and she gasped. We stood there for a moment, waiting for our eyes to adjust to the light. From inside the craft, it was hard to make out any sounds beyond the hum of engines and the crying.

Finally, through squinted eyes we saw what Meva had tripped on. Two beings lay on the floor together, arm in arm. I would have thought they were asleep, but their faces were gaunt, their skin already stretching around the shape of their skulls, eyeballs dried and sunken. Meva covered her face.

I knew what had killed them. I had seen it before in the mines. When a miner was being punished for something particularly terrible, he would have his rations taken away. These were the effects of starvation.

Again, the crying. This time Meva stepped over the corpses and went in search of the source.

"What if it is a trap? That cry could be a universal distress signal to attract victims! Maybe this is not a ship! Maybe it is a living entity and it hopes to kill and eat us?!"

"You have a great imagination, Tzurk." Meva called over her shoulder.

I followed.

We passed a small room that caught my attention. Wires traced their way around the ceiling, walls, and floor. They came together at a power grid covered in little crystals inserted into gaps. The crystals were a dull greenish color.

In a small chamber, Meva found a baby in a padded pod, chained to a console. The room was filled with the stench of feces. When Meva lifted the child from her bed, it was easy to see that the smell was coming from her overflowing diaper. Even its pod was smeared with it.

"Tzurk, quickly, give me your robe!" Meva said.

Meva removed the dirty wrapping and tossed them back into the pod. Taking my robe, she gently wrapped the child. Though sullied, the child seemed comforted by its new found freedom from the soggy diaper. Her cries sputtered to a stop.

Meva rocked the girl in her arms, singing softly. The baby watched her with wide eyes. The little thing spoke, "P." She burped a green bubble. I popped the bubble, and a small crystal fell from it, landing on the floor. It looked just like the crystals I had seen inserted into the grid, except this one was bright green.

The baby nuzzled her head into Meva's arms, her eyes closing in exhaustion. Meva looked around the room.

"She hasn’t been changed her for days." Meva observed.

It didn't make sense that the two beings on the stairs starved to death while the child seemed to be so well fed. I turned the crystal over in my hand, trying to understand. Then it came to me.

"They starved themselves to feed the child!" I said, "The crystals come from her! They power the ship. She was their only chance for their survival. After they died, the ship ran out of power, and drifted into our backyard."

Meva smiled, “She found us, Tzurk! We could not ... she found us. You did see where the ship landed, right?"

I shook my head.

"... on the female baby garden. She will be OUR child!"

I saw the look of renewed hope in Meva's eyes. Though I doubted any cosmic will was bent on bringing us this female child, I did not want to hurt Meva’s feelings. Whatever the cause of this coincidence, it was a good thing for Meva's heart to have a child in her arms… a child that needed her.

We took P off the ship and brought her into the house. That night, she slept between us, and we could hear her breathing. I put my hand on Meva’s hip, and she put her hand on the baby’s back. Just before we drifted into a deep and peaceful sleep, I heard Meva say, "You're safe now, P. I love you." A giggle. A burp. POP! A crystal clatters on the floor.

The Signal

There were several mornings that Meva dreamt the same thing. She saw P being born in the center of a planet, hundreds of thousands of years ago. The dream was strange enough, but its recurrence was troubling.

Another oddity was P's diet. It was non-existent. Again and again, Meva tried to get P to eat something, but she would just laugh until she burped up a green bubble. In the corner of the cabin lay a burlap sack half full of green crystals.

"She is not eating, Tzurk. And she doesn't even seem hungry!" Meva said.

It was quite the puzzle. We had both seen her waste inside the ship, so she had to eat something, or at least be capable of it. Meva held P close, and the little green baby smiled, wrinkled her nose, then burped until a huge green bubble formed in the air! I popped it, and it revealed a slightly larger green crystal, about the size of an egg. I picked up the crystal and examined it.

It reminded me of something we had once found in the mine. We had found a crystal similar in shape and size, but it was blue. After discovering it, Jockson Reckson was noticeably excited. He ripped it from my hands and examined it in the light of one of our headlamps. He said it was K-tonium. He said something about selling it and buying a new house. He slipped it into his pocket, and we never saw it again.

Could these little green crystals be similar?

That evening, we were sitting on the front porch, enjoying the cool mountain air. Meva was teasing P with a little straw doll she'd made, and P was giggling, as usual. I examined the crystal. Where was a low hum, not from the crystal, but from beyond the trees, from the valley road. What I saw was like a boot to the stomach.

Three military hover pods stopped on the road. Scores of soldiers poured from them and disappearing into the trees between us.

"How did they find us?" Meva cried.

I looked down at the green crystal in my hand. P was emitting a source of power that would show up on the radar of every military vehicle across the country. How could I be so stupid? They were not coming for us. They were coming for her!

We ran back into the cabin. I dug out the sock with The Abominate's finger. Even if I managed to kill some of the soldiers, I would never stop all of them. Escape was our only option.

"Quick, Meva. To the ship!"

We ran out the back door, just as soldiers reached the front of the cabin.

"Open the hatch!" I yelled at the ship, and it obeyed.

Meva scrambled in with P, but then I remembered something. The soul transfer device was still inside the cabin. I nodded to send Meva into the ship as I ran back to the cabin.

"Close hatch!" I yelled over my shoulder, and the ship obeyed.

Inside the cabin, the front door groaned against its rusty hinges as the soldiers pounded the other side. I saw shadows pass the side windows. They’re going around the back! I fell onto my belly in front of the bed, and pulled the device out. I was nearly back outside when the front door gave, bursting inwards. Darts bit into the doorframe around me, and I slammed the back door closed on them.

Soldiers came around the sides of the cabin.

"Open!" I screamed at the ship as darts pinged off the ship’s doorframe.

I dove inside before the stairs even had time to extend. I shouted for the hatch to close, and not a moment too soon. BOOM! A concussion bomb made the ship reel.

Meva was thrown against the wall, her arms shielding P. I held up the device for her to see, and she nodded. Another concussion hit the ship, throwing me to the floor.

"They're shelling us!" she yelled.

We ran into the control room together, but none of the controls made any sense.

Meva was in despair, "How do we take off?"

Suddenly I remembered the green crystal in my pocket. It was a bright green, like the sun casting through a new spring leaf. Power! The ship needed power. I raced down the hall and into the room with the grid. I tore out a dull green crystal and threw it aside. I inserted the new bright green crystal in its place. A voice from overhead said, "P-tonium accepted. 12 percent charge."

Instantly the ship turned on an unseen pivot and shot upwards, pressing us into the floor. The whole room rumbled and shook as we gained speed.

From where I lay on the floor, I could see Meva, but I could not get up to be with her. She was pinned to the wall, clutching little P in her hands, straining against the pressure. She tried to hide the fear on her face.

All went silent. We had pierced the atmosphere. The resistance was gone, and the vacuum of space enveloped us.

Meva and I scrambled into the control room. The knobs, levers and buttons were a complete cipher.

"Does anything look familiar to you?" said Meva.

"I'm a miner, Meva. Not an astronaut."

"Don't worry, Tzurk." Meva said, "We are a family now. I would rather be here with you and P than back in my father's palace. Though hurling through space, I can say that in this moment, I am complete."

I laughed and my heart great stronger.

I said, "You are Armikrog! That is what I shall call you from now on."

Meva's face contorted, "That's a horrible sounding word! What does it mean?"

"A wrinkled man of the Wanati desert tribe was sold into slavery, and worked with our mining crew. Whenever his hammer fell on walls that were too hard to be chipped, he would shout 'ARMIKROG' at the rock. That's you. The immovable rock!"

Meva shook her head and laughed. "Never call me that ugly name!"

"Okay" I said, then mumbled under my breath, "... Armikrog."

"I heard that!"

[miraculoussideblog]

Ways to Forgive Chapter 1

Surprise! I wrote a sequel to my ChloNath fic Ways To Say I’m Sorry. I love this ship so much, when I finished WTSIS I felt like there was still more of their story to tell. I’m really excited for this fic and I hope you all enjoy.

Summery: Over a year has passed since Nathaniel and Chloe fell in love and started dating. Nathaniel thinks they are ready for the next step. However the unexpected arrival of a figure from Chloe’s past threatens their happy ending.

[AO3]

Chapter 1- Bouquet

Chloe Bourgeois had very few regrets this year. She got promoted at the bakery, found a new apartment and applied for community college. Her relationship with her boyfriend Nathaniel was stronger than ever. And most importantly, there were no pesky akuma attacks to disrupt her peaceful new life in Paris. All and all, one year after she hit rock bottom, Chloe couldn’t be happier. Regret wasn’t really her thing lately. However, at the moment, Chloe regretted standing directly in the line of fire as Marinette Agreste tossed her bouquet behind her back.

The day had started out so well. Marinette and Adrien married in a small church surrounded by their family and closest friends. She felt honored when Marinette asked her to be a bridesmaid. Their former relationship as Ladybug and Queen Bee helped bridge the gap between the two and lead the foundation for a solid friendship after apologizing for her wrongdoings. Chloe stood next to Alya and a few of Marinette's other friends, as the bride and groom tearfully exchanged their vows. There was not a dry eye in the church.

Well, almost. Nathaniel’s gaze pierced through her from the other side of the aisle. Every time she glanced in his direction, she noticed all his focus was on her. She did look good in her bright red floor length satin bridesmaid dress. The sweetheart neckline left much for the imagination. At the end of the ceremony, her face was as red as the dress.

The reception was lovely. Adrien spared no expense. They rented the ballroom at Le Grand Paris Hotel for the festivities and decked it out with white and black decorations with a hint of red and green. Nino’s best man toast made everyone laugh and cry. Alya created a video presentation to go along with her speech. Their first dance was to an original Jagged Stone ballad he wrote and performed just for them. Everything was perfect.

Well, until all unmarried woman were called to the dance floor for the bouquet toss.

Chloe’s initial thought was to hide behind the dozen wannabe brides and watch them claw past each other for a chance at a happily ever after, but the universe had other plans as Marinette tossed the bouquet right into her hands.

The guest roared in applause. Marinette gave her a sly wink. Chloe’s stomach dropped as the men went up to catch the garter next.  

“Congratulations,” Alya patted her on the back.

“Thanks,” she said half heartedly as they cleared dance floor.

“You don’t seem too excited.” Alya furrowed her borrows. “Wedding bells not in your future?”

“It’s not that.” Chloe picked at the babies breath on the bouquet. “Things are really great right now. Maybe one day…”

Chloe watched Adrien duck under Marinette’s dress to remove the garter with his teeth. All of the single men, Nathaniel included, stood behind Adrien to prepare for the toss. Adrien flung the garter behind his shoulder. Nathaniel reached up and snached it before it could land in Nino’s hands.

“Wonderful,” Chloe muttered.

Nathaniel strolled towards her, twirling the garter around his finger. Damn he looked fine in his tux. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself.” With all of the wedding prep and order of events, they barely talked all day. Chloe tugged him by the his green tie and pulled him in close for a kiss.

“Can I take a photo?” A photographer stopped them before they could kiss.

Looked at the bouquet in her hand and sighed. “Sure.” She buckled up and put on her best smile as the photographer took a picture.

“What a lovely couple,” he said.

“Thanks.” Nathaniel kissed to top of Chloe’s head. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to dance with this lovely lady.” Nathaniel took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Chloe wrapped her arms around Nathaniel’s neck and leaned into his chest. They swayed back and forth for a bit in time with the music before Nathaniel finally spoke. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” His question threw her off guard. She had been distracted since she caught the bouquet. Catching it was a sign she was next to get married. As much as Chloe wanted to marry Nathaniel, the secret she’d been keeping for a year grew heavy on her heart.

After losing all of their money and with no access to her trust fund, Chloe’s father informed her of an large inheritance she would receive if she were to marry. This news came the day she began her relationship with Nathaniel. She couldn’t have this information hanging over his head on day one. She was going to tell him eventually. But everytime the subject of marriage came up, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him.

“Are you okay? You put on your fake smile for the camera.”

“It’s been a long day,” she lied. “I’m just tired.”

“Well then,” Nathaniel leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “How about tonight, you come back to my place. I’ll make you some tea and rub your feet.”

“That sounds amazing,” she moaned. Her feet were killing her. She sold most of her heels online after she got them out of storage. She didn't need 200 pairs of designer heels, and she needed the money. it really didn't matter much, she had to wear sneakers at work anyway.  “I used to love heels, but I had go to work at a bakery.”

“Hey if you worked for a butcher you could wear heels all day,” he snickered. “It’s not too late for a career change.”

“Ugh, and smell like pork?” She stuck out her tongue. “I don’t think your parents would like me anymore.”

“Then I guess I’d have to draw you a bath after work everyday.”

“As appealing as that sounds, I’ll stick to coming home smelling like cookies to meat any day of the week.” Chloe pressed her face to his chest again. She felt his heart beat rapidly. “How were things on the groom’s side this morning?”

“All right I guess,” he shrugged. “Adrien’s been bummed his father couldn’t attened, but he didn’t want to let it damper his day.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Missing both your parents on your wedding day is rough.”

Adrien still had a relationship with his father even though he was behind bars. Adrien was so easy to forgive him for all the harm he’s done to the city and home life. That’s just the kind of person he was. Chloe couldn’t imagine forgiving someone who caused that much pain.

“Adrien is strong,” Nathaniel replied. “And now he has two more parents.”

Chloe looked over at the Dupian-Chengs slow dancing on the other side of the dance floor and smiled. They would take care of him.

The two danced for a few more songs before retiring back to the table. Chloe lifted her dress slightly to prop her feet up on Nathaniel’s lap. “My feet are killing me.“ Nathaniel reached for her shoes to take them off. “Don’t, you dare.” She scolded him. “My feet will blow up like a balloon and I won’t be able to get back into the heels. It took me three months to break these in.”

“I told you to bring flats.”

“That’s quitter talk,” Chloe grumbled.

“Rest up,” he patted her legs gently. “The night is just getting started.”

Nathaniel felt the ring box burn in his right pocket all night. He thought about getting down on one knee and popping the question after catching the garter earlier, but there was no way he would overshadow Marinette and Adrien’s special day. No, he had to wait it out a little longer. Besides, if he didn’t know any better, catching the bouquet set off a some red flags in her head.

It was better that way, she hated surprises she didn’t plan herself.

“Can you get me some punch?” Chloe asked.

“Anything for you.” Nathaniel kiss her forehead. He moved her feet off his lap and headed to the punch bowl across the ballroom.

“Dude,” Nino popped up behind him and wrapped his arm around Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Snatching the garter from me was a bold move. You planning on popping the questions soon.”

Nathaniel glanced back at Chloe and smiled. “Tonight.”

Nathaniel decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Chloe about six month ago. He received an offer to adapt his new webcomic into an animated series. Chloe surprised him that night by cooking him dinner at his apartment. While it was not a rare occurrence, something just clicked. He could picture themselves eating together every night, washing dishes together and cuddling on the couch watching movies until they fall asleep. He never wanted the night to end.

That next morning he sketched a design for an engagement ring.

“Congrats man,” Nino punched his shoulder. “You going to do it here?”

“Oh God no,” Nathaniel chuckled. “Marinette would never forgive me. But they do know. I asked them to aim for us with the bouquet and garter toss. I’m going to propose in front of the fountain at the park. It’s where we reconnected.”

“Well good luck man, let’s hope she says yes.”

Of course she’d say yes. Right? They were happy, spent almost every day today and rarely fought. Nathaniel could not imagine another day without her smile. He knew she felt the same way.

Nathaniel pushed down the small seed of doubt and returned to the table with Chloe’s drink. “For you my love.”

“Thank you,” Chloe took a big gulp. A little punch dribbled down her jaw. Nathaniel picked up a napkin and dried her off before it could hit her dress. “Oh God I’m a mess.” She groaned.

“No.”

“My feet are blistering, I cried, like, three times today and I can’t even get juice in my mouth,” Chloe sighed.

“Do you want to go home?”

“I thought we were going back to your place?” Chloe put her feet back on his lap.”

“Oh, yes” Nathaniel replied. “That’s what I meant, sorry. My home.”

Chloe recently moved out of the Dupain-Cheng’s found a cheap studio close to work. Nathaniel considered asked her to move in with him since she was over most of the time anyway, but he didn’t want to her interfere progress of becoming more independent.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the wedding party’s duty to stay until the end of the night to see the bride and groom off.” Chloe glanced over at Marinette and Adrien chatting with some of Marinette’s relatives. “I’m not sure how much more attention those two could handle. Not to mention the paparazzi outside.”

“Paparazzi?”

“Nath, baby, Adrien is a former model and the CEO of a multimillion dollar fashion industry. Of course there’s paparazzi.”

“I didn’t see any on the way here.”

“They’ve been secretly trailing us the since we left the church. Security’s been pretty tight all day. I just have any eye for that sort of thing. By now the location of the reception was leaked. I suspect at least twenty photographers outside waiting to get a pic of the bride and groom.”

Nathaniel didn’t think about the possibility of paparazzi following them around all night. “Do you think they will follow us?”

“They haven’t been following me in a while,” she shrugged. “I guess the fallen princess of Paris story is old news.”

“Good,” he muttered.

“You seem relieved,” Chloe said suspiciously.

“I am,” he smiled. “No one likes cameras flashing in their face all the time.”

“I did.”

“Do you ever miss it? The fame?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “And it was infamy really, let’s not kid ourselves. I craved any attention given to me, as Chloe Bourgeois and Queen Bee. But the second the scandal hit, for the first time in my life, I did not want all the attention I received.” Chloe paused, thought for a second and continued. “I never told you this, but some photographers followed me to London for the first few weeks. I partied a lot, made many mistakes and ended up on the homepage of gossip websites every weekend. Those photos were not at all flattering.”

“I remember those pictures,” Nathaniel said. Some posts were circling around social media about Chloe’s sloppy drunk escapades. He never really cared to be honest, he barely knew her at the time. Now, the thought of her being in that situation put a pit in his stomach.

“I’m fine now,” Chloe assured him. “Laying low in Paris for a while helped thanks to you. And after father’s trail a few months ago, the press gave up on me. I live the simple life now and I couldn’t be happier. Still, there are times, where I miss being relevant.” Chloe sighed and managed to put on a smile. “But tonight is Marinette’s night. She’ll be the one in the spotlight.” Chloe took her legs off Nathaniel’s lap and stood up. “Okay, I’m ready to dance again.”

Nathaniel smiled as Chloe let him to the dance floor. The reception continued on for a few more hours before it finally began to wind down. The Marinette and Adrien prepared to hop back into the limo to head home. Chloe was right, the paparazzi were lined behind velvet ropes cameras at the ready to take pictures of the bride and groom.

The last of the guest and wedding party lined up in the lobby to send them off. Adrien and Marinette went down the line until they reached Nathaniel and Chloe at the end.

“Congrats man.” Nataniel pulled Adrien in for a hug.

“Thanks,” he said in his ear. “And good luck with, you know what.” Adrien stepped back and went to hug Chlo next.

Marinette hugged Nathaniel next. “If she gives you any trouble, I will fly back from Rome and personally kick her ass.”

“Thanks,” Nathaniel chuckled. “Have a nice honeymoon.”

Adrien and Marinette finally made it to the door. They took each other’s hands and smiled as they walked out into the sea of flashing lights.

“The cab is out front,” Nathaniel said as the rest of the wedding party dispersed.

“Let’s head out the back,” Chloe said. “Well let them have their moment.”

Nathaniel and Chloe walked to the back exit and around to the cab. Nathaniel opened the door for Chloe.

“Finally,” Chloe sighed. She slipped off her heels the second she sat. Nathaniel got in on the other side. “I know your apartment isn’t far, but my feet thank you.”

“Your welcome.” Nathaniel wrapped his arm Chloe’s shoulder and pulled her into his chest. She closed her eyes. The cab drove around the block a couple of time to throw Chloe off, per Nathaniel’s instruction. It didn’t take long for Chloe to notice.

“Nathaniel?” Chloe popped her head up. “Where are we going?”

The cab stopped in front of the park’s entrance. “We’re just making a little pit stop, that’s all.” Nathaniel got out of the cab and swung around to open Chloe’s door.

“I already took off my shoes.”

“You won’t need them, come on it won’t take long I promise.” Nathaniel held out his hand and helped Chloe out of the car.

“We’re at the park?” Chloe said confused. Good, she still wasn’t suspecting.  

“Yes we are,” he smirked. “You remember when I found you over there sitting in the water soaking wet?” He pointed to the fountain. “Come to think of it, I never asked you what you were doing in there.”

“I was trying to steal wishes,” she muttered. The two stopped in front of the fountain. Nathaniel dug in his pocket. “What are you doing?”

He pulled out two coins. “Making a wish.” He placed one coin in her hand. “Close your eyes.” Nathaniel positioned her to face the fountain. “Come on close them.” Chloe gave him a unsure look before finally closing her eyes tight. “On the count of three make your wish. One,” Nathaniel dropped to one knee. “Two.” He pulled out the ring box. “Three.” He dropped his coin in the water simultaneously with Chloe’s. He expended her to turn and see him on one knee, but instead she kept her eyes squeezed shut. “What did you wish for?” He asked, trying to humor her for a bit.

“If I tell you, my wish it won’t come true,” she said.

“You’re right I guess,” he chuckled. “Honestly, I didn’t even make a wish. I have everything I need right here. Fishing you out of this fountain was the best thing that ever happened to me. Because slowly but surely, I fell in love with you.” Tears rolled from Chloe’s eyes. “You’re crying?”

“No,” she sniffed.

“Open your eyes Chloe,” Nathaniel said gently. She shook her head. “Why not?”

“Because, I’m afraid,” she babbled. “I’m afraid when I open my eyes everything will change.”

“I’m scared too.” Nathaniel felt a tear run down his cheek. His heart pounded so hard in his chest he felt like it was going to explode. “I love you so much. Please, open your eyes.”

Chloe’s eyes opened. She glanced down at him on his knee and began to sob.

“Chloe Bourgeois.” Nathaniel opened the ring box. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she said though the tears. Nathaniel slipped the ring on her finger and kissed her hand.

This was by far the happiest moment of his life.

[feyria]

Chance Meeting

The summer storms that rage near Ionia were always bad, but this one was far worse than any Bria had sailed through. Fortunately for her, Bria was a brilliant sailor in tune with the elements and she allows instinct to take over. Fussing over the sails, steering the ship through the squall in a chaotic but graceful dance. It isn't until she finally breaches the storm that she realizes she's been thrown off course. In the distance she can see mountains and glorious trees but they're too far for her to determine if they're familiar or not. She drops anchor near a black sanded beach and swims the rest of the way to shore. The area seems to be uninhabited; no boats or houses, just beautiful scenery on all sides. Bria can tell by the berries growing that she made it to Ionia, the only problem was WHERE in Ionia was she? She wrings the water from her hair and sets off to explore the terrain. As long as she keeps moving forward, she would soon run into familiar territory. The weather is nice, a gentle breeze blows around her and she smiles. How she had missed the scents of flowers in the air. It's as she's following the floral scent to a patch of berries that she feels her skin prickle; she was being watched. Sensing no ill intent from the presence, she chooses to ignore it and pops a berry into her mouth. The tart juices bring her smile back and she grabs a handful of the berries, continuing on her journey. Bria listens to the calls of birds around her, their melodic tunes complimenting the landscape and soon she forgets about the creature following her. She assumes it was harmless regardless so why focus on it? That's when it leaps down from the cover of the trees to land in front of her. Being completely caught off guard, she lets out an undignified yelp, her berries falling out of her hand. A small lizard makes off with two of them while Bria eyes the creature warily. At first glance it looks like a human boy; tanned skin, dark hair and dressed in furred clothing. That's where the similarities end; shockingly bright yellow eyes with slitted pupils not unlike a cat watch her with poorly hidden glee. His slender lion tail twitches and her eyes wander to the round objects strapped to his pants. They're obviously weapons, sharp blades reflect the sunlight beautifully and she begins to wonder if this creature will rob her. Instead, he rattles off what she can only assume is a question...or a joke judging by his tone and expression. The language he speaks in is something Bria can only assume a snake would speak if it had the capacity for words. She shakes her head, "I'm sorry, I can't understand what you are saying." He tilts his head as if he doesn't understand her words either, but then his pointed ears gives a little twitch and he speaks, "that's okay, I kinda assumed you were from around here. I was saying sorry for spooking you." She blinks, she hadn't expected him to swap languages so easily and she glances around. Had she perhaps missed a hint of civilization somewhere? The boy touches her arm and she smiles apologetically, "I used to live in Ionia but I don't recognize this area. Could you possibly lead me to your town? It might help me find my way- excuse my manners, I've forgotten to introduce myself," she holds her hand out, "My name is Bria, what's yours?" The boy looks at her hand for a moment and then extends his own but doesn't touch hers, "Versiaz, also I hope you know how to climb. My home is right up this cliff." He begins to scale the trees and rock faces with such ease that Bria begins to think his tail belongs to a monkey instead of a big cat. She follows after him, glad that he looks over his shoulder every few feet to make sure she is still behind him. They climb for what feels like six or seven minutes before reaching​ flat ground. Versiaz holds his hand out to pull Bria up with him and she stares at the new scene before her. Large stone houses that appear to have been created from carving the walls of the mountains, with gorgeous trees in place of doors are scattered all around. But what really catches her attention are the inhabitants; large reptiles mill about, most likely going along their daily business. They move around on four legs with powerful claws, the ones on their hind legs remind her of raptors while their hands have five fingers, even a thumb and frills on their heads like crowns. She can see folded membranes going down the length of their arms and when one spreads it out to suddenly take flight, she realizes they are wings. Versiaz steps in front of her with his arms extended outwards, "welcome to my home of Khurlash're! It's beautiful isn't it?" Bria nods, her eyes wandering as she takes in as much of the scenery as she can. The stone walls of some of the buildings have precious gems growing out of them, a few have colorful crystals like a geode speckled here and there. The trees used as doors vary as well; some with flowers in bloom or fruit ripening and Bria wishes her parents could see this. A shadow passes overhead and Bria looks up to see one of the dragons descend next to Versiaz. It nuzzles his face intimately, speaking in the language she heard earlier; a female voice coming from it's snout. He strokes the frill around her head and points his chin at Bria, speaking in her language, "I got distracted when I saw her picking berries by the ocean. She says she's from here but a different area." The dragon stands on her hind legs and Bria can see that she is taller than the both of them but still not as large as the other dragons. "Were you lost? You look like you could go for something to eat." Bria smiles at the concern in her voice, "you could say I am lost but I'm sure I can find my way around as soon as I see familiar scenery." She holds out her hand, "my name is Bria by the way." The dragon sniffs her hand and Bria tries not to giggle, "Bria....my name is Enki. I'm Versiaz's older sister." "You two don't look alike at all." Versiaz​ seems to miss her innocent sarcasm for he steps away. "Not yet we don't but watch THIS!" He brings his hands together, muttering in his native language and Bria feels a charge in the air. She expects him to grow in size, scales to appear on his skin and maybe even a tail to appear. Instead, two soft black rabbit ears sprout from his head. The left folds in half and three seconds pass before she's bursting into laughter. Versiaz's sister joins in right after and a dark red blush takes over his face as he covers the floppy ears, "t-that wasn't what I meant​ to do! Quit laughing already, it's not funny!" Bria wipes the tears from her eyes, "forgive me, I wasn't expecting that to happen and I just....I'm so sorry." His face is still dark red but the lop ears are gone, replaced with his original pointed ones. Enki nuzzles his cheek again, "it's okay Ver, one day you'll be able to change forms. You just need more practice, that's all." That placates him enough for the red color to recede from his face. Bria chooses that moment to speak again, "how about a subject change? I meant to ask earlier how you speak English when there are no humans in this area." Versiaz is the first to answer, "sometimes we fly out to the bazaars when we need supplies or exotic fruits. We meet all kinds of creatures there including humans, so it's only natural we learn to speak their language." Bria nods, yes, that made sense to her as it was the most logical answer. Really, she just wanted to save Versiaz from further embarrassment. She turns her attention to Enki, "you mentioned if I were hungry earlier, Enki. If it's not too much trouble, I could go for a bite or two to eat." The dragon drops to four legs, "are you a fan of meat? We don't keep much else in the village at this time of day." Bria nods and Versiaz climbs onto Enki's back, a strange glint in his eyes, "great, you can come on a hunt with us. I promise it'll be fun!" It would be fun Versiaz had said, Bria would have believed him too. That is until she saw what they were hunting. They were the cutest creatures Bria had ever seen in her life. Little bunnies with tails like droplets of water, their fur such bright shades of orange, yellow and brown, she wondered how anyone could bring themselves to harm them. The little bunnies were going about their business, gnawing at shoots of bamboo growing from the mountainside. Versiaz eyed them like a cat, his pupils were dilated to twice their size and Bria knew he was going to pounce any second now. Enki was watching​ the bunnies as well but didn't seem inclined to attack at any time. Versiaz wiggles a little and Bria has a brief image of a cat right before he bursts out of the bush, snatching a bunny up by its ears. Then he leaps back into the bush and holds it out to Bria, "see? It's super easy to catch them, but make sure you go for the ears. If you grab its tail, well....you know what? I'll show you what happens." He plops the frightened creature onto Bria's lap and dashes out of the bushes again. The other bunnies have begun to panic but it doesn't faze Versiaz at all. He leaps at a bright yellow one and grabs at its tail. Bria is shocked to see it burst like a water balloon, the bunny sprinting away at nearly twice the speed it had been running before and Versiaz laughs. "See that? It's like a lizards' tail mixed with some kinda super speed boost." Bria sets the other bunny down and gives a nervous smile as it hops away, "umm, I really don't want to be that person but....could we maybe hunt something else? These little bunnies are just so....I'll be honest, they're too cute for me to hunt. I would feel guilty for days." She's surprised to see Versiaz nodding his head in understanding, "alright, I know something else we can go after. Hey Enki, you think that guy is still roaming this place?" Enki sniffs at the air, her eyes glinting, "I can faintly smell him. The both of you can get on my back while I track him." Hoping it's not another cute and innocent animal, Bria climbs onto the dragoness's back behind Versiaz, her arms around his waist. She thought it would be prudent to ask if Enki wore a harness, so she keeps that question to herself and convinces herself she will only fall if Versiaz does. They take to the skies and Bria looks around her in awe. She had never seen Ionia from this perspective and the land stretches before her in a beautiful picture that has her smiling from ear to ear. A familiar stream cuts through the trees, a herd of deer drink from it while colorful birds fly underneath Enki. "I've never been so high up before. This view is amazing." Versiaz grins at her, "right? There's nothing better than seeing the world from abo- oh, Enki! There, I just saw him from between those trees!" Bria follows his gaze until she can see a large shape hobbling underneath the leafy canopy. It looks like the unholy offspring of a bear and a rhino with three large horns on its head. Enki lands atop the trees a good hundred feet away and Versiaz hops off to swing and flip through the branches until he lands on the ground, his bladed weapons in his hands. His sister plucks Bria off her back and sets her on a thick branch, "follow him, I'll watch from the skies and join in if things get dicey." "O-okay," she hurries after the boy, her fingers twitch as she feels her magic responding to her emotions. She didn't know what to expect of this creature, it moved slowly and seemed to be interested in eating​ at the bark of the trees. Taking huge bites out of the trunks and chewing them slowly like an oversized cow. Versiaz was right behind it now, his tail flicking anxiously. He makes the mistake of stepping on a weak pile of twigs and they snap loudly, alerting the beast to his presence. It jerks its head in Versiaz's direction, half chewed bark falls from its mouth before it lowers its head and charges at the boy. Bria is surprised to see Versiaz standing his ground and she readies herself to intervene. However, it isn't needed because at the last second Versiaz vaults over the beast, dragging his blades across the animal's back. Blood gushes from the wounds and the beast bellows in pain, shaking its body before charging at Versiaz again. Bria can see that he's still grinning, no doubt relishing in this obviously one sided hunt. The animal continues to charge at him, earning dozens of more cuts and gashes for its troubles. Bria feels bad for it even if it had charged at Versiaz the second it saw him. Still, watching it finally collapse in a pool of its own blood, she can't help but wonder if it would have been better to stick with the rabbits. Atleast those would have been killed painlessly. Versiaz looks at her, his pupils still dilated, "you okay? You look kinda spooked." She motions to the now dead beast, "it didn't stand a chance against you so I feel bad for it." Versiaz looks like he's about to laugh before catching himself, "yeah.... behemoths are pretty...err... they're really aggressive and not very smart. All they eat is tree bark so you don't have to worry about one eating you alive. You do gotta watch for their horns, though, those things leave nasty scars. Sorry for getting a little carried away, aanna help me skin it? The fur can be used to make some of the warmest clothes you will ever wear and we can butcher the meat for lunch." Bria looks the behemoth over once more and nods. She's skinned and butchered similar animals with her father, except those she felt deserved it after they had attacked small camps near her kingdom. It's later on in that same day that she finds she really likes the taste of behemoth. Bria even takes some salted behemoth steaks with her when she departs from Khurlash're, promising to meet up with Versiaz and the dragons another day. A/N: this is a short story my friend requested I write or our league ocs meeting. I think it came out pretty nice @kiwis-fandom-pit

[elleleuthold]

Interbellum

This was written for these prompts here, including a dialogue prompt by @the-modern-typewriter. 

The newsnet report sets them all off-balance. Three years they’ve been out of the black, three years of making good on their severance packages: a bit of sterilized land to bring back to life, housing, food stipends, all the net access they want. Yeah, it’s Corps-standard housing, with cameras in every corner and bots nestled into the walls, and yes, they’re basically rehabilitating a land-fill with their life-force but it’s theirs, is the thing. 

Three years of trying to make something work in this new world, and now there’s a new war.

Rigel tracks the others through the spreading numbness in his face. Vega is signing wide and loud, her face set in a snarl and rage in every line of her frame. Trix sinks to the floor, her personal pad falling from lax fingers. Betel and Phi gravitate toward each other, intertwining until their hands are clenched so tight Rigel can see bones pressed against their skin. Altair stands still as death with his eyes unfocused, hand over his mouth, and it’s only when Vega turns off the feed that they realize he’s bitten his thumb so hard he broke skin.

Rigel feels like he should say something. Something like, We’ll be okay, or Pull together, or even just Squad meeting at 1300, just for the familiarity of it. But they’re not soldiers anymore, not really, and for all that they’ve hung together, their lives are all their own now.

His wrist alert chirps in the silence, a tone of cascading bells that means Laima’s calling him, probably because she saw the report too and wants to check in, wants to make sure he’s okay. He’s not sure he is.

The alert sounds again, unanswered, and that’s enough to break their silent, shared desolation. Betel moves to inspect Altair’s hand and Phi ask Vega to help with the weekly aquaponics maintenance,  a request that’s more likely to result in overfed fish than anything else but will at least keep them both distracted.

Trix bolts. Rigel nearly goes after her—the last times she ran is still fresh in his mind, the hiss of the airlock and the cold-sweat horror of watching her float between ships—but they’re on-planet now, and there’s only so much she can get up to. Even paying her bail after yet another bar fight is a fairly tiny sacrifice at the moment, in the wider abyss his world’s just morphed into.

He retreats to his quarters, trying to think of a way to tell Laima, No, I’m not okay, that won’t end in a storm of civilian good intentions on their doorstep.

Trix isn’t at lunch, but that’s fairly normal. Phi and Betel aren’t at lunch either, wrapped up in each other somewhere (he’s not jealous, he just… hopes he gets there someday, with someone, and he’s ridiculously hopeful Laima will be that someone and yet…). He only starts to really worry when Trix doesn’t show up for their evening sparring match. He waits twenty minutes, then strips out of his extra gear and goes looking. Vega’s in the kitchen, blasting club songs and making herself a pick-me-up smoothie.

Have you seen Trix? He signs. She rolls her eyes, the flash of her hands flippant.

She’s out.

He frowns at her. He’s known that much since this morning.

Any idea where?

Nope.

He checks the logs. Unless she’s been screwing with the house again, Trix has been out continuously since just after breakfast. She’d put “town” in the destination marker. Great.

Vega taps him on the shoulder.

Try the docks, she signs, and he sighs and nods his thanks. The spacedocks are not his favorite place these days, but Trix has kept up an attachment, somehow.

He heads back to his quarters to change again, exchanging soft house clothes for, on further thought, the thickest of his explorer suits. It’s Trix, he tells himself as he checks and double-checks each buckle and seal, triple-checks his breather. Stars only know what she’s gotten herself into.

The shuttle is is crowded and stinks of bleach, and the docks themselves aren’t much better. He makes himself search thoroughly, even though the yawning open space over his head makes him question every step he takes. Even though the AstraCorps recruitment drive, previously confined to flickering posters and infrequent net ads, has ticked over into full-burn wartime levels. The Anthem is sounding on repeat from every speaker he crosses. There are people wearing Corps badges handing out flyers. Vid ads flash over buildings, some from the new colony basecamp missions, a few from the old explorer missions, and a handful with actual Operation StarForge footage. He might even be in some of them.

He checks he hasn’t accidentally left any old regalia tagged to his suit and tries not to watch.

A kid with a slap-on badge shoves a glossy bit of paper in his hands and Rigel takes it without comment. It occurs to him, somewhat belatedly, that Trix would hate all this clamor even more than he does. Whatever peace she gets out of looking up at unfiltered sky is probably drowned out by this much insistent humanity. He considers alternatives: The Sol’s day market? One of the not-quite-official Corps bars? No, they’ll be just as crowed as the docks.

He’s thinking about this the wrong way. This isn’t “Trix on a bender” or “where would Trix go.” It’s been nearly 14 hours with no contact. This is “mission parameters exceeded, throw out the book.” If Trix were looking for me, he considers, what would she do?

She’d get some better intel, that’s what she’d do. By whatever means necessary.

He finds her at the edge of the settlement, sitting on a piece of ribbed plastic paneling with half her explo suit shoved down around her hips and her short dark hair standing up in hand-tugged disarray. Her breather gear is settled between her legs, close at hand but not attached.

Fear balloons tight in his gut—she’s so still, and the oxygen content out here is so low, and he never thought she’d be one to take herself out but—but then he kicks through a spray of gravel and she twists around.

“What?” she snaps. Her pupils contract to pinpoints in the glare of his lamp and she turns away again with a huff. He can see her pulse jump in her neck.

“I never thought I’d see you slumming it like…this,” he says. The one thing vets never have to worry about is a properly mixed air supply. After a four year tour in the black, AstraCorps makes sure they’ll never have to fear death by asphyxiation ever again. It’s practically the only thing they really can rely on.

“You weren’t supposed to fucking see it,” she snarls, still not looking at him. “How did you find me?”

“Now, is that the way you greet someone who’s been frantically worried for you?”

She glares out at the darkness.

“It is if you activated my tracer.”

“I don’t have access to that anymore,” he reminds her. He sits next to her and turns off the lamp. The plastic is even more uncomfortable than it looks. “I triangulated your wrist alert instead.”

“Ass,” she says, and he just nods. He’s not her CO and they’re not quite friends, but he thinks she probably knows, in that unspoken space between them, that he was always going to follow. Old habits, and all that.

The darkness folds around them and chill settles into his bones despite the mild weather. He needs a distraction, needs her to keep talking.

He hands her the breather mask and she makes a face, but she takes it.

“I went by the recruiter’s office,” she says after a few breaths. “There was a line out the door and halfway down the street. Kids, mostly. Probably only ever been on an ark ship before. Most’ve them looked like they’ve never had a decent meal in their lives.” She takes another breath of O2 mix, the breather pressing against her cheeks hard. Like she needs it for more than just air.

“They changed the standard package.”

His eyes are adjusting, stars spreading out above them. He hugs his knees.

“How so?” he asks, concentrating on the words.

“There’s a clause for family support for four years, even if you can’t complete the whole stretch, and for four more after if you do. Extra support getting a union-approved job after, too. And they dropped the age minimum again. For training only, it says, but,” she shrugs. “16. Two years of training, two years on tour.”

Rigel hissed through his teeth. Training. They’d all heard that one before. It was amazing, the sorts of missions the brass could pass of as training. Stick an experienced officer in charge and call it a milk run or a systems test and you could be en route anywhere.

“They’ll go over quota,” he says, mostly to hear it aloud. They both know it. A family stipend and job security after? Half the under under-twenties in the colonies will sign on just for better food and air.

“They need officers, too,” Trix says. “There’s a course, for former enlisted. Six months, plus escort runs, and they pop you straight to lieutenant.”

“Awful well prepared, aren’t they,” he says. Awful just about covers it, really. He watches her watch the sky; her breathing is slow and steady. Controlled. Practiced.

“You going to re-up?”

She slumps.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Yeah, I think I will.”

“Me too.”

She punches him in the arm.

“You hate it up there, I remember how much you hated it. You can hardly sit here looking up. You should stay in the settlement, grow crops, ask Laima to marry you, have some kids.”

He shakes his head.

“And then what, watch them ship off to some new war I’m too old to fight in?”

Her face scrunches up.

“That’s not...” She waves pass-along and faulty intel. “You can’t just stop living, waiting for it to come back.” She takes up the breather again. “Besides,” she adds, “the others are going to need you.”

It’s true. Phi and Betel won’t go back; they won’t risk losing each other now. And Vega and Altair can’t go back, even if they wanted to. Vega’s moods are too chaotic, and Altair’s prosthesis won’t pass a medical exam. Full-humans only, as if that makes a difference in someone’s ability to sit at a ship’s computer. 

“If I pair off with Laima, I’ll be leaving them anyway.”

“Pff. Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, LT.”

He doesn’t want to go back. They both know it. But he doesn’t want her to be alone up there, either. But maybe that’s his problem too, and not hers.

She’s watching the sky again, tiny pricks of light reflected in her eyes.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they,” he says, and he can just make out the curve of her smile in the darkness.

“Yeah,” she says. She reaches one hand up, extended in front of her, a shadow against the spray of starlight above them.

“Yeah, they really are.”

[lesbianrewrites]

The Martian Chapter 1

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of The Martian by Andy Weir.

Chapters will be posted every day at 2pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

CHAPTER I

LOG ENTRY: SOL 6

I’m pretty much fucked.

That’s my considered opinion.

Fucked.

Six days in to what should be a greatest two months of my life, and it’s turned in to a nightmare.

I don’t even know who’ll read this. I guess someone will find it eventually. Maybe a hundred years from now.

For the record… I didn’t die on Sol 6. Certainly the rest of the crew thought I did, and I can’t blame them. Maybe there’ll be a day of national mourning for me, and my Wikipedia page will say “Maia Watney is the only human being to have died on Mars.”

And it’ll be right, probably. Cause I’ll surely die here. Just not on Sol 6 when everyone thinks I did.

Let’s see… where do I begin?

The Ares program. Mankind reaching out to Mars to send people to another planet for the very first time and expand the horizons of humanity blah, blah, blah. The Ares 1 crew did their thing and came back heroes. They got the parades and fame and love of the world.

Ares 2 did the same thing, in a different location on Mars. They got a firm handshake and a hot cup of coffee when they got home.

Ares 3. Well. That was my mission. Well, not mine per se. Commander Lewis was in charge. I was just one of her crew. Actually, I was the very lowest ranked member of the crew. I would only be “in command” of the mission if I were the only remaining person.

What do you know? I’m in command.

I wonder if this log will be recovered before the rest of the crew die of old age? I presume they got back to Earth all right. Well, guys, if you’re reading this: It wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to do. In your position I would have done the same thing. I don’t blame you, and I’m glad you survived.

I guess I should explain how Mars missions work, for any layman who may be reading this. We got to earth orbit the normal way, through an ordinary ship to Hermes. All the Ares missions use Hermes to get to and from Mars. It’s really big and cost a lot so NASA only built one.

Once we got to Hermes, four additional unmanned missions brought us fuel and supplies while we prepared for our trip. Once everything was a go, we set out for Mars. But not very fast. Gone are the days of heavy chemical fuel burns and trans-Mars injection orbits.

Hermes is powered by ion engines. They throw Argon out the back of the ship really fast to get a tiny amount of acceleration. The thing is, it doesn't take much reactant mass, so a little Argon (and a nuclear reactor to power things) let us accelerate constantly the whole way there. You'd be amazed at how fast you can get going with a tiny acceleration over a long time.

I could regale you with tales of how we had great fun on the trip, but I won’t. We did have fun, but I don’t feel like reliving it right now. Suffice it to say we got to Mars 124 days later without strangling each other.

From there, we took the MDV (Mars Descent Vehicle) to the surface. The MDV is basically a big can with some light thrusters and parachutes attached. Its sole purpose is to get six humans from Mars orbit to the surface without killing any of them

And now we come to the real trick of Mars exploration: Having all our shit there in advance

A total of 14 unmanned missions deposited everything we would need for surface operations. They tried their best to land all the supply vessels in the same general area, and did a reasonably good job. Supplies aren’t nearly so fragile as humans and can hit the ground really hard. But they tended to bounce around a lot.

Naturally, they didn’t send us to Mars until they’d confirmed all the supplies had made it to the surface and their containers weren’t breached. Start to finish, including supply missions, a Mars mission takes about 3 years. In fact, there were Ares 3 supplies en route to Mars while the Ares 2 crew were on their way home.

The most important piece of the advance supplies, of course, was the MAV. The “Mars Ascent Vehicle.” That was how we would get back to Hermes after surface operations were complete. The MAV was softlanded (as opposed to the balloon bounce-fest the other supplies had). Of course, it was in constant communication with Houston, and if there were any problems with it, we would pass by Mars and go back to Earth without ever landing.

The MAV is pretty cool. Turns out, through a neat set of chemical reactions with the Martian atmosphere, for every kilogram of hydrogen you bring to Mars, you can make 13 kilograms of fuel. It’s a slow process, though. It takes 24 months to fill the tank. That’s why they sent it long before we got here.

You can imagine how disappointed I was when I discovered the MAV was gone

It was a ridiculous sequence of events that led to me almost dying. Then an even more ridiculous sequence that led to me surviving.

The mission is designed to handle sandstorm gusts up to 150 km/hr. So Houston got understandably nervous when we got whacked with 175 km/hr winds. We all got in our suits and huddled in the middle of the Hab, just in case it lost pressure. But the Hab wasn’t the problem.

The MAV is a spaceship. It has a lot of delicate parts. It can put up with storms to a certain extent but it can’t just get sandblasted forever. After an hour and a half of sustained wind, NASA gave the order to abort. Nobody wanted to stop a month-long mission after only six days but if the MAV took any more punishment we’d all get stranded down here.

We had to go out in the storm to get from the Hab to the MAV. That was going to be risky, but what choice did we have?

Everyone made it but me.

Our main communications dish, which relayed signals from the Hab to Hermes, acted like a parachute, getting torn from its foundation and carried with the torrent. Along the way, it crashed through the reception antenna array. Then one of those long thin antennae slammed into me end first. It tore through my suit like a bullet through butter and I felt the worst pain of my life as it ripped open my side. I vaguely remember suddenly having the wind knocked out of me (pulled out of me, really) and my ears popping painfully as the pressure of my suit escaped.

The last thing I remember was seeing Johanssen hopelessly reaching out toward me.

I awoke to the oxygen alarm in my suit. A steady, obnoxious beeping that eventually roused me from a deep and profound desire to just fucking die.

The storm had abated; I was face down, almost totally buried in sand. As I groggily came to, I wondered why I wasn’t more dead.

The antenna had enough force to punch through the suit and my side, but then it got stopped by my pelvis. So there was only one hole in the suit (and a hole in me, of course).

I had been knocked back quite a ways and rolled down a steep hill. Somehow I landed face down, which forced the antenna to a strongly oblique angle that put a lot of torque on the hole in the suit. It made a weak seal.

Then, the copious blood from my wound trickled down toward the hole. As the blood reached the site of the breach, the water in it quickly evaporated from the airflow and low pressure, leaving only a gunky residue behind. More blood came in behind it and was also reduced to gunk. Eventually, the blood sealed the gaps around the hole and reduced the leak to something the suit could counteract

The suit did its job admirably. Seeing the drop in pressure, it constantly flooded itself with air from my nitrogen tank to equalize. Once the leak became manageable, it only had to trickle new air in slowly the relieve the air lost.

After a while, the CO2 (carbon dioxide) absorbers in the suit were expended. That’s really the limiting factor to life support. Not the amount of oxygen you bring with you, but the amount of CO2 you can remove. In the Hab, we had the Oxygenator, a large piece of equipment that could break CO2 apart and give the oxygen back. But the spacesuits had to be portable, so they used a simple chemical absorption process with expendable filters. I’d been asleep long enough that my filters were useless.

The suit saw this problem and moved in to an emergency mode the engineers call “bloodletting”. Having no way to separate out the CO2, the suit deliberately vented air to the Martian atmosphere, then back-filled with nitrogen. Between the breach and the bloodletting, it quickly ran out of nitrogen. All it had left was my oxygen tank.

So it did the only thing it could to keep me alive. It started backfilling with pure oxygen. I now risked dying from oxygen toxicity, as the excessively high amount of oxygen threatened to burn up my nervous system, lungs, and eyes. An ironic death for someone with a leaky space suit: too much oxygen

Every step of the way would have had beeping alarms, alerts, and warnings. But it was the high-oxygen warning that woke me.

The sheer volume of training for a space mission is astounding. I spent a week back on Earth practicing emergency space suit drills. I knew what to do.

The sheer volume of training for a space mission is astounding. I spent a week back on Earth practicing emergency space suit drills. I knew what to do.

Carefully reaching to the side of my helmet, I got the breach kit. It’s nothing more than a funnel with a valve at the small end, and an unbelievably sticky resin on the wide end. The idea is you have the valve open and stick the wide end over a hole. The air can escape through the valve, so it doesn’t interfere with the resin making a good seal. Then you close the valve and you’ve sealed the breach.

The tricky part was getting the antenna out of the way. I pulled it out as fast as I could, wincing as the sudden pressure drop dizzied me and made the wound in my side scream in agony.

I got the breach kit over the hole and sealed it. It held. The suit backfilled the missing air with yet more oxygen. Checking my arm readouts, I saw the suit was now at 85% oxygen. For reference, Earth’s atmosphere is about 21%. I’d be ok, so long as I didn’t spend too much time like that.

I stumbled up the hill back toward the Hab. As I crested the rise, I saw something that made me very happy and something that made me very sad: The Hab was in-tact (yay!) and the MAV was gone (boo!).

Right that moment I knew I was screwed. But I didn’t want to just die out on the surface. I limped back to the Hab and fumbled my way in to an airlock. As soon as it equalized, I threw off my helmet.

Entering the Hab, I doffed the suit and got my first good look at the injury. It would need stitches. Fortunately, all of us had been trained in basic medical procedures, and the Hab had excellent medical supplies. A quick shot of local anesthetic, irrigate the wound, 9 stitches and I was done. I’d be taking antibiotics for a couple of weeks, but other than that I’d be fine.

I knew it was hopeless, but I tried firing up the communication array. No signal, of course. The primary satellite dish had broken off, remember? And it took the reception antennae with it. The Hab had secondary and tertiary communication systems, but they were both just for talking to the MAV, which would use its much more powerful systems to relay to Hermes. Thing is, that only works if the MAV is still around.

I had no way to talk to Hermes. In time, I could locate the dish out on the surface, but it would take weeks for me to rig up any repairs, and that would be too late. In an abort, Hermes would leave orbit within 24 hours. The orbital dynamics made the trip safer and shorter the earlier you left, so why wait for no reason just to make the trip take longer?

Checking out my suit, I saw the antenna had plowed through my biomonitor computer. When on an EVA, all the crew’s suits are networked so we can see each others status. The rest of the crew would have seen the pressure in my suit drop to nearly 0, followed immediately by my biosigns going flat. Add to that I was sent tumbling down a hill with a spear through me in the middle of a sandstorm… yeah. They thought I was dead. How could they not?

They may have even had a brief discussion about recovering my body, but regulations were clear. In the event a crewman died on Mars, they stayed on Mars. Leaving their body behind reduced weight for the MAV on the trip back. That meant more disposable fuel and a larger margin of error for the return thrust. No point in giving that up for sentimentality.

So that’s the situation. I’m stranded on Mars. I have no way to communicate with Hermes or Earth. Everyone thinks I’m dead. I’m in a Hab designed to last 31 days.

If the Oxygenator breaks down, I’ll suffocate. If the Water Reclaimer breaks down, I’ll die of thirst. If the Hab breaches, I’ll just kind of explode. If none of those things happen, I’ll eventually run out of food and starve to death.

So yeah. I’m fucked.

[austenmarriage]

New Post has been published on Austen Marriage

New Post has been published on http://austenmarriage.com/third-times-the-charm-more-fun-facts-about-austen/

Third Time's the Charm: More Fun Facts about Austen

Though this may not be as exciting as Sheldon’s “Fun With Flags” segments on The Big Bang Theory TV show, today’s episode features the “Third Time’s the Charm Quiz” with questions about Jane Austen’s life and times. (It’ll also be the last quiz, so all those who stress over test-taking can look forward to a quiet future.)

For those who want to revisit the previous torture, here is Quiz #1 and here is Quiz #2. (Hint: Each will help with one question today.)

Like John and Fanny Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility winnowing their contribution little by little to their stepfamily, the number of questions has been reduced in each quiz, but by and large the questions have gotten harder. Today’s quiz may tax your Regency knowledge. It pertains to people and events current during Jane Austen’s time, but not all of them popped up directly in her novels. Let’s call these the graduate-level questions. However, two questions relate to the earlier quizzes, and one is included for extra credit. As before, there’s no rhyme or reason to topics or order. The answers appear below each question to avoid vertigo from excessive scrolling.

Rating scale:

0-5: You’re the bumbling Mr. Collins of Austenia.

6-9: You’re Edward Ferrars/Edmund Bertram: solid but dull.

10-12: You’re Henry Tilney, learned on topics from muslin to crown lands to Udolpho.

13-15: You’re Liz Bennet, fiercely demolishing all comers.

The quiz:

Why were both the French and English slow to let women fly in hot-air balloons?

Both the French and the English hesitated to let women ascend in a balloon for fear of the effects of altitude on their “delicate” bodies.

Beyond the possible biological effect of altitude on women, what was the major fear about women “going into space”?

Just as it was considered improper for an unengaged man and woman to have private carriage rides, society was concerned about the morality of an unchaperoned couple in a hot-air balloon. One can only wonder what Elinor’s reaction would have been in Sense and Sensibility if Marianne and Willoughby had soared alone into the wild blue yonder. (She would not have looked on benignly as she does when Willoughby brings Marianne flowers, in the above photo from the 1995 movie!)

Even before they read the newspapers that came from London, how would ordinary citizens know of a British victory in the wars with France?

To celebrate British victories, the coaches were decorated. At night, candles and lamps were lit, and formal illuminations were held in large towns.

Lord Nelson won the major sea battle at Trafalgar, off the Spanish coast, that ended the threat of a French invasion. How was hero-worship for him expressed?

Egyptian-style ladies’ hats celebrated his earlier victory on the Nile; special needlework stitching was created; and housing developments were named for him. Jane Austen satirizes the commercialization of military victories in her last, unfinished novel, Sanditon. A real-estate developer laments his having named a building Trafalgar House because “Waterloo is more the thing now.” However, he’s keeping Waterloo in reserve for the name of a housing crescent (a semicircle such as in Bath).

What was the major cause of death in the French army during Napoleon’s catastrophic winter retreat from Moscow in 1812?

The French suffered hideous losses from typhus as well as from defeat in battle.

What likely most antagonized the British public over the behavior of His Royal Highness as both Prince Regent and later as King George IV?

Though his philandering and his personal attacks on his wife, Caroline, riled many citizens, his worst fault was extravagant spending at a time when England was heavily in debt from the war. Repayment of his personal debts earned its own line item in England’s budget. When the Prince Regent, now George IV, died, the Times of London remarked that “there never was an individual less regretted by his fellow-creatures.”

What were the political ramifications and the unintended consequences of the tax on hair powder during the Napoleonic wars?

A tax on hair powder in the early 1800s made it possible to tell political affiliation at a glance. Tories wore wigs, paying the hair-powder tax. Whigs, who opposed the war, stopped wearing wigs to avoid the tax. By the time the government reduced the tax, a more natural hairstyle had become fashionable. This marked the start of the Romantic era, when hair could be as wild as the heath.

Though Janeites recall the intelligence, wit, and character of her father and brothers, what medical problems did the males in Jane Austen’s family suffer?

Austen had an uncle and a brother who suffered the same serious mental and physical handicaps, apparently genetic. Both were reportedly “deaf and dumb.” Both lived away from the family. The son of her cousin Eliza died of epilepsy. More distant male family members also suffered serious neurological problems.

Before England ended the slave trade in 1807, how much did slaves cost in the West Indies and other British possessions?

The average selling price for a healthy adult male was about £50; women and children were less. It was usually cheaper to work a slave to death and buy a new one than it was to feed and care properly for a slave.

Several Austen family members, including Jane, were abolitionists, or at least no fans of slavery. Did Britain’s 1807 abolition act end slavery?

No. In the U.S., “abolition” usually meant the end to slavery, which did not begin to occur until 1863. In England, “abolition” meant only the end of the slave trade—the capture and sale of slaves in Africa. The hope was that the end to the slave trade would lead to better treatment of existing slaves. Both sides of the argument thought that the end of the slave trade would eventually end slavery itself. After the legal end to the slave trade in 1807, the British government did little to enforce the ban until 1811, when violation of the act was made a felony.

Two generations of Austen naval officers—her brothers Frank and Charles and their self-named sons—intercepted slave ships.

England did not abolish slavery until six months after the death of the great abolitionist William Wilberforce in July 1833. The end to slavery was phased in over several years, beginning in 1834. Slave owners received twenty million pounds in recompense.

Does Jane Austen ever touch upon the slave trade in her novels?

Yes, a surprising number of times. In Mansfield Park, the Bertram family’s wealth comes from a sugar plantation in Antigua. The heroine, Fanny Price, brings conversation to a halt when she asks about the slave trade. In Emma, both Jane Fairfax and Mrs. Elton make a passing reference to it. Mrs. Elton’s remark is hypocritical. She claims that her family, which has likely been involved in the slave trade, is “rather a friend to the abolition.” In Persuasion, Mrs. Smith’s estate is tied up in the West Indies, meaning a slave-based business. In her barely begun novel Sanditon, Austen introduces a wealthy “half mulatto” teenage girl. The wealth would have come from her white parentage, almost certainly a slave business. It’s unclear whether Miss Lambe would have become a major character.

What were the most dramatic changes to transportation during Jane Austen’s lifetime?

Steamboats and railroads entered service in England in 1812, though railroads did not become commercially feasible until 1825.

What was an obvious marker of the huge disparity of wealth in England during Jane Austen’s lifetime?

The cost of housing. The finest houses in London rented for £750 a year—more than what Jane Austen earned in her lifetime from writing.

Why did Jane Austen’s cousin, Eliza de Feuillide, give up her carriage in 1797?

The major reason was a new tax on carriages to support the war against France. These taxes would have affected all the wealthy in Austen’s novels, not only for carriages but for sporting horses. In December 1797, Eliza, who was soon to marry Jane’s brother Henry, complained: “These new Taxes will drive me out of London, and make me give up my Carriage.”

What Austen relative narrowly escaped hanging or banishment to Australia?

Jane Austen’s Aunt Leigh-Perrot was acquitted of stealing a card of lace from a shop in Bath. Though the theft may have been a setup by the store proprietors, Aunt Leigh-Perrot had a reputation for kleptomania. Her own lawyer questioned her veracity. Another case against her, for stealing a potted plant, was dismissed when a witness conveniently left town.

For extra credit:

Where did “bobbies,” the nickname for London police, originate?

English policemen are known as “bobbies” after Robert Peel, who created the first English police force, in London, in 1829. Early on, they were also called “peelers.” Peel served in Parliament almost nonstop from 1809 until his death in 1850. A protégé of Lord Wellington and a moderate Tory, he nonetheless supported many liberal reforms that kept the country from coming apart. These included Catholic emancipation in 1829, the voting reforms of 1832, the end to slavery in 1833, and child-labor reform in 1833. Because of the Great Famine in Ireland in 1845, he broke with the Tory Party to help end the Corn Laws, which had kept grain prices artificially high for more than thirty years.

—

The Marriage of Miss Jane Austen, which traces love from a charming courtship through the richness and complexity of marriage and concludes with a test of the heroine’s courage and moral convictions, is available from Amazon and Jane Austen Books.

[planetwanderlust]

review: 2017 RC Grandeur 12-day Southern Caribbean

i think this might've been our most relaxing cruise ever! it was 2 full, glorious weeks. it was truly a vacation. and doubly special, we were celebrating our belated anniversary and were in St. Lucia on my husband's 35th birthday.

we absolutely loved the stops on this, since this was much deeper south than we usually go. we were able to visit islands neither of us had ever been to  before. St. Lucia in particular stole our hearts.

and after this cruise, I WILL BE DIAMOND!!!! looking forward to booking whatever is next!

Mon, March 27, 2017 – Baltimore, Maryland (depart 4:00pm)

Tue, March 28, 2017 – At Sea

Wed, March 29, 2017 – At Sea

Thur, March 30, 2017 – At Sea

Fri, March 31, 2017 – Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas (9:00am-6:00pm)

Sat, April 1, 2017 – St. John’s, Antigua (7:00am-4:00pm)

Sun, April 2, 2017 – Bridgetown, Barbados (10:00am-7:00pm)

Mon, April 3, 2017 – Castries, St. Lucia (8:00am-4:30pm)

Tue, April 4, 2017 – Philipsburg, St. Maarten (9:00am-5:00pm)

Wed, April 5, 2017 – At Sea

Thu, April 6, 2017 – At Sea

Fri, April 7, 2017 – At Sea

Sat, April 8, 2017 – Baltimore, Maryland (arrive 7:00am)

Day 1: Monday, March 27, 2017  

Baltimore, Maryland (depart 4:00pm)

we left the house at 7:00am to drive from New Jersey to Maryland. it's about a 3-hour trip, and we arrived just about 10:00am. it was rainy and foggy most of the way, but my husband thinks the drive is easy and we had no issues.

check-in was super fast, and we were already on board by 10:30am! cabins, however, were not ready, and they weren't ready until after 1:00pm.

we stopped by the MDR to check out where our table was, and they pointed us to a table of 8. we had requested a table for 2, and asked to change. they said they'd get back to us, and later we had a card in our cabin with a new table number, for two.

when we went to dinner, it was a table for 2, but obviously they had just added it there. it was ok though, a little too close to the kitchen, but it was ok.

before the cruise, we purchased the new coffee card they're now offering, and the specialty restaurant deal. for the coffee card, we do like our Starbucks which they have on board for a fee. with the punch card, it's $30 for 15 coffees, which makes it totally worth it.

and since we had OBC and knew we'd be going to the specialty restaurants, we purchased their BOGO dinner deal: $30pp, so $60 total for us, for 2 restaurants. we had Giovanni's and Chops (on Day 1 and 2 only which is required). normally that would've been $29pp at Giovanni's and $35pp at Chops, which would've been a total of $128. that's a great deal!

Day 2: Tuesday, March 28, 2017 -- at sea  

we skipped breakfast; woke up at 8:30am to make it to the meet & greet at 10:00am. the meet & greet was in the Viking Lounge. there were some muffins and pastries, but they were already out of coffee when we came in on time (huh?), and there was fresh-squeezed orange juice. there was the raffle (we didn't win anything), no officers came, it was just an activity person and the cruise director (and the CD barely talked). we did lunch in the MDR... and that means: salad bar!! it was also the same menu as we remember, but still all very good.

we saw a movie in the theatre. we find this amusing, because all throughout dating, my husband and i never went to see a movie as a date. funny we never did such a simple, normal thing. the movie we saw today was Ghostbusters (the 2016 new version with all women). we surprisingly enjoyed it. it was entertaining for what it was, and for a remake of such a classic. also nice to see that when they "feature" a movie, it's actually a new-ish one.

tonight we had dinner at Chops. they sang to us for our anniversary. it was a good dinner, but still doesn't compare to our favorite: Ruth Chris in Princeton (specifically this location!)... it's definitely "specialty" but not really worth the high cover charge.

also, right before dinner, we had quite a bit of drama.  at around 5:00pm, we were in the Schooner bar/lounge hanging out before our dinner at Chops at 6:00pm. the captain comes on to announce that there is a medical emergency on board, and someone is in critical condition. first, let me say that i appreciate the captain informing us. i don't think every scenario warrants it (no reason to cause panic), but i was impressed with the way this captain handled this particular situation. this particular emergency was severe enough that we were turning around to get closer to the nearest coast guard station. the captain told us it'd be about 1.5 hours, and a helicopter would meet us at that point to land on the ship and transport the patient to the hospital on land. interestingly enough, all this would not delay us in getting to St. Thomas on time.

by the time we got to dinner at 6:00pm, we could tell we had slowed down substantially and were turned around. the landing pad must've been right above us, because from our table near the window at Chops, we saw the helicopter hover and try to land. he obviously had difficulty (i think it was quite windy at this time), because he had to try several times. at this point, we had finished our dinner and left Chops, and the captain came on again to say the patient was on his way to the hospital. we were back near around Virginia at this time.

overall, the captain came on about 4-5 times to keep us informed. i hope it all turned out ok for the patient. we don't know what happened, or what happened after he was airlifted, but hoping for the very best.

Day 3: Wednesday, March 29, 2017 -- at sea

it's absolutely the perfect temperature today, gorgeous. we had a little incident this morning as we were getting ready for the day... my husband was in the shower and nearly passed out from the lack of ventilation in the bathroom. by the time he finished his *quick* shower, the entire room wasn't just steamy, but everything was dripping in condensation. something was obviously not working.

in addition to that, we felt that the cabin wasn't cleaned properly when we boarded. it was less than par surface-cleaning at best. we have never seen this before. we went to guest services about the shower and the cabin. it was obvious something wasn't done or it was definitely overlooked or rushed. an officer/manager came to our cabin to see, and said that he would order a "sanitation crew" to wipe down the room... but he also offered us a choice between a free specialty dinner or 15% of what we paid for the cruise towards our next Royal cruise. hey, after we figured out what 15% was, we definitely took that! i was worried about how that would be handled, but they gave me an official  hard copy letter and told me an e-mail would be coming with the amount as a gift certificate. ok!

we went to see another movie in the theatre today: Fantastic Beasts!!!! it was very good, and there were some obvious holes, but overall so exciting to be back in the Harry Potter world. tonight we had dinner in the MDR, and they sang to us too!

after dinner, we went to trivia and headed upstairs to lay out on the deck in the nighttime. the movie trivia was a bust; it was movies no one has ever heard of.

it was a beautiful night under the stars. we have this private spot, with loungers, where we know people usually don't wander at night. it's amazing and romantic. :) this time though, we had some visitors and exchanged some pleasantries. one of them made some small talk with us, an ex-army guy, who found it funny and unbelievable that we don't see stars like this in NJ (he was from Wisconsin).

Day 4: Thursday, March 30, 2017 -- at sea

our third day at sea, woah. it's a lot for a small ship, especially one we've been on before. but at the same time, i love it.

today, we went to see another movie. pretty surprised how current these are. we saw the Suicide Squad today, and although it was really meh, it was entertaining for what it was... free. :D we also just discovered that the special desserts at Cafe Latte-tudes (where the specialty coffee is sold) is actually free!! they are much better than in the buffet or other places; not sure where they're coming from, but they were definitely extra special and much better.

Day 5: Friday, March 31, 2017    

Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas (9:00am-6:00pm)

after a quick Windjammer breakfast, we went off the ship to walk around the shops and call home. i went back to the ship, while my husband stayed a little longer to take more photos with his new Hasselblad (there were many iguanas). actually spent about two hours in the port, much longer than we thought. and we forgot sunscreen. my poor, poor husband. we later went to nature trivia, which was at a bar and the bartender randomly gave us nuts. which has strangely never happened before. we also stayed for the Madonna music trivia, which of course my husband won... anything music. we made a last minute decision to go to Izumi tonight. and as always.... amazing! we mentioned to them that we were already planning to come back for Jeff's birthday, and they offered us 25% off and a bottle of champagne then!

tonight, there was a late night game show. i went to bed, but my husband attended. it was called "The Big Music Game Show" and apparently was pretty crazy. my husband explained... "it involved 10 balloons hanging from the ceiling, 3 chairs (labeled 20, 19, and 18), one person holding a bucket of balls and another person on the opposite side of the stage holding another bucket. the host would read a clue and then play a song (i.e. name the actors in the movie; "Blues Brothers Theme"), and then people would run up to grab a ball if they knew the answer. if the person grabbed 18, 19, or 20, they would then sit down in the numbered chair. after all 3 chairs were filled, the host would then have all 3 people answer the question. if the person in chair 20 was wrong, then 19 would win if they were correct, and so on. the person with the right answer would then be given a stick with a sharp end to pop a balloon of their choice. a numbered paper would indicate which prize they would win. the prizes ranged from a stuffed turtle to a bottle of wine to a $75 pen. i was able to get 20 on the 4th question and won a bingo t-shirt, a bingo ink stamper, and 9 bingo cards for day 8 of the cruise (our day in St. Lucia, my birthday!)."

Day 6: Saturday, April 1, 2017    

St. John’s, Antigua (7:00am-4:00pm)

we woke up super early, at 6:30am. we had a proper breakfast in the MDR, and then walked off and just wandered around port... it was meh. i think my husband is getting the hint that you should research the islands before you go. :P

we got our shot glass for Antigua, and went back to the ship.

i noticed that my husband's burn was as bright of a hot pink as ever, and he said it really hurt... we didn't have any aloe or anything, so i thought we might try to see if the medical facility did, and they did! we bought a bottle of aloe, which we knew was a total rip off, but my poor baby needed relief. after i rubbed him down, ever so gingerly, he went to take a nap, while i went to get myself some Starbucks and blogged in a quiet lounge.

Day 7: Sunday, April 2, 2017

Bridgetown, Barbados (10:00am-7:00pm)

we weren't due into port until 10:00am, but we actually arrived early, around 9:15am. in Barbados, the pier requires a shuttle to the main area of the port. then another shuttle to downtown. it’s an extremely long port, quite industrial actually, so the ship is quite far. the first shuttle is complimentary, the second shuttle into town is $2. we skipped downtown and just walked around in the port and headed back (making sure to buy our shot glass for Barbados).

there wasn't too much to the port, it was very disappointing (though we probably should've made into town).

tonight, we made a (very) last minute decision to buy an excursion for St. Lucia. my husband was getting sick of just walking around in the ports (oh really?! we could... have... planned...!). i think he was afraid of St. Lucia being the same and it being his birthday.

before we went to sleep, i gave my husband his surprise birthday gift and a special card i made. i did it now, since i knew we had an early morning with our excursion. i had already given him a gift before we left, and knew he wouldn't expect anything on the actual day since we were away. i was exploding inside as we were packing for this cruise, and i was hiding his gifts! he was so touched and surprised, making him happy was the best gift (for me!).

Day 8: Monday, April 3, 2017      

Castries, St. Lucia (8:00am-4:30pm)

TODAY IS JEFF'S BIRTHDAY!! 35!!

we woke up very early, our meeting time for the excursion was 8:45am (outside of the ship where they line up each tour).

Best Views of St. Lucia (SL57)

Port/City: Castries, St. Lucia Activity Type: Destination Highlights Approximate Duration: 3 hour(s) 15 minute(s)

Price: $59 per person

Description: Discover monuments, key landmarks, tropical scenery, traditional farming communities and gorgeous panoramic vistas in Castries and northern St. Lucia on a commentated scenic drive. The route takes you through the capital and across a mountain ridge on backroads that deliver breathtaking views of both the Caribbean and Atlantic. Marvel at lush vegetation, farms and plantations of this fertile, volcanic island. Relax over refreshments while surrounded by trees at the Rain Forest Adventure Park. Highlights: -- Castries Landmarks: See the capital's colorful market, cathedral and a military monument featuring 18th century cannons. -- Howelton House: Enjoy harbor views and a batik demonstration at the boutique inside this rare example of Victorian-Caribbean architecture. -- Scenic Drive: Stops on the panoramic route include the Rain Forest Adventure Park and Marquis Estate, a historic banana plantation.

we were told that the bus may or may not be air-conditioned. oh the horror! but ours was! oh heaven above, thank you! :D most of the tour was on the bus, with several stops along the way. we had a tour guide with us as well, and he talked to us throughout. he really talked non-stop, and was really interesting. he mentioned a lot of various points of interest during the bus ride, and our first stop was at a school campus, where there was a monument/park that gave us really awesome views from above. then we were off to the Howelton House where we saw several demonstrations on how things on the island are made: cocoa, batik (batik is a method of dying fabric), and coconut oil. there were several places while walking throughout this property that also gave us amazing views. on the way to our next stop, we stopped at a roadside place where it was the "million dollar view" and it was indeed! the tour guide bought a big cinnamon bun (sort of like a cinnamon bun?) to share with everyone on the bus as his favorite island food. he didn't have to do that, it was really sweet (the guy and the bun!). our next stop was the rain forest! there was entire venue there (excursion-type activities), but we were only here for about a half hour or so. we stopped at the front of the rain forest, and at the gift shop was the "snack" that was included. it was a special drink, banana, muffin, and fried fish. none of which i had, but my husband tried it all. we hurried through this so we could get some good photos here. and we sure did! it was gorgeous! definitely a place to go next time, just to here specifically (see my flickr for these photos!).

after we came back from the excursion, we had lunch, relaxed for a while, showered, and went to our birthday dinner at Izumi! we got our bottle of champagne, and dinner was spectacular as always. and 25% off. :) we actually saved the bottle of champagne (we didn't end up opening it). so we took it home, like our quintessential bottle of wine, and i marked it up as well, especially since it was my husband's 35th! a bottle to mark the cruise AND his birthday! <3

Day 9: Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Philipsburg, St. Maarten (9:00am-5:00pm)

this is a favorite and we were looking forward to it. we took ferry to downtown, walked around, and made a point to stop in at my husband’s favorite little shop. a local mom & pop, it sold artwork and painted objects entirely painted by artists on the island, in contrast to most island shops which feature the same cut+paste art style with a different island printed on it. it was authentic in every sense of the word, and the shop owner was so lovely. we bought hand-painted syrup dispenser (we use it for sugar, actually), a small hand-painted salt/pepper shaker for my parents, and she gave us a free shot glass too! we already have one for St. Maarten from a previous cruise, from this exact shop, so this time we got one with the painted flowers i really loved).

it was such a beautiful day, that we then rode the ferry back and forth a few times to get shots from all angles. the breeze, views, and crystal blue water is literally what heaven must be like! after that we came back and had lunch at the buffet, relaxed for a while, showered, and had dinner at the MDR.

Day 10: Wednesday, April 5, 2017 -- at sea 

and now, another 3 days at sea...

while i slept in, my husband went to an early morning sudoku challenge and got breakfast. while i got ready, he went and brought me breakfast too. i'm just the luckiest girl in the world.

we took our time and then went to get coffee and relaxed. we went to the 3:00pm bingo session with the cards that my husband won from the game show, but they were all a bust, no wins.

we were excited for tonight, to go see a movie poolside at night, under the stars. it was "La La Land" and after everything we heard about it and all its accolades, we were really looking forward to it. well, to our surprise, not only was it bad, but it was so bad that we left after 30 grueling minutes.

Day 11: Thursday, April 6, 2017 -- at sea

we slept in, skipped breakfast, and had lunch at the buffet today.

we relaxed in Schooner, walked around the ship, and hopped from lounge to lounge until we ended up back in Schooner. we skipped movie tagline trivia (might have won that), and then noticed our "trivia friends" so we joined forces for Beatles vs. Queen trivia, earning us light-up rings (ooooh, a "new" prize!). we were excited to give these to our niece and nephew.

tonight we had dinner in the MDR. they had the parade of chefs so we were glad we ended up in the MDR today. and we were given extra desserts by our waiter, besides the extra we ordered. the table was overflowing and our waiter was absolutely tickled, it was hilarious.

later, we sat outside in the rain with towels to cover up with (under the canopy), while ignoring a crappy Mark Wahlberg movie. it was pouring and it was absolutely lovely.

overall, it's still quite warm. it was cloudy today, and increasingly stormy throughout the day, and of course the storms and pouring rain in the evening (with wind and lightning), which made for sitting poolside quite entertaining. it looked like very choppy water out there, but the rocking was not bad at all. that is, until overnight, the rocking got pretty bad. nothing like my husband and i rolling into each other in the middle of the night. delicious. :)

Day 12: Friday, April 7, 2017 -- at sea

our last day. we slept in again, especially since we didn't get much sleep, it was a rough night at sea. we made it to lunch just in time, then sat around for a little bit with coffee before going back to the room to begin packing.

we went to trivia again, the first being a "top 5" where the best googlers easily won (there was a group that obviously had internet and were using it -- it's not that serious!). the next trivia was "songs with color" where our trivia buddies joined us. we got 2nd place, but the 1st place cheaters/team donated their prizes to us (lol). it was a large kitchen magnet which included little smaller magnets in the center with all kinds of cruising words, like magnetic poetry. but the coolest part was that when you remove the little magnets, the big magnet becomes a frame! that's a great prize! between that and those glowing rings the day before, we can now safely say we have any and all items of RCCL merch ever made. :D

today was cloudy and foggy but it cleared up by lunch. and it's back to the cold!

dinner tonight in the MDR was fabulous. and we're so glad it's where we ended up again: there was another parade! this time, of all the wait staff. it also gave us a chance to give our tip to Aster and Eva. our waiters were absolutely amazing this cruise, so wonderful.

we had finished packing so we went to hang out in the atrium, where we had another chance to say goodbye to Gina and Bob (our trivia buddies). they were around our parents' age, but i still regret not asking for any contact info or Facebook or anything. we don't remember their last names. :( we even talked about possibly booking a Spain cruise together while we were on board! we still think about it to this day, we're really sad over it. they probably weren't sure to ask either because we were so much younger. UGH! we could only hope that one day we run into each other on the same cruise again.

later we went back to the cabin to wind down and sleep. we actually didn't get much sleep because we ended up talking all night. it was like back in our dating days. <3

also! today was another day of drama -- what a cruise. at about 4:00pm, while we were in Schooner, the captain announces that we have another critical patient and that he was speeding up to get closer to the coast where the ER boat will meet us to pick up the passenger. a few hours later, around 7:00pm, we came to a dead stop and were heavily tilted to one side, where the ER boat came to the side to pick up the patient.

Day 13: Saturday, April 8, 2017  

Baltimore, Maryland (arrive 7:00am)

and we're backkkkkkk... dare i say, 2 weeks is too long? throughout the cruise, the weather was perfection literally every single day! the islands were hot, but breezy, and comfortable in the shade. but we still sweat like crazy.

our cabin's bathroom was a good size, but having a shower curtain is gross, and the sink faucet sucked. but overall, we had a great cabin, it was a great mid-ship category -- close enough to elevator but was far enough away that it was quiet. the oceanview window was huge, but we SO miss a balcony.

the food overall, especially in the MDR, was really great! the buffet was ok, good for a buffet. and we already miss frozen yogurt.