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reneeofthestars · 1 month

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Summary:

In the Old American West, Dooku of Serenno Railways - and part of the Separatist Posse - meets with Baron Carnagae to discuss a business opportunity for the oil town of Abafar.

Written for @wildwestzine , "For A Fistful of Credits" a Wild West AU Star Wars Zine! I'm so honored to have had the opportunity to work on this project; it's such a neat concept, and everyone's pieces turned out so well!

Word count: 1,237 * * *

Dooku’s lip curled as he stepped from the luxurious stagecoach onto the hard, dusty ground. Donning his top hat, the white-haired gentleman took the pocket watch from his vest and checked the time, then gestured for the driver to remain with the horses; this wouldn’t take long. Repocketing it, Dooku turned his attention to the two figures hopping off the rear of the stagecoach. Looming and deadly, the silent guards of the Magna Corps hid cattle prods and pistols at their sides under elongated ponchos, and wide-brimmed hats cast long shadows over their bandanaed faces.

The guards flanked Dooku as he strode up to the parlor. He paused at the door to adjust the red silk cravat at his neck and straighten his jacket; first impressions were important.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of the gaming parlor as he walked in. The Magna Corps brutes split off as Dooku made his way to the only occupied table in the establishment. Placing his hat against his heart, Dooku offered a polite bow. "Gentlemen."

“Mister Dooku, I presume! How wonderful to finally meet you in person!” the thickset Human boomed. Dooku masked his disgust; the man clearly thought he was presenting himself fashionably in his sweat- and drink-stained white suit.

“Your hospitality is most gracious, Baron Carnagae,” Dooku replied smoothly. He sat in the plush chair, hooking his silver-handled cane over the edge of the table. A glass of Corellian whiskey sat waiting for him.

“Only the best for the executive of Serenno Railways. Cheers!”

Dooku sipped the whiskey, surveying his hosts.

The baron downed his drink and followed Dooku’s gaze. “Where are my manners!” he cried. “Mister Dooku, may I introduce Sheriff Kivis.”

Sitting beside the baron, the Sheriff — an Iktotchi man — said nothing. He followed the guards’ movements as they took up positions at the edge of the hall.

“To business! Now, Mister Dooku,” the baron began, waving to the barkeep for another drink, “I understand you have a proposition for us, eh? A lucrative business deal for our humble little company town.”

“Indeed, Baron.” Dooku took another sip of whiskey and settled into the chair. “Your management of the oilfields has been exceptional. The profit margins reported in the HoloNet Press indicate a well-run operation with an opportunity for exponential growth. With our combined resources and drive, I believe that your oil company would be an asset to the Separatists, who would in turn benefit you.”

The grin on the baron’s face wavered. “Oh. You’re… you’re here on behalf of the Separatist Posse? I was — ” he coughed. “I was under the impression you were here representing Serenno.”

“As the executive of Serenno Railways, I have determined that our best opportunity for prosperity is under the banner of the Separatists. At this time, they are one and the same.” Dooku fixed the baron with a hard stare. “Will that be an issue?”

“No,” he answered too quickly, “not at all. The Posse is doing a commendable job in securing the frontier under a dependable governing body — one that understands the needs and dreams of the people. And the corporations that make it possible,” he added with a ghost of a smile.

Dooku hid the curl of his lip by taking another drink. A sentiment parroted straight from the pamphlets. No matter. The last statement solidified Dooku’s suspicion. Like most oil barons, Carnagae was greedy, looking for personal profit; Dooku could easily work with that.

“In order to ensure functionality, Serenno Railways is willing to install a station here in Abafar.”

“A train station?” The baron’s excitement was palpable.

“Of course.” Dooku awarded him a smile. “Making this town a designated station will drastically increase output and delivery.” From his vest pocket, Dooku withdrew a folded paper and handed it to the baron. “And per our contract, protection of Abafar will fall under the jurisdiction of the Separatist Posse. A detachment will be sent to take up residence here. This will enable you to focus your resources on the oilfields, instead of draining them on patrol.”

“And I’ll retain rights?” the baron challenged, his meaty hand closing over the document. “I prospected the oilfields myself. I built this town! I won’t sign them over to the Posse, no matter the offer.”

“Your prudence is a sign of your skills as a businessman. It’s all laid out here.”

Once he’d finished reading, the baron exclaimed, “This seems well in order!” and pulled a pen from his pocket.

“Baron,” the sheriff said in alarm, “you can’t seriously be considering this! The Posse is dangerous — ”

“If you’re referring to the rumors — ”

“They aren’t rumors! The Jedi Marshalls have confirmed — ”

“ENOUGH!” The baron’s fist thumped on the table. “You don’t run this town, Kivis, I do! And I am going to make us prosperous.”

The baron signed his name with a flourish. He reached across the table to shake Dooku’s hand, and Dooku obliged, managing not to grimace at the man’s sweaty palms.

“We’re happy to work with you, Mister Dooku. I’ll have our branch of Scipio Bank set up the necessary accounts.” The baron turned to the Iktotchi. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

“Sir?”

“With the arrival of the Separatist troops, your services will no longer be required. Unless you choose to come under my employ in the oilfields, I must ask that you vacate town by the end of the week.”

“You can’t just — ” The sheriff’s cheeks reddened as he leapt to his feet. “I’m not just abandoning them!” He rounded on Dooku. “I won’t let you hurt this town!” He reached for his gun.

Unnaturally fast, a Magna Guard flew across the room and drove its cattle prod between the sheriff’s shoulders. His back arched horribly, a guttural choking noise tearing from his throat as he collapsed to the ground convulsing. But the guard didn’t remove the rod; he leaned into it, pressing a button to increase the voltage.

“I do not appreciate being threatened,” Dooku intoned in a low voice. “I trust that this was an individual action, not the opinion of the authority of Abafar.”

“Of-of course not, sir,” the baron gasped, face suddenly pale.

“Good.” Dooku reached over and picked up the Sheriff’s untouched drink. He sniffed it, then drained the glass; the dryness of the desert air left him parched, and it would be a crime to let Alderaanian Toniray go to waste.

He took the signed papers and folded them carefully into his pocket. He stood, and the baron knocked over his own chair as he hastened to his feet. “My posse will be here in two days to begin the necessary construction. The foreman will act in my stead. I will be in touch to ensure operations are proceeding smoothly. Good day to you.” He took his cane and made for the door. The Magna Guards fell in behind him. Dooku wondered for a moment if the sheriff was dead, then decided he didn’t care.

“I-yes. Yes! Thank you, Mister Dooku!” the baron called in a high voice. “Looking forward to doing business with you!”

Business, indeed. Established oilfields with a plentiful workforce, in a town that could serve as a junction and waystation between several other key towns in the Separatist territories — this would be invaluable.

Stepping outside into the rising heat, Dooku donned his hat and checked his pocket watch. As predicted, it hadn’t taken long.

#star wars #fanfic #star wars fanfic #the clone wars #count dooku #star wars fiction #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #wild west au #wild west #american west #star wars the clone wars #wild west zine #star wars zine #renee's writing #forafistfulofcredits #star wars au

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kobadit · 1 month

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A bit of pinup Thrawn and Caij in the spicy add-on for @wildwestzine

#Star Wars #Thrawn #Caij Vanda #For a Fistful of Credits Zine #sort nsfw?#tasteful nudity idk

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arlothia · 6 months

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PSSSSSST!!!!! Do you see these really cool bundles? All this awesome stuff? Buy buying either of these, you help the @wildwestzine not only reach it's next stretch goal, but you ALSO get to help the National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center, as all profits go to them!!

You can see previews of the amazing fanfiction and fanart that's been made through the zine's tumblr, instagram, and twitter.

And here are the stretch goals that all of your awesome people have helped us unlock so far:

Some super fun washitape

An amazing charm

And we are less than 50 orders away from unlocking a freaking awesome bandana!!!

AND!!!!!!!!!!! The next stretch goal after this is a custom deck of playing cards!!!! How awesome is that?!?!

Here's the catch, though: You have until

MIDNIGHT PST 11/20

to pre-order these or that bandana and deck of cards don't become a reality!!!

So please ORDER NOW!!!!

#WildWest_SWZine #wildwestzine #star wars #zine #western #cowboy #pre-order #charity #National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center #NIWRC #me #mine

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swzines · 3 years

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Upcoming:

Pabu Days: A Bad Batch Zine

Zines in Interest Check:

Different by Design: Tech Charity Zine

Song of the Captain: A Captain Rex Zine

Zines with Open Apps:

Finding Home: A Chiss Ascendancy Zine (Contributor - Soon)

Zines in Creation Phase:

BATCHED: A Happy AU Clone Trooper Zine

Nightfall: An Obikin NSFW Zine

Rebel, Rebel: Women of Star Wars

Same Eyes Zine

Starlight: A Phase 1 THR Zine

Zines with Pre-Orders Open:

High Ground: A Prequel Trilogy Zine

Pretty Boy Pinup Zine - Issue 1 - Anakin

Zines in Production/Shipping:

Cosmic Love: A Tech x OC Zine

For a Fistful of Credits: Wild West AU

Forgotten Chapters: 2003 TCW Zine

Zines with Leftover Sales Open:

Force Fatal (Closes on May 15th)

Free Zines:

Star Wars Coloring Book

Far Far Away Zine

Fashion in the Stars: A Star Wars Fashion Zine

Flying Solo: A Star Wars Solo

Fancomics (Any Stage):

Hyperlane Nomads (Ongoing)

Star Wars Destinies (Complete)

Anthologies (Any Stage):

Reylo Fanfiction Anthology

If we are missing a zine you are aware of please message us when you can.

#Star Wars #Star Wars Zine #sw zine #Star Wars fanzine #sw fanzine #starwarsfanzine #swfanzine #starwarszine #swzine #I am willing to bet this is not everything but I have enough at the moment where I feel comfortable making this psot #I have dug through so many tags I'm #Plus I wanted to have a pinned post finally up

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kumeko · 4 years

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Title: this warmth called home

A/N: For the @hyphenzines Kith & Kin zine! It’s the Hoshido & Azura siblings!

…

i. Mikoto

Mikoto barged into the private waiting room, not even bothering to knock before she entered. She was not one for ire, she had barely realized before the past few weeks that she could get angry, but now it seemed like it was all she could feel. Grief and rage shimmered under her skin, just waiting to be released, and if she could not cry, she would yell.

Inside the royally decorated room, a small girl sat on a couch far too big for her. Her long blue hair pooled around her, her eyes taking in the room vacantly, and for one so young, she seemed so old. Sitting across from her was a familiar face, her strategist, and Mikoto spared the girl one last glance before turning to Yukimura. “What did you do?”

To his credit, he didn’t shrink. Somehow, that just made her angrier. “I know you are angry—”

“Do not presume to know what I feel,” she snapped back, crossing her arms.

He flinched. That gave her more pleasure than she’d like to admit. “It was the only way to save Corrin.”

Corrin. At that, she wilted. Her daughter. Her only child—no, that wasn’t true, Sumeragi had given her four wonderful children to dote on. But he was gone and Corrin was kidnapped and Mikoto wasn’t sure she could take care of her family, let alone an entire kingdom. “How?” she asked, her voice cracking from the weight of it all.

“We can ask for an exchange of hostages.” He smiled kindly at the girl sitting across from him. “A princess for a princess. Then you can return home too.”

The girl who had been entirely silent, almost to the state of catatonic, until this point spoke up. Her voice sounded like a song. “That won’t work.”

“What do you mean?” Yukimura asked, turning to her.

“It won’t work,” she repeated, a vein of sorrow in her tone. “They don’t want me.” She smiled pitifully. “No one does.”

And just like that, the rage burning through Mikoto like an inferno, the grief welling up like a tsunami, it all disappeared. All she could see was this one sad girl, this one lost girl, and she quickly drew her in her arms, hugging her tight. The girl started, surprised, and somehow that broke her heart more.

“Do not say that,” Mikoto murmured. “There will always be someone who wants you.”

They would have to come up with a different plan to rescue Corrin. She wasn’t going to let this girl go back to such a hateful place.

ii. Hinoka

Hinoka lay flat on a grassy knoll, one that overlooked the gardens below. Mikoto would be angry that her dress had grass stain on it again but this was important. Lifting her head slightly, she spied on the blue-haired girl strolling idly along the stone paths.

Azura, Mikoto had called her. Hinoka had dubbed her new girl instead. Or maybe she should call her Nohr girl, considering where she came from. She wasn’t sure what Mikoto was thinking, letting her roam freely in the castle. How could she just introduce Azura like nothing had happened? What were they supposed to call her? Not sister, definitely not that. Corrin was gone and her father—Hinoka felt a familiar dullness in her chest, her eyes watering, and she furiously blinked away her tears. Now wasn’t the time to cry. She had to protect her family from interlopers. She had to save Corrin.

After that, maybe, she could grieve.

Wiping her eyes, she refocused her gaze on Azura. Mikoto was only her stepmom, anyways—it didn’t matter what she said, Hinoka was going to uncover the secret to Azura. Was she a spy from Nohr? Was she up to no good? Whatever it was, she wouldn’t get away with Hinoka on the watch.

Two boys passed by Azura. They were distant cousins, if Hinoka remembered correctly. As they crossed paths, one of them bumped into her, knocking her down. Instinctively, Hinoka stood up, ready to charge down the hill. That wasn’t right, that was—

That was Azura. She was spying on her. Hinoka forced herself to sit back down, watching how it played out. Sprawled flat on the ground, Azura just lay still. Laughing, the two boys approached her. Not bothering to offer her a hand, they said something intelligible before running off.

Hinoka felt her blood boil. Spy or not, that wasn’t the way to treat someone. Springing off the soft ground, she ran down the hill. Azura still didn’t move. Had she been badly hurt? Coming to an abrupt stop in front of her, Hinoka windmilled her arms as she tried to keep her balance. “Are you okay?” she panted, crouching.

Big blue eyes looked up at her, completely free of tears. Hinoka was impressed. Even now she sometimes cried when she got hurt. “I’m fine,” Azura replied softly, slowly getting up.

There was absolutely no way that was true. Azura’s dress was ruined and drops of blood stained her sleeves. Hinoka snorted. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m fine,” Azura repeated, shaking her head. Her fingers shook as she tried to wipe the dirt off her palms. Despite her nonchalant attitude, she flinched when she found a scrape on her palms. “Oh.”

None of this sat right with Hinoka. And people called her stubborn! “That’s it, you’re coming with me,” she declared, gingerly grabbing Azura’s arm. It was the only place that didn’t look injured.

Azura stiffened. Looking at her with distrustful eyes, she tried to pull her arm free. “What—”

“I’m going to bandage you,” Hinoka explained, gently tugging Azura forward along the path.

Resisting, Azura shook her head. “I don’t—”

“You do!” Hinoka tried again. “I’m great with bandages! You can ask anyone!”

Azura stared at her, then at the hand connecting them. Quietly, she nodded, allowing Hinoka to pull her along. “Thank you.”

Hinoka grinned. Puffing up her chest, she added, “And if they ever do anything like that to you again, you call me. I’ll teach them to mess with you like that.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Hinoka interrupted firmly. “I’ll help you, alright? So don’t try to do everything on your own.”

Strangely enough, she meant it.

iii. Ryoma

Ryoma did not pride himself on much but one thing conceit he allowed himself was that he knew how to handle his family. Whether it was the oft-sullen Takumi, shy Sakura, brash Hinoka, or even his kind stepmother, it didn’t take more than a look at their face to guess what they wanted. His family was expressive in ways he wasn’t, and perhaps there were two things he allowed himself to take pride in.

However, the little girl quietly observing the Zen garden was a complete mystery to him. Ryoma stopped walking through the castle and glanced at Azura as she stood primly next to a pond, her eyes downcast as she observed the minute ripples on its surface. It had been over a year since she’d come here, a year since Mikoto had asked them to take her in as though she were one of their own. Whatever hope they had for Corrin’s return, it would not be through a hostage exchange. That much was clear by now.

Ryoma curled his hand into a fist. He could not understand what sort of father would abandon their child like that. Perhaps Nohr was full of monsters, just like the rumours claimed. No; he shouldn’t think like that. While Mikoto was managing the country well, it was only a matter of time before he came of age. He had to be ready. There was always the chance to negotiate, to save Corrin. The people of Nohr were people, just like his own, and there was some way to convince them to do the right thing. He refused to think otherwise.

What would become of Azura then, he wasn’t sure. Despite seeing her on almost a daily basis now, Ryoma had just as much knowledge of her thoughts as he had the first time they’d met. Quiet and withdrawn, she acted like she was ready to be discarded at any minute.

Then again, maybe she was. His expression softened as he watched her. Her family had forgotten her. And he wasn’t entirely blind to how the nobles here talked about her.

“Do you need something?” Azura turned to him. Despite the question in her words, her expression held no curiosity at all.

Ryoma started. Just when had he gotten so close? Somehow in his musings, he had wandered next to her. “I…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. “Do you enjoy the water?” He winced. That was certainly awkward.

Azura observed the water once more. “Yes.” She didn’t quite smile, but the corners of her lips turned up. “It’s very calming.”

So she did have other expressions. Ryoma smiled. Standing next to her, he peered down at the mirror-like waters. “I also find it calming. I find it easier to gather my thoughts here.”

“Yeah.” Azura peeked at him furtively and he suppressed a chuckle. There, that was more like it. With the way she acted sometimes, it was easy to forget that she was a kid. Hinoka and Sakura had started playing with her, dragging her off on one adventure or the other, but Takumi was still distant. Perhaps he should talk to him about it.

“Have you seen the fountain in the center of town?” he asked, clasping his hands behind his back. “It’s very relaxing to sit near it and listen.”

“Fountain?” A note of curiosity rang in her voice, though she was quick to squash it. Azura shook her head. “No. I…I haven’t left the castle.”

Since I’m a hostage went unsaid, and Ryoma closed his eyes. By this point, that was no longer true. Mikoto had started treating her like a daughter, his sisters as a friend, and he…well, he wasn’t sure what he thought of her yet, but she certainly wasn’t a hostage. Opening his eyes, he held out a hand. “Would you like to go today? I can show you where it is.”

She looked at him again, hope in her eyes. This time, she couldn’t stop the emotion in her voice. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” If this was how she reacted to seeing a fountain, how would she react to a Pegasus ride? Or to the town’s festivals? Would she smile fully? “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Hesitantly, she took his hand. “Thank you.” While she didn’t pull his hand, she did look at him expectantly. It seemed even Azura could act childish when it came to things she wanted.

Ryoma didn’t stop the chuckle this time.

iv. Sakura

Sakura had planned Corrin’s return a thousand times in her mind. The kingdom would throw a huge party, bigger than any of their festivals. Fireworks would streak across the air, exploding into multi-coloured flowers, and no one would go to sleep till dawn. All of her siblings would spend the night laughing; even Takumi would drop his perpetual scowl and grin. They’d eat childhood favourites and tell Corrin everything she’d missed and maybe, just maybe, Sakura wouldn’t have to feel guilty about the kidnapping anymore.

Yet the pounding of her heart filled her ears instead of the festival drums, the copper smell of blood flooded her senses where savoury treats should have. Sakura quivered as she scanned the plains around her. Hoshidian soldiers fought off the Nohr attackers. A cacophony of sound surrounded her as swords clashed. Spears glanced off one another and magic sizzled and all of her dreams crashed around her feet.

Sakura swallowed. Her mother was dead, her country on the brink of war, and Corrin was nowhere to be found. Fresh tears sprang from her eyes and she’d thought she’d been all cried out by now, that there was nothing left to shed. Her chest ached and she wondered just how many times could a heart break before it was destroyed?

Wiping her tears, Sakura pulled herself together. Soldiers groaned as they fell and she clutched her staff tightly. She should be healing now. Healing who? Her siblings kept the Nohr royalty at bay, matching them stroke for stroke as the battle raged on. Should she start with the people around her or—

Blue flashed in the corner of her eye. Sakura whirled around and breathed in sharply. Just ahead of her, Corrin and Azura dashed through the field, holding hands as they raced toward the river. Where were they going? That wasn’t the way home. Only Nohr stood on the other side of the bridge.

A chill ran through Sakura’s spine. Before she could stop herself, she chased after them. Her lungs burned as she tried to keep up, her eyes never wavering from her sisters’ backs. “Corrin!” she yelled desperately. “Please! Stop!”

Corrin turned abruptly, sword in hand. There was something dangerous about her. Something feral. “Sakura?” she uttered, surprised, and the feeling washed away, leaving behind only a confused girl.

Sakura gasped for breath as she came to a stop. “Corrin…” She tried to control her breathing, her skin burning as she stood there. “Where are you going?”

At that, Corrin flinched. “I…”

“You’re not going to Nohr, are you?” Sakura gripped her staff tighter, unable to stop the tremble in her voice. “Are you leaving us?”

“I…I don’t…” Stricken, Corrin looked at Sakura, then at their siblings. Worry filled her face as she watched the battle. “I just…”

Somehow, that uncertainty hurt even more than rejection. How could Corrin leave them now, after all that had happened? It shouldn’t even be a question; between kidnappers and family, it was obvious what the answer should be. A dark, sticky feeling ran through Sakura, this anger that she didn’t know what to do with. Forcing it down, she turned to Azura. “Please,” she begged. “Don’t leave us. Stay.”

She didn’t think she could handle the heartbreak of betrayal.

Azura’s eyes widened, surprise evident on her face. Glancing at Corrin, and then at Sakura, she murmured, “Me? You’re asking me?”

“Yes!” Sakura closed the distance between them, grabbing Azura’s hands in her own. They felt so warm between hers. “We’re sisters, aren’t we?”

Azura didn’t reply but she didn’t pull away either.

v. Takumi

Azura sang, a soothing melody that washed over Takumi like a wave. As soon as the army finished setting up camp, she had disappeared. Takumi wished he could have been surprised to find her by a nearby river, serenading the moon. No, the only surprising thing was that he knew exactly where to find her.

Standing stock still behind her, he listened as she sang. Even without her pushing magic into her voice, there was still something powerful about it. Something unsettling and unearthly and maybe that was what he struggled against all his life.

No, that wasn’t quite right. Takumi clenched his fist, his nails digging into his skin. To put it like that was to pretend he had done nothing wrong, and that certainly wasn’t the case. Even now he could feel the dark energy sparking under his skin, the alternating tidal waves of depression and jealousy threatening to crush him. Her voice cut through them all, bringing him to his senses, and all he could feel now was shame. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward.

Azura stopped singing immediately. Spinning around, fear flashed across her face before she recognized him and relaxed. Smiling softly, she greeted him, “Takumi.”

There was no malice in her voice. It would have been easier if she had hated him, even just a little. Mercifully, she was alone. He didn’t think he could do this with an audience. “Azura.”

They stood there awkwardly, staring at one another. The wind blew softly across the water, a cool breeze that played with the hem of her skirt. Azura brushed a stray lock behind her ear, her expression confused. “Can I help you with something?”

Yes. “No.” This was something he had to do on his own. Gritting his teeth, Takumi bowed his head. “I’m sorry for how I treated you.”

There was a long moment of silence before Azura started. “What?”

“I’m sorry for how I treated you,” he repeated, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.

“Takumi…” A white dress filled his sight and two gentle hands grabbed his shoulders, straightening him until he looked Azura in the eye. “That’s fine. I’m glad that you’re better now.”

Somehow, that made him only feel guiltier. Apologies would not get him out of this. Not for how he treated Azura, nor for how he treated Corrin. Action was the only way to make up for what he did and he covered Azura’s hands with his own. “Sister.”

Her eyes widened before she broke into a wide smile.

vi. Azura

Azura scanned the campfire. For once, none of the royals were on patrol duty. Ryoma and Hinoka sat on one side, discussing tactics. As usual, Hinoka was very animated, her hands flying all over the place as she talked. On the other side, Sakura and Takumi exchanged smiles as they watched the fire, allowing for a moment of peace in the midst of war.

Next to her, Corrin watched them all with a happy smile. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” she murmured, glancing at Azura.

She smiled softly. “Me too.”

“After the war…” Corrin bit her lip, looking unsettled. When Azura gave her a questioning look, she whispered, “I’m not sure where I want to stay. Nohr, Hoshido, they’re both filled with precious people to me.”

Azura wished she could understand. A pang of jealousy ran through her. To be torn between Nohr and Hoshido, between two families she didn’t want to part with—Azura couldn’t even imagine it. Nohr had only ever been cold and foreboding to her. A bitter place, filled with dark memories. What did it look like through the lens of love?

Her only memories of warmth were from Hoshido. No. Azura looked at the people sitting in front of her. Her only memories were from her siblings, her family. From these people who’d taken her into their lives without asking for anything in return.

“I’m sure you’ll make the right decision,” Azura murmured, still watching her family. What an ordinary sight. If only she could see it forever. Even now, she could feel her life draining away, her body held together by little more than her will. More likely than not, she wouldn’t live to see the peace after war. More likely than not, she would disappear, forgotten.

“I hope so.” Despite her troubles, Corrin smiled. “You’re staying here, right?”

It was a foolish wish. Azura made it anyway. “Yes, I want to stay with them.”

She didn’t want to leave this warmth she called her own.

#fire emblem fates #azura #takumi #hinoka #fire emblem #ryoma #sakura #mikoto #yukimura #corrin #fanfic

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wildwestzine · 7 months

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Look what's finally come to town! Shop pre-orders for the zine are now open! With 55 art pieces and 16 stories, these rootin’ tootin’ pages are a bonafide hoot! Preorders are open until November 20th

#forafistfulofcreditszine #star wars #cowboy au #wild west #cowboy clones #clone wars #fanzine #mandalorian #sw zine #zine preorders #preorders open

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tsaritsa · 5 years

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i know that god is not supposed to save today

written for the @womenmadefullmetal zine! i wrote a fun little ditty on mrs bradley :^) please check out all the art and writing ppl did - there’s some truly phenomenal stuff!

On the eve of the Promised Day, an unbeknownst but suspicious Louisa Bradley considers the state of the nation and her household.

It is a cool spring evening when Louisa considers the state of her household.

A lesser woman might come to the conclusion that her husband is being unfaithful, with the way in which he buries himself in his work. It is not a new concept for Louisa – there have been many an insinuation that her husband’s dedication to his country is not as it seems: that it is a smokescreen, that he is not the man she married all those years ago –

All lies, the whole sorry lot of them. It is one thing to be envious of the position she holds – wife to the Führer, with every whim catered for before she need even ask: it is another entirely to suggest that Louisa Bradley does not know her husband, and all the secrets he keeps close to his chest.

She is a wife. Wives know these sorts of things – and her husband is but a man, after all.

Selim’s report card had been the usual drivel: it was frustrating that none of his teachers could look past his name, look past the bodyguard that patiently waited outside his classroom. He was a clever boy, but he needed to be pushed. Memorising his multiplication was all well and good but her son was capable of far more than his teachers gave him credit for. She had made an appointment with the headmaster, but Louisa did not see that meeting going anywhere productive.

Truthfully, Louisa could not have anticipated this kind of life, could not have anticipated her ambivalence to the whispers that followed her like a second shadow. The women she brushed shoulders with in high society would probably faint at the suggestions that were as constant as the threat reports that her security detail dealt with every morning.

She checks the clock above the fireplace. Her husband would be returning any moment from his final meeting of the day. More often than not now he would come home in a foul mood that radiated off him in waves. He tried to minimise what she saw, but Louisa knew her husband, knew the signs. He could merely brush it off as an excuse to indulge in their shared love for tea, to add to their ever-increasing collection of tea sets, but she was growing tired of all the broken crockery she kept finding strewn all over the mansion.

The tension that simmered in their household, that lingering rumble that had become comforting in its consistency rather than unnerving, was growing. She is no fool. The sudden introduction of King’s new attaché – Lieutenant Hawkeye, was it? – and the ever-growing war in the South had brought an element of uncertainty to her life that Louisa did not appreciate. Though she always dismissed the superstitions her friends employed to tell their fates – tarot, tea leaves, and other sorts of divination – it was difficult to ignore the warning signs making themselves known.

King had done a relatively good job of brushing over the state of the nation, much like she did when it came to the affairs of their household, but there was no denying that change was sweeping through the country over the last few months, building towards… well, something. Slum camps were on the move once more, and the unrest at their borders grew only increasingly dire with each passing day. The last time she had seen the country like this was just before the little indiscretion in Ishval became the civil war in Ishval: and Louisa would be damned before she would go through the pain of being made bereft of her husband once more, regardless of how small the rebellion could turn out to be.

He’s gotten sloppy, she thinks as she hears his footsteps near. Stress weighs him down – makes his usually quick and noiseless gait gain a distinctive cadence that rumbles on the hardwood. She turns to face the archway, and sees him there, back ramrod straight and entirely too tense for her liking.

“Wife,” he greets her, and this, this is what she will fight tooth and nail to protect. He is hers just as much as she belongs to him – and she knows every inch of his skin, knows the intimate ways in which his muscles work over one another. He has spent his entire life preparing to protect his country and Louisa will not deny herself the benefits of such dedication. She beckons him over to where she sits on the loveseat in front of the dying hearth. The diamond halo on her ring finger refracts the warm light against his face in a thousand bright fractals as he brushes a reverent kiss against her knuckles, before he joins her, hands balled tightly into fists.

“Selim is in bed now,” she tells him after a moment, savouring the crisp smell of his cologne mixed with the soap the maids use to clean his uniforms. “He’s had a rough week.”

“At school? I thought we had sorted that problem out.” The line of tension in his back softens, and she watches out of the corner of her eye as he adjusts his position next to her, slightly less taut than before. Progress, Louisa tells herself.

“I’m speaking with the headmaster this week,” she promises. “I get the impression he’s been sneaking a few late nights, however. You will speak to him, won’t you? I can’t always be the bad cop.”

King nods, reclining fully against the loveseat. “I have to go to the Eastern district next week to oversee the training exercises between the Briggs troops and Eastern divisions. Perhaps a change of scenery will do the boy some good.”

Louisa is no fool. She knows what her husband is telling her – the truth that is hidden neatly in between his words. She is not allowed to protest. She has a part to play here, just as much as they do.

A wife knows these sorts of things, after all – and her husband is but a man.

(Sometimes Louisa wonders if she is the only person who remains cognisant of the fact).

#mrs bradley #wrath #fullmetal alchemist #fma fanfiction #my fanfic #mrs bradley is one of those intensely interesting ppl who i love playing around with #what motivates a woman to love like that?#is it carnal or feral or both or more?

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