#would their ship name be like. cracken
Text
seeing people ship the bracken and nutcracker is very intriguing to me can we start calling it cracken
#no hate obv i love it#would their ship name be like. cracken#idk#crowssillies#lethal company#nutcracker#lethal company nutcracker#lethal company bracken#flower man#bracken#lethal company fanart#bracken x nutcracker#lethal company cracken#thats the ship name. fuck u guys. cracken.
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
The agent pushed a little harder, he bent over and braced his hands against the table using the same dangerous tone, "And I told you at the beginning of this interview, that everything I speak is classified and that I had no interest in going through official channels." He pointedly did not look at the gauntletted bracer or the threat inherent there. His words hung in the air for a moment.
"Very good." The edge left and again the agent's voice was pleasant. "Here's a data card. Make sure that you study the information well. It won't allow you to copy it, and it will erase itself after twenty minutes of you inserting it into a reader." Again he opened his hands like a shrug, "An advance will be sent to your account, non-traceable."
A few credits were placed on the table to cover Darius' drink. "What is it those pilots you're so obsessed with like to say? Clear skies and may the force be with you."
He left.
On the data card is a list of assets to be secured and removed:
Those named starred are required, all others are suggestions which will earn additional rewards and payment.
*Supreme Commander Admiral Ackbar - Fleet/Starfighter Command
*Commander Wedge Antilles - Starfighter Command/Rogue Squadron
*Councilor Leia Organa - Provisional Council
Admiral Hiram Dreyson - Fleet Command
Major Bren Derlin - Intelligence
Captain Pash Cracken - Starfighter Command
Darius met the agent's glower with a glare of his own. He wouldn't be intimidated, not by a slinky gray-hat like this. He was still glaring even after accepting the card. The departing "well-wishes" left a sour taste in his mouth but he didn't return them, he only nodded as the man left. Good riddance.
Darius looked down at the data card and frowned deeply. Something in his gut told him he wasn't going to like this. But he'd accepted the job so he was duty bound to do it. Fortunately, there wouldn't be any way to trace this job to any Imperial sources and Tajur wasn't privy to his accounts outside of contract payments which meant this was completely on him.
The Mando's gut clenched uncomfortably and he got up from the table. He wasn't in the mood to drink now, but at least the Imp had done him the favor of paying for his table. He debated on taking the data card to the Corvid to copy down the information. Darius might not be able to duplicate the list directly, but copies were easy enough to remake from memory.
'Mm, I've got a bad feeling about this,' he thought, making his decision and heading off to his ship. He wasn't sure his pilot would be keen on this job. Or maybe he wasn't keen on getting Theo involved in a job like this? He didn't know but he would once he saw what was on the card. Still, he didn't want to read the data card too soon, lest he miss his chance at recording the data he needed for the job which would only add to things.
With a brief greeting to his pilot, he made his way into his quarters, locked the door, and proceeded to get his reader and data pad out. Ready to take notes, the Mandalorian inserted the card and felt his stomach clench.
His eyes flicked down the list of six names as dread bubbled up his throat like bile. These weren't assets. These were enemy commanders. This was private bounty - a hit job! Worse, it was for all names the Empire probably had bounties for already.
Darius pounded a fist on the table, making the datapad jump. 'Sithspit!' he thought cursing himself. 'This is why you never take a job unless you know the details!'
Shaking off his self-directed fury, Darius typed in what he could get from the list as his mind whirred on how he was going to get this done. Secure and remove. There were plenty of ways to do that and the deposit to his account was untraceable which meant no one could prove he'd stolen anything. For all anyone knew, it could've been a generous donation or a mistake. That and there was no timetable given to him either. He could take his time doing this, or earn a bounty on his head too.
After the time had exceeded its limit, Darius removed the data card from the reader and stared at it in his hand. One part of him wanted to throw it away, trash it had wiped itself. But another wanted to keep it in case something else was on it that could be useful. Maybe something some Splicer could use if he needed it.
With a soft sigh, he pocketed the wiped data card and encrypted the list he'd made on his data pad. This was going to be a tough job - not just for who he was being sent after and the security surrounding them, but the thought that he might catch his vod in the crossfire. He had to do this carefully and he had no doubt in his mind this agent would be keeping an eye on him. After all, he'd been able to find him easily enough. Why not keep tabs on him with this mission too?
0 notes
Note
Uh, is there still an angst break? Ignore this ask until your ready if so 👉😎👉
-
What was the au where Jekylls pushed down the stairs and experiences a skull crackening again? Oh well but I've been thinking of a branch of that where Jekyll doesn't know hes dead like all day. I also cant remember if that was already discussed or not
The lodgers patch him up, he complains of a headache, and goes on his merry way! He's confused why all the lodgers are so nervous and being nice to him all of the sudden, why creature is looking at him with a stange mix of empathy and pity. He was told he fell down the stairs, fell unconscious, and obtained a bit of an injury. He cant fathom why Frankenstein is "The only doctor who can treat him" why he has to constantly go to her for checkups. Why Maijabi is suddenly following him practically everywhere.
Hyde squeezes back control for a moment and tries the potion but it doesn't work. Maybe a bit of pain but certainly no transformation. Jekyll assumes his injury or whatever medication they're giving him to treat it somehow negated the effects
Jekyll complains about "suddenly blacking out" the lodgers know its because his soul is slippery. They tell him it must just be a side effect of the injury and not to worry
How long can they keep it secret from him? When does he find out? Does he? Does it get to be years only for him to realize that he hasn't aged? That he still needs checkups from Frankenstein? Does he learn sooner? Does a lodger crack and say it? Does he rot? Does he notice how so very cold he is. How animals act around him? It's all very interesting,,
-
I actually did think a bit of Jekyll's kidnappers for the amnesia kidnapping au! When drawing that lil sketch of Henry and O'Leary meeting Robert I had considered making it so O'Leary was suspicious of Lanyon like "Oh theres no news anywhere of someone matching Thomas' description who's missing. But some random people walk up claiming to know him? Begging to take him back with them?" And he'd think they were the kidnappers. But ultimately I decided against it as I felt Lanyon and Rachel were pretty clearly, genuinely concerned for "Thomas" :p
-
I tried playing assassins creed once, the first(?) one. But the controls were confusing and everything was sorta thrown all at me at once, and I got bored of it quickly
But! I went to the store the other day and just so happened to notice Syndicate was being sold for 15 dollars 👀 So I bought it because funky Victorian assassins and your influence! It's a bit less confusing then the first ac game I tried but why is going down or dropping so hard bdksnks. I'm having quite a bit of fun! If you dont count my rage and annoyance-, the B button refuses to cooperate with me unless I'm looting corpses >:(
The b button being the bane of my existence aside, I AM having fun! I like the funky outfits and I want to play as the girl twin (evie?) forever because her clothes are good and shes better at attacking than jacob(?) For some reason. Probably the stun her weapon has? Oh well! I have not unlocked any new outfits yet, nonetheless I wish there were more.
Also! I was thimking, and my current quests are taking place at 1868? Did I get that right? And Jekyll is like 35 in 1885. So in game he'd be 18! An au like I believe you mentioned sounds very interesting 👀 but I must play more to know what's going on and daydream about it
That would be the resurrection au <3
But god, I really like that branch! Especially combined with the hc that he can't feel pain bc the HJ7 and the transformations made him immune. Frankenstein patched him up and made fleshweaver to heal the crack in his skull but it still has to be bandaged, he surely broke a few bones, yet all he has to do is to be careful because it doesn't even hurt. He doesn't even realize how severe the injuries are because it doesn't hurt, it very well might just have been that he accidentally slipped at the bottom of the staircase and accidentally hit his head on the railing during his fall, rather than getting physically pushed and flying down the stairs, shattering his skull upon impact with the marble floor. Y'know what would be extra fun? If he only starts getting a bit suspicious about how severe the injury was once he realizes his lungs stop breathing for minutes at a time when he gets distracted, or his heartbeat stops dead in his chest. I know that that's not how biology or even creature works but lets say the HJ7 is funky, Zombie Jekyll my beloved. Perhaps he would only fully grasp what had happened once he blacked out too much and 'passed out', but his soul slipped out enough to leave his body unconscious on the floor while his soul/ghost was just... Watching. And it's not until Maijabi (who, as you said, follows him everywhere) immediately calls for more Lodgers saying that Henry's soul is getting unstable and Frankenstein's lousy job is starting to shine through that he fully understands that it was not a mere hit to the head. Or maybe it is when days, weeks, maybe months has passed and the headache never goes away, he only feels how his body starts feeling so much more... Fragile and delicate, that the guilt has eaten Helsby up alive and he corners him and spills everything, knowing he is going directly against what the group agreed to but not being able to keep it a secret much longer-- or maybe Creature would tell him immediately, once Henry is, for once, alone perhaps days after the initial accident. He cannot see Henry struggle to understand what is going on when he already knows what's happening to Henry, his mind, and his body. He doesn't listen to the plan that Frankenstein and the Lodgers has set up and immediately tells Henry the first moment they are alone. That would certainly be horrifying, I can only imagine how the Lodgers would find Henry after that, once he actually knows and manages to process everything. He would be so mad, not only to have been killed in the first place, but also because he was robbed of an afterlife because the Lodgers were selfish and could not accept the consequences of their actions. He would be mad, he would be so pissed and I have no doubt he might actually be mad at Maijabi too for even agreeing to help Frankenstein and the rest of the Lodgers. That anger would not stay long, though. That anger would soon turn into misery and sadness and paranoia so even as Henry has tried to push Maijabi away, Henry still ends up on his doorstep begging him to help him make sure he is not rotting, because no matter what anyone says, he is sure he can see rotten spots and patches on his skin and he is just so scared and jdhfjsdfdsfsfs... <3
--
Ooooooohhh, I was actually daydreaming about this just this morning! Granted, I woke up at 5 and began to daydream to fall asleep quicker but I still like the thought of O'Leary being suspicious of Robert/Rachel/Jasper/the Lodgers bc he is protective of 'Thomas' and doesn't want anything bad to happen to him and especially with the idea that Henry still has hallucinations and they both think he was abandoned by his family, left to rot at a mental asylum. O'Leary might very well think that it might be Henry's friends and family that dumped him that Henry had 'escaped' the hospital and that's why they knew he was missing since the Asylum itself obviously wouldn't have posted the news... I really liked Jeks idea, okay? Like a lot, I absolutely love it <3
--
Oh, the oldest AC game I played was Unity bc it was free after the Notre Dame fire, and I can confirm, I played 15 min and could not get through it even if i would have wanted to, it absolutely sucks so i have no doubt the older games are just as frustrating <3
BUT!!!! I'M SO GLAD MY CORRUPTION IS SPREADING AND YOU BOUGHT AND PLAYED IT AND ARE ENJOYING IT SO FAR!!! Trust me, Syndicate truly is an absolutely amazing game and is definitely one of my top 3 games of all time. I sometimes play it w my friend watching me play and trust me, I know that rage of trying to do smt but the character does smt else... or you try to do smt but the game doesn't react and you miss your chance... Oh well, still a wonderful game <3
My friend loves to play as Evie as well but I'm definitely playing Jacob every chance I get and I honestly get a lil pissy when I have to play as Evie bc I always prefer to play male characters, plus, I just like Jacob better bc he is a sweetheart. He is also canonically bisexual as hell!!! Have you met Abberline yet? The police officer? Him and Jacob together is one of my fave ships for the game. I also bought the ultimate/golden/whatever name it was edition so I had a bunch of extra outfits, I love the sherlock holmes outfit for Jacob but my friend keeps bullying me for it </3
Honestly? The time difference is the bane of my entire idea for the au bc if it's during their time Henry hasn't even graduated yet, and definitely not well-known enough for them to actively meet for whatever reason, and if you use the timeline for the jack the ripper dlc (in 1888) a lot of... Less than pleasant things happen so it wouldn't really make a lot of sense for a crossover to happen at that point but maybe it's just bc im a pussy and refuse to play the dlc. Rn, while imagining the au, I just imagine the 1868 timeline to be the same as the TGS timeline. I like to imagine the Frye Twins hearing about Henry and the Society and promptly breaking into his office to ask him to make poison and stuff for them. I also have a feeling that Jacob would flirt wildly with Henry and that Henry would be less-than-amused. It would also be a very fun thing with the fact that there would be two Henrys, with TGS Henry Jekyll and AC Syndicate Henry Green, soo... XD
#Man I really want to hear your journey through syndicate!!!#Oh man I cant wait until you meet Maxwell#and Crawford for that matter#he was the guy I based the crawford in the fic off of bc i had no idea what else to do <3#OHH there would also be a lot of mixup with Lucy Thorne and TGS Queen Lucy#oh i can imagine them being rivals#that would be fun <3#ask#darling-dolly-darlene#banshees au#resurrection au#amnesia kidnapping au
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Star Wars Alien Species - Gand
The Gands evolved on the planet Gand. There, they spread across the surface, founded pocket colonies, and developed a planetary monarchy.Their homeworld was discovered by outsiders sometime prior to 3951 BBY, during the Kanz Disorders. An inhospitable and isolated world located in the Shadola sector, just beyond the Centrality and near the border of Wild Space, the planet was not located on any major hyperlanes. This isolation allowed the Gand society to develop without the influence of the Galactic Republic. During the Clone Wars, aside from the participation of individual members, Gand society remained independent of the Republic.
The findsman tradition was established by the planet's monarchy and thrived for centuries until the intervention of the Galactic Empire. The Imperials took control of the slave trade and brought with them their advanced technology, which kept the number of runaways down and rendered the findsmen useless. Many Gand findsmen retired or tried to find new professions. Two such Gands were the renegade Vytor Shrike and the Rebel operative Venlyss Pnorr. However, rather than allow the tradition to face extinction, many other Gands, notably Zuckuss, took the profession offworld, finding work as bounty hunters, security advisors, and even assassins.
During the Galactic Civil War, the Gand homeworld once again had no involvement in the war, aside from the activities of various individuals. Aside from the Empire's involvement in the planet's slave trade, the Gands were largely overlooked by the Imperials. The planet managed to avoid invasion during the Yuuzhan Vong War, as well. Although many Gand refugees sought asylum on Ruan, the planet itself was overlooked by the galactic invaders. The Gands also remained removed from affairs during the Second Galactic Civil War.
Since the coming of the Empire, the insular Gands maintained tight control over how much influence outsiders had on their people. Most visitors to the planet Gand only got as close as the orbiting space stations. There were five of these structures, which were the centers of Gand commerce. Any visitors permitted on the surface of the world were sequestered in the alien quarters located in the spaceports. A few non-Gands were afforded the honor of admission into Gand society but only under the sponsorship of the janwuine or the ruetsavii. After the changeover from Galactic Empire to New Republic, the Shi'ido anthropologist Mammon Hoole included an entry on the Gands in his publication The Essential Guide to Alien Species.
The Gands evolved on the planet of Gand, an isolated Outer Rim world that boasted an atmosphere comprised of ammonia, which made it potentially lethal to oxygen-breathers. This atmosphere resulted in very little galactic influence on the planet, a state of affairs that allowed the Gands to develop a rich, yet peculiar, culture. They were considered by most other species to be a very humble society, its members soft-spoken and polite.
Gand society placed heavy importance on the achievements of an individual and held that an individual had no name, and thus no worth, until he or she proved otherwise. The speech patterns of Gands utilized third-person self-reference within each level of identity earned. Young or unproven Gands were all called "Gand," as they were considered merely aspects of the same whole. Major accomplishments earned the use of a family surname. Mastering a skill, such as becoming a findsman, allowed for the use of the given name, all with third-person self-reference. This manner of speaking was common within the spoken and written Gand language but was more predominant when a Gand spoke Basic; it was often a source of amusement to outsiders. At least one Gand, Ooryl Qrygg, expressed confusion as to what a pronoun was.
A storied Gand could earn the right to use first-person pronouns after many feats and accomplishments and the ritual aptitude test, the Janwuine-jika. In order for the Elders of Gand—the leaders of Gand society—to deem a Gand worthy to become janwuine, the highest honor a Gand could receive, they sent the ruetsavii—a group of Gands who were renowned for their own accomplishments and therefore considered able to judge the deeds of others - to observe and chronicle the exploits of the Gand in question. The ruetsavii then made the determination whether that Gand was ready to undergo the ceremony. Use of the first-person self-reference otherwise was considered arrogant, as it implied to those to whom a Gand spoke that he or she was so great that everyone knew his or her name. Once a Gand became janwuine, however, this presumption was considered a reasonable one, as all other Gands were expected to know the individual's name and accomplishments. However, even an accomplished Gand warrior often downplayed his or her achievements, and feelings of shame at one's actions made a Gand assume a reduction of accomplishments, and thus in his or her name. Such name reduction was a show of penance, and depending on the level of identity previously earned, the Gand might take to referring to him- or herself by just the surname or even as "this Gand." Some Gands who committed unspeakable acts were exiled from their society and planet. They were assumed to have discarded their culture and thus could refer to themselves in any way they wished. Failure to become a findsman was sometimes grounds for exile.
The Gands lived in pocket colonies that dotted the surface of their homeworld. These colonies, separated by seemingly endless kilometers of thick ammonia mists, were each ruled by Gand's central government. While some historians believed that the government of the Gand was a totalitarian monarchy, Gands did not possess a world for king or queen in their language, and no royal houses existed in their society. Scholars debated whether monarchies were isolated to colony worlds, if the species had moved away from this form of government, or if the original research into the government was confusing the insect-like characteristics for monarchy. During the Galactic Civil War, sociologists speculated that the Gand might govern themselves in a type of meritocratic democracy. Others theorized that the cultural and political shifts in Gand society were so frequent that the confusion derived from a rapidly changing environment. The Gands, while a primitive society, made use of galactic technology, and were proficient with the usage of advanced weaponry. However, they either outsourced their starship manufacturing to other companies, such as Byblos Drive Yards, or heavily modified captured ships, such as was done with the vehicles that were utilized by the ruetsavii. The Gand discharger was a weapon that was considered the pinnacle of Gand technology; dischargers could both paralyze or kill enemies, and they were very rare because few Gand earned them.
The planet's mists were influential in Gand culture, and the religious findsmen sects worshiped them, divining omens and signs from the currents to pinpoint the location of hidden prey. Gands had an active slave trade and penal system, and they employed the findsmen to locate runaway slaves and prisoners hiding in the enshrouding fog banks.
The Gands conducted trade and commerce on orbiting space stations that allowed visitors to avoid the poisonous atmosphere of the planet itself. Despite such contact with offworlders, Gands were seen as insular and somewhat xenophobic. Outsiders were rarely, if ever, allowed on the surface of Gand, as the insectoid species did not want their society to be tainted with the ideas of independence and self-worth that offworlders might bring. The few non-Gand allowed onto the planet were usually under the sponsorship of a janwuine Gand, or were considered hinwuine—beings of standing. Nevertheless, Gand protocol mandated that visitors tell no one of their time on Gand; to talk of such visits was considered an insult to their Gand hosts. In 7 ABY, General Airen Cracken and several other members of Rogue Squadron were invited onto Gand to witness the janwuine-jika ceremony for the pilot Ooryl Qrygg. Cracken admitted to finding the ceremony to be unsettling.
Gands or Gand, sentient, stocky humanoids whose insectoid bodies were covered in a chitinous exoskeleton. The natural, durable armor allowed the Gand to shrug off injuries that would cripple most other species. Zuckuss, a Gand bounty hunter, jumped from a third-story window, was caught in an explosion, and was even shot in the shoulder, yet he was able to continue his duties without so much as a disorienting effect. The Gand exoskeleton provided extra protection in the clavicle region, which prevented most nerve or pressure-point strikes to the neck and shoulders. In addition, Gands had the remarkable ability to regrow lost limbs. If a Gand was dismembered, it could regrow a lost limb in a few days.
The Gands possessed earholes, and large, compound eyes with a visual range that included the ultraviolet spectrum and afforded excellent night vision; however, they could not perceive colors in total darkness. The eyes were shielded with a keratin substance that served to protect them from airborne debris, such as that present in a sandstorm. Most Gands had three fingers on each hand; the digits were capable of punching through stormtrooper armor, as evidenced by Ooryl Qrygg, a Gand pilot with Rogue Squadron, on the planet Talasea. Their durability was utilized in a Gand martial arts technique known as "Piercing Touch."
The Gand species had two sexes: male and female. Despite the species' refusal to be studied, xenobiologists managed to document several of their physical variations, which included differences in exoskeleton color from brown to green, and purple. Even the shape of the head differed among individuals; some were rounded, while others, like Vaabesh, a Clone Wars–generation Gand Padawan, possessed elongated craniums. The head in some specimens divided into sections, while others had pronounced cranial ridges. Although most Gands possessed three fingers, there were a few, like the assassin R'Kayza, who had five. The surface of the exoskeleton varied, as some Gands exhibited pronounced plating, while others had a smoother texture. The eye color also varied from silver to gray, black, yellow, and turquoise.
Despite the widespread diversity, however, most Gands were classified into two subspecies: lungless and "breathers." Scientists were unsure if the breathers were of an older evolutionary stock destined to die out or further evolve, or if they were another viable race. Such Gands possessed lungs, along with the usual assortment of internal organs that were typical in most species.The lungs functioned rather efficiently, able to utilize nearly eighty–five percent of the atmosphere with each breath. Gands with lungs nevertheless were adapted to breathing only ammonia and required breath masks or similar equipment to survive in the more common oxygen–rich environments found on many planets. Oxygen exposure scoured the inside of the lungs like acid and required organ transplants if the Gand did not suffocate. If a Gand survived the initial exposure, that individual could display various respiratory symptoms, which included chest pain, shortness of breath, and coughing, which sometimes brought up blood. Since the proper bronchial and lung treatments necessary to repair the damage were uncommon off the species' homeworld, Gands stricken with oxygen inhalation were characterized by a high rate of mortality.
A breathing Gand was able to hold its breath when needed and induce a comatose state, which would reduce the perceptibility of bodily functions to a point where an observer might mistake them for dead. Zuckuss demonstrated the ability while working with another bounty hunter named Boba Fett; however, he made use of compressed ammonia canisters to extend respiration cessation for several days. The lungless Gand sub-species did not respire, as they obtained all the metabolic sustenance they needed through the ingestion of their food. Ingested materials aided in gas exchange, and waste passed through openings in the exoskeleton. This made lungless Gands immune to poisonous gases and allowed them to forgo respirators when they ventured offworld. Nevertheless, some lungless Gands wore such equipment anyway, usually to maintain anonymity.
Usually, Gands spoke their native language, also known as Gand, which to offworlders sounded like a jumble of drones and clicks. For communication with members of other species, however, lungless Gands required the aid of a muscular gas bladder. This organ, among its other uses, allowed the Gand to draw in gases and expel them at a controlled rate through pieces of the exoskeleton that vibrated to approximate speech. Such Gands also made use of translator vocoders to compensate for their lack of vocal cords. Although most Gands were incapable of speaking Basic, some Gand varieties were born with the proper organs and structure to speak other languages, Zuckuss being an example.
Gands needed only a fraction of the sleep normally required by Humans. This trait was common throughout the Gand varieties, so scientists attributed it to culture, rather than breeding. To stay awake and aware was more beneficial to the work of findsmen—a Force-sensitive religious tradition of bounty hunters that was unique to the Gand—and was a skill that was honed throughout a lifetime. Some of these findsman could communicate telepathically to all races within 60 meters of them. However, Gands were able to "store" the restorative properties of sleep for use when suspension of consciousness was inadvisable. Gands possessed regenerative abilities; for example, Ooryl Qrygg was able to regrow a severed arm within months, although he was assisted by a bacta cast. The exoskeleton appeared more pale and chalky in hue than normal until the regeneration process was complete. The consumption of alcohol often provoked a depressed mood in the species, and at least one Gand, Zuckuss, was known to suffer from schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder. Gands could also be afflicted with asthma.
A typical Gand male stands at 1.6 meters or 5.2 feet tall and weighs 80 kilograms or 176 pounds, while a typical Gand female stands at 1.4 meters or 4.6 feet tall and weighs 70 kilograms or 154 pounds.
Gands age at the following stages:
1 - 9 Child
10 - 14 Young Adult
15 - 29 Adult
30 - 45 Middle Age
46 - 60 Old
Examples of Names: Muulish, Ooryl, Shoolush, Vaabesh, Zaabahn, Zuckuss.
Languages: Gand lack the organs to speak any language other than Gand and, therefore, rely on Transliterators to communicate in other tongues.
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
random headcanons dump time + general worldbuilding stuff
- abyssal things (at least the ones who are healed and go to the surface) will have their true form revealed in the dark or in areas of shade. like.. say a ship passes underneath a ledge and an abyssal thing is on board. while they are in the shadow of the cliff, their true form will be revealed
- i think mythical creates are quite common in candle cove, and most (if not all) animals seen are some sort of mythical creature. i mean milo just has a pet dragon chilling w/ him constantly, but they aren’t just pets. it’s actually common for a ship to have a resident creature that helps project the ship (usually the captain is the one who is closest to this creature, but it’s not always the case). the laughingstock has a griffin, the rubberfishes have a manticore, and the king dice crew have a hydra. the tarantula crew had a phoenix (haha ironic)
- there are sometimes abandoned ships that sail on the waters that are regularly nicknamed “the reaper’s ferry”. this is because it’s tradition that if you defeat another crew in battle you must keep all of the corpses together, patch up the ship, and allow it to sail freely so that they find their way to the afterlife. unless sinking the ship is necessary for reasons maybe that the crew was doing things that warranted being punished for eternity in davy jone’s locker, sinking a ship is EXTREMELY bad luck, and there’s a legend that if you do this; your ship will be dragged down to the depths by the cracken
- candle cove actually has it own set of mythology (lots of it relates to the eldritch being the skintaker regularly refers to), with its own pantheon of deities and such. would LOVE to get into some of that lore at some point (one of them is about a piratelord named lady lunar who fell in love with a princess named solsmes, and she died protecting the princess during a battle against a different crew that kidnapped her. which is why eclipses happen, it’s the two of them protecting each other from harm)
- ALSO FOLKLORE. so much folklore. one of the most notorious ones is about conch shells being portals to different dimensions full of wonders and treasures
#candle cove#creepypasta#so sorry for my inactivity ive been Severly ill and also trying to balance school :cryingcat:
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Onward & Upward
Rating: Teen
Warnings: None
Tags: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios, Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios, Alexsandr Kallus, Airen Cracken, Hera Syndulla, Original Rebel Alliance Characters
Established Relationship, Kallus gets his own ship, based on a Star Wars Adventures story, probably going to be jossed soon,
Summary: As the Rebels search for a new home following the assault on Mako-Ta base, Kallus is given a new assignment.
Notes: Sequel to A Safe Haven!
I fully expect this to be proven wrong as soon as we get more Star Wars Adventures comics with Kallus and his crew in them, but damn it if I didn’t already come up with my own ideas before finding out there would be further stories.
The Lasana, as always, comes from Anath_Tsurugi’s brilliant mind.
Cross posted from AO3 to celebrate 200 followers!
Home One was a busy ship in the days after the Rebellion fled Mako-Ta base. Their retreat plans had been thrown into disarray by the arrival of Darth Vader.
Stormtroopers, even Death Troopers, could be handled. But how could regular Rebel troops hope to last against a Sith Lord?
They hadn’t been able to and they’d lost a lot of men in the trying, General Draven among them.
The Rebellion was in space, all crammed into Fleet ships while the Council debated a new base.
Kallus hoped it was news of such a base that made General Cracken, head of Intelligence, call him to his office, but he couldn’t be sure.
When Kallus entered the tiny office, Cracken – a middle-aged human with graying hair – was poring over a datapad, so Kallus stood by the door until he was acknowledged.
After a few minutes, Cracken looked up. Kallus saluted and then sat in the chair Cracken indicated.
“Captain Kallus, you’ll forgive me for running late,” Cracken said. “We’re just waiting for General Syndulla.”
Suddenly, Kallus felt like a child about to be chastised. He ran through his behavior for the last few months and couldn’t think of any way he’d offended someone. Ever since the battle of Scarif, he’d been serving as part of the Ghost’s crew, going on raids and scouting locations and other ‘in-the-field’ missions. It’d been an ideal setup, allowing him the freedom to leave the base frequently and feel like he was making a significant contribution to the Alliance while being able to share a bed and a life with Zeb.
He wouldn’t change anything.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. He chafed a little under Hera’s leadership – nothing to do with Hera herself, but Kallus had always been in command as an Imperial and he missed having the sort of authority an ISB agent wielded. He missed being in control of his own actions, his own missions, his own destiny.
A soft knock sounded and Hera slipped into the room. Kallus returned her smile, covering his nerves easily.
Hera nodded at Cracken and the general cleared his throat. “Captain, I assume you’re familiar with the Imperial Freighter we captured over Kile II?”
Kallus was indeed familiar with the ship. Zaarin’s commandos had taken control of it almost bloodlessly. “Gozanti-class,” he said. “Looks to be pre-Empire but modified for Imperial service.”
“You’re familiar with that class of ship, I understand.”
Kallus glanced at Hera, but her face betrayed nothing. “Yes, sir. I often flew or commanded one during my ISB days.”
“That’s what General Syndulla told me.” Cracken leaned forward on his desk. “Captain, you’re being reassigned.”
Reassigned? No! “Where am I needed, sir?”
“I’m granting you command of our new ship. You’ll need a crew. I’ll give you some leeway in selecting them, but you’re being assigned a protocol droid.” Cracken glanced up at Hera, who gave Kallus a soft smile.
“I’m keeping Zeb and Rex,” she said, “but you can pick almost anyone else.”
Kallus had known, in his gut, that Zeb wouldn’t leave Hera and Jacen anyway, but it hurt to hear he was being separated, even if it did mean his own command again.
“This assignment comes with a promotion,” said Cracken, pulling out a new rank tab. “Congratulations, Commander Kallus.”
Still trying to digest all the information being thrown at him, Kallus picked up the rank tab and nodded. “Thank you, sir. What sort of assignments can I expect?”
“You’ll be Fleet command, but most of your missions will come from Intelligence. I presume you don’t mind picking up the mantle of Fulcrum again?”
“I didn’t ever put it down,” Kallus said.
“Good. Then you’re dismissed, Commander. I’ll expect your crew transfer requests by the end of tomorrow.”
Kallus nodded and left in a bit of a daze. He wandered down to Home One’s main docking bay, where the newly-captured Transport 478 sat. Mechanics swarmed over it, removing carbon scoring and repainting the yellow and gray accents.
“Nice lookin’ ship, isn’t she?”
“Garazeb,” Kallus said, relief flooding his chest. “Did Hera tell you?”
“That you’re getting a promotion and a transfer? Yeah.” Zeb sounded just as enthused as Kallus was. He turned the conversation back to the ship, obviously a safer topic. “You know, she needs a new name. Something Rebellion-y.”
Kallus leaned into Zeb’s side. “You know what she kind of looks like?”
“Huh?” Zeb’s eyes narrowed as he peered at the ship. “She’s bigger ‘n the Ghost, that’s for sure. I dunno what else.”
“The paint job,” Kallus pointed out. “Yellow on top, gray on bottom. She looks like that meteorite from Bahryn. The one that kept us warm.”
“Mostly warm,” Zeb corrected. He cocked his head. “You’re right, she does. So what? Gonna name her the Meteorite?”
“Maybe. Maybe she needs a different name. Something the meteorite represented.” Kallus crossed his arms and thought. “Something to do with hope, maybe. Or warmth.”
“Ollirahnd Kasmera,” Zeb said after a few moments’ contemplation. “Means ‘Glimmer of Hope’.”
“‘Glimmer of Hope’,” Kallus repeated. He turned it over in his head a few times. “The Rebellion could use hope right now, I think.”
Zeb wrapped an arm around Kallus’s shoulder. “You think you can pilot this thing?”
Kallus scowled. “Garazeb, I’ll have you know I’m quite a good pilot. You just haven’t seen me fly much.”
“Oh? Better than me, are you?” Zeb grinned, pressing a kiss to Kallus’s temple. “I think we should test that.”
Huffing a laugh, Kallus replied, “In the simulators. I don’t want you crashing my new ship.”
Zeb gasped in feigned offense. “Alexsandr Kallus, are you implying I can’t fly a ship?”
“I know you’re a decent pilot,” Kallus said. “But you’re not a really good one. There’s a reason Hera doesn’t let you fly the Ghost, just the Phantom II.”
Zeb laughed. “Okay, good point.”
Kallus smiled, but said nothing. Slowly, his grin fell, becoming something sad and miserable. “I don’t want this,” he said. “I want to stay on the Ghost with you.”
“And I’d come with you if Hera’d let me, “ Zeb said. “But you’re a victim of your own abilities. You’re too good at this stuff. They saw you lead the commandos, they know you fly well.”
“I could refuse the promotion and position,” Kallus said. “Stay with you.”
Zeb stood there for a moment, obviously considering the idea. “No,” he said finally. “It’s where you’re needed. They were gonna split us up sooner or later.”
Kallus felt a jolt. “You’re not saying–”
“No!” Zeb said quickly. “No, I’m not saying we should split up. I’m just saying it was silly to believe we’d get to stay together the whole time.”
It wasn’t silly, Kallus wanted to argue. It was everything I was fighting for. “I suppose you’re right.”
“‘Course I’m right,” Zeb said, giving Kallus’s shoulders a squeeze. “Come on, it’s dinnertime.”
Zeb slid his arm down Kallus’s back and caught his hand so they could walk together to the mess.
The fare on Home One was not quite as varied as the food on Yavin IV had been, but it was edible and, most importantly, not a nutrient paste, so Kallus was happy with it. He picked out a few spoonfuls of promising-looking dishes and followed Zeb to an empty table.
Their table didn’t stay empty for long. Hera joined them, as did Zaarin, Kallus’s former roommate. The talk, of course, was all of Kallus’s promotion.
Hera seemed apologetic. “I’m sorry to see you two split up, but General Cracken was insistent.”
Kallus gave her a small, reassuring smile. “It’s really okay,” he said, even though it wasn’t. “It was bound to happen at some point.”
“So who’re you picking for your crew?” Zaarin asked, raking back his shaggy hair from his face. “You need a commando, right?”
“You want to give up command?” Kallus asked. “What will Orenth-2 do without you?”
“They’re planning on merging us with Major Lissiri’s unit,” Zaarin said. “So I’m history either way. Might as well go out and see the galaxy, not just battlefields.”
Kallus chewed his food, thinking. Did he really want to work with Zaarin? The man was a friend and they’d survived living together, but… well, Zaarin could be a bit grating. “Fine,” he said after a minute. “I’ll submit your name.”
“Great!” Zaarin leaned forward. “Now, if you really want to make me happy, you’ll ask that new elomin in Intelligence, too. I hear she’s killer with a Kyuzo petar.”
Everyone else at the table sighed. Zaarin’s penchant for aliens – especially aliens with horns, such as elomin – was well-known.
“Tell you what,” Kallus said. “If you can tell me her name, right now, I’ll ask her. But if she’s just ‘the new elomin…’”
“Mikal,” Zaarin answered quickly. “I do pay attention to that sort of thing, you know.”
“No, we don’t know that,” Zeb laughed. “Gotta say, I’m surprised.”
Hera grinned, too. “Looks like you’ve got two crew members already, Kallus.”
“Only if Cracken approves all the transfers,” Kallus said. “So Zaarin, you’re good with explosives and apparently this Mikal is good with melee weapons. I’m a good ranged shot. We have a droid. What are we missing?”
“You want a mechanic,” Hera said. “Can’t tell you the number of times I’ve found myself wishing we had one.”
“Hey!” Zeb protested. “I do that sort of work!”
Hera smiled. “You do and you do it well. But it’d be nice to have you in a turret while someone else works on the shields when they fail. I don’t want to have to choose where you go.”
Zeb leaned back in his chair. “Fair enough,” he said. He turned to Kallus. “Grab a verpine if you can. If not, grab Jaci.”
Kallus nodded. Jaci had never quite bounced back after losing her cousin and both her lovers so close together back on Yavin IV. Instead she’d thrown herself into her work, quickly becoming the most sought-after of the human mechanics. Kallus had a fond spot for her; she’d been one of the first people on Yavin to show him kindness. Perhaps a change would do her well. “If Daine lets her go,” he agreed. “Anyone else?”
Hera shrugged. “We got along with a group of five for a good while before Ezra joined us and I’m sure between you and Zaarin, you can smooth-talk your way out of bad situations one way or another.”
Kallus wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. He’d use diplomacy if he could but Zaarin would probably flirt his way out of trouble.
And, knowing the bastard, it would work.
“All right. I’ll get those names to Cracken.” Under the table, Kallus reached out for Zeb’s hand, giving it a soft squeeze.
“So does this make us all Fulcrum agents, too?” Zaarin asked. “‘Cause that’s really good for–”
Hera cleared her throat and Zaarin stopped mid-sentence. Continuing as if Zaarin hadn’t been about to make a lewd comment, she said, “I think Kallus will be the only Fulcrum agent, although you can talk to General Cracken if you’re truly interested.”
Zaarin laughed. “No, I’ll let K handle that one. I was just curious.”
Kallus and Zeb shared a glance and the lasat rolled his eyes. “I think Kal and I need to go,” Zeb said. “Got stuff for him to do.”
Cheeks warm with embarrassment, Kallus let himself be dragged off back to the Ghost.
“Garazeb,” Kallus said, casting about for the right words. “Are you sure you’re all right with me taking this position? We’ll both be gone so often.”
“But you’re not gone yet,” Zeb reasoned. “We’ll worry about that when it happens.” He reached out and pulled Kallus close, into a deep kiss.
Kallus closed his eyes and focused on the kiss: the taste and tang of Zeb, the feel of lips and sharp fangs against his. They’d gone through so much to get to the point where Zeb felt comfortable kissing him, Kallus hated to do anything to mess that up.
Reaching behind him, he hit the door controls and pulled Zeb back into their cabin. “Ollirahnd Kasmera,” he murmured, between kisses. “You realize Glimmer of Hope is a terribly sentimental name?”
“So call it the Glimmer. Or the Kasmera.” Zeb shrugged. “Better ‘n Glowy Rock That Kept Me Warm.”
Kallus laughed and cupped Zeb’s jaw, running his thumb through the lasat’s bristly beard. “I do love you, Garazeb,” he said.
Zeb arched his brows. “Now who’s the sentimental one, Alex?”
“Only because you made me so.”
Zeb pushed Kallus back on the bed. “Guess I rubbed off on you the right way.”
“Something like that,” Kallus laughed again.
“Tomorrow we’ll get you moved into your new quarters and then break ‘em in properly,” Zeb said. “But you’re not leaving on that ship yet. We’re still together for tonight. And I have plans for you.”
“Plans?” Kallus grinned. “Show me.”
And Zeb did.
Kallus lay there after, wrapped in Zeb’s arms, running his fingers idly through thick purple fur.
Glimmer of Hope, he thought. The Glimmer. I can work with that.
He used to think there wasn’t the slightest bit of hope for both of them to make it through the war together, but Zeb’s steady belief in something better had wormed its way into Kallus’s heart.
Thanks to Zeb, he had more than just a glimmer of hope that there was something for them on the other side of this long war.
And that something was worth fighting for.
Worth living for.
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Home is Where the Hoth Is
@starsresisted
Even for an ice planet, Hoth was cold -- not for the temperature so much as the isolation. It was worse than being in space, somehow; at least you knew that no matter how long and solitary the trip, eventually your ship would drop out of hyperspace and you would be back among the rest of the galaxy. Here, there was no such guarantee; the Rebellion might well be based on Hoth for years.
Leia didn’t think that was likely -- for one thing, the extreme conditions strained their already sparse resources and she knew that Cracken had at least a few agents out there tasked with keeping their ear to the ground for a more favorable location amdist their other, more crucial duties...and for another? She knew that no matter how tight their security, eventually everything leaked. The Empire would catch up to them; it was only a matter of time, and making the most of what they had.
That would be hard to do from in here, though. Leia gave the door another angry shove then pulled back, rubbing her shoulder. “It’s no good,” she announced, “it’s frozen solid. What laser-brain had the heat settings up high enough to start the doorframe melting, anyway? It’ll take ages for someone to de-ice all that and get us out.” Add to that the extra ten to twenty minutes that would inevitably be added to the extraction process due to the fact that it was Threepio who’d been tasked with finding someone to free them...
But Leia didn’t want to worry the impromptu companion who’d been unlucky enough to get stuck in this stupid storage room with her. She looked both young and nervous -- not that Leia herself was old by any standard of galactic reckoning, but more and more often these days she felt it. Besides, she was the princess; it was her duty to keep her cool in any crisis -- and this was hardly a crisis; more an annoyance. There was no call for her to lose her temper, at least not until she discovered the party responsible for the temporary melt and re-freeze that had them trapped in here, and she doubted it was the young woman with her.
In fact, Leia realized that not only did she not know her companion’s name but she didn’t even recognize her face. A new recruit, then. “We might as well make ourselves comfortable as we can,” she said, choosing a plastisteel crate of blaster power packs for a seat and massaging her sore shoulder. “We’ll be here a while. I’m Leia,” she added, offering her hand. “I don’t think I know you?”
#v: rebel princess#starsresisted#c: home is where the hoth is#{ so heads-up i am basically incapable of writing a starter of a reasonable length }#{ i get lost on the scene setting and just ramble on and on and ON }#{ so please don't feel like you need to try and match this! you really don't }#{ i've just got a problem XD my next reply will be more reasonable in length i promise }
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Canon: Zane Flynt fucks
Me: haha u know what this means ;))))
Me:
Me:
Me: merfolk glamour time
[[MORE]]
Alright but for real tho u wanna see how deep I am in this fucking universe? Lego
I don't even know where to begin with this universe (Zer0 is an alien! Hammerlock is a werewolf! Troy is psychic! Tannis is a skag! Wait, no, wrong shitpost...) so imma open the 140 page document and start from the beginning
Annnnd Clay! Junpai-7.
When Zane meets Clay for the first time he mentions they did a smuggling job together on Junpai-7, u know, the water planet, so obviously this is good news (This made me super happy because my discord channel's name had been the junpai-7 moon pool for a while so I was like 'holy shit it's canon now' :') )
Timeline wise this isn't the beginning, but I don't write in chronological order and I don't order anything in chronological order, either, so. Eh.
Speaking of chronological order, I once got a line where Zane was like exclaiming something and used the moon instead of idk a god or powerful figure or smth and I was like 'lmao that's canon now'
So the moon... Elpis fucking got yeeted halfway across the galaxy or smth, and, considering we've seen (more) ocean on Pandora in 3 instead of just, like, Liars Berg (getting to THAT) or Tretchers landing, I feel bad for the tides. But that's good news for everyone else. Unless you were on Elpis, I guess.
Also hoh boy the 'end' of the game where Troy Phaselocks the moon was fun to write (it actually wasn't, I lowkey hate writing Moonstruck phases because... It hurts and I can't do it well.) also can we talk about how in tps the psychos are called Moonstrucks in tvhm because this makes me so happy. I really hope they did that intentionally considering H2O is an Australian show because my two favorite things combined can and will kill me. Wait actually the Troy boss fight is gonna be hilarious to write mostly because of that one attack with the tidal waves lol oh no
Also, also, also, you guys it's only explained in a guide book and never actually in-game as to why Captain's ship is Like That (TM) so I took some liberties and uhhh blame the Crackening. I mean the crackening happened after dahl pulled out of Pandora/Elpis so it works. It sorta works. It mostly works. Fuck. It works okay? shut. That's why Liars Berg is all frozen ocean [shoves 3 page essay about climate change on Pandora into the trash] don't need that anymore.
I was gonna talk about smth else
Oh yeah
Mostly brain freeze and trick of the light. That one meme video I made of Tannis and the Flynt Brothers imposed over that one clip of H2O (so let me get this straight: you freeze things, you explode things, and you boil things) wasn't just for laughs, it was actually a warning.
Each Flynt has a thing and Zane's is ice, Baron's is explosions, and Captain's is fire. (Glorious cleansing fire) Because it fits. It fits so well. I will say right off the bat that Mako Mermaids isn't my canon. I lowkey want to write out Charlotte as well (lol) because I've seen the 2nd season so many times and tbh I much prefer them having 1 really strong power over having 3+ really weak powers. Also Charlotte did nothing wrong in the first half of that season. Cleo was just a bitch to her. And Mako Mermaids is just. Not great on the power side of things. You can TURN INVISIBLE. USE IT. Soooo. (also cam got destroyed in s1 and I'm so glad they ended up making him work in s2 and 3. Because he deserved better and Zac was a terrible friend to him and only got away with it because he's a main character). /rant sorry I have so many feelings about these shows. Grew up with them soooooo.
And if ur wondering why I brought up trick of the light it's cause the 13th year exists and that movie was bopping. U guys remember Jess? Good times... Tuba pool scene is iconic. U know the one. I would also bring up aquamarine but ngl that movie was weaksauce comparatively. They hid that bitch in a water tower and iunno talked to earrings. Meanwhile in the 13th year they bring Jess back from the fucking dead and climb on walls like Spiderman. Clearly one is superior.
"but cruddy Aurelia has ice powers too and she's not a mermaid" no she's a werewolf like her brother we already went over that. Did u think I was kidding? No! I'm never kidding unless I am and I fucking love werewolves so I'd never kid about that. I love werewolves and I love Hammerlock and it's perfect I just love the idea of this gentlemanly hunter being a werewolf because I want to see a giant hulking monster being all proper and shit. They're just really cool. Werewolves > vampires and ngl I'm sad skyrim screwed over werewolves with the dawnguard dlc. Anyway Aurelia's ice powers are nanobots as explained in-game and listen I already lore-scienced this okay? Let me say it's amazing the things science is capable of when it thinks it's trying to beat out a competitor and doesn't realize non-Siren magic exists. Even better now that we know Sirens are not Eridian and actually existed before Eridians. Makes me giddy to think about. The universe is tearing me APART Lisa.
Oh speaking of, can we talk about the witch's brew quest on eden-6 because holy shit I had been writing Hiromi and her fascination with discovering all the secret circles long before the game came out and then learning about the group of witches and The Pact (TM) made me lose my shit because 'oh my god it's actually canon now'. We're on the canon path nowwwww. Soon. I hope we get a water planet dlc. I wants it, GB, I wants it.
Also I was totally gonna write a clip in the main story of the game (because I write a lot of backstory stuff if you can't tell, I only have like 3 scenes that take place during the events of the game and like 4 that are speculatory from before the game came out (including a scene from before I realized Troy was Like That but I edited it so he's more in-line and also has Maya's powers now so that's... Hm. In line with the storyline somewhere, but not an actual scene in the games story. Because its not possible with how the game does things (seperating Vault Hunters) I suppose I could just insert a 5th Vault somewhere and say it's the 4th Vault connected to the Machine (with nekrotefeyo's being the 5th). Fuck it.) and then 9,000 are backstory) where Hiromi comes back after like decades of the two not seeing each other and she's been hired to assassinate Zane by one of the many corporations looking for his corpse for a multitude of reasons (And Emma and Nino are both d e a d a s f, you know, for context). And like Barnabas (ya old bastard) Zane is still joking around and just having a grand old time catching up with his black ops buddy meanwhile she had just tried to blow his brains out (she's a sniper) and got pretty damn close. She's not even amused because of her psychic powers so she's just like 'ok' every time he opens his mouth because she already knows what he's going to say she's mostly just frustrated that she missed because she thought she knew him well enough to go off instead of just listening to her intuition but alas people change after, like, 3 decades of not seeing them.
Oh since we're talking about Hiromi that reminds me why Zane wears the black suit. In my non-h2o universe it's because it looks cool and provides some protection from dots. In the H2Oniverse it is because it's waterproof. Okay wait hang on context so Hiromi doesn't like take off his suit or anything, she's extremely gay and not interested, because I realize now how that sounds me relating Hiromi to the clothes, they just get into an argument about how Sirens don't have to follow any arbitrary rules to hide their magic and how it's easier to hide magic without giant glowing tattoos (and mind you this is before Zane even knows Tannis exists though he does immediately know she's a Siren and that's a whole nother can of worms) and hr's like 'I wear a bodysuit for most of my waking hours, so I am pretty sure they can try wearing long sleeved shirts and makeup for a day. Just a suggestion' but like way more in character (and for the scene) because do I sound like I'm in character right now? I'm not. I'm me. And God what a terrible thing to be.
So context for the context: ~magic is real~. If you've got it then you can usually tell who else has it if you're looking. It's especially clear if they're 'similar' to you (if ur a werewolf and u meet another werewolf then you sorta just know they're a werewolf) or if you're psychic (like Hiromi) then you can make some informed guesses. Like. Same Hat? Same Hat!!! Sirens are basically such powerful magic users that they are in literally a whole nother ball park. They're leagues above everyone else. Kill you just by looking at you sort of deal. So sirens normally don't feel other magic because their own magic is so strong it just 'overwrites' the other signals. You know, to not only explain why Lilith isn't immediately like 'who the fuck are you' to Zane and also how Amara couldn't tell Tannis is a Siren. I had a whole thing with Troy (who is psychic) being able to tell Zane had magic despite being near 4 Sirens at once because Troy grew up with Tyreen always at his side so he's used to it and knows how to look through it. Meanwhile Hiromi is basically incapacitated when she's near a Siren because she gets overwhelmed because her powers make it easier for her to read other people's magic.
Oh, context, the black ops outfit worked with Atlas for a short time (the group being Zane, Hiromi, Emma, and Nino. Emma is the yeehaw captain. She's the leader) and ended up meeting Steele for a little bit. Hiromi was just dead the entire meeting, Zane was totally out of it, and Emma and Nino were too busy eyefucking to really care that there was a Siren in the room so. Just imagine one person lying face down on the floor and crying, another staring at the wall without blinking, two undressing each other with their eyes, and then Cmdt. Steele standing in the middle like 'how the fuck did I get here'.
So that was everyone's first experience with a Siren.
There are more but ehhhh I'm tired and I mostly wrote this because I wanted to talk about it with someone else but they haven't read the whole thing yet so now I can scream into the void about it and not feel like I'm bothering them.
Hooray!
#Borderlands#Me walking into the club like what up I'm about to make 0 sense#Who wants to hear about the au literally nobody else wanted??#Bl3#I realize this fandom is actually active on here so I'm slightly scared posting this#Since the last H2O au thing I posted was fucking RvB from God uhhh 3-4 years ago now? Fuck me#I put this in the queueueueue so I won't know when it goes up so I'm not anxious#Oh this is the context by the way#For that picture I posted#That I'm never going to bring up again
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
all about the lesbian sea pirate
ahsjdkflg okay im gonna do the first section above the cut and the rest under
send me an oc and some numbers pls!! | here are my ocs!
Section 1 - About:
1. Briefly Describe your OC: Appearance, personality, role in a story, etc..
okay so!! hana is half-japanese, half-german, she’s got short/spiky black hair and fucking Huge brown eyes. she’s the protagonist of a thus-unwritten pirate love story and i fucking love her. she’s superbly socially awkward (doesn’t get customs like politeness or like asking before doing things asdjkfl), she’s a Romantic romantic, she loves sword-fighting, she was raised by her father (alongside three older half-brothers, though she was chosen as the heir to his ship which hmm pissed two of them off), she’s very much butch/tomboy, she loves adventure and sailing so fucking much, uhhh yeah her.
2. Briefly describe their backstory/childhood
like i said, she was raised by her dad, who she idolizes, along with her three brothers on the sea; she never knew her mother, because her father told her that she died giving birth to hana (or did she….? hm. maybe hana’s dad is just shitty?). she was always super excited to play and go on adventures and fight, especially with her three older brothers (only one of whom actually like. liked her.), and by the time she was old enough to hold a sword, her dad taught her how to. eventually, her dad became ill, and named hana, who was only 16, his successor. her two eldest brothers planned a mutiny to overthrow her, killing the other brother who protested. hana fought them but they escaped with half her treasure, promising to come back and kill her, and she’s spent the past six years seeking them out to defeat them.
3. Describe their family life and friends.
i mean i pretty much nailed her family, but she’s very close to all the crew. i’ll give you a quick rundown: there’s caspian, her first mate/quartermaster (grew up on the ship with her, an orphan who was stolen in one of the raids, searching out his lost family but is also a big time goof), dover, her “advisor”/sailing master (wise, lazy, arrogant, bitchy, basically her pseudo-father because her father was usually off being captain), darya, her gunner (slutty bisexual aromantic queen, runs the artillery AND the under deck gambling ring, always drunk, loyal to a fault especially to hana), and zarya (we’ll get to her later ;)) and the other lower-ranking crew members.
4. What is the world they come from like?
hmmm very mystical and mysterious, very “pirates are bad and suck and we dont like them even though they’re not usually bad” but. you know. hana is still an outlaw of the land. there are mermaids and sirens and cracken and curses so it’s better to assume that if its magical it exists.
5. Are they original or exist in a certain fandom?
original!!
6. Are they an introvert or extrovert?
extroverted babey
7. Greatest fear?
being unable to sail but also, later on, (SPOILERS) being arrogant and greedy and malicious like her father
8. What’s their sense of humor like?
honestly just fucking. stupid. she probably likes puns and like dirty jokes.
9. Favorite pieces of fiction or genres they enjoy?
i dont think she can read???? but her third eldest brother bourne would usually tell her princess stories and she liked those
10. Favorite music genres?
folk ig
11. Describe their vision of a perfect spouse, if applicable.
a tall, beautiful, kindhearted woman, who sees past the pirate savagery and sees her heart beneath; a woman who can rule the sea alongside her and knows how to handle her and keep her in check. (looks at zarya meaningfully)
12. Largest regret?
not being able to save bourne
13. Something your OC would say?
my quote for her in her bio is “what am i without adventure?” but i also imagine her saying to zarya, “you are more celestial than the stars, my love, and twice as beautiful to behold.”
14. Whats their morality like?
technically lawful good but could be a roulette wheel depending on the day
15. Would they live in a city, rural area, or suburb?
oof none but if she had to probably rural
16. Which actor would you like to portray your OC? (Or a voice actor)
sjskdldldl my face claim is jen ruggirello
17. Sexuality? Gender Identity?
lesbian baby!!!!!
18. What inspired you to make this character?
honestly?? probably a lack of rep in romance and adventure novels. i just love her!!!
Section 2 - If…
1. If they existed in another decade, what would they wear? (Asker can choose what decade) (Bonus points if you draw them!)
hmmm ill pick… current day tbh, and i imagine lots of overalls and baggy sweaters!
2. If they were in a RPG, what would be their class?
i have to imagine somewhere between paladin and a fighter, im not sure which.
3. If they received a large amount of money no strings attached, what would they use it for?
i honestly think she would just. go into the nearest village and buy all the local hungry children bread. like she wouldn’t horde it or spend it on herself. she has everything she needs.
4. If they competed on a competitive TV show, how would they approach to winning? (the “mean” one, the one who makes friends, the one who’s there for fun)
hm… i honestly dont even think she would think about it like that dkdkflfl. probably the charming one, the leader, the adorkable one.
5. If they could change one thing about their past, what would it be?
i think she would choose to keep in contact with her mother. not necessarily live with her, because then she wouldnt have her first love which is the sea, but just like. talk to her. know her better. go see her every few months. write her from different ports about their adventures.
6. If you met them, what would they do?
i would honestly probably be so fucking charmed by her. shes got that way about her, a leadership quality you can’t shake, even if shes really incredibly awkward too.
7. If your character exists in another series’ world, what would they be doing/look like?
i kind of imagine her in harry potter as like. this half blood gryffindor who’s So Gryffindor it hurts. on the quidditch team, always screaming about house pride, everyone loves her. and then she goes and falls in love with this muggle born slytherin and shakes the whole school dkdkkrklr
Section 3 - Other:
1. What other OCs would they get along with?
oh… i think it’s kind of cheap to say jack, because they’re both pirates, but honestly i think they’d get on like a house on fire. other than that… definitely michael minkus, who would make an epic first mate, and lucy stilinksi-hale, who she would probably wanna smash.
2. What’s their singing voice like?
bad. comically bad. she tries to sing to zarya sometimes and zarya locks her out of their room.
3. Take a personality test as the character. Post results.
okay so ive already taken a couple for her in the past (ex: gryffindor, entj, the motivator, etc.) so im gonna take a completely benign one off buzzfeed and post the results. so if she were a song off of thank you next she would be “bad idea” skskkdkd
4. What would be their fighting style in a fighting game like Mortal Kombat, Super Smash Brothers, or Street Fighter?
to outsmart her opponent, think two moves ahead of theirs just like in real life. jokes on her no one else is ever thinking skdkkfkfl
5. What are some mannerisms/quirks?
putting her feet up on tables, walking into rooms without invitation, holing up in her cabin for days working, smirking instead of smiling, smoking, docking in random cities for the thrill of adventure, wearing her blouses nearly completely unbuttoned, just taking things and enforcing sharing bc. she’s always shared everything with everyone naturally and she doesnt know to ask djdkfkfk
6. Describe their favorite meal.
honestly she’ll eat anything but just like. a Nice leg of mutton and a glass of beer. that’s it. that’s the dream.
7. What do they do when they’re bored?
her favorite activity is to randomly attack caspian and have impromptu sword fights with him, but she also loves stargazing and telling stories to the town children.
8. How do they express love/affection for someone?
honestly she’s very. nuzzley. soft. like a little kitten. also waxes poetic. at least romantically. platonically, shes usually like a dad friend sjdkkrlr. like im talking “attaboy” and punches on the arm. pep talks. dad voice. the whole nine yards.
9. Most embarrassing thing that could/has happened to them?
honestly, she’s not easily embarrassed ever. i think she’s kind of just like meh over most things. the most embarrassing thing that could happen would be losing the respect of her crew. she would hate that so much.
10. Make a portrait sketch of them!
#nicole#hana#oc stuff#love her!!!! so much!!!!!!!#loveallthatjazz#what kind of woman doesnt have an ask#long post#go all the way to the bottom of this post to see a qt uwu#katie writes#wow i went off
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Recruitment
Dav hunkers down as another explosion rocks the structure at the end of the alley. Poor bloody bastards, they must have had a decent ammo store. Well, that’s his recruitment mission shot for shit, then.
It should have been such a good source of people, too. This mission had looked like repaying his time threefold, with intel and new recruits and supply deals, up until tonight and this. Chaos and ruin; a battalion of Stormtroopers surrounding the main base of operations of the cell, pouring out gunfire, giving no quarter to the desperate survivors who managed to struggle out of the warren of alleys and the building they surrounded. Which had just been detonated, blown into the bleak evening sky.
Pretty much every soul he’s met in the past week is now lying dead, either buried under the rubble or sprawled in the blaster-ridden street, in snow that was once grey but is now the colour of blood. And if he hadn’t gone back to the ship to pick up a spare datapad he would have been dead alongside them.
Damn, damn, damn.
Poor bloody bastards, mown down like sky-corn.
There’s no point in staying here now, though, he’ll just risk drawing attention to himself if he does. He can’t help the dead. If he lingers to scatter just one of their bodies with a handful of dirt and say a prayer over them it won’t bring an iota of good to their cause or their dreams of freedom. They’ll still have lost every hope they ever lived for. Rank sentiment to feel someone should show respect foe the dead, he should have set that aside years ago. The dead are dead.
He imagines Colonel Cracken’s distaste if his superior officer could hear his thoughts. Prayers, funerary rites? Wake up, kiddo, we’re in a fucking war here, an undeclared, unwearying, goddammed war that will never be ended by good intentions or cherished customs and kindnesses, and respect for the fucking dead.
The bombardment seems to have stopped and there are fewer troops visible already. They’re moving through the wreckage, picking off anyone still alive; he hears an occasional single shot, the kind of neat point-blank fire that eliminates the need to take prisoners. A wait, for the mopping-up to be over, and he can at least count the bodies, report back on the casualties here. One less Separatist group that will never find its way to allying with the rebellion.
He peers over the wall. The sight of the fallen men and women lying in their blood is wrenching, and he curses himself harshly into calm. Report their deaths and serve the cause they died for; or rather, your own cause, that could have marched alongside theirs, given a chance.
Pull yourself together, man.
It’s a milder night than usual, the spring sky overcast, the blood still wet on the ground. Wet, and pooling, the churned-up slushy snow thawed in places by the body heat of the dead.
A wriggle of movement catches his eye suddenly; the tiniest ghost of motion, he would have missed it altogether if he hadn’t been staring transfixed at the horror of the street. In the gutter – in the blood in the gutter – worming slowly and carefully backwards towards the low brick arch of a culvert, with his gaze still locked on the last ‘troopers inspecting the destruction – is a child.
Dark hair; dark clothes that wrinkle and bag around him, ill-fitting on a skinny frame; and when the kid glances round at the dark archway Dav sees a face that is thin and shadowed yet still has the round cheeks of neoteny. Nine, maybe ten years old?
There’s a glimpse of something pale in the shadows of the culvert; he squints, just as it moves forward and resolves into another face that peering out. A second kid, slightly older, a glare of rage and grief crouching in hiding while the smaller child does the reconnaissance.
The child crawling in blood; he looks almost feverishly calm.
The boy in the culvert is familiar; Annio, Dav thinks after a moment. Geferel’s son. Geferel, the cell’s charismatic but impulsive commander, is one of the dead women and men lying in the street.
He’s never seen the other kid before.
He watches as the child creeps backwards into the drain and slithers down; sees him pushing away the older boy’s grabbing hands, hushing a garbled question coolly as they both crouch in the darkness.
It’s another half hour before the coast is definitely clear, and he gives it as long again before venturing out of his safe corner tucked behind the low wall around a garbage store. His path to the drain arch takes him past one of the bodies, a girl of 17 or 18 whose head has been blown half-off by close-range fire. That kid slid right past her; probably has her blood on his clothes now. Dav hesitates a second before pausing to scoop up a handful of the bloody gravel and slush, casting it over her remains. He doesn’t stay long enough to recite even a line of prayer, but the words echo in his mind just the same, spinning like a sick melody alongside a cynical inner reminder of how worthless they are.
He crouches low and hurries to the spot where the two children vanished.
He checks the street one more time, but there’s no sign of the enemy in the gathering duck. They struck hard and thorough, took no prisoners, and left no part of the cell’s HQ standing; but now they’ve gone and it’s started to snow again. The temperature is falling fast and the blood that hasn’t trickled away into the drains is beginning to freeze. Red ice forms on the grey snow.
If those children have nowhere to go better than this, will they even last till morning?
Dav crouches, blaster in hand, and peers inside the culvert.
There’s nothing for a moment; darkness, silence. Then with a sudden rustle and a current of stinking air the older boy materialises, waving a vibroblade, launching himself with a face contorted in fear and rage. Dav flinches, ancient instinct holding him back from killing a child; and in the split second before he can master himself and bring his weapon to bear, a shadow hurls itself out of the dark on top of Annio.
The two boys tussle for a moment, Annio gasping and cursing and the other spitting in a harsh half-broken voice “¡Déjalo, deja!”
The fight resolves into Annio on the floor of the drain, knee deep in filth, and the younger kid standing over him, with the knife in his hand. “¡Idiota que eres, bájate!” he says furiously.
“¡Hijo de –“
“¡Y cállate! Pendejo, ¿no reconoces ese cabrón? Es el republicano. Con tu madre, ¿no t’accuerdes? ¡Idiota!” He flings the blade down in the mess of blood and waste; turns to Dav. “What do you do here? His mother is dead. All dead, only us left.” His Basic is accented but good.
“I know,” Dav says. “I can get you off-planet. If you want. I thought you might need help.” Bracing himself on the archway he clambers down into the darkness to join them. It’s too low to stand upright, and the floor of the drain squelches under his boots.
“No help,” Annio hisses, pulling himself upright. “¡Hijo de puta Republicano!” He spits pointlessly into the dirt. “You’re Alliance. Alliance to restore the Republic. We don’t want the fucking Republic, that’s what we are fighting against!” He adds something fast and guttural to the younger boy, in a Festi so slangy as to be incomprehensible. Then “Leave us alone! We will go to Ore City, there’s a cadre there. We will join with them.”
Not exactly heading for a career in Intelligence, are you, boy? Dav sighs. “Ore City is a two day journey by speeder; a week away on foot. And your mother didn’t think much of the cell there. Force grant her rest,” he adds, because sweet stars, the woman is lying dead not twenty metres away. “I know the Festan resistance started as a Separatist movement but realists like Geferel have recognized that the Republic isn’t your enemy anymore now. It barely even exists except in name; it’s a tyranny, one man’s fiefdom; in all but name, an Empire. You seem like smart lads –“ well, one of you does, anyway –“ you must have noticed things changing. The men you fight – the way they fight…”
The skinny kid is already nodding. Reluctantly Annio does too. “They shoot faster,” he says. “No more bull-horn, no more Stand down your protest – they just shoot at us.”
Dav gives him a nod. It’s a fair observation. He turns his eyes to the other boy, tilting his head on one side as if to say Anything else?
Gets a curt nod in reply, as adult as his own. “Different tactics. Different uniforms, better weapons and more of them. Different formations and dispositions. The curfews are used differently too, not to keep peace anymore – to justify punishing. And they made everyone take an oath of citizenship. But they said we are all citizens anyway. So why make them swear it at gunpoint?”
And that is more than an observation. It’s a report. With analysis.
“Did you two swear?”
Annio shakes his head. “Mother hid me. He did though.” For a moment, looking at his companion, his eyes are venomous.
The second boy draws himself up. “I did not!”
They glare at one another. Dav prompts the lad quickly “Go on.”
“I didn’t. I’m too young. They said I was, not me. The ‘troopers said. They told me to go. But I stayed to watch. I listened. Nobody saw me, nobody cares about kids like us. I wanted to know what happened. What they made people say.”
Oh, we could use a kid like you… “And?”
“It was a – a bad oath. Bad words –“ for the first time his excellent Basic falters, as though the recollection hampers his speech. “Bad words and with – violence. If I had sworn I would want to undo it, that oath.” He has very bright dark eyes, this child, looking up at Dav from that babyish face; but the adolescent creaking in his voice suggests he’s older than he looks, perhaps eleven or twelve. “I want my promises to be clean.”
There’s a silence for a moment, at the emphatic innocence of those words and their honour.
“There’s a place for you both with the Alliance,” Dav says. “You’d be safe, have enough to eat. We have weapons, we’d train you. A chance to fight, help make a real difference. Avenge your families.” It’s the most truncated recruitment spiel imaginable, murmured in the stinking dark to these two kids because anything, surely, even this, is better than leaving them to Force-knows what horrors here on occupied Fest.
“Come with me!” says Annio urgently. “Ore City. ¡Ven conmigo!”
“Vete a la Ciudad, Annio. Estarás seguro ahí.”
“¡Ven conmigo, Cassian!”
“¡Tu, ven conmigo!”
Annio frowns, bewildered and bitter. “¿Luchar con ellos? ¿Con la Republica? No, jamás. No puedo.”
They stare at one another with the mutual blank pitying incomprehension of the idealist and the pragmatist.
Or, if not wholly a pragmatist, soon to be one. I can make him, we can make him, one.
Cassian crouches down for a moment, running his left hand through the bloody filth at his feet; he straightens holding Annio’s vibroblade and shakes the muck from it; closes it up and offers it back to the older boy. “Que la Fuerza te acompañe.”
“No te entiendo, no entiendo porque, porque haces –“ Annio’s face is stricken suddenly, all the animosity vanishing as it dawns on him he’s alone. “Cassian, ¡por favor, no!”
“Buen suerte, Annio. Vaya con esperanza.”
He half expects them to embrace, after the heat of their argument; but they just stare, until finally Annio swallows and nods his head once, and steps back, his fist tightening on the dirty knife handle.
“If you change your mind,” Dav says into the dark as he vanishes “ask at Stone Corner Spaceport for Darvo Dreckan’s ship. I won’t be leaving for an hour or two yet.”
There’s no reply.
When he turns round, the boy Cassian is already hoisting himself out of the drain, scanning the ruins almost casually for hostiles. He glances back saying “It’s clear. We need to move, señor.”
There it is, that cracked note in his larynx again. A boy whose voice is just starting to break.
A child. I’ve recruited a child.
He’s recruited a realist; saved a child.
I should have tried harder to save them both. What are Annio’s chances of reaching Ore City, alone, in the middle of a clamp-down?
And yet –
Better one willing recruit than two who don’t want to be there
Better one life saved than both of them lost
Better a child soldier than yet another dead child
I’ve done what I can, I’ve done all that I can, and we need to move…
He holsters the blaster and braces himself on the lip of the culvert, swings up and out, into the bloody street. “Let’s go, Cassian.”
Read it on AO3
#rogueonefirstanniversary#rogue one anniversary celebrations#prompt for day one: Favourite character#Cassian Andor#Davtis Draven#child Cassian#Draven is not a dick#my writing
26 notes
·
View notes
Photo
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…
...a girl named Hermione Granger was born on the planet Coruscant. She was precociously clever and excelled at school. When she announced an interest in politics her parents were not surprised, although they had hoped that she might follow them into the medical sciences instead. But Hermione had discovered that there was injustice in the galaxy, on her own homeworld no less, and she wanted to end it. Unfortunately the Galactic Empire was not known for being a regime that promoted equality and tolerance and when at the tender age of sixteen she joined an underground resistance group it was her parents who paid the ultimate price for her sense of justice.
A talented slicer, but not nearly as talented as she thought she was, Hermione’s computer sabotage had left a trail leading right back to her house. While she was at school one afternoon the Empire came calling; whether her parents figured out that it was their daughter that Isard was really looking for and took the blame to protect her or whether they died as innocent, ignorant collateral damage of their daughter’s rebellion, Hermione will never know. All she knows is that they died, and it was her fault. Fleeing before the Empire could do the same to her, she buried herself in the underlevels of Coruscant where she got another education: as a human, she had grown-up with certain privileges that she was now forced to confront, being surrounded by so many disenfranchised aliens. She realized that the group of insurrectionists she had allied herself with – humans all – had just been dilettantes playing at justice, and it was the people down below who really understood and needed it.
Not wanting to be some useless, well-intentioned dabbler but rather an active member of actual change, Hermione decided to stop playing around on Coruscant and join the Rebel Alliance itself. It took a while to track down the nomadic underground group, and even when she had it at first it seemed like joining had been a mistake because the first place the Rebels went was Hoth where all of them – including Hermione – almost died. After escaping Veers and Vader by the skin of their collective teeth, the Rebellion kept on the move and Hermione finally settled in to the guerrilla-fighter lifestyle.
She soon proved herself talented in interpreting Imperial codes and communications although she chaffed at her role as “support staff,” wanting to get out into the field and hurt the Empire properly and personally. When a mission came up that required someone who could pass for a diplomatic aide, Hermione jumped at the chance to put her Coruscant education to use. After a quick crash-course in blaster fighting, lock-slicing, disguise, hand-to-hand combat, and a few other rudimentary survival lessons that her prior education had neglected to cover in order to prepare her for field work, she was smuggled onto Corellia to join a cell of rebels trying to infiltrate the Diktat’s palace during a gala.
Posing as an assistant to the delegation from Thyferra, Hermione managed to not only administer a virus to the Diktat’s computers that would give the Rebel slicers a permanent back-door to his system, but also to plant the listening devices she had been given in his private offices. Unfortunately she was caught by a young Corsec Officer when she tried to leave, although he seemed to buy her back-up story of being a common thief and arrested her under the auspices of local law enforcement rather than turning her over to the Imperials as a Rebel spy – at least until Kirtan Loor started nosing around, at which point Officer Weasley broke her out of the jail he had just put her in and smuggled her to his family’s home, where she spent the next three weeks in hiding while the authorities searched for her.
After the heat died down the Rebels sent transport to get her off Corellia, and one of the Corsec Officer’s younger brothers came with her to join the Rebellion as well – much to Hermione’s annoyance, since she couldn’t seem to avoid crossing paths with the irritating new recruit no matter what she did! It wasn’t until Lieutenant Weasley was shot down and went EV during the battle over the Forest Moon of Endor that Hermione realized that the reason she found him so annoying was because she had developed feelings for him that were more than mere comradeship, but after he was discharged from medical their assignments for the Rebellion – now the burgeoning New Republic – kept them on opposite sides of the galaxy and she had no chance to examine what those feelings really were.
Preferring to focus on more important things anyway, Hermione threw herself into the fight with renewed passion, volunteering for more field work and infiltration missions despite her greater value as an analyst. She still enjoyed parsing data and breaking codes, but she had developed a taste for action and danger, and while logic told her that she was more valuable behind a holoscreen her heart argued that the best way to help win the fight was to actually be in the fight, and more often than not her heart won. When she was recruited by Airen Cracken to join the New Republic’s intelligence division, she found herself in the best – or worst – of all possible worlds: sent with small, secretive cells of highly-trained agents to Imperial-occupied planets ahead of the fleet to analyze their defenses, sow discord, and sabotage whatever their team could get their hands on.
It was dangerous, stressful, exhausting work, and Hermione loved it. The Empire was finally crumbling and while there was a lot of work ahead, the New Republic had truly brought freedom and hope back to the galaxy.
Basic Verse Setup:
This verse can be played at any point in the Galactic Civil War or during the continued adventures of the New Republic through the rise and fall of the Galactic Alliance, although I admit to having only a passing knowledge of the Yuuzhan Vong War and so would prefer to skip that era. Can be played either as very canon-centric or with only a passing reference to the canonical events of the greater Star Wars galaxy.
This verse is set in the old Legends Expanded Universe because that is the canon with which I am familiar; I am happy to play in the new canon as well but I may need some hints and tips to fill in necessary background details!
Options for Potential Plotlines:
Obviously if you play any of the Weasleys your backstory and origins in this verse are 100% yours to define; I just added them to Hermione’s history because it felt more like her if she had a few familiar faces in there with her!
Hermione could be assigned to a fighter squadron to assist them with their missions or even their technology. Perhaps she proves herself to be a capable gunner and ends up being press-ganged into the squad by necessity due to attrition in the ranks, or has to help rescue a pilot or their squad when they’re shot down over the planet that Hermione’s intelligence cell was stationed on?
If you play an Imperial character, one or the other of our characters could be “under cover” on a mission where they end up befriending (or not!) one another only to be forced to betray each other (or not!) for their respective causes.
There’s no such thing as “magic” in the Star Wars galaxy, but a latent Force Sensitivity could serve as a stand-in; Hermione is no Jedi, but she might have just enough connection to the Force to make her a useful ally for someone who is. Certainly she could be counted on to know a lot of esoteric facts about the old Jedi Order if someone were trying to research the ways of the Force or the galaxy’s past in general…
This verse can be easily adjusted to place Hermione in the Resistance instead of the Rebellion; either she can be an old Rebel hero who stuck with Leia or she can be a member of the new generation of fighters flocking to Leia’s banner for the first time.
Interaction Notes: The above history can readily be altered to put Hermione in a more appropriate place for whatever plots you want to play-out and should be taken as merely a basic foundation rather than a settled canon. Any and all characters, relationships, ships, or plotlines are welcome in this verse regardless of what fandom or canon they originate in!
#star wars indie rp#indie star wars rp#indie fandom rp#open verse#verse#v: fandom verse#queue your study schedule#v: star wars
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
pkdthoang
Sans titre
davidagren
David Agren
gutenachtwort
Zur Website
estherte
Box of EstherTê
curiositiesbydickens
Tukang listrik karawaci