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basmentdwealer · 6 months

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Ok ok listen

What if.... TADC Swap AU but a bit different?

Ok so Pomni arrives at the digital circus so much more earlier than the current cast, even Kinger. Pomni acts just like how she did in the pilot, trying to find the exit at first. She made friends with the past cast and tries to find the exit for all of them but as time goes on, they all started to abstract... one by one.

Pomni is the last remaining person there, along with their ringmaster (not Caine in this AU). The ringmaster then says something about failing their job and turns to Pomni, asking her to hold out her hand. They then get teleported to THE VOID and the ringmaster tells Pomni she's the new ringmaster now and some weird as code thing happens and the old ringmaster just disappears in a cloud of codes.

Pomni after going over the fact she's now the new ringmaster fell into a trance like state and hears a voice. As she wakes up, she doesn’t remember much of the encounter, just the commands she heard. This type of encounter keeps happening until the first ever person came into the digital circus after what seems like years. During these encounters, Pomni after she realized she was the ringmaster and have all of these new abilities, tries to make an exit. After multiple tries, she just gave up. She couldn't keep doing this since she was still technically a "person" so with all the emotional distress she was experiencing, she was also abstracting. See, being a ringmaster also gives you a type of defense system so while she is abstracting, she can't exactly fully abstract so she was stuck with basically 30% of her body abstracted. She feels some spikes of pain from time to time but it doesn't hurt as much as the time she almost abstract before all of this.

Years after dealing with the abstraction and cleaning up the circus and giving it a much needed redesign (as the voice had said to do so), a new person arrived. Kinger and his beloved queen, Queenie has popped into the digital circus. Pomni seeing this put on her performer voice introduced herself and explained everything that had happened. This cycle continued on and on until the newest MEMBERS came, Caine and his pal, Bubbles.

So a rundown on the swapped aspect of this whole au issssssss

Pomni and Caine have switched ROLES, not personalities. Though Pomni acts a bit like Caine when doing the adventures and everything (but not to the extreme like Caine either)

The rest of the cast has swapped personalities

Ragatha acts more in a way where she doesn't care for anyone and is less like the caring doll she was.

Jax is more shy and sweeter. He tries to help anyone in need (god that'll be weird to write about and draw)

Zooble gladly joins in any type of activities and adventures Pomni makes. (There'll probably be more but I can't think of anything right now)

Gangle is happy all the time but she does act like a people pleaser to the point where she doesn't care for herself anymore, always putting people first before her.

Kinger is more confident but after losing Queenie, he acts a bit mean and has a but of a short temper. He still like bugs so the cast will give him insects as a way to apologize.

Caine is the jester now with his pal Bubbles as the uhhhhh jack of all trades? Bubbles can do anything if they feel like it.

And Kaufmo? Yeah no he still abstracts when Caine is introduced into the world. (Poor guy)

This AU will mostly be mainly focused on Caine and Pomni but the rest of the cast will still have their own stories (if I can think of any)

Also JesterDoll of course. They're pretty open about their relationship.

I hope y'all like this AU idea I had swimming around my head seeing just two fanarts of a swap au lol

#tadc #tadc pomni #the amazing digital circus #pomni x ragatha #tadc ragatha #jesterdoll #tadc zooble #tadc gangle #tadc jax #tadc caine #tadc au #tadc bubble #tadc kinger #THIS HAD BEEN ROTATING IN MY MIND #TADC SWAP AU BRAINROT #au idea #Star's TADC Swap AU

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trickphotography2 · 11 months

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D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 1

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 3k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 1

The heat of the flight line radiated up through your flats as you raised your hand to shield your eyes, tracking the contrails of the incoming jets - the newest batch of F-35 Lightnings. The DoD had recently increased the number of planes they had ordered from your company, and as one of the contract writers based on the West Coast, you had the pleasure of being on the flight line when they were delivered. After inspecting the merchandise, the Navy pilots jumped into the cockpits to take their new jets for a joy ride. You smiled, watching one tip the wings before climbing steeply. To this day, feeling the roar of an engine in your chest and seeing the beauty of the afterburner made you think of your dad. Snapping a quick picture to send him later, you turned to join your coworkers in the shady hangar.

The small crowd had grown, circling and ducking under the planes to get a closer look. When you lifted your phone again to take a picture of the tail code, you heard someone behind you. “Want me to get one with you in it?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you said before turning to face him. His green eyes snapped up to your face - he’d clearly been checking you out. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you plastered on your customer service expression. “Are you one of the Lightning crew?”

“No, just coming to check out the new toys. I fly a Super Hornet.”

“Nice,” you replied, eyes drifting down to read his name badge - Seresin. When you met his gaze again, he smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and drawing attention to his biceps - you’d seen that move used too many times - and nodded to the plane.

“You one of the engineers?”

“No,” you replied, feeling a slight twinge of regret. “Just a paper pusher.”

“That right?”

“Yup.”

“Any idea what the top speed for one of those is?” he asked, tipping his chin towards the F-35.

“A little less than the Super Hornet - Mach 1.6 with a full weapons load. Better stealth capabilities, though.”

“More expensive, from what I’ve heard.”

“Well, upgrading old tech comes with a price tag. And they’ll be less expensive to maintain than the F-18.”

“The Super Hornet isn’t old tech,” he replied, the corner of his mouth tipping down.

“Of course not. For a fourth-gen fighter, it’s holding up well, but times are changing and so is air warfare. For example, the F-18 would have difficulty doing an ISR mission whereas our F-35 would be well up to mission parameters.”

“If they’re sending in the F-18, the time for intel and surveillance is over and it’s time to get down to business.”

“Of course…for air-to-air combat. Or the F-35 can continue the mission with its wide weapons array and ability to do air-to-air and air-to-ground combat.”

“Not certified for a nuke, though.”

“Not yet, but we’re working on that certification,” you shot back. “The ability to take off and land vertically is a nice trade-off, though. How long of a runway does the F-18 need again?”

“Less than a thousand on a carrier.” Behind you, you heard someone call ‘Hangman!’ and Seresin lifted his head in acknowledgment.

“Exactly.”

“You sure you’re not an engineer?”

“Just a good saleswoman. Give it a few years, and you’ll also be in one of our jets. You’ll have to tell me how it compares to the Super Hornet.” Glancing at his collar and clocking the double bars, you smiled and tilted your head. “It was lovely chatting with you, Lieutenant Seresin. I’ll let you get to your friends now.” With that, you turned and walked to join your colleagues.

“Nice chatting with you, Ma’am,” he called out. You felt his eyes on your back but, as a woman in the male-dominated defense contracting industry, it wasn’t uncommon. This was exactly why you dressed in slacks and loose blouses more often than not - no need to draw more attention than necessary. That hadn’t stopped you from updating your resume more than once after a rough day at work, ignoring one too many comments from old men who thought you were a secretary instead of someone in charge of multimillion-dollar negotiations. At least the pilot had called you an engineer.

“Happy hour?” your boss asked, throwing an unwelcome arm over your shoulder and pulling you into his side. You pasted on an uncomfortable smile and nodded, wanting nothing more than to go home and open a bottle of wine on your own.

Growing up, you’d never imagined being a defense contractor. While other little girls dreamed of being a teacher or president, you dreamed of being in the Air Force. Your dad had been a jet engine mechanic for the Air Force and loved nothing more than bringing you to the test cells to see what the squadron was working on. When your family moved to Japan, he would sit on the back patio overlooking the flight line at sunset, pointing out each plane landing to you. He quizzed you on the tail codes until you could identify where most planes were based. Back stateside, you went to every airshow nearby, watching the beauty of physics and engineering lifting the plane from the ground, the acrobatic twists of the jets, and the majestic thrumming of the C-130’s turboprops. Once you got your license, there was no greater thrill than driving your dad’s Mustang with the top down on the base and seeing the jets descending on the flight line next to you.

For a long time, everyone in your family thought you would follow in his footsteps. You’d taken the ASVAB and SAT’s to keep your options open. When you qualified to go into mechanics, recruiters from every branch called and pressed you to come to sign papers to enlist. You kept pushing them off, wanting to keep your options open as long as possible as you waited for the responses from your college applications. And besides, it was blue or bust - there was no way you would go into any branch other than the Air Force. In the meantime, Dad worked with you to prepare for basic training. Running, push-ups, and pull-ups became your after-school workout. He took you on base to talk to some of the women in his squadron. They were frank with you about the benefits and downsides of the military - the pay was okay and the travel was great, but you had to put up with a lot of shit. Being away from family was hard, and there was no control over where you moved. Too many of them had stories about sexual harassment. But if you were going to join a branch, the Air Force was the way to go.

After that talk, you went to lunch with your dad. He wanted you to know what you would be getting into if you joined. While he loved his time in the service and what it had given your family, it would be different for you. You would face things he couldn’t imagine being a woman in the military. He assured you that he didn’t want you to decide based on his feelings but only what you wanted.

You enrolled in college two hours from home that fall and decided to pursue engineering. If you weren’t in the Air Force, you could at least be near planes. Sure, the math was hard, but it wasn’t impossible. There were lots of nights spent huddled in the library, working through your physics and thermodynamics homework instead of hitting up the bars with your roommates. The hardest part of school was dealing with your classmates. Most of the time, you were the only woman in the class. Sexist jokes came from classmates and professors.

“If you’re just trying to get an MRS degree, I’d be happy to make that sacrifice for you,” one guy said, winking over the top of his laptop.

You made sure to study extra hard for the next test and smirked in his direction when you set the exam curve.

College wasn’t all work, though. You found time to date, trying to avoid STEM boys in favor of social sciences and humanities (finance and business guys were too arrogent). You lost your virginity after a night at the club where your boyfriend used his fake ID to get banded, chasing shots with horrible gin and tonic. It was okay - the touch was nice but you hadn’t gotten off. When recapping with your friends the next morning, they assured you that sex got better. It didn’t with that particular guy and you broke it off before the end of the semester.

After twenty-six years in the military, your dad announced his retirement. You traveled home for the ceremony, crying with your mom when he thanked you both for going on the adventure of a lifetime with him.

Less than a year later, he was diagnosed with colon cancer.

Angry that something like this could happen to him, you dove into researching what could have caused it. And, buried in a journal online, you found a study linking jet fuel to colon cancer.

Your parents were confused when you changed your major. Your advisor tried to talk you out of it - your grades were decent, and you were halfway through the program. Desperate to graduate on time and avoid STEM, you switch to English and turned your analytical brain to rhetoric and editing.

Dad breezed through chemo, walking miles around the hospital during his sessions. You picked up an extra shift at the grocery store when he asked you to see an airshow with him. When you came home for Thanksgiving, he tossed you the keys to the Mustang and said it was time for a cruise on the beach. You put the top down while your dad collected the list of things to pick up from the base commissary on the way home.

The breeze off the Gulf was cold but you didn’t care - Dad cranked the heater and music, grinning at you as you easily navigated the slower traffic. When you first got your license, he’d nicknamed you his fighter pilot with how you forced your way into spots between vehicles. You were never sure if it was a compliment or not. But today… today he was happy, and you could ignore the chemo port on his chest that tented his shirt and try to forget why he was bald.

You switched in a parking lot, and he drove you onto the base. But rather than go straight to the commissary, he followed the road to his old squad headquarters. When you asked what you were doing there, he shrugged while putting the top up, said he needed to drop something off and motioned for you to come inside. You refused. But when he was inside for over half an hour, and the car started to swelter, you got out and followed him. When you tentatively knocked on the door he’d gone through, it swung open and an airman smiled before handing you a pair of ear protectors and motioning you in.

Dad stood at the observation deck, watching the engine cycle through the start-up and cool down, the glow of the afterburn reflecting in his eyes. You could smell the jet fuel and felt bile rise in your throat. When the engine stopped screaming, you grabbed your dad’s hand and asked to leave. After waving goodbye to his friends, he led you outside. Rather than going to the car, however, he pulled you into the hanger. Grinning, he walked towards the F-35 and raised his hand to run it along the wing.

“I miss this,” he said, turning back to smile at you. “Where��s this one from?”

“Cannon, New Mexico,” you replied after glancing at the tail code, the fuel smell choking you. “Can we get out of here?”

“Come on, kiddo, let your old man have a moment to relive his glory days.”

“Your glory days are what’s trying to kill you,” you snapped without thinking. Dad’s arm dropped, and he turned to face you, raising an eyebrow. His calm expression was so frustrating that you couldn’t hold it in any longer - it didn’t matter that two men were sitting on top of the plane next to you. “This is what’s trying to kill you, Dad! The fucking jet fuel you breathed in every day had carcinogens, and you want to stay here longer to breathe more of it in?”

A few tears escaped your tight control as you turned on your heel and stormed out of the hanger. Your nails dug into your palms as you collapsed back into the car passenger seat. It was a few minutes later that he joined you. Rather than turning the ignition, he stared out the windshield. “Is this why you dropped out of engineering?” You stayed silent. “Honey, talk to me. Your mom and I are worried.” Slowly, you nodded, feeling his eyes on you. When he reached for your hand, you let him take it. “Look at me, please. I need you to hear me when I say this to you, young lady.”

“What?”

“We’re never gonna know what caused this cancer, okay? Yeah, it might have been the fuel or a million other things. But you don’t get to give up your dream because of this, alright? You don’t get to give up something you love because of something that happened to me.”

“It’s not just happening to you, Dad,” you whispered.

“I know, sweetheart. But I’m okay, and I want you to be, too. And if that means you never get near another plane again, I’ll be sad to lose my co-pilot, but I’ll support you. I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to, but don’t lose your passion because of me.”

True to his word, Dad hadn’t asked you to attend any airshows with him but would mention them in passing when you called to check-in. When he got his clean bill of health, they threw a party and some of his airmen dropped by the house to celebrate, bringing him a model of the F-15s he’d worked on as a gift. He returned to work as a defense contractor and was back on the flight line doing quality assurance checks after repairs were finished. And he stayed in remission. With each clean bill of health his oncologist gave him, the more you found yourself looking at his memorabilia around the house - pictures of the planes he’d worked on, model airplanes, and squadron plaques. It was too late to return to engineering, but you found yourself wandering to the university career center to see their suggestions to combine your love of aircraft with writing. They helped you draft your resume, and when you graduated with your degree in english with a minor in engineering, you’d secured a job with one of the largest defense contracting companies in the US in their contract writing division.

“To another successful delivery!” Dutifully, you and your coworkers raised your glasses to toast the latest success. While they tossed back their drinks to make the most of the happy hour special, you nursed your beer while picking at the pretzel bites you’d ordered. They’d chosen a bar not far from the base, but on the opposite side of town from your apartment. Your eyes drifted across the other patrons, not really taking anyone.

When your beer was almost gone, you excused yourself and walked to the restroom to wash the pretzel salt and oil from your hands, ready to escape for the evening. But when you walked back into the bar, one of the servers stopped you. “A guy over there wanted me to give this to you,” she said, handing you a fresh beer. Glancing at it, you frowned, wondering if one of your coworkers was playing a joke on you.

“Who?” you asked. Turning, she pointed to a man in khaki leaning against the bar and talking to someone. As if feeling your gaze, he turned and smirked, lifting his drink and nodding.

Seresin.

Taking a deep breath and steeling your shoulders, you thanked her and took the beer. Glancing at your coworkers to ensure they weren’t watching, you walked toward the bar, feeling his eyes on you the whole time. You would return the beer, thank him, and then head home to relax. As you neared, he pushed off the bar with a smile and wink before retreating towards the dartboard where a group of Navy guys were congregated. Debating the merits of confronting him in front of a group or sucking it up, you swallowed your pride. You took a sip of the beer, and resigned yourself to at least another half an hour there, listening to some truly atrocious stories about dating and time in the military from your coworkers.

When the second beer was finished, you quickly said goodnight to your coworkers and went to the bar to close out your tab. “Looks like it’s already covered,” the bartender said when you flagged him down.

“What do you mean? I didn’t leave my card with you.”

“Looks like someone picked it up and left this,” he shrugged, passing you a napkin. Nothing sexier than a woman who knows her way around a jet. Dinner? You looked at the phone number and took a deep breath.

“I’d like to close out that gentleman’s tab,” you said, handing over your credit card. While he rang you out, you grabbed one of your business cards from your wallet, crossed out your office phone number, and underscored your job title. On the back you wrote 1) Thank you 2) Not a tag chaser 3) I don’t date boys in bags 4) CONFLICT OF INTEREST

When he handed you the receipt to sign, you asked him to give the card to Seresin. Then, leaving the napkin on the bar, you turned and saw him frowning in your direction. Smiling, you waved before making your way outside.

Your pajamas were calling.

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Author's note: The connection between jet fuel and cancer is my dad's story. He's thankfully fine. Tag chasers are people who actively try to date military members (usually for the benefits), and boys in bags is a reference to men in flight suits.

Read Chapter 2

#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick

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1dmonthlyficroundup · 6 months

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— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for October 2023! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ Fly To You by @babyhoneyheslt [G, 1k, Louis/Harry]

On the way to their honeymoon, Harry and Louis find out the pilot is ill. With Louis being a pilot, he offers to fly the plane there, and it turns out to make the start of their honeymoon extra special.

＊ Forgotten Kingdom by @babyhoneyheslt [G, 2k, Harry/Louis]

Louis had always loved ruined cities and had always been obsessed with Glyswing Kingdom, a city that many believed to be a myth. Moving into his grandparents house for renovations, he never expected to find what could be the long forgotten kingdom. Part 1 of The Secret City

＊Castles Crumbling Down by @babyhoneyheslt [G, 1k, Louis/Harry]

With Harry freed, the kingdom crumbled down around them, prompting a quick escape. Part 2 of The Secret City

＊ The Tower by @babyhoneyheslt [G, 4k, Harry/Louis]

There's something strange going on in Heaven.

Bored Angel Harry can't help but investigate. Part 1 of Devil’s In The Detail

＊ The Fool by @babyhoneyheslt [G, 4k, Louis/Harry]

After making a deal with the devil, Harry has to forge a new life for himself alongside Louis on Earth. Part 2 of Devil’s In The Detail

＊ The Devil by @babyhoneyheslt [M, 3k, Harry/Louis]

Harry has grown to love being on earth, but his absence in heaven and the company he keeps, hasn't gone unnoticed. Part 3 of Devil’s In The Detail

＊ Cold Spring by @nouies [E, 8k, Louis/Pedro Pascal]

Life went on as normal at Cold Spring Café. Sam’s scribbles remained indiscernible, Jake persisted on his idea of getting more pots for the shop, and Pedro…Pedro continued coming to drink his moderately-caffeinated americano, to write furiously in that notebook of his, and to captivate Louis to no end.

or…Louis is a coffee shop owner and Pedro is his newest customer.

＊ Lips so good I forget my name by @enchantedlandcoffee [E, 828 words, Louis/Harry]

Harry hummed in contemplation as he moved to palm himself through his briefs, "Do you think you've deserved it, Lou? Hmm?" At Louis' sound of protest, Harry swiftly moved the microphone back to the older man's mouth causing him to moan as he wrapped his lips around it again. "Because I don't think you have. I think you love your microphone too much to suck on anything else." Harry's words elicited a moan from Louis as his hips bucked up instinctively.

Or Louis needs to give up control in the bedroom sometimes, until he doesn't.

＊ Tied Up Like Two Ships by @enchantedlandcoffee [T, 2k, Harry/Louis]

"His crew boarded our ship and took a few of us hostage. Um, myself, Liam, Louis, Tabby, and a few others. Then they- uh- they, um…"

"They started stealing our most valuable possessions on board: heirlooms, jewels, weapons. And then," Zayn continued on from Liam, "then the cannons started. The first shot hit the side closest to the berth, where most of the crew were sleeping, and the second was aimed directly at the Captain’s Quarters. We- uh, we lost fifteen of the crew then, and then, uh, then ten shortly after."

OR Captain Styles wakes up to find his rival and old friend, Captain Tomlinson, aboard his ship. Part 1 of You Make Me Strong

＊ two languages, one love by @nouies [NR, 3k, Louis/Cillian Murphy]

The three times Louis speaks to Cillian in Spanish, and the one time he finally gets a response.

＊ a cycle of recycled revenge by brokenbeaks / @broken-beaks [E, 103k, Harry/Louis]

Foxburgh, England, 1983.

In the heat of summer, wreathed by pastures, rolling knolls, and thatched-roof cottages, Louis takes on a new job: caretaking for a recently blinded man named Harry. As it begins, what seems like a simple task turns into a quest that costs him every last bit of his pride and tolerance. Harry is, in practice, a two-legged curse. And Louis is just gonna have to put up with it.

Or: The one where Harry likes to infuriate Louis almost as much as he enjoys straddling his lap.

＊ the blue never-ending sky by @justanothershadeofblue [T, 3k, Louis/Harry]

“What do you suppose it’s like?”

Harry’s voice was dreamy, barely audible from where Louis lay on his back on the off-white carpet of Harry’s bedroom.

“Arizona?” Louis asked, and Harry made an affirmative noise from his position on top of his twin bed. “Wouldn’t know, would I?” Louis jerked his head at the window, dripping with mid-February rain. It was a useless gesture - Harry was busy staring at the ceiling. “On account of being British and all.”

“I bet it’s beautiful,” Harry said, and his voice sounded like he was already gone.

＊ all of my demons are wallflowers watching us by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [E, 3k, Harry/Louis]

Harry slides his hands into his pockets, feeling the comforting padding of the thick diaper he’s wearing under his jeans. He’s avoided haunted houses for years; his weak bladder and nervous disposition meaning that they often resulted in mortification. But since he started dating Louis – and since they discovered that Louis actually quite enjoys his weak bladder – well. Some of the calculus has changed.

＊ The Freak called ‘Jezebel’ by sweetkalachuchi / @neverforpickles [M, 8k, Louis/Harry]

“Zayn!” Harry said the moment he got inside the room, his voice loud and clear as it touched the four walls of the room. His voice bellowing and ricocheting on their own without Harry raising his voice.

Without hesitation, from where he’s sat in the sole incredibly detailed piece of architecture in the whole room, Harry calmly said, “I am going for a vacation.”

Or, the Devil decided to go for a vacation and met his soulmate instead.

＊ could start a cult by @nouies [E, 8k, Harry/Louis]

He lowers down the top that Louis is wearing, successfully unclasping his nursing bra as well, letting Louis’ tits bounce at the sudden movement. Harry massages both breasts to stimulate the milk flow, and he can feel his cock hardening inside his pants.

or...Harry can’t get enough of Louis’ breast milk.

＊ I Want Adventure In The Great Wide Somewhere by @rockstarlwt28 [G, Louis/Harry]

Harry surprises Louis with a little Age Regression gift in support of his gender fluidity.

＊ Wearing You Like Clothes by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [E, 5k, Harry/Louis]

Louis rushes over to his door and hopes against hope that maybe he got lucky and it didn’t lock this time. He jiggles the handle, but no dice.

Louis groans. Great, so he’s locked out and it’s after hours so his landlord will be difficult to reach. He does have a spare key, but it’s with his best mate Niall, who is conveniently out of town this weekend.

And it’s not like Louis can go anywhere to ask for help.

Not when he’s only wearing knickers.

(Or the one where Omega Louis accidentally locks himself out of his flat in only his underwear. Embarrassingly help comes in the form of Harry, the beautiful Alpha that lives down the hall. It turns out alright in the end).

#28th appreciation #1dficvillage #hlcreators #trackinghappily #trackinghome #tracksintheam #1dsource #hltracks

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gaogaigoatgrrl · 1 year

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btw, here's an updated list of ttrpg projects i either have on the backburner or am working on in some way:

wheel breaker

this is kinda my main project rn, it's a game about martial arts and intrigue in a fantasy setting largely derived from various buddhist concepts. it is metaphysically buddhist but politically anarchist, as a direct result of my efforts to work through various apparent contradictions at the intersection of those belief systems. hopefully these internal tensions will give it spice!

it's built on a chassis loosely resembling pbta (most of these systems are), but it also has a dice bank system lifted from the japanese game kamigakari, and it's a bit gamier. it largely runs on the conceit that combat and dialogue are extensions of each other

it's kinda my effort to take things i like about systems like exalted and streamline them into something more playable, but it's also kind of a release valve so i don't infodump about buddhist stuff all the time. i do infodump to my friends and partners about the game itself, though, so ymmv on the effectiveness of that

cassette

cassette is supposed to be a horror game, influenced by films like videodrome and tetsuo: the iron man

it's supposed to be focusing on body horror, psychological horror, transformation, madness, and postmodern anxieties, but i'm a little uncertain of what direction exactly to take it in, so i'm putting it on the backburner for now

mechanically a lot of my ideas for it stem from my dissatisfaction with sanity mechanics in other games. i think modeling a character's mental state can be a really cool thing to do but if you want to do it well you kinda have to build the whole system around that purpose, and as someone with various mental health issues, the whole concept of mental hit points that make you roll on a table of dsm entries when you take damage really rubs me the wrong way

iron oracle

this is a mecha game. player characters are pilots with psychic powers, i haven't figured out much about the lore yet but the more i think about it the more i think i kinda wanna make it the anti-lancer. defend your planet from being re-colonized by the now-unrecognizable space empire that left it to its own devices centuries ago

mechanically i think a lot of what i want to do with this system is... i look at lancer and icon, and the way those systems have two separate modes of play for narrative and combat, and i do think that's a really cool design innovation with lots of benefits but also i see it and i want to immediately fuck with it by blurring those lines. part of my mindset here is "there are distinct benefits to having two separate modes of play, how can i smash that wall while keeping the benefits?" it's a personal design challenge

devil hunter: summoning software survivor

this is a reboot of an old project i was working on for years, called sword-swingin sworcery. originally it was my attempt at making a character action game in ttrpg form, so its setting and lore were very devil may cry-influenced, which i eventually tried spicing up by adding some shin megami tensei. it was a bloated mess, but the setting concept is still one that i want to work with

mechanically, i'm drastically simplifying from the system i had before, but this is another experiment in having a narrative/combat divide while bridging the gap. player characters fight using summoned demons, so they effectively have entirely separate stats and mechanics for combat. but there's interplay with their narrative mechanics, since there are several resources in narrative play that can also be used in combat. it's also an experiment in designing a gamier combat system that heavily focuses on things like damage types!

hell city hustle: a delinquent rpg

this is my newest project. a while back i was thinking "what if i took the general framework for social/combat mechanics in wheel breaker and put them in a totally mundane modern setting?" and then i realized that this would pretty much just be a beat-em-up rpg and i got excited. i extrapolated from that and now i'm making a game about being delinquents in a city full of wacky themed gangs like in the warriors

mechanically this is keeping the dice bank system from wheel breaker but now they're called heat dice. the dev soundtrack is just "double dragon neon ost - glad i am" on loop

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incarnateirony · 1 year

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What part of this STILL isn't clicking. Are they STILL denying I know the ending, in their heads? All of this shit, things I've tweeted for a year, or my years old video project all being correct, even while they flail around lost, and deny the plot.

They are STILL trying to spam my inbox with noise and claims and "OH YEAH WELL IF JENSEN SAYS A THING I IMAGINE HE MIGHT, YOU A POO POO HEAD" or the newest bad attempt at misinterpreting things in the dumbest way possible. Like.

Guys. No matter how many bad ideas you scream at me I still know the fucking truth and it's not changing where we're going. You would THINK you would have learned embarrassing your collective selves over the pilot script (or omissions, roadhouses, confessions, author intentions, market testing, the historical list goes on), but here we go again.

When are you going to let this click inside of your own heads, that the ideas you shape inside of that head do not outweigh reality. You can scream it all goddamn hiatus, and it's never going to change my mind, because I know the fucking truth, and I'd be an idiot to abandon it for your questions and lies.

And, well. I'm not an idiot. I'm not going to suddenly forget the real world or the truth because enough morons pee themselves in my tumblr inbox in denial.

Cope. All the screaming in the world did not, will not, and now can not stop the people who have run this ball to the endgame. It won't. It's already over. Start processing it.

youtube

#Youtube #this plot is literally @ them #even beyond the kissing coconuts eps 7 and 13 #just the whole thing #@ the people that got put on jensen's watchlist years ago #@ you specifically #stop screaming at them it isn't gonna change anything #you forgot these were real people with real feelings and perspectives #you used them as narrative tools and barbies and punching bags in digital space #you insulted them and their friends work and intelligence #and now they get revenge #and it's all about their perspective now #eat shit #we're happy to help point out every bad narrative of yours that needed nailed down #who wants my old Context posts circa 2 years ago?

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marjaystuff · 2 months

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Interview with Mark Greaney and his newest book The Chaos Agent

The Chaos Agent

Gray Man Book 13

Mark Greaney

Berkley Pub

Feb 20, 2024

The Chaos Agent by Mark Greaney brings to life artificial intelligence, which takes center stage in this plot. Just as with other issues like biological weapons and cloning, Greaney talks about how AI can weaponize drones and robots.

The plot starts off quiet enough as Court and Zoya settle down together in Central America in hope of living a quiet life. But that comes to a quick end after Zoya is approached by an old contact who needs her to extract a Russian scientist from a deadly situation. To make matters worse, they are attacked by a team of professional assassins.

It seems that multibillionaire Anton Hinton is building a lethal autonomous weapon controlled by artificial intelligence. His reasoning is that he wants to bring some sanity to the world where human wars could be a thing of the past. Putting the pieces together, Court and Zoya realize that someone is killing the world’s leading experts on robotics and computers. Because he is afraid for his life, Hinton hires as his new chief of security, Court’s old teammate, Zack Hightower. Eventually, they all band together to stop this powerful AI computer, Cyrus for destroying the world.

The plot has nonstop action. The best Gray Man books are ones with the supporting cast of characters, which includes this one. Readers should take the plot as a word of warning as to what happens after AI is weaponized.

Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for the story?

Mark Greaney: I was watching a lot of TV about developing artificial intelligence. Then I read a few books about AI run amok. I was looking into the dark side of AI. Robotics, AI, and lethal autonomous weapons melted together. It was fascinating for me to write about. I am always looking for something different to write about. The idea of the private sector creating something dangerous was interesting to me.

EC: What do you personally think of AI?

MG: It can be used by the military or for cures to cancer. It depends on how it is used. I am fatalistic about it, knowing it is coming whether we want it to or not. I am nervous as I write about in the book. If the enemy does it and revolutionizes the way countries fight it will become a game changer. I read a line that said, ‘If a scenario cannot be anticipated, then we cannot test it.’ AI can act in ways they are not taught.

EC: For example, Israel drops leaflets and warns the Gazans before they bomb, but I do not think AI will do it.

MG: Absolutely. AI does not have any judgement or morality. Now AI are basically large language models. Once in the real world there is no telling what might happen. They clobbered US pilots in simulators with the human pilot never getting a shot off. In the book, Cyrus, the AI agent, is aggressive. War game simulations have AI on the attack, to fight, and attack. This is also a vulnerability because it can make mistakes that will hurt it.

EC: Is it like biological weapons where all the countries say they are not pursuing them or use them?

MG: I do agree with that analogy. Some years ago, a bunch of Google employees threatened to quit because the company was working with the US military on object recognition to process drone feeds. All these employees got on their high horse and refused to work with the defense department. This killed the whole project. At the same time Google had tons of projects with Chinese firms. All of these are dual use, can be operational in the military.

EC: I was thinking of the debate over cloning to get the perfect person-are we for it or against it?

MG: Yes. In some ways it is good, to eliminate diseases, but it would also be possible to get a Master Race. This is very concerning to me. It is coming down the pike, AI, one way or another. The US did put export controls on the chips that make high level AI and China cannot acquire them. Regulations will help. Everything I read is that the sophisticated AI are prone to making mistakes.

EC: Why the Albert Einstein quote in the beginning of the book?

MG: He was talking about the nuclear age. The leaders of the AI industry, the gate keepers that told Congress, they are scared about what is behind their own gates. They asked for regulations. But they also fought against some regulations that were in England. People asked if they could do it, but no one asked if they should do it.

EC: Did you want to show that Court, as with some in the military, miss the action and adrenaline rush?

MG: A little bit of a version of it. I played it up in other books more. He sees himself as someone that should be used for good not evil. I think he feels a little bit listless when he is not doing what is right to make the world a better place. He has this moral compass with right and wrong incredibly important to him.

EC: How would you describe the relationship between Zoya and Court?

MG: They have trust issues. Sometimes they feel betrayed. Court has a vulnerability but has let his guard down for Zoya. What is programmed into him is to go into flight if he senses any kind of deception from her.

EC: Would you kill off any of your main characters?

MG: I have not written the next book yet. I honestly do not know. I can kill any of my characters at some point.

EC: Can you describe how you came about to write the two intense scenes with the autonomous robots and drones?

MG: I watched a lot of videos. Everything in this book is based on existing or emerging technology. There is no science fiction. The robot dogs with rifles on their backs exist. The drones that land on the roof is also real. The hexacopters that are remotely piloted and carry explosives we are seeing a ton of that in the Ukraine War. When building an action scene, I think of the enemy capabilities and the heroes’ capabilities.

EC: This book had a cliff-hanger so can you tell anything about the next book?

MG: I don’t look on it as a cliff-hanger. The entire story played out is resolved but in the last twenty-five pages is something new that came about. I had the idea while writing the middle of this book. There will be a wild ride in the next book.

I also have a book coming out in June titled Sentinel. It is the second book in the Josh Duffy series. This book takes place in Africa. Duffy is a diplomatic security agent. The series is sold to TV.

THANK YOU!!

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beaversatemygrandma · 1 year

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Omg. So yesterday. I got a haircut, okay? Just a usual day. Well, after staring at my pokemon trainer in scarlet for long periods of time and realizing that her haircut would TOTALLY work for me, i went back into the clothes menu and looked at what the cut was called. The 2-Block haircut. And i was like “sick, this is cool” and i googled it to see what it looked like irl.

Well, I have come to learn that this specific haircut is super popular in Korea and Japan for men. Mostly because of K-Pop. Everything i was looking up was saying “Look like your favorite K-Pop boy!” or “(insert some boy band here) and their perfect hair!” And I’m just cringing internally regretting this idea entirely. I mention this to both my dad and the guy I’ve been talking to lately and both of them were very confused as to what i was talking about. Both of them saying something along the lines of “Trust me, you’re the only one who will know this. I have No Clue what you’re talking about.” And so, I was set on getting this cut.

I walk into the shop, i show the woman cutting my hair the pic and I’m sitting there in this Blurryface 21 Pilots sweater that deadass has Korean lettering on it and regretting my choice of easy to take off in case of extra itchy hair shirt. I set myself up for this. Oh God. I look like a Koreaboo don’t I? I tell the hairdresser that I found this but sadly it’s associated with K-Pop boy bands even though i don’t like that stuff, and i think i could pull it off in a feminine way. And she looks over it as this older woman with a lovely high undercut and short hair and says “Oh yes, this totally could work.” Also, likely having no earthly idea what i was talking about with K-Pop. She gets it done with a lot of questions about exactly where the undercut ends and if i wanted the hair over the cut or angles, and mostly to prevent it from turning into the weirdest bowl cut. And well, She Pulled It Off Perfectly.

There i was, my hair kinda greasy and flat because i hadn’t showered that morning due to a lack of time and So Damn Happy it looked good. This doesn’t even show the Nice Shaved underpart. The flat hair WORKED.

Now, the day wasn’t over yet. The newest branch of the local international store had finally opened up and it’s closer to my house than the other one. So, me wanting those specific seaweed chow mien noodles and some lychee drinks, I Went. Now, this was perfectly normal. Gathering my random Taiwanese and Korean noodles and snacks and drinks. Great haul. I got the Good Shit. And then i started looking around at the other customers. I CANNOT EXPLAIN JUST HOW MANY PEOPLE IN THERE HAD THIS HAIRCUT. I look over at the this old Asian man. Same haircut. I look to this 15 year old flipping out about the sheer selection of ramen. SAME HAIRCUT. This 20-something white guy with pink hair who seems to be exactly what i was avoiding looking like. SAME Cut. ANOTHER OLD GUY. SAME CUT. And I’m just screaming internally. All of these people were obviously east Asian, speaking Korean and Chinese and all. And I’m just there, thinking “Fuck. I made a mistake.” I mentioned this to my dad on the way out. We had been standing being this guy who was in his 60s who had the same haircut in line. (his hair was dyed this interesting shade of ginger tbh, i actually liked that cut. Looked great, but the shaved spots uncovered some liver spots.) Well, my dad hadn’t noticed this even though i saw it like 10 times. And I’m just there like, “I probably pull this off better.” I do. Most of them were old people trying to look young. I mean, good on them, it’s a good damn cut. I have respect for that ginger-haired grandpa.

And then we get to when i finally washed it properly and my hair poofed back up and i didn’t seem to remember that my hair is Super Thick and Voluminous and i cannot escape the fluff.

I also tried a middle part. I stared at it for like a solid 30 seconds before flipping my part again because i looked just like that one K-Pop boy that I See EVERYWHERE. Jumin or something. Idk his name. Starts with a J though. Ugly middle part with that heavy bowl cut over an undercut vibes. I hate his hair tbh. I’m thinking this is something I could actually use gel in and get a further left part or even just flatten those bangs because holy shit they stand up FAR because of a cowlick. I got a natural Fwoop. It’s like that. It just does that. I love it normally, but with this I’m debating on flattening it.

Also, this is totally the start of me growing the top hair long and continuing to shave down the bottom. I will eventually have that great versatile fauxhawk going on. But for now. This is sadly associated with K-Pop and such and I’m still internally screaming.

Anyways, that’s the story of how I got a 2-Block haircut. I’m still adjusting to making this more of a personal look instead of All That.

#taks speaks #this is a mundane but funny story that ends in a selfie so enjoy #under a readmore because yeah. long.#If this is hitting a wasp nest with a bat i'll delete #idk the whole fandom here for that stuff but i will say. the hair cut is great #i totally see why 2 block cuts are popular now #i found this through pokemon though and not K-pop and i feel like i need to aggressively state this #i pull it off though #I'm liking this and i finally have a way to describe the cut I've been wanting to get FOREVER

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my-tin-can-mans · 3 years

Text

Gone Too Far, Crosshair x Reader

Soooo I'm thinking about writing another part to this let me know what you think, this idea had been festering in my brain for awhile now and I finally had the patience to sit down and write it. Also I got an idea to a Rex x reader one shot so be prepared for that soon if I get the motive.

Pairings: Crosshair x Reader

Warnings: None? Kinda Angst? I'm not sure.

It was late, incredibly late. And as the pilot of the Havoc Marauder, you had to be up early to take the ship out of hyperspace and land it. That meant you needed sleep, enough to at least fly a ship, but that was sounding impossible at this hour.

Wrecker and Crosshair were still up, bouncing a ball on a wall back and forth. You knew this because on the other side of the wall happened to be your room. Granted you shared it with Echo, but this noise didn’t seem to be a bother for him as you could hear his soft snores from the bunk beneath you. Unfortunately, as the two newest members to the bad batch, you both got to share the room closest to everything. Which meant when someone was up and moving around in the hull, you two were the first to know.

You huffed, raking your hand down your face, and throwing your GAR issued blanket off yourself. You climbed down the ladder trying to make as little noise as possible as to not wake Echo, but you were sure nothing would if he couldn’t hear the loud bounce against the wall ever thirty seconds. You quietly opened the door and walked into the hull. Wrecker was laying with his back against the floor and his feet propped up on the seat in front of him while Crosshair was sitting up in the seat beside his feet, infamous toothpick wedged between his lips and ball in hand.

The look on your face was not a nice one, and the two men knew that. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” Crosshair spoke as he went to bounce the ball again against the wall in front of him.

But as it started to bounce back you swiftly came in and grabbed it. “Hey” wrecker whined, “we were having fun.”

“Well too bad” you grumbled, “I've got to land this ship in less than four hours and if I don’t get any sleep, we’ll all be crash landing.”

“What does our ball having anything to do with your sleep?” Crosshair spoke up with a rather knowing look on his face.

“Considering the fact that it's bouncing up against the room I sleep in, a lot.” You cocked you hip and put your hand on it, threating him to fight back.

But it was crosshair you were talking to, of course he was going to argue. “it's just a ball princess, ignore it. You’ll find you sleep a lot better that way.”

“Damnit Crosshair can’t you for once think about anyone other than yourself?” you raised your voice, officially becoming a little more than frustrated.

“I still don’t see how you ever made it as a slave once, all you ever do is whine.” This hit hard. It wasn’t the usual back and forth banter between you two. It was way more personal than that. You’d grown up a slave and had eventually escaped with the help of the republic, specifically Senator Amidala. You two had grown close and you felt you had a debt to pay off the republic for saving you, but it wasn’t in the same sense as before, you were gracious for this, and she took you under her wing gave you a job in the GAR and you had a place to sleep and eat and free will. You were a great pilot; you’d like to think. You spent much of your time and a slave being forced to run spice. You knew how to get out of tricky situations. So, when commander Cody had seen you in action one day, he knew just the new position for you, pilot of clone force 99 because, with all due respect, Tech was great at many things, but your specialty was flying. And they needed a good flyer with all the close calls they had.

You hadn’t thought about that part of your past in a while. You were leading a good life now and had been trying to forget. As you stood there stunned by Crosshair’s words you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t want him or Wrecker to see you cry, you weren’t that close with the bad batch to let down your guard that much, so dropped the ball that was still in your hand, and you swiftly turned to retreat to your room.

You managed to keep the tears in long enough to climb back on the top bunk above Echo and get situated. The ball had stopped bother you and it was dead silent for once, but you were never getting sleep now.

_____________________________________________________________

Your alarm went off, but it was useless. You hadn’t slept at all. You heard Echo starting to stir as well. You let out a sigh. Throwing the blanket off yourself again and climbing down the ladder. Echo was sitting up of the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his face. “Morning” he whispered.

“Morning,” you said back just as quietly, “Echo I need to change real quick do you mind?” you and Echo had gotten pretty close, but you still felt a little uncomfortable changing in front of him. It was the one thing that sucked about having to share a room, but he was always a gentleman about it, always giving you the privacy you needed.

“Of course not,” he responded laying back down and covering his face with his arm.

You switched from the old, battered shirt and shorts you owned to your flight suit uniform. “Okay,” was all you had to say to let Echo know you were decent. He lifted his head up and began placing his own amour over his blacks while you fastened you harness and put your blaster and a couple of other necessities back into their rightful place. The whole while Crosshair’s words from just a few hours ago played on repeat in your mind damping your mood for the day before it had even begun.

You were tired. You hadn’t gotten a drop of sleep last night and now needed to prepare the ship to drop out of hyperspace and land it. Although it wasn’t a hard task, very mundane for being a pilot, it still took a lot of focus, which was something you weren’t good at doing without sleep.

You walked to the cockpit with Echo. Tech was already in the co-pilots seat and Hunter was sitting in the seat behind him. You took yours as the pilot and Echo sat behind you. “We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace in 6 minutes.” Tech turned to you to say.

You grunted, beginning the routine of checking the hyperdrive and stabilizers. About a minute into doing this a mug of caf was harshly placed in front of you on the dashboard. You looked up to see who had done this and were unpleasantly surprised by Crosshair standing beside you looking down at you with a scowl to his face. “What’s this?” you asked like you didn’t know what a cup of caf looked like.

“Caf” he responded, sliding it closer on the dashboard to meet your face better.

“No thanks.” You said back, sliding it away from you and trying to focus on the blinking buttons ahead of you.

“Three minutes till drop,” Tech and interjected, popping his head around crosshair to give you a questioning look, “you ready?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, trying to get back to work with Crosshair still standing there.

You were hoping he would take the hint that you were still pissed at him and just leave you be, but of course that wasn’t the case. The mug of caf was slid back in front of you and you looked up again to see an even more pissed off crosshair than before. What was his problem? He insulted you and took it too far and now he was mad you were declining his caf? It was starting to make your blood boil too; you were the one that deserved to be angry not him.

“Look,” he said, “I made it just how you like it, two sugars one cream. I even put it in your favorite mug. Just take the kriffing caf.”

If this was some sort of pathetic excuse for an apology it wasn’t going to work, you were truly upset and a cup of caf wasn’t going to fix that.

“And I said no thank you.” You told him harshly and forcefully pushed the cup back in his direction.

You could go for a cup of caf right now, but you weren’t going to let him get away with this. He was always pushing your buttons, making snarky remarks at you and this time he had gone to far.

He huffed, grabbed the cup, and walked out of the cockpit.

Right on time, Tech and began to start the countdown to drop out of hyperspace and you now need to focus the most.

_____________________________________________________________

After you had landed you stayed behind in the cockpit, while everyone else around you had started to get up. You closed your eyes, leaning back in your seat and taking a deep breath. The day had just started, and it was already going horribly.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and you jumped, turning to give the perpetrator a dirty look expecting it to be Crosshair again not taking the hint that you were still very clearly upset but softening when you saw Hunter instead. The sergeant of the bad batch and you had grown close, mostly because he could read you like an open book, whereas the others tended to not pick up and any hints that your moods had changed. “Mind telling me what that all was about back there?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at you.

You signed and he went to sit in the seat across from you while you began to tell him about the incident last night.

“So he was trying to apologize to you this morning.” Hunter stated.

“Hunter, you know my past and the pain that comes along with it better than anyone else on this ship. I've reluctantly shared bits and pieces with all of you out of trust, for him to use that against me in a petty argument really hurts. A cup of caf isn’t going to make me forgive him, especially when I know he isn’t truly sorry.”

He sighed leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees to place his head in his hands. “(Y/N), I know you and Crosshair haven’t ever really gotten along but he’s not good at talking about things, I'm sure he truly is sorry, but him giving you a cup of caf is the biggest apology I've ever seen him give anyone.”

This whole situation was really one you just wanted to forget. But at this point you also just wanted an actual apology.

“Well he’s going to have to bite his tongue and do better than that.”

#the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #star wars tbb #star wars x reader #crosshair #crosshair x reader #star wars #star wars the clone wars #starwars the bad batch #angst #crosshair x you #clone force 99 #clone force 99 x reader #the clone wars #crosshair x y/n #crosshair angst #the bad batch series

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thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years

Text

The Worst Planet in the Universe

The “humans are weird/earth is space Australia” stories that are quite famous here usually have aliens reacting to how they think humanity or Earth is really strange and bizarre. So, I got an idea: what if people could react not to Earth, but to one of the singular worst planets in all of science fiction? Here, we have some of the characters of the Magnificent Scoundrels reacting to the planet of Krieg and its infamous Death Korps from Warhammer 40k.

Death Korps is pronounced “death core” not “death corpse.” Jeicher is pronounced the German way, as “yay-cur”, not “jai-cher.”

“In life, war. In death, peace. In life, suffering. In death, atonement.” -Final litany of the Litany of Sacrifice, recited by the Guardsmen of the Death Korps of Krieg when entering battle

The shuttle slipped through the dead and polluted atmosphere, shields raised to their fullest capacity to avoid the boiling streaks of orange lightning. The occupants of the shuttle stared warily out the window, still nervous even though their craft was in the hands of some of the best pilots in the universe.

“I still don’t understand why we’re here,” said Commissar Cain from a strapped-in seat in the shuttle’s rear.

“Well, we’re visiting planets from each other’s galaxies,” replied Admiral Vir from the cockpit as he and Solo desperately tried to avoid the lighting.

“Yeah, I know that,” snapped back Cain. “What I don’t understand is why we’re here. Out of all the planets in the galaxy, you pick this one.”

“You wanted to know more about populous Imperial Guard regiment homeworlds, and you said Krieg sounded like an interesting name,” muttered Solo as a particularly large blast lit up the cockpit window. “Starting to regret that now?”

“I most certainly am!” screamed Dr. Kril from inside the heavy clear plastic compartment designed to hold him when accompanying Vir off the Omen. “And I thought Earth was a death world!”

“Radiation levels are approaching 3,700 roentgan,” said Vir, crisply reading off the cockpit instruments.

“We’re all gonna die,” wailed Kril.

The shuttle’s communication system crackled to life, and a dry, toneless voice sounded over it.

“Shuttle B-77401, you are clear of the storm in twenty seconds. Please proceed to landing pad RT-556 at coordinates 66579. Radiation levels on ground are currently 1,500 roentgan.”

“I remember reading up on your horrible human disasters, and that’s the level of radiation the Chernobyl disaster had right next to the plant as the fires were still going!” screeched Kril. “I will not be stepping foot on this planet! If you have a death wish, that's fine with me, but I won’t be leaving the shuttle!” He crossed his arms and sat against the container wall. Vir and Solo didn’t have time to respond.

“Breaking storm now.” The lightning and horrible, swirling grey clouds cleared, only to reveal a scene of utter devastation. The land below was an endless expanse of grey and brown. Entire swaths of earth were covered with grey dust. Other areas were endless seas of irradiated mud, with ancient and rusted barbed wire, empty concrete bunkers, and long abandoned and corroded gun emplacements sticking out from the infinite brown. A few ossified trees, long dead, peeked up in places, the only signs of life, or what was once life, on the planet.

“What happened here?” murmured Vir.

“A tale of tragedy, and betrayal,” replied Cain softly. “Once upon a time, some 1,500 years ago, Krieg was a massive city world. The ruling oligarchy decided to turn their backs on the Emperor and rebel against the Imperium of Man. The commander of the loyalist Guard forces decided that if the Imperium couldn’t have the planet, no one would. But despite the unleashing of a stash of Dark Age nuclear weapons, the people of Krieg survived, and loyalist fought traitor in a five hundred year long war in the trenches of the wastes.” The shuttle was silent, imagining how horrible such a war would be. This singular civil war, on this singular planet, eclipsed even the most horrible of fights from most of their home galaxies. “Eventually, the loyalists won, and rejoined the Imperium. Ever since, the people of Krieg have fought in the deadliest of Imperial warzones to repent for their ancient betrayal.”

“Wait, wait, wait. There are people that live here? This isn’t just a military base?” asked an incredulous Solo.

“Yes,” replied Cain. “They live in massive underground cities, safely shielded from the worst of the radiation aboveground.”

“My god… there aren’t really words to describe that,” said Vir.

“Shuttle B-77401, you are cleared for landing,” came the voice of the controller. “Please wear radiation-proof suits. Commissar Jeicher will be present along with an honor guard to escort you.” The brown of mud gave way to a large, circular landing pad sunk into Krieg’s dead earth. The pad led to a set of stairs, travelling down into a set of heavy, sealed double doors, leading even further down into the ruined planet’s crust. On the pad were two figures, clad in greatcoats and gasmasks, flanked by a double line of soldiers. Vir and Solo set the shuttle down.

In the back, Cain had already pulled the hood of a radiation-proof bodysuit over his head, and attached an anachronistic looking gasmask. Over this, he donned an old and tattered Commissarial cap and greatcoat. Vir and Solo also donned much more modern-looking gas masks over their bodysuits, and went to the shuttle’s rear as Kril screeched about the dangers of radiation. With the quick press of a button, they activated the airlock and stepped onto the surface of the ruined planet.

Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance as they stepped down the shuttle ramp and came face to face with what they presumed to be Commissar Jeicher. He was wearing the same outfit as Cain, a Commissar’s cap and greatcoat covering his bodysuit and gas mask. Behind him was a double rank of soldiers, wearing grey greatcoats and gas masks, clutching their las rifles in the ‘present arms’ position. Next to Jeicher stood another figure, hands clasped neatly behind their back. This one was dressed in much fancier boots, and wore a cuirassier’s breastplate. A brown greatcoat was draped over the figure's shoulders, and Vir assumed it to be an officer. Jeicher reached out to shake each of the trio’s hands in turn.

“Admiral Vir. Captain Solo. Commissar Cain. A pleasure to have you on Krieg. I am Commissar Jeicher, and this is Captain Kust,” he said, pointing to the officer behind him. Kust offered a single, curt nod. “You wished to have a tour of the planet, and to see it’s capacity for making war. I can assure you, gentlemen, that Krieg is one of the finest planets in the Imperium in that regard. I trust you will not be disappointed.” As he said this, Jeicher led them down the path leading away from the shuttle and towards the underground tunnels. As they walked, a series of flashes lit up the horizon, followed by the booming of thunder. Jeicher raised a gloved hand and gestured in the general direction of the noise.

“About twenty kilometers in that direction, we have the artillery and live-fire drills of the soon to be 712th Death Korps Regiment. It is the be the newest regiment coming into Imperial service, and the thirtieth Death Korps regiment raised this month. They will soon be shipping out to Warzone Viclius in the Segmentum Pacificus to break a massive ork siege of the Viclius sector.” They reached the end of the twin lines of troopers.

“Right shoulder, arms!” yelled Kust, her voice (Vir could tell it was a ‘her’ underneath the mask now) managing to carry through both her mask and Krieg’s stormy atmosphere. “Left face!” The Korpsmen spun to face the heavy blast doors in perfect synchronicity. Jeicher inputted some sort of code, and, with a great creaking and grinding of metal, the doors slid open. “Forward, march!”

The group, followed by the honour guard, stepped into a large white room. As the doors closed behind them, various nozzles sprayed radiation-retardant foam onto them. The airlock process completed, the heavy set of double doors in front of them opened. Despite the decontamination, no one took their masks off.

The halls were quite familiar to Vir, but unlike anything he’d seen as a civilization. They were long, emotionless white and grey concrete bunker systems, lit by cheap yellow bulbs that still allowed him to see perfectly well. Endless, emotionless bunker halls. It saddened him. What a terrible way to live and grow up.

Through the long walkways, they passed seemingly thousands of Korpsmen, all wearing grey greatcoats, and staring from behind emotionless gas masks. They all blurred into one, and Vir was grateful that at least Jeicher, Kust, and their honor guard he could pick out from the crowd.

They reached another large double blast door, and the two Korpsmen standing guard outside snapped to attention. The group walked through, only for the three offworlders to stop short. The entire left half of the hallway was a massive clear window. Far beneath them, a full division of Death Korps Guardsmen marched through an utterly massive, hangar-sized underground hallway. It was an endless tide of grey coats and gas masks, the thud of their boots echoing up even past the glass of the observation deck. Tanks rolled past, along with smaller, two legged armored walkers.

“That’s the 122nd Siege Army. Newly formed. They’re shipping out to the southern part of Segmentum Ultima today,” said Jeicher. He made another motion, and the group, still followed by Kust and her honor guard, left the observation room.

They walked through more hallways, still stark and emotionless, until they got to another double door. This area of tunnels and bunkers seemed to have more Korpsmen around. Officers, wearing their higher, more polished boots and cuirassiers’ breastplates. The double doors opened, revealing a much more polished and refined room, made mostly out of metal. Computers clung to the walls, and workstations were filled with Death Korps soldiers, red-robed cybernetic tech-priests, and unmasked commissars.

“This is the central command room of this section of Krieg’s underground cities,” said Jeicher, continuing the tour. “All the regiments and supplies that are raised and produced in section Alpha-Gamma-551 are tracked here. As you can see, we have more than enough to outfit the two regiments this sector is raising.” They went through the room, through another series of hallways, and down multiple sets of solid but plain corrugated steel stairs.

“Here we have the underground munitions factories of Krieg,” said Jeicher, gesturing through another glass panel on an observation deck. This time, the windows led onto an utterly massive factory floor. Conveyor belts led to unknown machines, and churned out endless numbers of what seemed to be artillery shells. “As you can see, everything is completely on schedule.” Vir noticed workers, all wearing heavy grey suits and gas masks below. Some of them seemed to be… off, and it took a moment for him to realize precisely why.

“Wait a minute… are those children?” he wheeled around and demanded at Jeicher. He was met with the empty lenses of a gas mask.

“Yes,” replied Jeicher. “I do realize that many off-worlders not of the Munitorum or Mechanicus find the practice… distasteful, but-”

“Distasteful doesn’t even begin to cover it. More like abhorrent,” snarled Vir.

“If you cannot fight, you must serve,” intoned Kust. “All infertile males serve in the Death Korps. Most fertile males and infertile females serve in the Death Korps. Most fertile females and some fertile males serve in the munitions factories. Children cannot go to waste,” she finished, rattling off the practices of Krieg in a completely toneless voice. Vir looked like he was about to explode. Cain put a hand on his shoulder, and nodded towards the honor guard and their las guns. Noticing the mood in the room, Jeicher went on.

“I think it’s best if we go on,” he said. The group followed him through another set of hallways, and when Kust was out of earshot, Jeicher spoke to the trio of newcomers.

“Please don’t antagonize the Kriegers,” he said. “That’s why they have commissars, actually. To ease the transition between them and any allied forces.” “They deserve to die,” hissed Vir, still shaking with rage. Jeicher gave a mirthless laugh.

“Oh, they do. Their entire purpose, their entire existence, is to die in the Emperor’s wars. They want this.”

“Why?” asked Solo. “Why would anyone want this?”

“They are driven by one of the most powerful motivators in the world. Not anger, not love, not faith, but shame. Shame of their ancient rebellion. In the Emperor’s service, the Death Korps will pay any price.”

The group reached another viewing balcony. This one overlooked a much smaller room, where a group of children in grey overcoats drilled with small las carbines. Vir clenched his fist in rage, but said nothing.

“Present arms!” yelled an adult and fully uniformed drill sergeant from behind his gas mask. The children held out their weapons in front of them, many with as much or even more precision than Vir had seen of new GA marine recruits. Most of them looked to be no older than six or seven, making the workers in the factory even younger…

No. He did not want to think about that.

The drill instructor moved along the line of recruits (or children, if you were fortunate enough to not be raised in a post-apocalyptic militaristic hellhole, thought Vir.) The instructor spun and glared at one of the cadets.

“P-44271930,” he stated.

“Yes, sir!” replied the cadet, with the enthusiasm of a fresh recruit.

“What is your duty, P-44271930?” asked the instructor.

“To serve the Emperor’s will,” replied the cadet.

“And what is the Emperor’s will?” queried the instructor.

“That we fight and die!” Vir clenched down so hard he crushed the balcony bar in the viewing room.

“What is death?” asked the instructor.

“It is our duty!” replied the cadet. The instructor nodded.

“Very good, P-44271930.” He took a step back. “Right shoulder, arms!” Vir looked at Jeicher.

“They’re calling them by their serial numbers at that young of an age?” he asked, still fuming. Jeicher inwardly cringed. He suspected the esteemed Admiral would not like what came next.

“They don’t have names,” said Kust, with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

“What?” asked Vir, in a ‘please, do try my patience’ tone.

“None of us have names,” replied Kust.

“You have a name,” pointed out Vir.

“You only get a name if you survive long enough to become an officer,” replied Kust.

“Really?” Vir wheeled around to face the leader of the honor guard. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“YH-5577933,” replied the man, in a completely emotionless voice. Vir threw his hands in the air, completely done.

“Fine.” He nodded at Jeicher. “Continue the tour,” he snapped. Jeicher nodded, and motioned them on. I have to get off this place as soon as possible, thought Vir. This is… beyond anything I thought possible.

I hope you enjoyed it. I find Krieg and the Death Korps are one of the most interesting groups in science fiction. Motivated by shame, they represent the worst humanity could ever become. However, they are utter badasses in battle. If you aren’t afraid to die, you can pull of some pretty heroic things. If you have any questions, comments, criticisms, concerns, requests, or want me to continue this story, please tell me! Have a great day!

It should be noted, of course, I do not own any of these characters. Vir and Kril belong to starr-fall-knight-rise, Cain belongs to Games Workshop, and Solo belongs to Disney.

#writing #story #humans are space orcs #earth is a deathworld #warhammer 40k #death korps of krieg

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quillsanddaydreams · 3 years

Text

teddy bear

fred weasley x reader

—author’s note: I really have no explanation for this except that I saw an old fic of mine and the idea just struck. This is a re-imagined version of 'don't say goodbye' from my main i.e. @with-love-anu Fred had been spending lesser and lesser time with you every day and you couldn't take it anymore.

—warning(s): mentions of food and drinks, break up, angst but it's hurt and comfort, low-key descriptions of anxiety attack. gender neutral!reader (pronouns haven't been used throughout the story)

—wordcount: 2,190

The fire crackled orange and gold, painting the dark walls. You were sitting right beside the mantle looking at the wall ticking. It was 11:35pm. Fred should’ve been home hours ago.

Tilting your head, you ran your thumb through the sharp edge’s of the photo frame. Friendly— happy faces smiled back at you. It was you and Fred from your 6th year. He had an arm around you, kissing your cheek before winking at the camera. Oh you remembered that day. Vividly. The two of you had just started dating after months of pining. Fred had been an absolute sweetheart. One date led to the next and you didn’t realise you two had spent years together. From graduating from hogwarts, to working your way up on your jobs, moving in together… You were madly in love and nothing else seemed to have mattered.

Everything looked great. Looked. Your parents often told you about ichs. A common rash. Ignore it and it will go away. Scratch it, and it will make your life hell. They never told you however, how long it takes. And you had been shutting your eyes to this one far too long. Fred was never there. Never. Both of you had jobs. Demanding jobs. Yet it seemed Fred was the only one without a moment to spare.

Your morning began with you getting up and ready for your day. Freshening up, making breakfast for the two of you— storing Fred’s with a quick warming spell and a note because you knew you’ll be gone by the time he woke up. Never having the heart to rouse him you simply smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead, apprating to the ministry. When you came back, he would still be at the shop, working late into the night. Exhaustion caught you, you were unable to keep yourself from falling asleep after 12.

Heaving a sigh, you pushed your head back staring at the ceiling above. The thing was that you missed him. Terribly. You couldn’t even remember the time he held you, let alone ask about your day— it had been months. There had been a hundred times, sitting alone having dinner or seeing his side of the bed empty. Loneliness caught with you reminisened all the times he would pull you over his lap, pressing kisses all over your face. Telling you about the newest invention at his shop. All confrontations with him about the same had ended the same way. With him promising he would try. He never did.

Glancing at the clock again, you felt your body grow hot with anger. It was nearly midnight. You had left him a note to come home early that day. Promotion at work had flashed like the perfect occasion to catch up. Happiness had been bubbling through you all day. Although as time passed, your excitement dulled. The food turned cold and ice in the firewhiskey bucket had melted. Your eyes pricked with tears as you felt your stomach churn. There was a pop as the door opened to reveal a disheveled Fred. He gave you a small smile before moving straight towards the bedroom.

“Fred,” you called out, clearing your throat and wiping away the tears. Did he really not notice? “Did you get my note?”

“Hmm?” he said, shuffling through his drawer. “Oh! Yes I did, sorry but work came up love, couldn’t make it.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Work?” you asked, agitated. “What work keeps you out until midnight Fred?”

His answering sigh infuriated you further.

“You need to change your work schedule, Fred,” you said, crossing your arms. “George comes back to Angelina before 8. I’m sure you can manage before 9. I don't see you Fred. I don't get to talk to you or spend a moment with you. It's like I'm living alone— I spent more time with you before we moved in!”

Fred squeezed his eyes shut, tired.

“I’ll try, I promise,” he said after a minute. “Let’s eat first, shall we?”

“No, Fred. You promise me that every time,” you hissed. “I want you to tell me you’ll be home tomorrow before 9. Like a normal person.”

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Fred snapped. “I thought you would be more supportive of me and my business.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” you threatened. “I’ve been there for you every step of the way. What I am asking you is for you to take out some time for me. I need you to be there for me too!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to earn enough money for our future. For wishing you didn’t have to work to live a happy life.”

“Fred,” you said, your voice a dangerous whisper. “You know exactly how much I love my job. I’ve always been happy working. What has gotten into you? You were always so supportive of me!”

Something crossed Fred’s eye and he took a step back, shaking himself. He took a deep breath.

“Listen,” Fred said calmly. “It’s late now, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“When, Fred? When? In the morning, when you are asleep or at night which is the time right now?”

Fred remained silent. It felt like you were bursting. All the frustration, sadness and disappointment poured in.

“It hurts, Fred. It hurts and it feels like I’m alone in this. People ask me how we are doing and I don’t know what to tell them. I have no idea what’s going on with the person I live with. I don’t even know where our relationship is goin—”

“You know what?” Fred said, finally losing his cool, throwing his hands in the air. “If you feel so alone, maybe you wouldn’t find a difference if we even separate.”

You gasped.

“I’m going to give you a moment to take that back,” you hushed. Fred crossed his arms. “Think about it before telling me you meant it.”

“Listen, you know I put my work above anything else,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I’ve always wanted to be rich enough so people like Malfoy wouldn’t dare to insult me or my family. That shop. It’s my life. It’s everything that lets me afford the things I never could.”

“So the shop’s more important to you than having me stay?” you said, your throat heavy. Digging your nails into the palm of your hand you searched Fred’s face. The face you had fallen in love with, the one that didn’t quite meet your eyes now which forebode tears. No you couldn’t cry now. Not when he disregarded your job you had been so passionate about, not when his status in life was more important to him. When Fred didn’t say anything, you let out a dry laugh. Shaking your head you moved towards your wardrobe, your head thumping. You took out a couple of your clothes, money and some documents, packing up a bag. Fred stared at you wide eyed as you went for the door.

“What are you doing?” he demanded as you opened the door moving out.

“Well, since you don’t care if we separate and your shop is the only thing you’re living for; it only seems fair that I leave,” you said, furiously rubbing away the tear that fell down your cheek. “Oh and Weasley? I hope you become the wealthiest wizard in the country.”

The last thing you saw was Fred’s shook form before a familiar house came into view. Knocking on your best friend’s door, you wondered whether you should have taken a hotel. It was very late after all. Before you could turn back and leave, Ruhaan opened up. He looked sleepy but his expression changed on seeing you.

“Hey, are you alright? What’s the—”

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted. “I’ll crash on the couch... ”

Ruhaan wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leading you in.

“Of course you can,” he said as your throat felt heavy. “You’re always welcome here, what happened?”

“I… we broke up,” you croaked. Admitting things aloud often made things real. Stating your breakup to Ruhaan made you really assess the situation. Blood rushed to your head as you realised you really just left back someone you had loved for six long years. Still did. Your legs wobbled making you lose your balance but Ruhaan held you steady.

“I can’t believe it… I… love him…” you gulped.

“Let me first get you some tea,” he said, rubbing your sides.

-♡♡♡-

Fred was a mess. He fell on the floor with a thump, realising what happened moments ago. You left. The person he had loved all his life had left him. And it was his fault. All those months he had been trying to get the latest product to work. George had given up on it long ago knowing well how dangerous it was to work on. Yet he stood back, working extra hours determined to get it done. It made him lose sight of what was important, you. His heart constricted as he felt like he couldn’t breath. Hot tears fell down his cheeks as he let out a frustrated shout. He had finally lost everything.

For the next few days, Fred worked as an auto pilot. Numbness had caught up to him. He couldn’t bring himself to eat or sleep. Your thoughts plagued him. It was like he was watching your face fall as you moved out over and over again. The apartment felt devoid of spirit— dark and cold. Fred missed you, your smile as he sleepily joined you in bed, pulling you closer; your notes with little doodles telling him to take care… George vaguely knew about what happened, he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. Visits to your best friend’s place have always gone the same. Ruhaan told him you weren’t there.

Fred wanted— needed you. He loved you. Always did. And he would be damned if he failed to show you. Again. Washing his face, he apparated to Ruhaan’s door again. Biting the inside of his cheek, he waited as a familiar face came into view sighing on spotting him.

“Fred,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve told you…”

“Please,” he said, cutting him off. “Please, I know what I’ve done. Terrible won’t start to describe it. Just give me a chance to talk. I won’t push. I won’t. I am really ashamed of the things I did. At least let me make it right…”

Ruhaan searched his face, mentally debating with himself. Fred was pleading, begging. He would do anything to make this right.

“Alright, don’t screw this up,” Ruhaan said, ushering him in directing him towards your room. “The first door on the right.”

Fred nodded, moving briskly to where he indicated. Heart pounding, he knocked. Your voice came throaty, calling him in. When he saw you, his breath caught up. You looked terrible. Dark circles under red puffy eyes, nestled up in blankets. Noticing him, you sat up straighter.

“I told Ruhaan I didn’t want to see you,” you muttered. Fred moved to sit beside you. You looked away.

“I…” he began, not finding the correct words. “I brought this for you…”

He fished out a small box out of his pocket, handing it to you. It transformed into a teddy bear as the pack touched you, splaying itself over your hand like a rock. You narrowed your eyes at Fred.

“I’ve been working on this in secret for the last six months,” he rasped. “A teddy bear for blue days. The more I worked on it, the stiffer it became. I could not imagine what exactly I was doing wrong. I tried charming it, transforming it, twisting and twerking it around...”

“Fred,” you said, cutting him off. He blinked as streaks of heavy tears fell down his cheek.

“I was so fucking angry and determined to make it work that I couldn’t see anything else than that,” he sobbed. “I’ve said and done things that I couldn’t forgive myself for. I’ve made promises I never followed and I’ve let you go. I… I know that there is no reason for you to even hear me out right now. But I can’t lose you. I can’t… I can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to have you back but I don’t want to say goodbye to the best thing in my life. Please. You don’t have to excuse me but give me one opportunity to make it up to you.”

You inhaled sharply.

“You’ll come home before 9?” you asked.

“At seven everyday.”

“You’ll spare time for me?”

“Dates every other weekend.”

“You’ll cook everything for the next 3 weeks?” you said as Fred let out a breathy chuckle.

“Only your favourites.”

You looked at his face, wet from crying. Eyes praying for your answer.

“You’ll kiss me right now?” you said as a dull surprise crossed his face. He cradled your face, kissing you softly. You closed your eyes, body relaxing for the first time in days.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice low. You held his hand, squeezing it.

“I know.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

#fred #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #fred x reader #fred x you #fred x y/n #from anu's quill #hp #harry potter #george weasley

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crispyjenkins · 3 years

Note

Rexobi. I really just wanna see Rex and Obi-wan drinking together and complaining about the disaster that is Anakin Skywalker. They decide to team up to get anakin to calm the heck down and to talk about his feelings. Anakin doesn’t realize what’s going on but gets the idea he needs to play matchmaker with his master and his captain. He thinks he’s the smart one but he’s really not

(i have once again chickened out of your full prompt and instead give you the leadup to rexobi getting anakin to talk about his feelings.

i uhhh may be unable to think of anything but a rexobi au à la this post by @norcumii and @dharmaavocado about roleswap-ish senior padawan obi hella vibing with this mutant clone that can’t get above the rank of captain even as an arc trooper because the kaminoans are Like That, and qui-gon is going spare, because between anakin somehow being allowed to be in charge of a whole battalion and obi-wan picking fights with every single seperatist leader, he and cody never get a moment of peace. and like. just obi and rex being dumbass 20 year olds trying to deal with a general/master like anakin in the middle of a war. i don’t have TIME for that though

thank you for the prompt as always, i think this is the only rexobi/obex prompt i’ve ever gotten and this ship is criminally underappreciated. like?? kadavo?? anyways here’s whatever this is)

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Not for the first time, Rex wishes Kote were the one here dealing with this, because “how to comfort your favorite Jedi” hadn’t exactly been covered in ARC training – actually, Alpha probably withheld the information on purpose, the fucker.

But Kote is on the other side of the galaxy with the 187th and just as upset they’re not here in Rex’s stead: it’s barely a month off General Kenobi returning to his own face, and Rex knows his vod would strangle the entire Senate if given even half a chance for deploying them separately on their general’s first mission back after the Hardeen... incident.

And Fett’s Ghost knows Rex’s own general is going to pitch a fit when he finds out Rex is here instead of taking leave like the rest of the 501st, but Kote certainly wasn’t about to let Kenobi go all the way to Alderaan unguarded so soon after his supposed death; and honestly, Rex would have been offended if they had asked anybody else to do it. Thankfully, Kenobi hadn’t seemed offended when Rex had shown up at the Jedi Temple’s flight hangar before he could take off; instead, he had been rather amused.

Even luckier, Alderaan is barely a day’s jump from Coruscant, so they don’t have to spend too much time awkwardly pretending that Rex hadn’t attended the man’s funeral in Kote's place (that he would have attended anyways), or that Rex doesn’t know Anakin hasn’t spoken to his former master since their debrief to the High Council about Cad Bane. Which Rex should absolutely not know in the first place, but Anakin is his friend, for better or for worse, and Ahsoka thinks her master airs far too many of his grievances to his captain.

It isn't until their cruiser is making the descent over Alderaan that Kenobi finally addresses the tension between them, which only proves that Kenobi is well aware of it, but had put it off as long as he could. It's a humanising observation, that Rex wishes he could have had when he isn't the only vod in a ten mile radius that isn't the pilot, because at least then he wouldn't be the sole receiver of the soft smile Kenobi gives him as he joins Rex to wait by the shuttle's access hatch.

Rex thanks his progenitor's laughing corpse he has his bucket on, because all he can do is stare.

"You are worried about Anakin," Kenobi says matter of factly, though not unkindly, and Rex lets out a breath that's almost a laugh.

"I promise I am far more discrete with my thoughts in the field, sir."

Kenobi chuckles warmly, tucking his arms behind his back to watch the planet under them grow larger as they approach. "Do try not to worry so much, my dear, this will all resolve itself in time."

It's hard to stare right at his gentle assuredness, so Rex looks away. "You have far more faith in his ability to forgive than I, sir."

That laugh strains at the edges. "Yes, well, I'm afraid some of my lessons seem to have been... lacking."

Rex has regs carbon-printed on his brain, he knows that even without the direct chain of command, the soft push and pull of his relationship with Kenobi, the steady, serene growth of it, is... problematic, for so many reasons that he wouldn't know where to start. Not least of all is rank, how much more important a Jedi is than a replaceable CC-track washout, but, well, Rex had washed out for being too emotional, so it's not as if he's exactly unused to reacting to things inappropriately for a good little soldier.

"It's not my place, sir," he murmurs, remembering Kadavo, remembering Umbara, remembering the hand Kenobi had laid on his shoulder for far too long after the Blue Shadow virus, and has Rex really been this gone since then? "just say the word and I won't mention it again. But just because Kote isn't here doesn't mean you have to... shoulder all of this alone."

In fact, it's wildly not his place to make such an offer, however implicit, but that month on Kadavo did happen, and Rex isn't so self-deprecating to believe he hadn't had a heavy hand in helping Kenobi make it out on the other side as well as he did. He doesn't think so little of the bond they had formed then, to believe that Obi-Wan is unaware of it.

Not when he smiles at Rex like that, like he's a warm cup of caf after a week in the trenches, like Rex is... worthy of such sincere affection.

As the shuttle settles around them and the pilot announces their arrival over comm, Obi-Wan simply says, "I did not for a moment believe I was, my dear."

"You and Rex seem close."

Normally Obi-Wan can feel Anakin coming from an entire corridor away, but he also knows Quinlan has been teaching him a few Shadow tricks, so he isn't entirely surprised when Anakin appears at his elbow in the empty bridge looking like a smug necu.

Aside from eating firstmeal with Kote in the mess, Obi-Wan hasn't even seen Rex today, much less interacted with him: as he understands it, Rex is trying to round up the remaining 501st shinies that are running around the Negotiator, so Obi-Wan really doesn't know where Anakin had gotten that notion. Recently, at least.

Anakin rolls his eyes and scoffs, leaning back on the railing next to him and crossing his arms. "Please, Master, even Snips has noticed."

Obi-Wan refrains from telling him that anyone with a modicum more self-awareness than him has noticed. Be that as it may, "This is one of those times where I truly don't know what you're trying to say, my dear: I have been close with Rex since he was in the 212th."

It isn't even an exaggeration, that there had been... something between them before Anakin whisked Rex away to his own battalion after his knighting, though back then it had been nothing more than friendship. If he recalls correctly, and he does, the cleanup of the Ryloth capitol had been the first time since then that they had worked closely, while Anakin had been on the ground with the locals and Mace had been with General Syndulla, and Obi-Wan had found he still quite enjoyed the way they worked together. Their time on Naboo combating the Blue Shadow virus had only endeared the captain more to him —he does remember a slip in propriety in his relief that Rex had been rescued safely with Padmé and Ahsoka, a hand left too long on the captain's shoulder until Kote had called him away— enough that Obi-Wan had been both relieved and horrified that it was Rex there to support him on Kadavo.

"Cody said Rex was the one to go with you to Alderaan; you sure nothing 'happened' while you were there?" Anakin chuckles to himself like he's being incredibly clever, like there isn’t a hickey visible over the collar of his under tunic.

Obi-Wan raises a brow slowly and refrains from rolling his eyes. "Despite what you may believe, Anakin, not everyone leaps into committed relationships after life-threatening situations." Not that Alderaan had been life-threatening, it had actually been as close to actual leave as Obi-Wan has had the entire war.

"Please, it took Padmé and I ages to–"

Anakin seems to swallow his tongue, then, face rapidly going purple, and it really is a miracle the entire Republic doesn’t know about his marriage; the GAR certainly does.

Sighing, Obi-Wan checks the chrono and decides it isn't too early for another cup of tea. "If you have a specific question about my relationship with Captain Rex, I do wish you’d be direct, my dear."

Anakin splutters. "Relationship?!"

"Great Maker, Anakin, you’re easier to spook than a half-starved blurrg." He pats Anakin’s arm, his sonbrother floundering for anything other than abject confoundment, as Obi-Wan turns away from the bridge to go locate both tea, and his commander to hopefully finalise their newest mission orders. "Don't worry," he calls over his shoulder, "I'll actually let you come to the wedding, unlike someone."

Not that Obi-Wan has any such plans, Maker knows he and Rex have yet to address their feelings in the first place, but he'd be lying if part of him doesn't want to conspire with the captain in question —and perhaps Ahsoka— to see just how far they could take this before Anakin realises they're stringing him along.

Remarkably, Rex is waiting by Obi-Wan’s office with a flimsi cup of tea and a harried smile that promised quite the day chasing after shinies, and Obi-Wan decides conning his former apprentice can wait.

Mando’a: vod/e — “brother/s”, “comrade/s”, “sibling/s”, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brother/s”

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pioneergirlsie · 3 years

Text

Hope is Like the Sun || Part 2

Part 1 || Part 3 || Masterlist

Poe Dameron x fem!reader/OC

Summary: Poe sees potential in you. That’s why he has a series of special surprises for the Resistance’s newest pilot.

A/N: Thank you for all the support I’ve gotten so far for this series! Please feel free to send me ideas, feedback, or anything! Also, please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist.

Either Poe Dameron had some serious pull in the Resistance’s decision-making process, or you’d done incredibly well on your flight assessment because the very next day, Commander Dameron personally came to inform you that you were now officially a Resistance pilot. You clasped your hands together and pressed them to your mouth when he told you, trying to resist the urge to do a little happy dance. You couldn’t help the little squeal of excitement that escaped your mouth.

Poe laughed, clearly enjoying your display of happiness. “You haven’t even heard the best part yet!”

“What’s the best part?” you asked suddenly, a nervous pit growing in your stomach despite knowing that this was good news.

“Well, Red Squadron just so happens to have an opening,” he said before pausing, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “How would you like to fly Red Five?”

It took a minute for the news to settle in. Your eyes went wide, and you realized your mouth was hanging open. You started to laugh and finally let yourself do a tiny happy dance.

“No way. No way!” you cried. “You’re joking!”

He just shook his head, smiling wide. The corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled that big. “You know Luke Skywalker flew Red Five at the Battle of Yavin, right? And you’re telling me I’m Red Five?” you laugh again in disbelief.

“I was hoping you’d pick up on that!” Poe said. The pride was evident in his voice. “A legendary callsign for a future legendary pilot.”

“Almost as legendary as you?” you tease. “I’ve heard that you’re the best pilot in the Resistance.”

“Hey now,” Poe said, holding up his hands as if to slow you down. “I wasn’t the one who came up with that.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

You weren’t usually one to banter so easily with someone you’d just met, but Poe was different. Somehow, you felt like you’d known him your whole life even though you truly barely knew each other.

“Well, do you wanna see her?” Poe asked after you finished laughing.

“See who?”

“Your ship!”

You practically ran to the hangar, stopping short when Poe said, “There she is!”

The T-70 X-Wing had a red stripe painted on it. Slowly working your way around it, you let your hand trail over the ship, taking in every detail. A dent there, a scratch here. It was beautiful.

You place a hand on the ladder to the cockpit, glancing over at Poe as if to ask permission. He nods, and you scramble up into the seat. The ship is definitely sleeker than the old T-65s with some much-needed upgrades in the cockpit. You softly grip the stick, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. If only your dad could see you now.

“Whatcha think?” Poe asked. He’d climbed the ladder, too, and was practically hanging off the side of your ship.

“It’s perfect,” you whispered, still taking everything in. You could feel Poe’s eyes on you, reveling in your happy moment.

“Well, I’ve got another surprise for you before Red Leader wants to run some drills with you to make sure you’re mission-ready.”

“Another surprise?” you laughed. “This is too much already.”

“Too bad. You have to have another one,” Poe laughed along with you before working his way down. “Commander’s orders.”

“Well, I suppose if it’s orders, I don’t have a choice,” you teased, following close behind him.

As you make your way through the base, an orange-and-white blur zipped past you, narrowly avoiding tripping you up on its way to Poe. The droid beeped excitedly.

“Hey buddy!” Poe greeted his droid. “What’s up? Is everything ready?”

You don’t know much binary, but you caught a little of BB-8’s message confirming that everything was, in fact, ready. He seemed really excited about whatever it is.

Poe just grinned at you as you kept walking. The faint sound of binary chatter grew louder as you reached your destination. Poe steered you inside a large workshop filled with droids, parts, and tools. A few mechanics fiddled around at various stations around the room. Finally, your attention landed on a small line-up of droids that BB-8 whirled up to.

“What’s this?” you asked, looking over at Poe.

“You’ve gotta pick a droid to fly with!” he said proudly, gesturing to the group.

“But how in the galaxy am I supposed to pick one?” you ask, a little overwhelmed.

“You’ll know,” Poe assured you.

The droids ranged from ancient R2 models to a couple newer BB units. They all chattered excitedly. One blue-and-green BB unit just couldn’t seem to contain its excitement, rolling forward toward you. You crouched down next to it.

“Hey,” you smiled. “What’s your name?”

The droid beeped happily, letting out a whole string of excited chatter. Unfortunately, you only caught bits and pieces, but thankfully Poe translated.

“She says she’s BB-3C, and she hopes you’ll pick her because she’s new here, too, but that doesn’t mean she’s not good at her job. She wants to assure you that she’s the best—” BB-8 chattered indignantly here, interrupting BB-3C’s ramble. “I know, buddy,” Poe responded with a laugh before continuing. “BB-3C would also like to tell you that she thinks you have a lovely smile.” Was Poe blushing after that last bit? It was hard to tell.

“Well, Threecee,” you said, laying a hand on her head. “Is it alright if I call you that?”

The droid beeped in the affirmative.

“Perfect. Threecee, would you do me the honor of flying with me?”

Threecee let out a loud whir of excitement, zipping several circles around you. You laughed as you stood back up.

“I think that’s a yes,” you said to Poe.

“We better get back to the hangar. Your new squad leader’s anxious to meet you,” Poe said.

You nodded. Your new friend Threecee followed you both out the door along with BB-8. You were a Resistance pilot. You were Red Five. You were ready.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @agentmalfoy24601 @sunch1ld

#hope is like the sun #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfiction #elsie writes #star wars

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Text

Trapped and Forgotten Part 2

Part 1 here

Warnings: torture mention, arguing, bullying, hurting animals (scorpian), stab-like wound, blood, pain, manhandling and restraining, hunting fish, poison, force feeding, implied character paralysis and death, nightmare (not that creepy)

Well that wasn't exactly expected.

Hero assumed that Supervillain had a plan of torture that had something to do with whips, starvation, isolation, drowning or whatever evil scheme went through the pea brain.

Well that "pea brain" definitely had other ideas about what to with their newest additon to their prison.

The prisoners could barely resist as Supervillain's men attached heavy chains to their ankles and wrists that restricted any quick movement. They couldn't resist as they were dragged to a beating airplane and strapped in. Hero didn't really mind it. They were a hero after all. In about a week, the government would send people to rescue them and Sidekick, arrest the twins, and all would be back to normal. No stinky cells, no Supervillain, just Hero and their freedom. All they had to do was stay calm.

Calm and all would be all would get better.

It did not get better.

After a horrible plane ride with Villain rambling on and half-drunk pilots, they were mercilessly dropped (and when Hero means dropped, they mean thrown out of the plane and tumulting eleven feet onto the ground). If it wasn't for Sidekick's burly body as a cushion, Hero was sure they would've broken half the bones in their body.

Villain and Henchman were luckily dropped into water, but Hero still flinched when they heard the sharp splash of ocean as they hit it stomach first.

"Oh my gosh," Sidekick muttered and heavef themselves off the ground. Hero noticed their shaky limbs and helped them to their feet. They gave Hero, also known as the one who got away with just a bruised funny bone, a smile of gratitude.

Hero and Sidekick made themselves comfortable on the beach and allowed the sun to soak into their chilly bodies. Supervillain, for some apparent reason that was beyond Hero's cognitive skills, kept the plane at a freezing temperature.

Henchman collasped on the ground next to Sidekick. Villain stayed back. Hero could tell that they were exhausted from the swim, but they refused to show any sign of weakness. Not that it mattered. First, Hero saw them practically paralysized and just lying there after being shocked, and second, they had bigger things to worry about.

Like, where the heck were they? And why?

"Let's go Henchman," Villain growled and stormed back to the group. Hero raised their eyebrows, what exactly did they mean by that?

Henchman let out a groan and gave their twin a look. The two regarded each other carefully until Villain broke eye contact.

"Look," they glanced at Hero. "We are stuck here. You hear me? There is no way out and I personally do not want to be within a two mile radius from dumb and dumber." They looked at Sidekick and "dumb" and Hero at "dumber".

Before Hero could say something or throw a very pathetic insult back at them, Sidekick spoke up,

"Us dumb? Villain, you were the one who got us into this mess."

"Me?" Villain stepped forward and pointed at themselves. "Me dumb? Are you seriously saying that I, Villain, is dumb? I, I repeat," they pointed at themselves vigorously here, "I am not dumb. Not like you. I-i."

After a slipt second to recompose themselves, Villain snarled, "I am the smart being here. Henchman, let's go and leave these two to sulk in their lack of intelligence."

Henchman didn't move. They blinked at Villain very slowly, then looked at Hero. Hero couldn't help but chuckle lightly. Even Villain's twin sibling did not think they were using their thinking cap.

"Now Henchman!" Villain yelled and grabbed their sibling's arm. They pulled, but Henchman curled up in a ball and rolled uselessly to their sides.

"Knock it off!" Villain screamed and clenched their teeth.

Sidekick nudged Hero and twirled their finger by their ear. They let out a whistle, "Wee woo."

Hero bawled out laughing and smacked their friend lightly on the shoulder which added to Villain's anger. They clenched their teeth even harder and shoved their finger in Hero's face.

"Listen," they growled. "Knock that smile off your face or I will do it for you." The murderous look in Villain's eyes actually made them want to believe them for a second, but Hero could see the fight dying in there somewhere. Maybe they were finally coming to their senses.

"Hear me!" Villain hollered and grabbed Hero's shoulders. This was the last straw for Sidekick who stood up and grabbed the collar of Villain's leather jacket.

"Stop this Villain," Sidekick said in a near whisper. "You are out of line."

"Me?" Villain shot back. They might've intended it to be full of confidence, but Hero could hear the slight break in their voice.

"Yes you," Sidekick replied calmly. "Now settle down before you attract all sorts of creatures."

Villain struggled against the stronger's unyielding grip, only to fail and give up. Sidekick placed the defeated mess next to their sibling.

Sidekick sat back down next to Hero with a sigh. In sinc, they both looked at the villains. Henchman put their arm around Villain's shoulder, hiding their face and holding them dearly.

"Sibling love," Hero murmured to Sidekick. Now that the angry Villain scenario was over with, they took in the situation. Villain was right about one thing, they were stuck there... with each other which was not the most ideal thing ever, but with the current conditions, they would be forced to work with it. Unless, of course, Villain and Henchman left. 'That's not a bad idea,' Hero realized, thinking of the tad of freedom they would get if they did not have to babysit Hormonal Teenager and their killing counterpart.

"Those two are running," Sidekick said suddenly. Hero looked up to see the twins sprinting across the sand.

"Should we run too?" Hero asked. They really just wanted to take a long, warm, peaceful nap in the sun contemplating what to do than have a P.E. class on the beach.

"That would be a good choice," Sidekick yawned and heaved themselves to their feet. Hero did the same, and immediately regretted their life choices... again.

They could feel a presence right behind them and when they turned, they half expected to wake up from a horrid nightmare.

Because they were staring eye to eye with an enlarged scorpian.

_____

Villain thought of themselves as the sneakiest bastard in the history of bastards. They saw the scorpian thing the second Sidekick very rudely set them on the ground like a toddler.

Maybe they weren't acting their age, maybe, but a tussle with a creepy, disgusting, ginormous bug that was most likely lethal would be a great way to get back at them.

Awesome payback. Villain almost called it their best plan ever if it wasn't for the fact that there was two.

Yes, two scorpians.

Henchman and Villain skidded to a stop. Even if they were far from a genius (which Villain denied with a passion in their hopes to be the best), Villain excelled at fighting. The scorpions seemed to have a strategy which was an an immpossible idea.

'Scorpians don't have enough brain to attack with a seemingly planned strategy,' Villain told themselves over and over as the enormous bug crept closer.

Maybe bigger bugs had bigger thinkers? Villain glanced at Henchman who was also coincidentally looking at their twin. Both knew what they were going to have to do.

They would have to fight.

Villain waited for the scorpian to come to them. It walked as if it had many tricks up its sleeve, or endoskeleton.

Or was it exoskeleton?

"Hey Henchman," Villain said as the scorpian made its first move. A swift attack with its tail that Villain easily dodged.

"Kinda busy at the moment. What do you need?" Henchman asked smoothly as they pushed away one of the scorpian's claws.

"What's the definition of an 'exoskeleton'?" Villain asked.

"Outer protective covering like what you find on crustaceans and insects," Henchman replied. "Why?"

"Just wondering," Villain grunted and dodged another attack. "Define crustacean."

"Like crabs or lobsters."

"A scorpian?" Villain asked.

"A scorpian is an arachnid," Henchman answered without a moment's hesitation.

"So it is incorrect to call them a bug?" Villain asked.

"Shut up."

"Okay." Villain missed the casual conversation after a few seconds of fighting in silence. The twins fought blow for blow as if it was automatic. Which it was in a way. Villain sort of wished that Hero was watching them. They could just imagine the awestruck look on their face, but they knew that they were busy fighting their own crustacean, or arachnid... or whatever.

Whether it was scientifically correct or not Villain decided that "bug" was the easiest the say.

"How did you pass biology?" Henchman asked suddenly as a huge claw nearly smacked them in the face.

"I cheated," Villain answered and shot their twin a smug look.

"Off who?"

"You."

"How didn't I know this?" Henchman asked in an exasperated tone.

"Don't know actually," Villain laughed, kicking at the scorpian's fangs. "I also stole the answers from the teacher."

"All those times-"

"Yes," Villain interrupted. The two continued to fight in silence until they drove the scorpian into the water. They kicked, punched, tackled, did everything they could until it was half-drowned. They stepped back and gave each other a brisk high five.

Strangled grunts interrupted their victory. Villain turned around to see Hero and Sidekick fighting their scorpian about five yards away. They couldn't help but feel satisfied that the scorpian was winning.

The scorpian flung Sidekick into the water, leaving Hero to fend for themselves. The scorpian and the hero fought like they were old enemies and knew each other's tricks which was another impossibility that Villain felt that they had to overcome.

The scorpian got the upper hand and started shoving Hero down into the ground.

Something unexpected clicked in Villain. They ran to Hero and pushed them out of the way, shielding them as the sharp stinger at the end of the tail stabbed them.

Only it didn't hit Hero. It hit Villain instead, right in the shoulder. They bit back a cry of pain and grabbed the scorpian's head. It thrashed and tried to get out of Villain's iron grasp, but Villain kneed it in the face. They could feel fresh blood pouring out if the wound, but they ignored it.

Henchman and Hero joined Villain on the other side. All together, they dragged it into the water and left it by its injured buddy.

"You idiot!" Hero yelled after they caught their breath. "Your childish yelling drew them here. It's your fault."

Villain gave a wobbly smile as they staggered backwards into Henchman's arms.

"What the heck is wrong with you! You-" Hero stopped scolding when they noticed the crimson liquid staining Villain's shirt. "Oh gosh are you bleeding?"

Henchman delicately laid Villain on the warm sand. Hero and Sidekick rushed to Villain's side and examined the wound.

"Stop!" Villain screamed when Sidekick poked it. They withered around and scooted next to Henchman on their feet.

"Lay back down Villain," Sidekick sneered. "It's your own fault that you were so careless."

"No."

"Stop backtalking," Hero ordered and grabbed Villain's wrist. "You are gonna bleed out and I don't want that on my hands."

Villain pulled their hand back and cowered next to Henchman. They didn't care that they looked like a child scared of a spider, but neither did Hero. They grabbed Villain viciously and shoved them onto the ground.

"Hero be gentle," Henchman warned and put a hand out to block Hero from pulling Villain around even more.

Villain whimpered and grabbed onto their twin like they usually did when they were hurt. Pain pulsed through their body like being hit with a whip in the same spot over and over again. It wasn't that being whipped was too unbearable for Villain (personallly, they would rather be whipped than shocked), but it quite obnoxiously annoying and painful.

Henchman put their forearm on their chest as Hero pulled their arm through the sleeve to expose the wound. 'Please stop,' Villain wanted to plead as another wave of white pain overcame them, but they bit their tongue.

Villain allowed their head to loll towards the side. They could the pressure from a hand on their cheek, making sure they wouldn't move. Not that Villain would, they just allowed everything to happen to them without their sarcastic complaints.

"Hey," a soft voice murmured. "Sleep okay?"

Yeah no, not happening.

Villain squirmed and shot the owner of the voice a sharp glare, but only got a light chuckle in response.

Pain engulfed Villain again and they jerked upwards, finally crying out. Someone shoved them back on the ground again, not as kind as what they would ideally want.

"Sorry," a sarcastic voice sounded. Sidekick. Villain clenched their teeth. How dare they take advantage of them when they were like this?

_____

Hero held Villain down quickly the second they began to whimper. Sidekick already tied a tourniquet to halt the poison flow. Or the assumed poison flow.

After it was all done and Villain remained still, Hero finally relaxed. Their hands were covered in blood and so was their face. 'Gosh is Villain tough', Hero realized admirably.

"We are gonna have to get that posion out somehow," Sidekick said and gave Hero a long look. Both knew what it meant, but neither had the courage to say it.

"Yeah," Hero agreed. The two sat in silence and watched as Henchman comforted their twin with hushes and strokes.

A twig snapped and Hero looked around. They were way too exposed on the beach, but moving Villain would cause an uproar.

They studied the woods that were lined next to the beach as far as the eye could see. Oaks and elms mostly, with the occasional pine. As Hero observed, they could see squirrels and curious deer watching them.

"Hero," Henchman said suddenly. "We need food."

Yeah, no kidding.

Hero stood up and joined Henchman next to Villain who was getting paler by the second. Their face was contorted with pain and they wouldn't make eye contact as they lost focus. Hero could tell they were losing the fight to remain aware and awake.

"Stay awake," Henchman murmured and nudged their twin. Hero gave them a quizzical look. Wouldn't it be better if they slept off the sickness?

"When Supervillain was close to us," Henchman gestured at the half-conscious Villain. "They spoke of this... animal. Actually, come to think of it, it was a scorpian. Anyway, they said that the posion got worse as the victim slept because it caused drowsiness. Villain knows this." Both looked down at Villain who was staring at the tree line, silent apart from the pained whimper that escaped their lips every now and then.

"So we take shifts?" Hero asked, thinking about how tired they were going to get if they had to do it alone. No, they erased that thought. Not everything was about them, Villain would be sicker in the morning. Especially since they weren't able to clean the nasty wound. Hero peered at it. They could see the gnarled flesh that was ripped up as the barbed tail yanked itself out of Villain. The shoulder bone was likely hit and caused multiple chips. Not to mention the torn ligaments and tendons...

Hero looked away. The more they thought about it, the worse it seemed to get.

Henchman cupped their hand around Villain's other shoulder and sighed. "I know what you are thinking Hero," they looked at them with teary eyes. "They may not make it."

Hero gulped. That thought had indeed entered their mind once or twice. It was hard not to expect Villain losing their battle. Even though the injury literally just happened twenty minutes ago, they had to realize that there was no medical care on the island, probably more bizzare creatures that Villain could not run away from, and other environmental factors that made everything more and more difficult.

As night neared, Sidekick went into the ocean to try and catch some fish. They succeeded with a large salmon that the quartet shared. Even Villain ate a couple morsels, or more realistically, Henchman stuffed it down their throat.

They decided on a shift with four hour intervals. Sidekick's smartwatch still worked, so they used that.

Hero took the fourth watch. Their "savior instincts" told them to stay up all night long, but Sidekick convinced them that it wouldn't help Villain being exhausted in the morning. So, Hero consented and fell into an uneasy sleep.

Villain was standing still. A silhouette against the setting sun. It was a gorgeous sight. The sky was a bright orange with red and yellow highlights. There was even pink and purple streaks throughout the sky. The sun was huge as it dipped behind the city's skyscrapers.

It would be beautiful if it wasn't for the fact that Villain used canes. Two canes for each arm, but it didn't help them. They couldn't walk, couldn't talk, couldn't function as a normal human being.

Their body wouldn't work for them, so when they turned to walk back where a car was waiting for them, they tripped and fell.

Hero woke with a jolt, shaking. They glanced upwards and saw Henchman tenderly shaking them.

"Your turn," Henchman yawned and laid across from Sidekick's snoring form. Hero groaned and crawled over to Villain. With the moon reflecting in their wide eyes, Hero couldn't help but admire their courage. After all, they did protect Hero whether either admitted it or not.

Hero gently shook Villain as their eyelids began to droop. They did this almost every minute. The whole time they couldn't stop thinking about their nightmare.

#villain whumpee #reluctant caretaker #tw poison #henchmen #sidekick #heros and villains

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bonesandthebees · 3 years

Text

dsmp pacific rim au headcanons

I can't draw but my brain had the idea for a pacific rim au and I was shocked that I couldn't find anyone else who'd done it before so here are some random headcanons about some of the jaeger pilot teams

Tommy and Wilbur

They met back at the academy when Wilbur was like 15 and Tommy was a feral 10 year old who liked to bite people and Wilbur was like "you're my little brother now"

Although Wilbur wasn't particularly suited to jaeger piloting, Tommy was and the two had extremely high drift compatibility so they chucked the two of them in a jaeger together

Although you're technically not supposed to graduate the academy till you're 18, Tommy was graduated early (around 16-17ish) thanks to his 'potential'

Together he and Wilbur were extremely successful at fighting kaiju and had several wins under their belts

Then one day a fight went terribly wrong and Wilbur got killed while they were drifting

After that Tommy tried to jump back into piloting with Tubbo, but it was obvious he wasn't in a good mental space for it despite how much he tried to deny it so he's currently on a mental health break

Phil and Techno

These two are living legends

Considered some of the greatest jaeger pilots of all time

Their jaeger is called The Angel of Death

Whenever anyone asks how the two of them met Phil and Techno just say they're old friends even though Techno is like around the same age as Phil's son

B/c phil was such a famous pilot he was always being transferred around the world and never got to see Wilbur much

They wrote letters to each other but only got to see each other in person on rare occasions

Finally though Phil and Techno are transferred to the same base Wilbur and Tommy are stationed at, and Wilbur introduces Phil to Tommy and there's a very awkward, kind of tense, but well-meaning reunion

Until an emergency alarm goes off and Wilbur and Tommy are called out to fight

That's the last time Phil gets to see his son :)

Tubbo and Ranboo

Tubbo for the most part was always considered a 'backup' pilot

While he and Tommy were drift compatible, they weren't as compatible as Wilbur and Tommy so Tubbo was often relegated to a backup role

Spent most of his time on the base working as an assistant to the engineering department

After Wilbur's death he and Tommy try to work as a pilot team but Tommy hasn't fully recovered mentally

One day though a new kid is transferred to the base

everyone calls him Ranboo and he's never seen without a face mask or sunglasses on

No one knows much about him except that they haven't managed to find anyone he's drift compatible with

He's very awkward and nervous but genuinely very nice as well

Tubbo takes a liking to him immediately and the two quickly become friends

One day they're just sparring for practice when a supervisor walking by realizes they're drift compatible

The two end up becoming the newest hotshot jaeger pilots with ridiculously high drift compatibility

Jack and Niki

You didn't think I'd leave team rocket out did you?

Jack and Niki were best friends from the academy and always knew they were gonna be jaeger pilots together

Used to be really good friends with Tommy and Wilbur and the four of them would hang out a lot

After Wilbur's death though things splinter between them

Jack and Tommy get into a big argument only a few months after Wilbur's death that ends up turning physical and Niki has to pry them apart

Niki logically knows that the accident wasn't Tommy's fault but a part of her resents Tommy for Wilbur's death

She knows that isn't right to think but being lost in her grief makes it hard to think straight

Her and Jack tend to stay away from Tommy after that, but while Jack is openly antagonistic to Tommy, Niki tries to still be polite to him when she sees him

that's all I'm gonna ramble about for now but I have so many ideas for this au for other characters and where they fit in so uhh if people like this I guess I'll reblog and add more headcanons?? idk let me know what your thoughts are lol

#dsmp #dream smp #dsmp au #dream smp au #pacific rim au #my post #dsmp headcanon #mcyt #sbi #sbi au #tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo

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zargsnake · 3 years

Photo

Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 9: Crix Spartak

Word Count: 2309 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

* * *

Two Years Ago

Shmi sits at a desk by the windowsill in Watto’s shop, composing fake documentation for a shipment to a more legitimate planet. She used to do this kind of thing all the time for Gardulla on Nal Hutta, and she's very good at it. Forging and faking are probably her best skills. She knows legal-speak and formatting; she has a knack for coming up with random numbers and convincing names. When she has a sample of handwriting or writing style from a real person, she can imitate it flawlessly, which she has done for business leaders, crime lords, and even Senators. When she doesn't have anything from anyone real, she invents someone. She has no honest idea what the closest Senator's name really is, but she's invented a self-serious personality and a squiggly autograph that has tricked docking-receivers as far away as Rodia.

Watto has little use of this power of hers for his day-to-day needs, but he sometimes comes up with plots to trick his neighbors using Shmi’s forgeries. And, sometimes, like now, he needs her tricks to get rid of stuff, like these ten tons of toxic waste he ended up with from a bad bet, and that he now wants to pass off as fertilizer and sell to a gullible offworld farmer who won't be able to trace it back to him.

Writing isn't bad work. It’s challenging, and, malicious as it is, she knows she could enjoy it, if she let herself: getting into people's heads, living other lives, for just a short while. It is like solving a puzzle, to figure out how to make other people believe something that isn’t true. The cruel intention of the trickery is not her own, it never is, so she doesn't let that aspect of her work bother her, not anymore.

The only bad part, from her point of view, is the knowledge that her words get to go somewhere that she does not.

And the only good part, really, is that she gets to look at her little boy as she writes. He sits on the desk, next to her cobbled-together, whirring word-processor. He is carefully cleaning a fragile hyper-carburetor with a rag, putrid green gear-soap, and a very serious expression.

Suddenly Crix Spartak pokes head through the window: “Skywalkers!”

“Crix!!” Anakin nearly drops the carb, but of course his reflexes are too fast. He spins around on the desk and grins at the gladiator.

Crix leans on the windowsill -- then lifts his arm quickly from the heated clay, and leans just one calloused elbow on the sill. “Good morning, Ani.” He reaches across and tussles his hair. The boy nearly glows with happiness.

Shmi raises her eyebrows at the man her son admires so much. “Good morning, Crix. Can we help you?”

“D’you wanna go for a spin on the old speeder?”

“YES,” answers Anakin.

“We have a lot of work to do. Not all of us have 6 free days out of 7,” answers Shmi.

“I don't have any work, Mom!”

“I can think of one or two things for you,” she tells him.

“Just a loop round the block, Shmi? You'll be back in a minute.” Crix rests his head on his hand and smiles at her, looking just like a puppy.

She looks at him with a very deliberate expression. “I can't.”

“Take me!” says Anakin, heedlessly.

“Ani! You need to stay with me while I work. I don't want you zooming around, testing the limit on your tracker-bomb.”

“I've calculated for that,” says Crix. “Your tracker-bombs are the same as mine. The loop I planned wouldn't go anywhere near the limit.”

“Please, Mom? I'll work twice as hard.”

“No need for that.”

“I'll bring him back in ten minutes.” Shmi does not look convinced. “Five minutes.”

“Please?” Anakin begs again.

“Ten minutes,” she concedes.

Anakin sets the half-cleaned carb down, crawls off the desk, moves the carb onto a shelf, and climbs back onto the desk and over the word-processor into Crix’s arms.

“I'll bring him right back to you,” says Crix.

“If you don't, I will kill you,” says Shmi.

“I'm more afraid of you than any gladiator alive!” he tells her, laughing.

“Good! You should be!”

“Is that YOUR speeder?!” Anakin interrupts them.

“Yup! -- Well. Not really. But I won it, anyway.”

“It's BEAUTIFUL!”

“Ani!” Her son looks at her. “Keep it down.”

“Sorry!”

“Have fun.”

“I will!”

Crix grins at her, drops a big yellow flower on her desk, and points at it. She rolls her eyes and he blushes and carries Anakin to the speeder to drive him around. Shmi can't compose at all without her little muse at her side. She sits there, worrying, as they drive somewhere out of sight. A minute passes, and she picks up the flower. She doesn't recognize it. It must be an import. He must have won this, too.

They return in just eight minutes.

* * *

One Year Ago

Anakin is not supposed to be in the audience of the death match. No one wants him here, not his master, not his mother, not even Crix himself.

But he just had to come. Everyone is talking about it. He’s never known anyone so talked-about, so famous. He feels so proud. Crix is like family. And everyone, all over town, is raving about him, how unstoppable he is, what a bloody, powerful killer he is. And now Crix’s master has rounded up a spectacular squad from faraway worlds, incredible people who are paying huge amounts for the chance to fight him, to fight Crix, to fight his mom’s cool boyfriend.

They say there’s monster-men, like Wookiees, and there’s even a Mando, whatever that means. Everyone is saying they’re crazy. Everyone is saying all his opponents are gonna die, shot by Crix’s bespoke mega-blaster or crushed in Crix’s bare fists. Anakin can picture it, but he can’t really believe it; he has only ever seen those hands used for good. It'll be Crix’s grandest fight yet, maybe even the grandest fight that's ever happened in the universe. No one can keep Anakin away from such a prospect!

He has an average amount of chores, but he sets his droids on them. His newest and, by far, most ambitious droid, C-3PO, isn't much for cleaning or repairing, yet, but he can speak, a little, and write, a little more. His mom bought Anakin a fairy-tale book and assigned him to copy out the letters to improve his handwriting. Anakin sets Threepio on the task instead, and hopes that his mom won't be able to tell.

He does feel guilty, but he's too excited to feel that guilty. He sneaks out without telling her. There was a sandstorm this morning; fortunately it has passed, but the leftover wind keeps kicking sand into the air.

The arena is in a different neighborhood than the slave houses. Anakin lifts up the tarp of a delivery truck and hides in there to hitch a ride. To his surprise, the truck is full of gross little creatures called gizka. They crowd around him and rub their big faces on his legs. He pulls one onto his lap and pets its soft horns and noses.

“I wonder why they're taking you to the arena? ... Oh, I bet the gladiators are gonna slaughter you.”

He finds it kind of funny, in a sad way, that these little animals are so cheerful; that their doom is close, and they have no idea. He pretends his hand is a sword and chops it on their heads, making them coo and squawk. He laughs.

Once he hears a crowd outside, he sneaks out of the truck and hides among the people. He is far from the only urchin running around, but he does not pick pockets. His mom forbids it, and they wouldn't be allowed to keep the money, anyway.

He follows the other children and soon finds the hole in the arena’s wall which they use to sneak in and out. He fits inside the thin crack without too much difficulty, and flits around the dirty, dark area behind the stadium seating. He finds a spot with a good view, between the legs of some pink-skinned person. He leans on the bench and rests his head on his arms, and watches the battles with wide eyes.

He almost doesn't recognize Crix, in a ridiculous helmet with a big feather, but the nasty red scar across his shirtless torso gives his identity away. He's touched that scar; it feels rough and scratchy.

Crix is more than just a killer; he is a performer. He yells and growls and taunts; he makes obscene gestures and even takes bites out of his opponents, both animals and people. Anakin feels shocked and uncomfortable to see him this way, but it does not lessen his affection for him. It only increases his amazement, that one person could contain two such different personalities.

Just as the pilots and farmers had predicted, Crix wins every battle with ease. His main strategy involves shooting to stun, weaken, and disarm his opponents, and then taking them down with glamorous, bloodthirsty wrestling moves. Anakin has never seen such gratuitous and extended violence before, though he has seen plenty of people die, from podrace explosions to mechanical accidents. Until today, the bloodiest thing he ever saw was someone's tracker-bomb explode their head, but some of these deaths far surpass that one. When he starts to feel dizzy, he looks away and takes deep breaths, but he is too invested to look away for long.

Something about all this murder makes him feel cold. But it isn't a real cold. And it isn't nearly as bothersome as this heat or this wind. He rests his sweaty forehead on his arms and swallows his own spit, but it is a weak comfort. The bench shakes under his arms as the audience bangs their feet on it. Anakin marvels at their energy. He wishes he was having as much fun as they are. He really is trying to enjoy himself, and he sort of is. The thrill of it all is similar to podracing, and the triumphs are satisfying. He supposes he will grow into liking it.

After forty minutes of this action, the host announces the next opponent -- the Mando, Chahlee Tiango. Anakin watches the helmeted warrior posture and pose as the audience frantically cheers and boos.

The little boy is starting to feel bored. This would be much more exciting if they were flying around on fast ships, not shooting and punching each other. The only real difference anymore is the color of the blood. But Chahlee looks like a human, meaning he'll just bleed red, which isn't anything new.

Anakin looks at Crix, whose helmet cracked in half in the last battle. Now that his face is visible, Anakin can enjoy his confident smile. He wishes his mom were here to see her boyfriend winning so much. He supposes she would hate it.

As Anakin's thoughts wander, the audience jumps to its feet and screams uproariously. Anakin fastens his eyes back on the battle.

Crix was shot right in the chest. He crumples. A wave of sand lifts from the ground and nearly covers him, like a blanket, hiding him, as if he were never there. Tiango takes a gleeful lap around the arena.

The audience is screaming far too loudly to hear anything from the announcer. The bench is shaking too much to remain a suitable armrest. Anakin stands up straight and stares ahead.

The pink legs that had framed Anakin's view now jump and move around with everyone else, obscuring the arena with cloaks and pants and boots. The other children in this hideaway start moving around, their own views also disrupted, trying to find better spots. Some of them move in front of Anakin. He lets them. He backs off further into the shade.

“Crix…” His initial shock starts to wear away, and he feels tears cross his parched face. “You were supposed to win! They all said you would!”

He had to lose eventually. No one can win every time. Mom told me he would lose, sooner or later. Everyone dies. It's okay.

It really doesn't feel okay. But this feels like podracing, too. Failing. Losing the game. He has been close to death himself a few times, especially when Sebulba is in the match.

He wipes his eyes and holds his fingers in his ears, which are popping from the terrifying decibel level of this audience. He squints his eyes and waits for the volume to settle and the people to sit back down.

What am I waiting for, though? They'll just continue with Tiango as the new champion. I don't want to watch that.

He makes a half-hearted attempt to get another good view, but one of the other children accidentally brushes up against him, and the feeling of being touched makes him deeply angry. He doesn’t trust these other kids. He doesn’t like them. They can’t understand. That wasn’t their friend who just died. It’s too loud here. And it isn’t going to get quiet. Not for a long time.

He worms out the crack in the arena wall and sees a truck that looks similar to the one he used to get here. He hides under the tarp again -- it is now empty inside. The truck jostles along, though it doesn't take exactly the same route back. It takes Anakin a little closer to home, but then it makes a turn he did not expect. He wonders if the truck will eventually come back around to the slave houses. He has no way of knowing. He fears it will wander out of range of his tracker-bomb. He jumps off the cart and walks the rest of the way home.

Chapter 10: Gafia Chumpi

#my story #my art #star wars #knightkiller: anakin and obi-wan's first adventure #shmi skywalker #anakin skywalker #crix spartak #chahlee tiango #scifi #action #cw violence #cw gore

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