Destiny 2: Struck Gold

Before the Fever

{Master Chief x Reader series - TV based}

{A╱N} Hi there!

I know you guys were used to other kinds of fics from me but I had to give into impulse here with a Halo fic.

I’ve played the games for years, they’re my favorite! But this series, and any future fics I write in this fandom, will be mostly based off of the TV series. I know plenty of people had their opinions about the show, but for what it was, I absolutely loved it.

That being said, this is my first Halo fic ever, and it’s all mostly not canon compliant.. I don’t know every aspect of the lore by heart, but I’ll try to research what I don’t know as I go along to add more to the atmosphere! I appreciate your forgiveness for any mistakes or things that make no sense though, again not canon!

So I guess what I’m trying to say is, this first-person POV/reader insert is purely for fun, take it for what you will if you decide to read it! This is also on AO3, my username is simply “alienistic” ♡

I am still working on my other WIPs, thanks for being patient, but I run through hyperfixations like water so sometimes it takes a little while!

enjoy! ♡

Extra note: I used a little Sanghelli! Because the dictionary I found is kind of limited, I pieced together the word for ‘my’ and the word for ‘love’ to create a pet name. V soft, much sweet.

Chapter One - Thrill of the Chase

“It’s been three days since we’ve had any decent money. I’m hungry,” Astra complained, her blonde hair falling in her face as she dipped her head into her hands.

She looked over at me as she sat back against the wall of the small nook we’d taken cover in, her wide green eyes shining under the twinkling lights that seemed to be everywhere you turned in The Rubble’s streets and alleyways. They seemed to expose your secrets, leaving nothing to hide. The deepened purples and blues of her orbital sockets made her look far more exhausted than usual, and my heart sank in my chest at the sight of her. She wasn’t wrong, and my own stomach growled at the mere mention of being hungry.

The hustle and bustle of people made it easy to hide in plain sight despite the lighting— not that we were in need of any kind of concealment. The Rubble was home to every misfit and ne’er do well-er that happened to mosey into that sector of the galaxy, along with survivors that managed to make it out of Madrigal and other humans who belonged nowhere and to no one. Astra and I were really no different from any of the others. We had to steal what we could, sell it to eat; barter to get what we needed, and, when we had a particularly good streak, what we wanted, too.

“I’m hungry, too,” I sighed, {e/c} eyes drifting downward.

We’d been living off of scraps for years, taking food where we could without pissing off a merchant or a pirate. Life wasn’t easy anywhere anymore, especially when you had the UNSC closing in at every turn to defeat The notorious legend that was ‘The Covenant’ wherever they landed. It was claimed that both parties tended to destroy everything in their wake.

But when Astra and I found each other, it was like kismet. We were both the same age, both orphans, and both completely jaded by the system that seemed to be set in place by a corrupt technocracy. The Rubble was lawless, and we liked it that way. Though when trouble came knocking, we had nothing else to fall back on but each other. She was like a long lost sister to me and I to her, someone that I immediately knew I’d never have to go through life without the moment we spoke. I took solace in the notion, especially after having gone through so many empty, lonely years bouncing from place to place, trying to fill the void in my heart and change the hand I was dealt in life.

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I scanned our surroundings for anything that looked valuable— valuable enough to fetch some money or at least a decent trade. But no matter where I looked, there was nothing to be had. Everyone who passed kept their belongings too close to the chest, and while I was adept at pickpocketing, I could only do so much when everyone else was, too.

Leaning against the wall, my back went rigid as I slid downward to sit beside Astra, eyes still trained on any unsuspecting person or item. Feeling slightly defeated, I rested my head against her shoulder, thinking about where else we could try to find some kind of currency instead. Maybe down a different alley, or in one of the bars… On another asteroid? Sneaking into a party might–  

But before I could string my thoughts together, my head instinctively popped back up, my line of sight honing in on what looked like a metal briefcase that swung at someone’s side. I clamored to lean forward as though it would help me get a better look at the object, and almost head-butted Astra in the process of my newfound hope.

“Hey!” She whined, leaning away from me with a confused expression.

But I couldn’t pull my eyes off of the item of interest, my brow furrowing as I continued to shift in my place on the ground to get a better look through the legs of the moving crowd. It wasn’t until the sea of people began to nervously part that I realized just what kind of hand held that intriguing case.

“Holy shit…” Astra drew out, obviously having chased the direction I was looking in on her own, her voice nearly a whisper. “A Spartan… ”

Slowly– very slowly, I let my gaze trail upwards, over the sturdy hand, up the alloy-plated arm, over the broad shoulder, and to the bare face that was exposed to anyone who happened to lay eyes on him. That was something very unheard of in his kind. A clear view was now the only thing to be had as I sat back in my spot, completely still and extremely intimidated.

Taking notice of the dark green, near black alloy that covered every inch of the soldier’s body, I swallowed hard. I’d never seen a Spartan before— not in person, anyway. I’d only heard the stories; been warned of what would happen if they finally had business on Rubble. They were the best of the best, trained and deadly. And there one stood, like nothing, beside a pirate I’d seen in the area quite often, chatting about while curious and fearful eyes kept steady watch as they passed. He held his helmet in his free hand and seemed a little less like the terrifying tales I’d heard as I watched him carry on the conversation— in that moment, he seemed more human than machine, the way they’d painted Spartans out to be.

“Maybe we can ask him for money!” Astra exclaimed in a whisper and tapped my shoulder excitedly, ripping me from my train of thought. “I bet they pay him pretty well!”

I could only shake my head, breathing a soft laugh through my nostrils. The inability to look away from the man that stood towering over everyone else was stirring. I wondered what he was visiting Rubble for, what sat beneath the confines of the large case he held. It could’ve been a stretch, but I knew someone of his caliber was not going to be carrying something of little worth, no matter where he was in the galaxy.

“No.. Whatever he’s holding, it looks important,” I hesitated then, pondering on my decision for just a few seconds longer. “I’m going for it, Astra. This could be what finally changes our lives. Maybe it’s something that’ll be worth everything.. And then we won’t have to live like thieves anymore.”

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head, and I could see her looking over at the armored man and then back to me from my peripheral vision. Still, I sized him up, uselessly, of course. I had no chance against him, and if he caught me I was as good as dead, or at least in a heap of trouble.

“Are you insane? You can’t steal from a Spartan! Do you want to die?” Astra squealed, concern written all over her features.

A real laugh escaped me then. Half of the fun of the steal was the risk; the adrenaline rush you got from the act. If there was any way to get your heart racing, it would’ve been this. And maybe it was a bit more stupid than anything else I’d pulled before, but desperate times did call for desperate measures, and I would’ve been lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to the challenge just a little.. No matter how it ended up.

With a deep breath, I faced Astra. Glancing back and forth between her eyes and the item of interest still firmly imprisoned in the Spartan’s grip, I held onto her shoulders tightly and spoke concisely.

“If anything happens, don’t come after me. Find a new place to be, eil monerasha. Don’t live like this forever.”

A moment of silence hung between us, and I could almost hear what she was thinking as she held my flickering stare. But in true Astra fashion, her next words were so inexplicably her.

“I think you’re being a little dramatic,” she smiled.

But her jaw was visibly clenched, and I could see the faltering in her expression, hear the worry that laced her voice. She always tried to laugh in the face of danger, but the small heist this time seemed to be pushing it, even for her electric spirit. Spartans were killing machines, human (if that) weapons for the UNSC. One wrong move around any of them, and it was lights out if they saw fit– or so we’d been told.

“Or maybe…” she began again, her own hands moving to grip my biceps.

I kept glancing between the item and her face, still focused on her words just as much as I had been on my thoughts. I knew if I continued to hear her out, she might be able to talk me out of what I was about to do.

“You shouldn’t try it this time,” she continued. “I’m not that hungry, I can probably go another day or two, easy. We’ll find someth–”

“Whatever’s in there must be important. It’s my new mission to find out,” I cut her off, shaking my head, courage coursing through my veins all at once.

I had to take advantage of the sudden bravery and run with it, or I would’ve lost the drive to do it altogether.

The tiny blonde’s lips parted to speak, but before she could manage another word, I cupped her jaw gently, giving her face a soft squeeze before darting off into the alley. In one of my glances, I’d noticed the metal case had been set down beside a young, human girl with black hair. I hadn’t noticed her prior, but assumed she was with the soldier, though he turned his back on her to speak with the pirate in a closer manner.

I wondered what secrets were being told amongst the two as I stopped in the middle of the crowd of moving people, quickly planning my next course of action. In a snap decision, I lunged forward, my feet carrying me toward the prize without my mind having much time to catch up. I held my hand out as I prayed to whatever gods the universe may have contained that I wouldn’t miss the handle that sat ungrasped atop the case. People fell out of my way, being pushed and shoved without my realizing it as I ran. Life simultaneously sped up and slowed down as I felt the handle connect with my fingers, a smile immediately touching my lips at the next step being a success.

My thought immediately after was if I really was stupid enough to think I could outrun a Spartan.

“{Y/N}!” Astra called out behind me, clearly having started to follow me despite my clear instruction. But her voice was already a faded sound that fell into the atmosphere; simply background noise.

“Hey!” I heard a girlish voice cry from who I assumed was the girl who was in charge of the case.

“Stop!” A booming voice followed from behind me as I darted through the crowd, heavy footsteps of each stride he took behind me seeming to shake the ground.

Goosebumps rose on my flesh at the sound, at the danger, at the threat that permeated his voice and presence despite the lack of any actual warning. Pure adrenaline and lack of any other thought filled my mind and body as I pushed myself harder, instinct searching for a way out of the trouble I now found myself in. It was fight or flight, and flight was definitely more predominant once I noticed a motorcycle just ahead, running and ready, its driver still seated.

“Wait!” I screamed, my voice panicked through my labored breathing, hoarse already. “Hey, wait!”

I gripped the handle of the case and sped forward, my heart pounding in my ears the only real sound I could hear. The motorcyclist noticed me first, and then the menacing alloy-covered man behind me. With a look of terror and a quick hand, he revved the engine and began to roll forward, clearly trying to get away from the scene.

“No!” I screamed, before I felt something hard and cold grasp at my back, tugging at my shirt.

I didn’t dare look behind me, I didn’t dare risk a misstep and fall to the mercy of the man chasing me. I’d always been fast, faster than anyone I knew, and I deeply began to hope that my little talent could at least carry me out of this situation -almost- unscathed. My lungs burned, my feet felt as though I was stepping on knives with every footfall. By some kind of miracle unknown to me, I managed to throw myself onto the back of the motorcycle as it sped off. Dust and dirt flew around us, and I suddenly felt sick to my stomach from the rise and fall of the endorphins I’d used up as I gripped onto the stranger in front of me for dear life.

I could barely feel the metal case against my chest, the item being securely held between myself and the back of my new getaway driver.

Trying to quickly take inventory of my limbs, I hoped they were all still there and intact through my moment of overdrive. As I attempted to calm my breathing, I remembered the cold sensation against my shoulder blade just before I reached the vehicle, taking notice then of how raw and sore it felt.

With a faint roll of my shoulders and a glance behind myself, I took slight solace in the fact that I was unable to see the Spartan any longer through the dust cloud that’d been kicked up by the motorcycle. Peeking at my back some, I could only see red streaks and the fabric of my top torn where, I realized all too quickly, his fingers must’ve grabbed me. That’s going to leave a nasty bruise, I thought, deciding I’d get a better look later if I could.

“Where am I going?” The stranger finally posed over the roaring of the engine as we found ourselves in another area entirely.

I hesitated. I couldn't go back to Astra, that much was certain. I couldn’t lead a Spartan back to her– I had to wait for the heat to die down. But it was then that I realized it may never die down. I’d stolen this mystery item in hopes that we could escape the impoverished life we’d been living since we were kids, but now it became all too real that it may have finally been the thing to separate us instead.

If what I knew about the UNSC was any sort of true, I was about to become public enemy number one regardless of what happened. I was lucky enough to outrun a Spartan once– and I wasn’t even sure I outran him so much as he decided to cut the chase short and take harsher measures to find me and the case I’d acquired instead. I held no hope that it would be possible to do it again, or to fight off a team of them when they decided to deploy on the mission of getting back whatever this thing was. Even if I sold it, traded it away, I was sure I would still be on their shit list for lifting it in the first place.

I silently damned myself for my lack of any important thought before jumping into this venture.

“Take me to the nearest airlock,” was all I could say as my mind raced with any idea of just what I was going to do next.

失われたセクター Lost Sector

🟥カバル Cabal

🟦フォールン Fallen

🟧ハイヴ Hive

🟨スコーン Scorn

🟩ベックス Vex

🟪宿られ Taken

ネオムナ Neomuna

🟥水耕デルタ Hydroponics Delta

🟥黄金の令状 Gilded Precept

🟩スリラドローム Thrilladrome

エウロパ Europa

🟩パーディクト Perdition

🟦封印されたボイド Concealed Void

🟩塹壕E15 Bunker E15

月 Moon

🟦K1ロジスティクス K1 Logistics

🟦K1クルー区画 K1 Crew Quarters

🟦K1コミュニオン K1 Communion

🟧K1リベーション K1 Revelation

夢見る都市 The Dreaming City

🟪星明りの間 Chamber of Starlight

🟨叶わぬ願いの入江 Bay of Drowned Wishes

🟪アフェリオンの休息 Aphelion's Rest

ネッスス Nessus

🟦亀裂 The Rift

🟦死肉の穴 The Carrion Pit

🟩太陽系儀 The Orrery

🟩古代人の理念 Ancient's Haunt

🟥合流点 The Conflux

サバスンの玉座の世界 Court of Savathûn

🟨抽出 Extraction

🟧埋葬所 Sepulcher

🟨変性 Metamorphosis

コスモドローム Cosmodrome

🟦エクソダス・ガーデン 2A Exodus Garden 2A

🟧ベレス・ラビリンス Veles Labyrinth

Ghosts among us…

With a wormhole bridging distant parts of the Galaxy, this is what it sounds like when Quadrants collide…

—Involving what happens when the Firefly/Serenity ‘verse (into which the Keltiad series is appended), crosses paths with the Quadrant of Republic Alliance still battling it out with the Imperial Remnant, and the Empire of the Hand merged with the Chiss Ascendency finds itself encountering a culture as arrogant and convinced of its own cultural superiority as itself—the Keltoi…

—This excerpt is set after Bilbingri, reimagined as the Battle of the Horizon which collapsed the Wormhole. Rhyanon, and the Ladies of Navaratri—Mara, Leia, and River Tam—symbolize the 9 Nights of Hindu mythology where the Goddess, Durga, defeats the Darkness to being light back into the Universe. As the Ladies search for a portal to the Shadow Realm, and al Balduh (Thrawn’s refuge for the survivors of the decimated Chiss sectors established through the ruins of the 2nd DeathStar), they’re desperate to find where Thrawn fled with Luke, intent on finding some way of reinforcing the Dimensional Rift left by the void of the destroyed spatial anomaly, as the Grysk/Virathi/Coroniad advance at the impetus Abaddon, an ancient Elemental of the Universe’s birth.

—This is one massive web notes trying to be a half-spoof/half serious space Rock Opera…

—

On the desolate beach and islets of Scarif, the panorama seemed surreal—blackened sands, waters glistening like midnight, and an arid wind sweeping across the featureless terrain as if blasted by a thousand suns. An eternal pewter sky hid the sun behind a perpetual cloud cover, while radiation levels loomed dangerously close to the threshold that organic lifeforms could withstand.

In this unforgiving setting, Rhyanon's extraordinary abilities to manipulate submolecular biochemical structures were put to use. She possessed the power to reconstruct fragments of damaged genetic material, turning fossils dating back a million years or incinerated corpses into vivid memories of the lifeforms that once thrived.

As their search party moved across the barren beach, Rhyanon's foot accidentally scraped against a pebble, its sharp edge piercing through her boot. Intrigued, she knelt and lifted the stone, carefully wiping away the caked ash and sand that concealed a kyber crystal pendant beneath. With implanted nanosomes and biotech surveying, her left hand emitted scintillating streams of plasmic ether as she explored her immediate vicinity. The central cortical sequencers allowed her to psionically alter protein chains and organic structures, an awe-inspiring display for her companions—Leia, River, and Mara.

Gathering around Rhyanon, they continued their search, waiting for the rest of their party to rendezvous. Suddenly, a mirage of vaporous light filtered from Yana's right arm, forming a dynamic grace of signs and symbols inspired by Indian Classical Dance, Bharatanatyam. The mirage revealed a poignant image of a man and a woman embracing in their final moments before perishing in a nuclear inferno. Though not a resurrection, the phantom forms seemed to breathe a fragile existence, animated from dreams, brought back to life by a woman and her friends in search of answers.

Leia, having arrived during the last minutes of Scarif's battle, whispered in reverent disbelief about the original Rogue 1—heroes of unparalleled courage and selflessness. As she dropped to her knees, the misty mirage of phantoms gradually fading into the gloom mirrored the sadness in her eyes, resonating with Yana's silent grief for the tormented years they had endured.

"Can you do that with an entire planet? Bring back memories, the shades of lost lives, even if just for a moment?" Leia's voice trembled with hope.

Yana reached out, taking Leia's hand and gently curling her fingers around the kyber crystal. The connection between them intensified as they attuned to each other's mourning, lost loves, and shared sorrow, the Force pulsating like a blow to Yana's heart. "Not in the way you'd want—for something as catastrophic as your home. I'm sorry."

With regret for everything they had lost and determination to protect what remained, Yana's hands cupped Leia's, the kyber jewel pulsing with warmth separate from living flesh. It glinted like a candle in the gloom, the first time in a decade that it nestled against living flesh.

Mara stood by them, her distant and chafing ideals gradually giving way to a growing attachment to her newfound companions. Each passing day of their bizarre journey united them against threats larger than Mara's own narrative of betrayal. River Tam, the youngest among them, possessed an extraordinary power to unite freedom-fighters and crusaders through her telepathic abilities.

There was love here. Hope and Faith. River's mind drifted like soft snow, touching each of their senses. Telepathic communication, through snatches of words and partial phrases, connected Leia and Mara to the Force, the living energy surrounding them. For Yana and River, it was an evolved ability—psionic awareness expressed through myriad talents across species, developed through precortical neurologic adaptation over millennia.

River carefully took Mara's hand, anticipating the woman's reflexive start. Trust was a lesson still being learned, and these small gestures of affection were essential in building that bond. Rhyanon drew strength from River's patience and calm determination, guiding them past the ghosts of loss that left a dull, aching haze in the aftermath. The walls Rhyanon had built since the Massacre of Geis were a necessary defense, but they also kept her struggle to maintain her autonomy and ideals hidden.

Each of them had their barriers. As Rhyanon's eyes flickered to Mara, she saw the veil of sullen anger, remorse, and nonchalance masking the woman's awakening and her moments of humor and affection. Like a surfacing sea-creature basking in sunlight before retreating to familiar depths, Mara seemed increasingly drawn to the bright warmth of companionship. She gradually realized that the Emperor hadn't destroyed the spirited and righteous soul Yana saw through her guarded gates of heart and mind.

With the warmth of the kyber crystal now soaking into their skin, Leia and Yana held it together, gently wiping away the last hard crust of grief from the Alderaanian princess. Leia projected resilience as an icon of heroism, but beneath that façade lay a deep well of grief that never fully reconciled with the outward projection of strength inspiring the Republic Alliance.

And in response to Rhyanon's remorse, Leia's empathy became its own strength. "You're not alone, Yana. Whatever we're seeking, together we're stronger. Together, we'll find Luke and bring him back from Thrawn."

*"Together," River's soft voice affirmed.

Me @ the person who approved Overload Captains: Hey, turn on your location. I just wanna talk

necrotic grip is VERY fun...

lost sector : concealed void

Some photos from a neato lost sector I stumbled into (reminding me I needed to knock out all the lost sectors on Europa) called Concealed Void.

Y'ALL I WAS DOING THE LEGENDARY LOST SECTOR CONCEALED VOID RIGHT

AND KILLED ALL THE ENEMIES INCLUDING THE BOSS RIGHT

AND THEN ENEMIES CONTINUED TO SPAWN RIGHT AFTER THAT AND MURKED ME BEFORE I COULD OPEN THE DAMN CHEST TO GET THE DAMN EXOTIC

AND THEN IT RESET THE LOST SECTOR FOR THE DAY.

GAAAAAH I HATE DESTINY SO MUCH 👁️👄👁️

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 ->

her full name is alaia kaplan, but she sometimes goes by n/a. caucasian cisgender female, twenty-seven years of age, with she / her pronouns. she was last seen working at the phoenix as a bartender and a soldier for valencia's street level sector. ( @redridgeimp​ )

❝ I AM FIRE. IF YOU WANT SOMETHING SWEET, WITH NO OPINION, I AM NOT THE WOMAN FOR YOU. I SPIT FLAMES, OFTEN. ❞

⇨  aesthetics ⍮ deft fingers stained with charcoal and oil paint, the melodic chime of piano keys, delicate digits adorned with moonstone gem rings, a coy smile spread across full crimson lips, long chestnut locks blowing in the cool breeze of a summer’s evening, battered books with dog-eared pages, the silvery glint of old scar tissue, ripped leather jackets and worn jeans, & blades concealed inside combat boots.

BONJOURNO. it me, chrissie, back at it again with a second muse. this gal right here is my fiery sassball alaia. she’s been thru some shit n has seen some shit so expect tons of sarcasm and attitude tbh, oop. once again, you know the drill, show this some luv n i’ll come pester you for plots : )

FUNDAMENTALS.

full name. alaia saphira kaplan.

current age. twenty-seven.

birthday. january twenty-seventh.

gender. cisgender female.

pronouns. she / her.

nationality. turkish.

religion. islam.

hometown. sivas, turkey.

past residence. manhattan, new york city, united states.

current residence. red ridge, nevada, united states.

sexual orientation. bisexual.

romantic orientation. demiromantic.

education. high school graduate.

occupation. soldier for valencia, & bartender at the phoenix.

CONNECTIONS.

birth mother. emel kaplan. †

birth father. kamâl kaplan. 

step-mother. cemile kaplan. 

full blood siblings. none.

step-siblings. none.

maternal grandmother. unknown.

maternal grandfather. unknown.

paternal grandmother. esrin kaplan. †

paternal grandfather. omer kaplan. †

maternal aunts. unknown.

maternal uncles. unknown.

paternal aunts. bahar kaplan.

paternal uncles. none.

PROFICIENCIES.

spoken languages. english, & turkish.

negative traits. capricious, ornery, brusque, reckless, & deceptive.

positive traits. ardent, resilient, independent, determined, & courageous.

strengths. etiquette, bold, rational, practical, original, perceptive, direct, & sociable.

weaknesses. dramatic, impulsive, quick-tempered, insensitive, impatient, risk-prone, unstructured, misses the bigger picture, & defiant.

skills. skilled with blades and various knives, hand-to-hand combat, perception, persuasiveness, good judgment, & able to use initiative.

talents. piano, retaining information, memory recall, knife throwing, & quick thinking.

APPEARANCE.

eye colour. light brown with amber flecks.

hair colour. natural, chestnut brown.

height. five feet, eight inches.

weight. 52 kg.

build. she is considered tall for a female and is of slender stature with mild curves.

dress size. uk size eight / us size four.

shoe size. uk size five and a half / us size six.

scars. a long, silvery one running along half her spine.

tattoos. none.

piercings. one on each earlobe.

prominent feature. wide, dark eyes.

MISCELLANEOUS.

zodiac. aquarius.

element. air.

house. ravenclaw.

myers briggs type. estp-t.

alignment. chaotic good.

enneagram. type seven.

temperament. sanguine.

intelligence type. interpersonal.

character label. the orphic.

past mental disorders. depression.

current mental disorders. depressive episodes.

addictions. cocaine.

vices. lust, wrath, & pride.

virtues. temperance, diligence, & patience.

allergies. peanuts.

diet. vegan.

accent. mostly turkish with a slight american twang.

dominant hand. right.

blood type. b negative.

felonies. none.

vehicle. bottle green 2015 volkswagen beetle.

BACKGROUND.

trigger warnings. implied child abuse, implied child neglect, implied alcoholism, implied violence, a brief mention of adultery, a mention of verbal abuse, mention of death, implied depression, & a brief mention of drugs.

[ tw ; implied child abuse, & neglect. ] Born into a world of devastation and loss, Alaia Kaplan's arrival into this universe was far from being a tranquil one. Instead of the welcoming arms and loving smile of her mother, the first sight the innocent girl witnessed was the weeping of her father. It wasn’t long until his tears eventually turned into angry fists and hatred shining in dark eyes. This was the only form of her father that Alaia knew, the only element of him that she could recall. From the instant she was old enough to figure it out, she knew that her father despised her. She knew that he blamed her for the death of his wife. Regardless of her upbringing, Alaia had remained optimistic and bright; both incredibly intelligent and adept. She was able to captivate others with both her appearance and her capabilities. Those in her company hung off her every word, often discovering themselves enthralled by a charming and sincere young girl. Regardless of her father's secured position within their community, she never looked for more than his approval and his affection. Though neither she ever received.

[ tw ; mentions of alcoholism, infidelity / adultery, & verbal abuse. ] Within the span of ten years, Alaia's father had found himself in the clutches of a bitter yet wealthy woman of upper-class. Soon, this woman became Alaia's stepmother and things only plunged further south afterwards. The woman drank copious amounts of liquor, ran around behind her husbands back, verbally abused Alaia and the list went on. She managed to manipulate her husband, able to further demolish any semblance of a relationship Alaia shared with her distant father. During this time, and within the blink of an eye, the girl turned hostile and indifferent. It was as if she had transformed into a polar opposite version of what she’d always been; metamorphosing into an alternate version of her former self. Once an upbeat and positive child, she became cold, less vibrant; void of both emotion and interest. She picked fights with her stepmother for the sheer kick she got out of it, rebelled against her father and found her once soft heart hardening as a result of years of enduring torment at the hands of her legal guardians.

[ tw ; mention of death, & implied depression. ] It wasn't long until Alaia was shipped off to live with her grandmother and aunt in the Turkish countryside. At first, it had taken the girl quite a while to adjust, to slowly convert into a portion of the person she was as a child. Alaia's adolescent years were a stark contrast to her life with her father. She was respected, admired and genuinely loved. Throughout the duration of her time there, Alaia was homeschooled, taught how to play various instruments, and how to speak multiple languages. She attended ballet lessons, joined art classes, held a strong passion for Literature. However, as all good things do, they come to an end. In Alaia's case, those few blissful years reached a rather abrupt cessation, taking a drastic plummet into darkness. She was eighteen when her grandmother passed away. As a result, Alaia lost control of herself and of her path in life. She spent weeks alone and aimless, wavering on her tracks. It wasn't until she and her aunt moved to New York City that Alaia's life began to turn around one more.

Back home, her aunt had been involved in the diamond industry, ensuring the quality and legitimacy of each rock she was handed. She'd allowed Alaia to shadow her, to study her methodology, and to assist under her direction. It was through this outlet that Alaia grasped the concept of gemology. Of how to examine precious stones and how to value them accordingly. It was a field that the brunette became extremely interested in and equally as intrigued by. Ultimately, in the end, the girl opted to pursue a temporary career in the jewellery business. It was during this period that a then twenty-one-year-old Alaia was approached by a member of a wealthy family, the type of wealth one gained by drug smuggling. She was offered the position of a quality assurance technician in their jewellery company. Little did she know, this meeting wasn't by sheer chance. It transpired that her aunt had connections with the syndicate, having brought her niece to the States to enlist her. It was due to this that the syndicate reached out, only too eager to hire Alaia as they had previously hired her aunt many years before.

[ tw ; mention of drugs. ] In the beginning, Alaia's role within the business was as innocent as she'd expected. She'd spend hours in the back, analysing gems and printing her signature on certificates. Obeying by every rule, following each order and never once questioning her superiors. After months upon months of this process, Alaia soon found herself roped into the world of drug dealing. Of smuggling little white pouches through emerald deliveries only to pass these packages through the appropriate channels. It was through this that she crossed paths with a client who, after many weeks, kindly invited her along to spectate an underground fight that he'd placed a hefty wager on. Immediately Alaia bought into the atmosphere of the arena, of the adrenaline pumping through her veins at the sheer vision of it all. It wasn't long until she wondered how exhilarated she could feel if she was the one in the ring, throwing the punches and sidestepping the blows. It was this passing thought that brought the girl back continually, placing bets and soaking in the ambience of it all. It was no surprise that she wound up deeply engrossed it becoming a part of it all. Thus, she trained as hard as she could, fought as hard as she could, made her mark upon the underground world and gained the respect of opponents and spectators alike.

Fast forward a few years and through her aptitude for fighting and her ability to outwit her opponents, Alaia found herself promoted to a regular within the club. For many months she continued to work at the jeweller's while regularly engaging in underground fights, maintaining a semblance on both worlds without permitting them to collide or spill over into her personal life. Finally, having grown tired and with a lust for change, she bid her time until the empire granted her release. Though she was no fool, packing up her belongings and venturing to finally set roots in Red Ridge. Naturally, she found herself drawn to Rogue’s Club where due to her strength, commitment and determination, a member of Valencia approached her. After some time, Alaia found herself promoted to a soldier. The promotion made sense and once it was offered, the girl seized the opportunity with both hands. All her life she had been determined and destined for greatness, even despite the cruelty of her childhood home. Nowadays, although Alaia continues to partake in arena matches every once in a while, her main priority is her duties as a soldier. Admittedly, it had taken Alaia a decent amount of months to adapt to the city of Red Ridge upon her arrival but eventually, she became well acquainted with her environment; never once wishing to go back to where she came from.

Throughout her twenty-seven years of life so far, Alaia has built herself back up time and time again. With every punch swung her way, physically and metaphorically, she has risen to her feet each time. For as clever as she is, she is just as resilient and stubborn. The need to prove people wrong is almost overwhelming but never to her detriment. While she continues to bear the emotional scars of her past, Alaia refuses to write herself off. She allows herself to admire people, history, art, music but she never grows comfortable enough that she is prepared to show even the people closest to her, her innermost, truest self. As a result of her upbringing, fragments of Alaia are broken beyond repair, lost to the depths of her mind yet deep down inside, the faintest sliver of that optimistic little girl remains. Was this the life she had envisioned for herself when she was a child with big dreams and wide eyes? Not exactly. But was it better than any alternative where she hadn't escaped the clutches of her horrid family? Without a shadow of a doubt. Where she is now is precisely where Alaia wants to be and perhaps this is the exact path she needs to take in order to fully emerge from the ashes of her haunting past.

WANTED PLOTS.

give me all of the connections from friends, frenemies, enemies, hookups, exes, rivals and everything else in between. added bonus if there’s angst or drama. if you have anything in mind feel free to throw it at me, i’m open to the majority of things and have zero triggers so come at me bro !! below you can find some connections i’d love for my lil ball of anger :

you’re a ghost from my past, haunting me. i think it would be very interesting to see alaia come face to face with someone who knew her before her arrival in red ridge. it would be even more interesting if this somebody knows her previous affiliation as a drug smuggler. maybe this person decides to blackmail alaia? or maybe they just want to know why she did what she did? maybe they are an ex-lover? either way, it would be exciting to see that kind of connection play out.

guardian by proxy. given her rebel nature and sarcastic outbursts, i feel that this chaotic girl needs some kind of parental figure in her life. lord knows, she needs one as she’s never had one. perhaps there is one particular person who knows her better than the rest? someone who knows her on a personal level and feels protective over her? maybe this person secretly checks up on alaia and keeps an eye on her from afar. really, this connection has endless possibilities but i feel that alaia having someone in her life that wholeheartedly has her back would help tame her wild side a little.

i don’t trust many but i do trust you. although alaia doesn’t make friends as easily as she did before, there would be one person in her life that she would deem worthy enough to confide in. this would be somebody that she could actually stand to be around and not under any false pretences either. it would have to be somebody that she knows she can trust 100% so for that reason, i would say they would have to be valencia affiliated. either way, i can see this person being someone that alaia actually cares for, somebody that she talks to regularly and spends time with.

there’s no friends like the old friends. this would be somebody who would have known alaia back in turkey or nyc. they could have been close friends or just acquaintances but this person might have known alaia’s family and possibly certain elements of her life when her father remarried. maybe they were a family friend or a friend she made when living with her grandmother. or somebody who knew her from her stint working in nyc. whichever, i imagine this person would be one of the rare people who actually knew the old alaia.

Destiny 2: Hovering Gold

Incrediblenovel The Legend of Futianblog - Chapter 2566 - The Sky Tremoring Hammer spiky juice read-p2

Topgallantnovel fiction - Chapter 2566 - The Sky Tremoring Hammer sticks bikes quote-p2

Novel-The Legend of Futian-The Legend of Futian Chapter 2566 - The Sky Tremoring Hammer car suffer what is the biggest thing in outer space Increase! A boring seem came out between paradise and earth. In the neighborhood above the Metropolis Lord’s Company, the metropolis Lord of Tianyan City acquired create a place to block off of the company challenging. Nonetheless, horrifying surprise waves even now hurried lower and affected that tier with the defensive light-weight screen. The battlefield was large higher than the atmosphere, so you can visualize precisely how fearsome was this attacking electrical power. Now, soon after a lot of years, this physique possessed grow to be even better to the stage that could directly resist the harmful Great Route strength applied by the cultivator inside the Tribulation Aircraft. Once the Sky Tremoring Hammer dropped, heaven and planet suddenly lost their tone of voice and became fatal muted. Ye Futian clasped his fingers together his body was vibrant across. Light of Buddha lingered, and genuine terms have been talked. The Six Syllables of Fact did actually penetrate that surprise wave, resounding between paradise and world. With him being the middle, a full realm—the domain name of Buddha—had been produced. He extended out his hand, and promptly, quite a few super blasted decrease from him. Bad lightning also flashed out of his view. “Let’s see if you can bring this taken from me!” Now, right after numerous yrs, this system obtained turn out to be even more powerful to the point that could directly hold up against the destructive Terrific Way power exerted by the cultivator within the Tribulation Plane. At this moment, Ye Futian was standing up there, looking past the sky. As part of his understanding, the world acquired already become the other’s sector with the Excellent Path, almost like there are waves of concealed imbalances that swept decrease from above just as if it turned out the will of your Sky Tremoring Hammer. Only the hidden distress wave by yourself provided absolutely everyone a robust feeling of oppression. Increase! A lifeless noise became available between paradise and globe. In the neighborhood higher than the Area Lord’s Business, town Lord of Tianyan Location got put together a space to block off the office sophisticated. Nevertheless, horrifying surprise surf continue to rushed decrease and affected that part with the defensive gentle computer screen. He stretched out his hands, and instantly, quite a few super blasted straight down from him. Unpleasant super also flashed outside of his sight. The power of the Skies Tremoring Hammer seemed to be raising. The potency of your second assault was obviously quite a bit additional horrifying. Whenever the speech decreased, his palm slammed toward the s.p.a.ce down below. That was the instant when the deity over the heavens removed his hammer and smashed it lower at the same time, blasting across the void. Was this blow still incapable of shake Ye Futian? “That’s all?” This time around, Ye Futian failed to dismiss w.a.n.g Xiao’s assault. The divine mild on his system dazzled, protecting his body system, with the Wonderful Route nearby him. The starry lighting tv screen was s.h.i.+ning once the wave on the Heavens Tremoring Hammer blasted down. Anything appeared to be shattered. Ye Futian’s body system trembled and was delivered traveling straight down to the ground once again, and the man was sliding for a fast velocity. Was he utilizing the assault with the Atmosphere Tremoring Hammer to temper his physical entire body? When he halted, Tianyan Community was completely quiet. Plenty of eye have been glued on Ye Futian. Increase! A dreary tone came out between heaven and planet. In the neighborhood across the City Lord’s Company, the area Lord of Tianyan Community had put together a location to bar from the place of work intricate. Having said that, horrifying great shock surf nevertheless hurried lower and affected that layer of your defensive lightweight display. “That’s all?” “It’s nonetheless too weak.” Ye Futian lifted his mind and checked up to the sky. An indifferent sound became available of his jaws, and the vision were definitely loaded with contempt. Even so, w.a.n.g Xiao, one of the most spectacular heir of Tianyan the Great, as well as the most outstanding armorer inside the Metropolis Lord’s Business in Tianyan Area, experienced once spent a century forging a particular sword. In countless armour-makings, he had attained the farming of the Sky Tremoring Hammer. “It’s preventing ideas you chat,” w.a.n.g Xiao stated loudly. The Divine Hammer on top of the firmament fell all over again, and also the invasion was even fiercer this time around. All those invisible light display screens seemed to have become real limitations. Levels of substantial golden divine lighting crushed the skies and swept downwards once again, like halos of shocking signals that obscured the skies and the sun, smas.h.i.+ng all presence. This Sky Tremoring Hammer might appear easy, nevertheless it was, the fact is, extremely difficult to realize. Tianyan Metropolis acquired throngs of cultivators, together with many associates in the mainline in the Area Lord’s Business office. However, hardly any of them dared to concentrate on developing the Heavens Tremoring Hammer, as it was a very time-ingesting approach. The s.p.a.ce above the Town Lord’s Workplace seemed to be pulverizing directly with this blow. That alarming force crashed into Ye Futian, overlooking the distance on the s.p.a.ce, and yes it was obviously a ability that could extinguish all residing things. tales from many sources 8 letters Having said that, w.a.n.g Xiao, the most fantastic heir of Tianyan the truly amazing, along with the most spectacular armorer on the City Lord’s Company in Tianyan Location, acquired once put in a century forging a particular sword. In numerous armor-makings, he acquired completed the cultivation on the Heavens Tremoring Hammer. When he ceased, Tianyan Town was completely private. Plenty of eyeballs were definitely glued on Ye Futian. Several cultivators from your Divine Prefecture trembled. This was a superior assaulting procedure. It had been rumored any time Tianyan the truly amazing was producing the armors, he swung his hammer to break the apply, over and over, year after year. In the long run, he comprehended a pair of divine methods in line with the concept of going back to the basics, and Skies Tremoring Hammer was designed. The Atmosphere Tremoring Hammer was too fragile? Growth! As w.a.n.g Xiao’s speech dropped, no seem seemed to be observed on top of the firmament. Exactly the great shock waves of deterioration remained. What could it resemble when 108,000 halos of light-weight smashed lower as well? As soon as the Heavens Tremoring Hammer blasted lower, this surprise wave overlapped 1000s of days over and established an unmatched wave of damage, shattering most of the life in this particular s.p.a.ce. On the other hand, w.a.n.g Xiao, by far the most outstanding heir of Tianyan the Great, in addition to the most outstanding armorer inside the Metropolis Lord’s Business office in Tianyan Community, obtained once invested a century forging one sword. In a great number of armour-makings, he experienced attained the farming on the Sky Tremoring Hammer. This point, Ye Futian did not ignore w.a.n.g Xiao’s assault. The divine mild on his body system dazzled, securing his system, along with the Good Route surrounding him. The starry lightweight computer screen was s.h.i.+ning if the influx on the Heavens Tremoring Hammer blasted straight down. Almost everything seemed to be shattered. Ye Futian’s entire body trembled and was delivered traveling down to the floor just as before, and he was plunging with a swift speed. the black cloud of islam The highest appear transcends the constraint of noises! The warning was that a person might expend all his time onto it though not obtain any end result. Failure was highly probably, and plenty of were actually struggling to realize great results all things considered. Some could actually acquire the kind yet not its basis. “Indeed.” Quite a few cultivators coming from the Divine Prefecture around him nodded. Number of cultivators during the Tribulation Aeroplane might take it to the level where they had been assured more than enough to offer no level of resistance in any way. In the event the Atmosphere Tremoring Hammer blasted down, this shock wave overlapped 1000s of situations above and produced an unrivaled influx of deterioration, shattering all of the lifetime in this particular s.p.a.ce. “Indeed.” A lot of cultivators through the Divine Prefecture around him nodded. Very few cultivators from the Tribulation Airplane might take it to the stage where they had been confident sufficient to present no resistance in any respect.

Short Story: Artic

There is always one lost sector (Concealed Void????) I can't ever find it even if I was already there and its right in front of me. Im blind D: like once i spent like 2 minutes minutes trying to find it until someone else came and went into the lost sector.

This is a bit short, more about Alex and the Exo Stranger.

Destiny belongs to Bungie.

My guardian oc (Alex Ridley) belongs to me.

Repost with credit.

30. Arctic

Sliding down the hill, Alex grinned as she gained speed and enjoyed the air brushing past her. Alex dug her heel into the snow, turning herself towards under the building. She jumped and landed on the level ground, feeling quite proud of herself. “Did you see that PBJ? I made it safely down here.”

PBJ flashed out. “Sure, and we couldn’t have just walked?”

“What’s the fun in that?”

“I would like not to mend your broken bones when you crash.” He butted her cheek, flying away.

“That was one time!” Alex followed him with a pout. It was sliding down an abandoned ventilation tunnel and crashing right into a fan- that was on. Then fall down a couple feet. PBJ never let her live it down. “How was I supposed to know…” She grumbled, crossing her arms. “So… where is this lost sector?”

He turned to her. His one optic still held enough disappointment for two. “Alex. We just looked at the map, it’s right-” PBJ turned and fell silent. He glanced around, turning back to her. “Nevermind.”

“Told you.”

“Hush.”

They opened up the map, it should be right here. Alex felt blind. The hidden tunnel ones always confused her, it could be right in her face and she would miss it. She sighed, tilting her head.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, little light.”

Alex perked up. “Stranger?” The Exo Stranger walked towards them, placing away her rifle. “Couldn’t get enough of me I see.”

The Exo Stranger let out a chuckle and smiled. “And if I did?” She reached out her hand to lay against Alex’s shoulder. Alex only grinned, placing her hand over the exo’s.

“I’m quite flattered.” Her helmet flashed off- she made a note to thank PBJ later- Alex took the Exo Stranger’s hand and kissed her palm. “I am the best.”

“Hm, I best remember that then.” The Exo Stranger leaned forward to press her forehead against Alex’s.

“Best.”

Coronavirus: A video about the latest events in Greece under the Covid-19 crisis, from the perspective of the "Libertarian Collective of Kallithea" in Athens, Greece, as an example of the social solidarity networks that spring up all over the country from libertarian, anti authoritarian and anarchist collectives:

"Hello,

We are Eleutheriaki Syllogikotita Kallitheas, Libertarian Collective of Kallithea, and we are active in a district of Athens named Kallithea, which faces severe social, economic and class problems.

We send this statement to inform you about the current situation in Athens during the pandemic of covid-19 that has hit the whole planet and reached us as well one month ago.

To begin with, the first few days after the first case of coronavirus in Greece, the government and the media would try to calm the people down and assure us that the situation is under control.

They purposely tried to conceal a destroyed public health system, whose distraction was caused by all previous governments.

The current reality of public hospitals right now is hopeless.

A few months ago, after mass layoffs, shutting down of hospital facilities and cancellations of doctors and nursing staff recruitment, doctors and nurses went on demonstrations; claiming what should be taken for granted, with the government’s reply being the beating of those people, and the repression of their fight.

Today, the same people that turned their backs to health professionals, dare to call them heroes, while at the same time they spend millions of euros on the economical reinforcement of private clinics, while doctors at public hospitals do not even have masks to protect themselves.

The liberal politics that they followed and continue to follow, even during such a critical time like the one we are experiencing now, which contains thousands of privatizations and investments, have a price that will be paid by the working class, and the weaker of this society.

There is zero care from the state towards the homeless, the poor, the refugees, the immigrants, the prisoners and the unemployed, to those that have lost their jobs, while at the same time they dare to ask for volunteers to confront the crisis that is caused due to the Coronavirus pandemic, while they exploit every public sector.

At the same time, the media keep promoting the campaign ‘menoume spiti’ which means, stay at home, while the establishment of the curfew brings the blame and the responsibility to citizens only.

In order to show our solidarity, we chose to react to this first with banners, where we criticized the current situation.

The misinformation, the fact that churches are still open and hold ceremonies full of people, the fact that all these years the cops are more than the doctors, while we responded to every fascist that blames refugees and immigrants for the virus, by reminding them that the virus came with a plane from Milan, not with a boat from the Aegean Sea.

At the same time, we began a solidarity campaign for the collection of needed items for the refugee camp at Korinthos, where right now the people who live there are on a hunger strike due to the miserable living conditions that they face daily.

Finally, along with other people, we formed a network for solidarity, a team of mutual help for the people who are more vulnerable to the virus and live in our neighborhoods.

With an open call towards other collectives and people from Athens, a big number of people have gathered in order to help our fellow citizens with their shopping, with food and medicine supplies to those who need them and have no access to them.

The propaganda for this campaign was achieved through the distribution of leaflets with our names, phone numbers and ways we can help, to numerous buildings, as well as online.

Meanwhile, at the self-organized space of Buena Vista where we are housed as a collective, is a meeting point for the gathering of items for those who need them, such as food or medicine. We hope that in the future more collectives can be a part of this network and support this action.

Finally, there is a shared depository for money that is supported from each local team that exists in the network, that exists for any possible economic problem that might need to be covered, and is also supported by dozens of people who show their solidarity, to which we are very thankful.

As for the reason that many of us are or live with people who are considered more vulnerable to the virus, in order to stay safe, we set three basic ways of function.

1. Firstly, this network can be supported by people with their physical presence, which can mean the distribution of leaflets, the distribution of food and other supplies and other outdoor activities.

2. Secondly, for the people who cannot offer their physical presence, there are ways to support the network with an online presence, through the online communication of our actions.

3. Finally, there is the economic support. All the above are of course performed while we are taking the necessary precautions regarding personal health, in order to stay safe. To keep the needed distances, wear masks and gloves, and disinfect everything we touch.

To sum up, what this network offers is a basic structure of organization, so that more people in districts other than Kallithea can gather and operate a similar self-organized network, something that seems to work so far, since we are happy to see that many other similar groups are beginning to form.

What this tells us is that people, during this challenging time, when the government turns its back on them, chose to show solidarity and self-organize against the capitalist and neoliberal disaster that burdens humanity for all these years, and fill voids that the state cannot-and does not want to-fill. But people don’t forget. When the coronavirus is left in the past, those who disregard us and value their profits more than us, will face our rage. Because the enemy then will not be invisible like now: but very visible, perceptible and clear."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MwWY3SKX9Fw

Saviour - Poe Dameron/Reader

Title: Saviour

Pairing: Poe/Reader 

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 2,430

Prompt: The Reader sneaks into an imperial-held city for the Resistance. What you find, however, is enough to rattle your senses.

The city has been occupied for months. An offshoot of the empire has held the city against everything thrown at it – the resistance, the city’s old army, or at least, those who had escaped it. Smoke still billows from the citadel and the palace in the centre of the city. Comms sent by pleading and desperate citizens keep hitting the resistance’s airwaves.

You slide your dagger into the sheath by your waist. The soldiers can’t make it passed the walls. The pilots are being shot down out of the sky. Orders come in from the General that anyone who’s able to sneak into the city should be allowed to.

You’ve done it before, sneaking into bases and cities in the name of gathering information to carrying out a kill order for the resistance. Dressed in civilian clothes, maybe you could sneak in by the waterways.

You look at yourself in the small mirror, then to the man watching you from the entrance of your tent.

“You’re doing that face again,” you note, picking up your blaster and checking its munitions.

Poe sighs, tightening his arms over his chest. “This is my worried face,” he replies, “I always do it when I’m worried.”

When all of your weapons are concealed, you zip up your jacket. Poe steps towards you, a worried look still etched on his face. “I’ll be fine,” you assure him.

He reaches out for one of your gloved hands.

“Promise me,” he says gently. Over his shoulder, you can see outside of the tent. A few other spies are getting ready, checking with each other that their comms are working. One of them, Karé, meets your gaze and waves you to her.  

You look back to Poe. “I promise.”

The city streets are quiet. From monitoring outside of the walls, you knew that a curfew was imposed by the militants. Being so late in the afternoon, you knew that the civilians must have been shepherded into their homes already.

You do see regiments of soldiers though. Keeping to the back streets, you try your best to avoid them. The militants know that the resistance is out there, so you aren’t surprised to see so many regiments in the streets at this point of the afternoon. What you don’t want is to give them a reason to start attacking your people outside, or perhaps even worse, start attacking civilians.

Karé and the other spies were in other parts of the city. The waterways that run under the city were empty of soldiers. Maybe they didn’t know about the tunnels. But it did give the spies an easy route into the city.

You keep your back to a buildings wall, walking along slowly and peering around the next corner. A way in – that’s all they need.

The pillars around the city’s walls have been burned out. The gates have been reinforced. Realistically, they could use the waterways, but it was a hard enough time getting six people through, let alone a small army.

You pull up the hood of your jacket. Stepping out into another street, you shove your hands into your pockets and keep your head down. The sun finally sets, casting the sky into shades of red and purple. You had heard of the city being beautiful, but with its people herded by invaders and buildings boarded up.

You keep stalking the streets. Shadows of patrols cast against the walls of alleyways, making you stop every few paces. Your hand instinctively goes to the blaster at your waist.

But they continue their route around the main streets of the city. Keeping vigilant, you force your feet to start walking again. Stalking through the streets, you come across the eastern wall of the city. It’s higher than the buildings, preventing those crazy enough to get on to the roofs and jump for it.

There’s something that catches your eye though. Long boards are pressed up against one section of the wall, two with a slight gap between them. You take off one glove and hold your hand close to the gap. There’s a breeze. You frown.

You crouch down and examine the boards. They’re new wood, but the nails aren’t in all of them yet. One comes away with a slight tug. Peering through the space, you spot a long tunnel with a small flicker of light at the end of it.

An old trading entrance, maybe? you question.

You press the comm in your ear. “There might be a way in.”

There’s slight interference, but Poe’s voice comes through the comm. “Where?”

“East wall,” you note, looking closer at the sealed off entryway. “There’s a tunnel. It’s boarded up but there’s a breeze.”

“We’ll check it out,” Poe signs off. With your comm off, the street is eerily silent. There’s a faint muffled marching of soldiers a few alleyways from where you are, but you strain to hear it. You shove your hands back into your jacket pockets.

“Regiment Beta, check-in on whereabouts please.”

“Towards the eastern sector,” a robotic voice suddenly sounds close to you. You bolt behind the cover of a pillar jutting out of one of the buildings. There’s enough shadow-cover to keep you from view. A small regiment of ten guards is close. One of them, wearing thick armour and cloaked with furs and hide, comes into the alleyway.

He presses two fingers to the side of his helmet. “Eastern sector is clear,” he states simply, turning back to his regiment and marching away. You let loose a held breath and ground yourself. You’re okay. Calm down. Keep your head.

Once you’re sure that the regiment is out of earshot, you bank out from behind the pillar and run. If Poe was leading the resistance through the eastern wall, you didn’t want to be anywhere near it. You’ve been caught in crossfire before, and something tells you that the First Order soldiers within the city would rather kill everyone here than give it up.

You make it to the city square before you hear the first shouts.

“Resistance!”

When the blast fire settles, the city goes back to being quiet. You pull back your hood and ruffle your hair. The dust has barely settled before surviving members of the regiments are being led out of the city. You spot a few commanders and generals all in imperial garb.

One of them looks witheringly at you as they walk by.

You feel a hand clasp your shoulder. “Eventful day, huh?” Karé says with a tired voice. There’s a streak of drying blood on her temple, you notice.

Shrugging, you fold your arms in front of you. “Every day with the Resistance is,” you answer simply. When the soldiers are gone, the Resistance fights file back into the city and start leading the civilians out. Some shake your hand as they pass, smiling gratefully that they’re free again. But others look like ghosts, staring straight ahead as they march forward, void of any expression at all.

Karé stays by your side as you watch the people pass.

“Where are the pilots?” you ask after a moment.

“Your pilot is helping the last of the citizens get out and on to transport ships,” Karé replies.

“He isn’t my pilot,” you grumble. Karé laughs sharply. You resist the urge to hit her in the arm.

“Resistance,” you hear behind you. A woman approaches you, dark skin and shoulder-length black hair. There’s a solemn look in her eyes that you seem to be seeing in a lot of people these days.

“Yes?” you turn towards her. Your eyes drift down to her side, and hiding just behind her is a small boy, maybe five years old, wrapped in casual garb and a light blanket.

In broken Standard, she tells you about the boy she found. “In the street. No parents.”

Karé leans towards you. “We can do a sweep of everyone already cleared out,” she tells you quietly, “make sure that no one has lost a kid.”

You nod and turn back to the woman.

“I cannot keep him. Family of my own,” she waves her hand to a gathering of people you presume to be her family.

You drop down on one knee in front of the boy. “Karé, can you translate for me please?”

Looking at the boy, he’s so young. Wide eyes watch you carefully. He’s unharmed, with only a few scrapes on his knuckles and cheek.

“My name is Commander (Y/N) and this is my friend Captain Karé,” you say gently. The language seems so foreign on Karé’s tongue, but you’ve heard countless languages come out of her. How she keeps track of them all, you don’t know.

The boy looks up at you both though.

“Do you know where your parents are?”

He shakes his head.

“Did they run away when the bad men came?”

He nods this time, looking down at the ground. You look over your shoulder to Karé and give her a solemn look. You’ve seen it before with war, but it never gets easier.

“Would you like to come with me and my friend?” you ask. “We’ll make sure that you’re safe.”

You take his hand in yours. You came here on a cargo ship, so leaving your X-Wing here wouldn’t be a problem. The boy stays close to you as you weave through the mass of people. After a while, you feel a small hand grasp on to the bottom of your jacket. Looking down, you see how scared the boy suddenly is. You wrap an arm around his bony shoulders and hold him to your side.

On the ship, you find a space away from where most people have crammed together. Karé stays with you, offering a few assuring words as the ship slowly pulls away from the ground and makes a leave for D’Qar’s base.

The boy shuffles towards you with every passing moment of the journey there, tightening the hold on your hand. It’s alright, Karé keeps mumbling to him, we’ll keep you safe.

Stepping down on to D’Qar’s landing strip, you eye the X-Wings being brought into the hangar. Already Resistance fights have flocked to the cargo ship and begin the process of trying to sort people into other ships to send them to safe areas.

You hear your name being called out over the noise of the strip. Turning around, you smile when you see Poe jogging towards you. He pulls you into a tight hug. “I told you I’d be okay,” you laugh lightly, hugging him back.

You both watch Karé sit with the boy on the grass on the other side of the strip. “He’s so young,” Poe says solemnly. The boy is talking now, pointing to various ships coming and going from the base with Karé.

“What will happen to him?” you ask quietly. Under the noise of the strip, you don’t know if Poe even hears it. You feel him look at you though. “If we don’t find any relatives, I mean. What if he has no one?”

Poe folds his arms and sighs. “Do you want the real answer, or the nice one?”

You give him a harrowing look.

“Realistically, he’ll be given to one of the orphanages in the Resistance’s capitals. They’ll be overflowing with kids if this war doesn’t end soon.”

You watch the boy with Karé. You know that. Too many children have been not only left without parents, but siblings and relatives. Families have been torn apart: members are either killed or have been divided in their support of either the First Order or the Resistance.

Staying by Poe’s side, you hang your head. “And what of the city?”

“Under Resistance control,” he tells you, “and it’s going to be handed over to the Naboo.”

At your raised eyebrow, he clarifies, “they want it as a strategic fort.”

“Will it ever end?” It’s a question that you keep asking yourself. You used to ask other people, but their answers were a confusing mix of truths and lies, so you decided to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Poe shuffles next to you. “Maybe,” he sighs, tilting his head back up towards the clear sky, “maybe not. This might end tomorrow, next week, next year, or never. That’s what happens with wars. They never really end.”

“It’s just…I can’t keep doing it. I feel like there will always be a blaster pointed at me, or the echoing of bombs will never leave my head.” You know that he’s watching you. “If, if, this does end…what then? How do they expect us to wander back to our homes and families, if they’re even still there, and think that everything is fine? I can’t do it. Some part of this war will always be stuck with me. In here,” you point to your temple.

There’s a silent moment between you, filled only with the igniting of ship engines or the chatter between mechanics and soldiers.

“Then I’ll make sure that you’re okay,” Poe says simply, looking at the side of your face. You want to look over at him. Everything in your head is telling you to turn your head and look at him. But you keep your eyes trained on Karé and the boy, and wonder vaguely is there any hope left for anyone.

The boy is signed off to one of the Coruscant orphanages. You learn that his name is Adé, and if you had the power, you would have taken him away from the war yourself.

Snap offered to escort the boy there, promising to be back as soon as he could once the child was safe. You watch them both line up for boarding the ship. Adé keeps looking over his shoulder at you though.

You wave slightly at him, smiling brightly when he waves back.

“He’ll be fine,” Poe says quietly. You both watch the scene unfold from the entrance to the base. Sheltered from the high mid-day sun, you roll up the sleeves of your shirt.

“I know he will,” you say, reaching up to loosely tie up your hair. “Won’t we all be?”

He laughs lightly at that. “I wish I had your optimism,” he says drily.

Karé joins you as the ship closes its doors and the engines flare to life. “One more good deed to go on the record books,” she sighs, folding her arms over her chest.

“That makes a grand total of one for you then, Kun,” Poe smiles, dodging a punch to the arm from Karé.