#the command tower is designed to be an all-or-nothing defensive area

[swan2swan]

Star Wars nerds will really point at a ship designed to command and direct scores of smaller craft in the midst of pitched three-dimensional warfare while simultaneously relaying communications between ground armies hundreds of miles apart on the planet below whie simultaneously surveying the battle zone around the ship itself and directing its own hundreds of weapons and say “Wow, putting the command center on a tall tower is a ridiculously obvious design flaw.”

#''well that's why they have communications relays and automation and sensors'' there are sensor jammers #ion blasts #one good hit to your sensor towers could blind you if your bridge is deep #the command tower is designed to be an all-or-nothing defensive area #heavy shields lots of guns surrounding it and a penchant for keeping it away from the battlefield #these things are MOTHERSHIPS #keeping the antennae close to the bridge minimizes delay and feedback and interference #meaning maximum synchronization and heightened efficacy #star wars #star destroyers #look #evrery time

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Merging multiple species into society

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

Across the landing field the ground crews were in frantic motion. Landing pads that had been used as temporary supply dumps were cleared, refugees and civilians were moved up for transport off world, and for the first time in seven months the Galaxian base commander braided his face tentacles.

From his office overlooking the entire compound, Commander Zavar kept watch of the progress from the corner of his eye while his main focus was on the mirror in front of him. Carefully observing his reflection he intertwined the several dozen chest length tentacles that grew just beneath his jaw into elegant patterns.

He hadn’t bothered to for the last few months as the braiding of tentacles was meant to show a sign of respect. A Galaxian with unbraided tentacles was essentially stating that whomever they spoke with they held them in low regard. Zavar hadn’t braided them for some time as he felt no need to show signs of respect to anyone under his command.

It had been months since the landing base was established with the intent to use it as a jumping off point in new offensives. When Zavar had been given command he felt that he would be helping bring an end to this bloody conflict by maintaining such a crucial facility. Yet just as the offensive was about to begin their enemies decided to launch a massive counter offensive on an entirely different continent. In short order the manpower which had been set aside for the Galaxian offensive was pulled away to mount a rapid defense and halt this no enemy offensive.  

One by one troop ships stopped coming to his base and requested materials became increasingly diverted to other theaters of the war until finally this once crucial launching point became nothing more than a gas station for passing supply ships.

He grimaced as he made a wrong twist while braiding remembering his degrading morale and the effect it had on those under him. The drive that had once fueled Zavar was sapped away by months of repetitive supply transfers and paperwork, and this soon turned to ever laxening of base discipline among the work crews. When Zavar’s second in command came to him with information that several of the crews had taken an abandoned storage building and had turned it into an entertainment club of sorts, all he did at the time was put on his military cap and take a walk over to it for a drink himself.

That had all changed last night when in the middle of darkness moon Zavar had received an offworld communication from central command. After weeks of careful negotiation the human government they had agreed to join the war effort on the Galaxian side. A substantial force of at least four of their divisions had already arrived in system and would be sending down a battalion of 500 soldiers to further secure and expand Zavar’s base.

Within moment of the calls end Zavar had ordered all of his crews to standby and began issuing orders with renewed fire. As Zavar finished braiding his tentacles and looked out across his base he saw all of the landing pads had been cleared, and with moments to spare.

A loud rumbling could be heard and Zavar could feel the room slowly vibrating as he looked to the clouded skies.

Breaching through the murky grey clouds that had covered the sky for weeks Zavar saw a human landing craft. It was a bulky black mass of metal with a design reminiscent of an overweight bird Zavar thought as it slowly descended towards the base. He was slightly disappointed in the lacking design aesthetics of the human craft, but he had remembered that these transports were designed for carrying large amounts of troops to safe areas rather than enemy held landings. Zavar watched it for a few moments more before leaving his office and making for the landing pads.

It was a short ride from his office to landing pad three were Zavar met his second in command already waiting with a small detachment of honor guard. He exited the vehicle just as the landing craft set down sending gusts of wind out from the engines as they slowly died down.

As Zavar took his place at the head of the honor guard the loading door of the transport popped open with a loud thud and began to lower.

He had heard stories of humans before, how they were great warriors of the highest caliber, that their reflexes were heightened to such a level in the heat of battle they could see an enemy from miles away, that they could lose limbs and heal after a period of time only to forge new ones and return for more combat; truly these beings would bring a swift end to this war.

The ramp finally touched the surface of the landing pad and Zavar could finally see inside of the transport. What he saw rather surprised him however…..

At the top of the ramp stood several ranks of human soldiers dressed in combat gear, but at the head of them was a uniformed Kliptec; their serpent body draped across the decking of the craft.

Zavar cast a side long glance at his second who looked as dumb founded as Zavar was feeling before looking back at the Kliptec. Their upper body was humanoid in shape, yet they bore more hallmarks of a reptile. Scaled skin, slit like eyes, sharpened fingers, and in place of feet was a roughly six foot long tail.

As the Kliptec slithered down the ramp towards Zavar and the front ranks of humans followed Zavar was greeted by further confusion. Mixed in with the humans soldiers Zavar noted several other species not native to the human worlds.

A Draxic casually stomped forward with the ranks appearing to carry some form of heavy weapon casually over their shoulder, a Flinchestet with a communication device glided across the decking as if its limbs could not be bothered to touch the floor, a Valmorian with a red cross painted across their helmet stood alongside a Combra whose face had been ritually scared for the coming battles; but most surprising of all was the towering figure at the very back of the transport.

A hive warrior drone draped in the uniform of humanity. It held no weapon between its claws but Zavar was positive it would have no need of such a device to rip through the lot of them. Some of the honor guard made let out whimper of fear and one even went so far as to start to bring their weapon to bear.

With only a look Zavar’s second command was at the guard’s side and snatched the weapon from his hands in a single motion.

“Be. Calm.” Those two words were all he said to the guard before returning to his place next to Zavar, the weapon he had taken from the guard clutched at his side.

His men looked at their commander with silent awe as they saw Zavar look unphased at the sudden turn of events. Instead of humanity’s reinforcements they appeared to have been given a cavalcade of species that had once fought against humanity. In truth Zavar was deeply concerned about this development, but the one thing keeping him from panicking was his observations of the actual human soldiers present.

Their eyes lacked a sense of fear one would normally experience when coming upon something, or someone, so unnatural to themselves. They were alert and disciplined which was all that Zavar needed to know to reassure him that things were as they should be.

The Kliptec finally slithered in front of Zavar and gave a crisp salute which Zavar returned with a bow of comradery.

“Lt. Colonel Reginal Seth of the 17th Engineer battalion.” the Kliptec said.

“Base Commander Zavar Hatsval,” Zavar replied as he motion to his second, “and my second Xixvil Nog, of the Galaxian expeditionary force.”

“I must admit,” Zavar began as the column of forces began marching past the trio, “when I heard we were getting human reinforcements I was not expecting this.”

Reginal’s sighed and rolled his eyes as if he had heard that same statement a thousand times before.

“Our military allows anyone to enlist so long as they were born within our borders.” he stated as he turned to see his soldiers march by to the storage facilities. “It is an efficient system to use every natural resource available to your advantage, so why limit to a single species military?”

“We do not ask others to fight in our stead.” Xixvil spoke as he watched several humans walk by.

“And how has that turned out for you here?” Reginal said as his serpent mouth twisted to a half grin. “Because from where I am it looks like we’re here to fight in your stead.”

Xixvil’s mouth dropped open in shock before morphing into one of anger while Reginal continued smirking. Zavar thought he was about to see his second lash out when the hive drone he had seen before marched over to them.

It stood easily twice as high as a Galaxian and three times as high as the human soldiers around it. Its collection of eyes were constantly darting around randomly as if trying to observe everything at once while it hovered over the trio. It slowly opened its mouth to reveal rows of sharpened teeth as it surprised Zavar once again.  

“Dro…..go…..where?”

In all of his life in the Galaxian military he had never heard of a hive drone capable of speech. In the past the Galaxian’s had fought several wars with the Hive and at every encounter the drone warrior caste was found to be near mindless killing machines without a queen’s control. To hear one speak in a language he could understand, let alone in broken sentences was enough to end the careers of several Galaxian biologists.

“Report to Sgt Morris, Dro.” Reginal said as if the tower beast of flesh and chitin before him was just another average soldier.

The drone’s eyes stopped twitching for a moment as if concentrating before continuing “Morris…..yes…find…Morris….going….now…sir.” It tilted a blade like appendage which took a moment for Zavar to realize it was saluting Reginal which the Kliptec swiftly returned.

“Carry on Dro.”

With that the drone shambled off after the majority of humans who had left the landing zone leaving only a few behind to begin unloading the battalion’s equipment. Reginal turned to them and handed them a data pad. “Once our gear is unloaded we will begin expanding the landing fields by three additional pads. After that we’ll start reinforcing the outer perimeter walls and compound infrastructure.”

Zavar took the data pad and began going over the details while Xixvil continued to watch Dro walk away.

“I do not mean to be rude, but why did you call that drone “Dro”?” Xixvil asked once the drone was far enough away.

Reginal shrugged, an oddly human gesture for such an alien being, before answering “That’s his name; Dro Harris.”

“It was my understanding that hive drones lacked the capacity to develop individuality.” Xixvil continued as he watched the drone in the distance stop in front of a humanoid looking figure before following them into a storage bay.

“Normally they aren’t able to, but humans have this strange ability to impart personalities into beings should they stay around them long enough.”

Both Zavar and Xixvil looked at Reginal dumbfounded.

“Are you serious?” they asked, to which Reginal simply nodded.

“One of his parents fought in the human hive wars and took an egg back as a trophy. Turns out it hatched and they decided to raise him as their son.”

“I can’t imagine humans reacted well to a hive drone in their midst.”

To their surprised Reginal shook his head. “From what he’s told me he used to be a successful actor before he enlisted; he was popular in fast food commercials.”

“Now I know you are making things up.” Zavar cut in, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Humans do weird things like this all the time,” Reginal said, “they act distant at first but once they warm up to you the majority of them will welcome you with open arms and treat you like kin.”

He stretched out his arms so Zavar and Xixvil could get a good look at him.

“People assume humans are barbaric isolationist xenophiles, and while it is true there are some of them out there they do not make up the entirety of humanity.”

“There are humans that will sit down with complete strangers and within an hour be closer than brothers with them, humans that will drop everything to come help you even when there is no benefit to themselves, humans that will check up on you just to see if you are alright.”

“It’s weird but at times it’s almost as if humanity has been sick of just knowing only humans and will throw themselves at anything different just so they can experience something new, something exotic and exciting.”

Reginal looked at the two Galaxians as they took in what he had to say and shook his head. He gave a quick salute and then slithered after his men as the heavy equipment began rolling off the transport leaving the Galaxians in the dust.  

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

[itsbenedict]

I didn’t post about everything I played this year, so here’s my opinions on the stuff I played that I didn’t make a rec post for:

Raging Loop 

Raging Loop is one of them twisty meta Zero Escape-y branching-path visual novels where an ensemble cast is trapped in a mysterious circumstance where people are dying gruesomely, and you have to find out what’s happening and stop it by looping a bunch. 

I can’t wholeheartedly recommend it, because... it tries to have its cake and eat it too with the supernatural elements. Clearly magic is real and has important impacts on the scenario, but then other parts are trickery you’re supposed to see through, and it’s entirely uninterested in cluing you in to how that trickery was accomplished. Not exactly a fair play mystery, in that regard- you have to kind of just be along for the ride, rather than try to figure it out.

That said, it’s a good ride- pretty strong character writing, and the central conceit of the Werewolf/Mafia-style murder scenario creates really interesting drama. It’s more concerned with making itself feel clever than letting the player feel clever, but it’s still well-paced and gripping and has a pretty decent resolution.

Detective Grimoire

I recommended Tangle Tower, the sequel, pretty strongly- and this one, while obviously a little rougher around the edges with the art and mechanics (the suspicion tracker system is a total dud; I didn’t even realize it existed until I realized I was missing an achievement for using it), it’s still pretty darn good. Really fun character designs and animations, fully-voiced, and a solid whodunit backing it all. Plus- while the two are more or less self-contained, the continuity threads with Tangle Tower raised some really interesting questions.

Contradiction - the all-video murder mystery

This one was pretty fun, largely on the strength of the actors. The main mechanic of interrogating people on evidence and using their own statements against each other was some good stuff, too. Definitely had that Phoenix Wright quality to the deductions, and Jenks is a really fun character. (Had a few points where progression was just linked to standing in a certain previously-abandoned area of the map where a clue was suddenly there for no reason, there- good thing it had a hint system.)

As a mystery, it could use a little work- most of what you end up finding out is sequel bait (for a sequel that never actually came together, unfortunately), and the actual whodunit is just sort of hiding in the cracks of all that. And... cornering the culprit just sort of happens out of nowhere once you’ve got your hands on the right piece of evidence, without much fanfare. You’re following up on leads like usual, you find a little lie in someone’s testimony, and then- oh, shit, they’re just confessing everything! Unlike all the previous times you questioned them and they were super evasive like everyone else! And then the game is over. 

All in all, it’s pretty meaty and entertaining and I’d recommend it, but unfortunately the creators have moved on to other things, so there’s not going to be any follow-up on the stuff it left unresolved.

Ikenfell

Ikenfell is a tightly-designed RPG about kids at a magic school, with Paper Mario-style action command mechanics and a battle system that makes a big deal out of careful positioning and movement, which was really enjoyable. The difficulty’s a little high (I recommend always always always speccing into max damage because killing things before they kill you is worth more than any amount of defense, speed doesn’t work, and healing is cheap), but I found it really satisfying.

There’s... something... off? About... I don’t know how to put it, it’s... doing that “yes, everyone is queer and mentally ill, deal with it” thing, which, sure, okay. But for a lot of them it’s such a background thing, like... half the playable cast is unambiguously nonbinary, but like... I don’t know if it’s trying to make some statement on how there are no rules to being NB and you can 100% perform a particular binary gender presentation but still count, or if they wrote the whole story and then changed the pronouns of some of the characters for Representation Points, or what. Probably the former? I dunno, it just feels weird. Maybe I’m just not woke enough to Get It.

(unrelatedly: why the heck is the official art they use everywhere so... off-model? none of them look like they do in-game- they look like the creator commissioned someone to draw a group shot with one reference image each and didn’t tell them anything about the characters. how much you wanna bet they commissioned a friend and it came out wrong but they were too polite to say “sorry, no, this is wrong, can you do it over?”)

Trails of Cold Steel IV

Hoo boy. It’s... not great, and it’s not great in a pretty predictable way for an even-numbered entry in the Trails series. It happens every time- first there’s a game in a new engine with new characters and a new world to explore, and it’s really nice and does interesting things... and then it ends on a cliffhanger, and then there’s a sequel game in the same engine with the same characters and the same world, reusing as many assets as possible. Also the League Of Generically Evil Anime Supervillains is there causing trouble for reasons they refuse to explain, and the plot is a storm of magicbabble and macguffin-chasing that makes little to no sense. 

Cold Steel IV is that for Cold Steel III, full stop. Welcome back to all the same places you visited last game, except this time there’s some stupid magic apocalypse happening (not that it stops you from taking the time to do random sidequests constantly, of course). The whole “oh, the evil curse mind controls people and that’s why they do stupid bullshit that’s in no one’s interest” plot point is leaned on super hard, and it’s just a big yawn the whole way through.

It’s still really fun, though, because the battle system remains really well-designed. (The same battle system that was just as fun in Cold Steel III, mind you, but it hasn’t gotten old.) And- though they’re struggling to square it with the dumb mind control apocalypse plot, the NPC dialogue continues to make the world feel believable and lived-in. They don’t slack on the parts that make Trails good- it’s just the parts that make Trails bad are making themselves more evident than ever.

did finally get to date Towa though so that’s a win

One Step From Eden

OSFE is... uh. It’s fucking hard is what it is. It’s sort of a deckbuilding roguelike, and there’s this combat that takes place on a grid, and- wait, it’s like Mega Man Battle Network, it’s exactly like Mega Man Battle Network. Man, I forgot about that, but the mechanical influence is extremely obvious. It’s MMBN meets Slay the Spire.

Except it’s super duper hard as hell, because unlike MMBN you can’t pause and swap out chips or anything- everything is just always happening so much, all at once, everywhere, and you have no recourse but to git gud and learn all the enemy patterns and the behavior of your own spells and develop the twitch reflexes necessary to not fucking die from all the shit that’s on the screen always.

(What’s the story? Uhhhh, there was some kind of magic apocalypse, and some anime girls are trying to reach a city for some reason that doesn’t really get explained ever. The game doesn’t really care to build its world at all- it’s all mechanics plus a little token character dialogue that doesn’t say much.)

The point is it’s really frickin’ hard but I am an epic pro gamer and I got ALL THE ACHIEVEMENTS, MOTHERFUCKER. If you’ve played it, I expect you to be really god damn impressed with me, okay???

A Short Hike

This one was really relaxing! It’s a platformer where you explore an Animal Crossing-y island of cartoon animal people, collecting mobility upgrades- but like, mainly it’s about straight chillin’. The flight controls are fun and there’s lots of little secrets to find and it’s just a nice time that doesn’t drag on too long. Not too much to say about this one.

Pokémon Sword

Ehhhhh.

I’m not here for the hot takes about how Dexit is good actually. Development hell happened, they had to make cuts for time, I get it. It’s disappointing and makes the game a little bit worse, but it’s not the end of the world.

Apart from that... perfectly serviceable? The Wild Area could’ve used a little more technical polish (as could most things in the game, really) but was a step in the right direction, giving the player a wider array of early-game team-building options than ever before. No HMs is good. Story and characters were kind of nothing, but that’s par for the course. “At least this time they’re not shoehorning in some kind of stupid evil-team-wants-legendary-pokemon-to-destroy-the-world apocalypse plot”, I thought to myself before they managed to shoehorn one in at the last minute with zero buildup- but, hey, beats wasting half the game on it.

It’s nothing special and it’s missing a lot of polish, but its problems are mainly due to being rushed, and presumably next gen they’ll be able to reuse a lot of the models and animations (maybe even improve the animations so they’re not so boring??? a man can dream) and make something interesting. SwSh seem like they were testing the waters for something else, and not taking too many chances in the meantime. 

(yo why would you sell all these cosmetic items and then turn them all off during gym battles, though) 

Hades

Hades is- oh, who am I kidding? Everyone knows Hades, it’s the game of the year, greatest thing since sliced bread, Supergiant are heroes, yada yada yada. I’ve played almost 300 hours of it and I’ve completed everything except all the Resources Director levels (currently a Sigma Wraith), it’s extremely fun and you don’t need me to tell you that.

Petal Crash

It was that thing the Paranatural creator helped on? It’s, uh. It’s a block-sliding puzzle game thing, sort of in a Puyo Puyo vein. It has fun character designs and some good dialogue, like you’d expect from Zack’s involvement, but it didn’t really leave an impression otherwise (besides how got dang infuriating some of its Turn Trial puzzles can be.) The story is... kinda heartwarming, kinda didactic, kinda childish, not especially deep or interesting. Hard for it to be, when it’s told through little bits of fluffy character dialogue that exist to set up a puzzle battle as quickly as possible. Not super recommended unless you really really like block-sliding puzzles.

Hollow Knight

Man, why’d I sleep on this for so long? It’s a metroidvania platformer with heavy Dark Souls inspiration, in terms of tone and difficulty and death mechanics and environmental storytelling. And it’s... apart from all that, just really good as a game, with tight controls and juicy movement and great animation. Progression is linked as much to mastery as it is to upgrades collected- I found myself in lategame areas facing down things that would’ve killed me ten times over at the start- not because I had the best gear, but because I’d learned the game’s language and understood how to move in ways that wouldn’t get me killed.

(Usually. Sometimes I’d walk into a room and sit on a bench and suddenly there’d be a boss fight and I’d get slaughtered. Ain’t that just the way it goes?)

Anyway, on top of all that it’s just charming as hell, with a really unique and well-realized world full of little bug people. I love how, like, your character is clearly some kind of eldritch abomination, but it’s small and cute and so everyone (besides enemies that attack you on sight because they’re possessed by some kinda evil mold) is like “awww, who’s this little guy? want some help, little guy?”

(except Zote, who is just an ass hole. i love him.)

#game rec #also some game non recs #long post

[championofsanghelios]

Sidlink Story - “Seeing Red.”

Link was in trouble...to put it mildly. Since arriving at the border with Zorana he’d been aware of eyes on his back, a group of 3 or 4 Lizalfos were stalking him, following some distance behind, on the higher ground. It was a strange situation to be in, and one he’d only encountered twice before.

Lizalfos weren’t exactly clever creatures when it came to combat, the only time they’d actually get a strike would be if he wasn’t aware they were there. That being said, they weren’t exactly subtle either.

He knew they were following him, and he got the distinct impression that they had enough collective brain-cells between them to know that he did and were just waiting for the right moment to pounce.

He’d been ambushed on this road several times before, so it wasn’t new to him. That still didn’t make the prospect any less daunting however. One moment it would be quiet and peaceful, the next there would be a number of reptiles scuttling down the mountain-sides with the intentions of killing, then eating him.

...okay maybe that last part was made up, he really wasn’t sure if Lizalfos ate people. But it was a fair assumption regardless. All those teeth, they looked like crocodiles, or very angry over-sized geckos.

... The Domain was visible just above the mountains in the distance, something that under normal circumstances would have been a major comfort for Link. But right now...with all these eyes watching him, he felt it was more of a reminder of how quickly he had to move, and where he needed to get to before those reptiles decided it would be a good idea to charge him.

Often times he’d come upon a Guard Sentry, or a patrol on the roads, but tonight...for whatever reason...there weren’t any to be seen. He’d hoped to have spotted some on the few towers dotted around the territories border, and inlaying hills, but again those were empty.

Bazz must have had them all recalled for something, or perhaps it was just too quiet a night for them to worry about security? King Dorephan had been lifting the lock downs on the border slowly over the last few months...this could be the result of that.

But surely they wouldn’t leave their borders undefended...would they? There was always some sort of presence, some reminder that there was in fact an ancient monarchy in these mountains, and a culture so unfathomably old, nobody dared comprehend it unless they were crazy, or studying Zoran history.

It’s at this point that something occurs to him, something that is so obvious and so ridiculously simple that he can’t help the muttered curse he gasps out as he stops in his tracks.

The Domain had a shrine located inside it. Sure he rarely used his Shiekah Teleport out of a preference for real travel, but just this once...it seemed a reasonable choice to make. “You’re an idiot, Link.” he mutters to himself, reaching down under the cloak he’s got over his shoulders and pulls out the slate. He reaches up with his left hand and pulls back his hood, getting a better look at the screen as it lights up. “Now then...which one was it again?” He swipes at the screen for a second, looking for the area on his map that he’d labeled rather hastily “ZORAHS DOMANE”...he liked to think his spelling had improved since those early days.

Just as he finds it and presses his thumb over it, something races past his right ear, so close that he feels it brush past. Glancing in that direction, his view fills with the face of a Lizalfos Warrrior, it’s teeth bared and it’s tongue stuck out in a loud, screeching hiss. The next thing he knows is pain, and the sensation of falling. He hits the ground hard, the slate tumbling out of his hand and bouncing across the path ahead. A pain splits across his chest and it’s hard to breathe, though he suspects he’d just winded himself from the fall. Almost immediately after that, adrenaline kicks in and he leaps up onto his feet, pulling out the Master Sword from over his left shoulder and readying it for a fight. However there’s an empty space where the Lizalfos had been.

He looks to the left and the right suddenly, gasping as he sees no movements, and hears no sounds. That leaves only his rear flank-

Turning on the spot, he’s struck against this time by an arrow that impacts the leather chest-plate he has over his tunic. He feels the rather uncomfortable thrum of electricity that pulses through it, but other than that, no real damage is done.

The Lizalfos from before is now charging him, it had seemingly come out of nowhere. He raises the Master Sword, blocking a strike from it, then another, and another. This was usually something that came second nature to him...but this time something wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t move his arms in the same way he usually did, his strength had diminished almost instantly and with each strike from the reptile, it got harder and harder to maintain a proper defense. ...and then the Master Sword is knocked from his hand. A nightmare scenario was now unfolding. He had been ambushed, was loosing strength due to something he wasn’t aware of, and now he’d been disarmed. Most ordinary people would just accept their fate at this point...but Link wasn’t most ordinary people.

He instead decides to use his body to dodge the attacks that come. Stepping back and jumping to the side whenever he can. This becomes harder and harder to do as time passes and when he finally does jump, only to fall onto his side, he can see why. The source of his weakness was finally visible to him. He’d been sliced along his right side, and was loosing blood fast. If there was ever a time to regret leaving his rucksack in Castle Town...it would be now. This was supposed to be an uneventful trip from one placer to another. And this is what he gets for assuming it would be. Someone up there must really hate him. The pack of reptiles were now appearing around him. He let’s out a pathetic wheezed breath and rolls onto his back, coughing a few times. One of them wastes no time pressing it’s large, left foot against his chest, holding him down.

All of it’s weight comes down on him, and it’s not a light creature by any means. What little air was left in his lungs comes out almost instantly, and the more he tries to breathe, the harder it gets. The next few seconds feel like an eternity, but thankfully the lack of air makes hims light-headed and almost numbs the pain from his wounds. Then again that could still be the adrenaline in his system. ...then something happens. There’s a movement to the left, his ears still able to pick the noise up despite his condition. This is followed, by what can only be described as a blur of red, passing across his visual field.

The Lizalfos whose blurry, dark shape had been present over him had disappeared, and the muffled noises that followed suggested it had been attacked by something. “Good” Link thought to himself, his eyes re-adjusting slightly as he takes in a desperate, gasping breath, and rolls onto his side, hand glued to his chest. “At least karma was on his side.”

He blinks a few times, his vision starting to clear a little. He makes out the shape of the Master Sword on the ground nearby, and with immense strain, starts to slowly haul himself towards it. As his hand takes a grip of the pommel, something trips over his left leg, and lands to his right. He looks back at one of the Lizalfos who had attacked him, as a Sword is stabbed through it’s chest. It let’s out an ear piercing squeal, before it’s eyes cloud over and it lays still.

This is followed by a set of muffled voices, and the next thing Link is aware of is someones hand on his right shoulder. He summons just enough strength to grab the Master Sword and pulls it with him as he’s turned on the ground. The pathetic swipe he tries to make is blocked by something thick and metallic, an arm, protected by metal plating, Zoran in design. His eyes shift to the face just behind it...and almost immediately his grip on the Master Sword goes lax. Sidon catches the blade before it hits him and does him any more injury, placing it gently to the side. “You’re alright, Link! You’re safe. I’ve got you!” ... Link let’s out a groan as he comes back to his senses, taking in a deep breath, he immediately notes a familiar scent, a fresh, clean smell that reminded him of a spring morning. He lifts his head slowly, his eyes stinging when the light hits him. His arms were being held around something in front of him. Something warm, something delightfully familiar. “You’re awake...” Sidon says, his head turning slightly to the right. He’d picked the Hylian up after he found him and slung him over his back. “...good. I was worried you may have been worse than you looked.” “...where-” Link’s voice was dry and groggy. He had basically zero strength at the moment, and basic things such as speaking were difficult. “We’re just arriving at the Domain.” Sidon says. Link looks around from his perch on the Prince’s back, he could see Tarquin and Bazz up ahead, the two of them leading the other soldiers. Sidon himself was wearing a set of armor he’d never seen before, spare one occasion after the Calamity had been sealed away. It was like the other guards sets, but had all sorts of engravings on the chest-plate and cauldrons. He wasn’t wearing the hood though, it would seem the shape of his head-tail didn’t allow for one to fit. “The one day I am commanding drills...and you decide to get ambushed on the road in.” Sidon says, there wasn’t any disappointment or anger in his tone, but it didn’t make Link feel any better. “Sorry...” he breathes, allowing his chin to rest on his shoulder. “Should have used the...tele...porter...thing.” “Oh don’t worry about that.” he sees the Prince’s head shake out of his peripherals. “I’m just glad we found you before those beasts finished you off.” “Thank you...” Link whispers next. “I’ll hear nothing of it.” Sidon says. “And fear not. You’re safe now. The Healers will be waiting for us when we arrive...for now, just try and rest.” ...

#sidlink #link #prince sidon #bazz #link gets into trouble allot #sidon worries about sed trouble #i wrote this instead of sleeping #loz #botw #sidon4smashLOL

[peachieboysnetwork]

The Bracelet - PJY

Today is your dear friend Jinwoo's baby shower. She is 8 months into her pregnancy and looks as if the baby girl could come at any moment. Her husband Youngjae has been her rock throughout the whole pregnancy. Meaning, she has hardly lifted a finger, any wish is his command. At first, Youngjae and Jinwoo didn't want a baby shower because it seemed like too much planning, especially with the games and party favors involved. But then Jinwoo realized that she could never have her first baby shower with her first baby ever again! So, best believe Youngjae started planning the baby shower but on the condition, it was a small gathering of close family and friends with good games and food…

After getting dressed and grabbing the baby present and my personal belongings, I headed to their house. _I saw so many cars parked around the block...I thought this was gonna be a small gathering. _I opened the gate leading to the backyard and it was beautifully lit by fairy lights and lanterns that were labeled “Soojae”. That's probably what they are gonna name her… cute. I kept admiring the set up until I got a surprise bear hug from the lady of the party.

“JIN WOO!” I screamed and turned around to hug her back. She giggled and mumbled a “Hi” into my hair while clutching on to me. We let go of our hug just so I can admire her belly! She looked at me grinning and just said, “She’s coming soon and I am so freaky dinky excited!” While slightly jumping up and down but suddenly stopped due to Youngjae coming over trying to calm her down because the woman is a ticking baby bomb. “Honey, what are you doing? I need you to calm down a little bit because I will probably die of a heart attack tonight if you keep running, jumping or tripping within the five hours of this party that is for our little bean inside of you.”

“I just wanted to greet my guest and show her to the table of party game sign-ups and THEN lead her to a table THEN lead her to get food!” Jinwoo whisper-yelled at him because both the stress has been catching up quite enough. Youngjae looked at the love of his life and sighed then kissed her head and slightly smiled, “Okay then but let me say hi to her and place the gift with the others for later tonight, huh?” Jinwoo back to her adorable self nodded.

Youngjae turned and hugged you, “Hey y/n, how you’ve been?” “Hi, I've been great. Just working and doing nothing with my free time, the usual.” I laughed. “Well that’s slightly good, you need a boyfriend to fill the empty space in your life…”

“Nah, I think I'm good. You sound like my mom.” I say while laughing.

“Mhm sure... Who knows maybe you’ll find love tonight” he said this with a smirk and wink._ I hope he doesn’t try to play cupid tonight._ He then walked away with his baby girl’s gift in his hands.

“Now, let us begin!” Jinwoo grabbed my arm and dragged me to a colorful table with three sign up sheets… “There are 3 games, being played Pin the baby in the uterus, the bracelet challenge and measuring my belly… interested in any?” She looked back at me. I replied, “Just the bracelet one, that one is my favorite.” She nodded and slipped on a purple bracelet that had their daughter's name on it onto my wrist. “Okay, I'm certain you know the rules but a refresher: remove bracelet only if their arms or legs are crossed! Winner gets a designer bag and second place gets a bottle of wine.” I nodded excitedly and then followed her to the table where there were a few of our past classmates as well. I said a quick hello to them because Jinwoo was quickly dragging me to the buffet. “Hey, quit dragging me there's no rush it's just food,” I reassured her. Jinwoo looked at me straight into my eyes and said: “wait for it”. One of the servers at the buffet announced: “ONE HOUR LEFT!” Suddenly, so many people rushed up to get more food and even encouraged their kids to get another plate. It was so mind-boggling, that Jinwoo closed my mouth shut with her palm claiming I would catch a fly if I kept it open any longer.

After, getting served my food. I retreated back to my table and made small talk with my table mates. Catching up on life and joking on things we didn’t understand that we did back then when it was “cool”. After finishing my two plates of food. I was lucky, got pushed but lucky. I began to slowly scope the area of people with crossed limbs… The rambunctious boys kept blocking my view. Finally, I saw two girls chatting away about their future vacation with legs crossed! I casually walked to them and leaned in to ask if I could have their bracelet. They grumbled but gave them up. I already have three on my wrist. Hell Yes! As I was walking back to my table, I finally realized how loud these people are! I looked over to them and made eye contact with this brown doe-eyed fella then looked at his wrist there was a bracelet but no crosses limbs. Dang. As I reached my table everyone had their arms crossed due to the windy weather. _Jackpot. I now have eight bracelets. _

As the party continued. Measuring the belly and pin the baby on the uterus occurred. I learned the six rambunctious guys are Youngjae’s friends from college. There’s Jackson, who screamed after taking off his blindfold to see that he pinned the baby on the breast! Mark, who is quiet but often gets swept away with the loudness especially while listening to the hints given by his friends. Jaebum, who kept getting egged on to try the game once! Bambam, the one who kept screaming “My baby, baby, baby woooaaahhh!” while pinning the baby on an ovary. Yugyeom, a shy tall man who couldn’t help the fact that he pinned it on the wall next to the picture. And finally Jinyoung, the mysterious brown doe-eyed man. who is actually quite cute and pinned the baby correctly on the uterus. He had seven bracelets on him! You are beating him at least. I need to keep an eye out for more people…

Ten bracelets now… you took them from Jinwoo’s parents who enjoyed catching up with you. Youngjae shouted, “TWENTY MINUTES LEFT IN THE BRACELET GAME!”

This was going to be a long time. You wandered around the backyard, with roaming eyes on the crowd. I think there are only ten minutes left… Finally! Someone is crossing their legs but I only see their back. This is gonna be awkward but I want the damn prize …

You tapped on the guy’s shoulder “Excuse me but can I have your brac-“ Jinyoung turned around and looked at me and smiled, only for him to say, “No.”

“I’m sorry? But you’re crossing your legs and arms! It's the rules, you cross em, you lose.”

“No need to apologize but I don’t want you to have it .” He said so calmly. The other boys quiet down to listen.

“FIVE MINUTES LEFT” Youngjae shouted.

“But I need them to win the game! Please.” You look at Jinyoung with pleading eyes.

Jinyoung looks back at you and sighs, “fine but I want something in return.”

“Deal.” You took his bracelet and was ready to walk away but you got tapped on the shoulder. You look over to see a very tall Jinyoung towering over you handing you six more bracelets.

He smiled and showed these cute little eye crinkles and a dimple appeared. “Here, you said you wanted to win right?”

You look back up at him and ogle him and suddenly had the urge to hug him. Maybe kiss him?  

“Thank you very much.”

As you walked back to your table with seventeen bracelets on your wrist. Jinwoo announced that the game is over and will be coming to each table to receive the scores. You gave her your score and she left to the front of the backyard to determine the winners.

“OKAY, the bracelet game first place winner is Soobin! Congrats, you receive a purse! The second-place winner is y/n! Congrats, you receive a wine bottle! “

_A freaking wine bottle, what in the actual hell? I thought I was clearly in the lead! _

Jinwoo comes up to me with the wine bottle, “Sorry hun, she had twenty bracelets.”

“It’s okay, at least I get free alcohol.”

“Y/n! Jinwoo, honey! Come over here and sit with us for a bit. “

Youngjae was sitting with his group of friends. Jinyoung had his eye on you. Maybe you could share the bottle with him?

You guys made your way over and sat in the two empty chairs one next to Jinyoung and the other next to Youngjae.

“Congrats” Jinyoung whispers to you

“Thanks, I thought I would easily have gotten first place though.” How did I not notice it?

“It’s okay, but don’t forget my end of the bargain…”

“I know, how should I repay you back?” God I hope he isn’t a creep about it..

“ Maybe you can keep me company the rest of the night and hopefully I’ll be able to drink your prize with you over a date?” He looks at you with hopeful eyes

_This handsome man just asked me out. how the hell? When the hell? Oh shit, answer now! _

“Hello, y/n?”

“Yes” that’s all you could spit out before it was too late

“I will take up that offer,” you said smiling

“Good, now would you like to tell me why you are obsessed with this game and how come Youngjae has never introduced me to you?” He said this then eyeing Youngjae.

Youngjae raised his arms in defense, “hey! This isn’t my fault! You both have no lives other than work. I'm glad you two met cause you both need a major change in your routine.”

Everyone laughed and cheered for new beginnings!

The night proceeded to the couple opening gifts and thanking everyone for the gifts and their company.

While, Jinyoung and you talked the whole night about books, alone time, cooking, and favorite tv shows to recommend.

Jinyoung waited for you to say your goodbyes to the expecting couple. Both of you left side by side with your hands slightly touching every now and then.

You were now in front of your car. Jinyoung stuffed his hands in your pockets and said, “ I’ll pick you up next Saturday at 4pm?”

“It’s a date!” You said giggling

Jinyoung chuckled and took one hand out of his pocket and patted my head. “Be safe and text me when you arrive home.”

You nodded and bid your farewell.

As you drove home, you thought about how Jinyoung might be the best thing to come from this entire event. Sorry, Soojae.

Authors Note:

Hi there! I hope you enjoyed this piece of writing and feel encouraged to request something!

Stay safe and healthy.

#park jinyoung #got7 #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung fluff #jinyoung #jinyoung park #got7 fanfic #kpop #peachieboysnetworkwriting #PJY #the bracelet pjy #got7 jinyoung #got7 imagines

[hawksmagnolia]

Never falter, Never fail

Drunk Drapple Prompt for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ by @findingasimplepleasure​ / @nano--raptor​

Summary: Destroyer!Chris comes looking for the commander of his special ops team and finds far more than he expected.

Warnings: Mentions of violence (nothing major), tattoos

Word count: 1,844 (oops?)

“Can you tell me where I can find the Lieutenant?”

Behind you, several men snicker until they realize you’re glaring at them and they drop their eyes to the gear as they mumble apologies. 

The former undercover agent, Chris something, is standing there. His beard is still cut into the goatee but you notice it’s starting to fill out into a full beard. He’s no longer wearing persona that he’s been living but the tattoos haven’t quite faded yet and they peek out the bottoms of his polo shirt sleeve. You also think you spy the shadows of leftover ink on his wrist as well. 

Shit.

“Depends. Why do you want to know?” False bravado and snarling attitude to hide the shock.

He frowns at you, at your defensive tone and body language. “I just need to make sure he is clear on the details of this op.” 

He hasn’t recognized you yet. 

Thank fuck.

You shoot him a dark look before you look over your gun, checking the chamber and sliding it smoothly into the holster at the small of your back. He watches you, appraises you really. You’re dressed in your usual tactical uniform. Black boot, black pants and an olive green moisture wicking undershirt under a long sleeve button up. Your hair is hidden under a black baseball cap. 

You know he’s wondering what you’re doing on this team. Not many women willingly join a special ops team like this but not only are you on it, you lead it. You are the damned Lieutenant and you’ll deal with him later. Sticking your fingers in your mouth, you give a sharp whistle that his him wincing and your team snapping to attention.

“Team Three. I need you here, here and here. Split into pairs and do not let each other out of your sight. Period.” There is a crude but effective map drawn out on the white board. Pictures of certain areas are taped next their marker counterpart. Your nails are short, unpainted and your hands are scarred and calloused. You slide the button down off and toss it onto your gear bag.

You see his impossibly blue eyes focus on your arm, ignoring the armed men hustling out of the room. More likely, is that he’s staring at swaths of black ink that vanishes under your sleeve where it begins at the top of your shoulder and ends in the middle of your forearm. The Queen of Swords in all her glory adorns your flesh. Below that is Eagle, Anchor and Globe of the USMC but the globe has been turned into the crosshairs of a rifle. There is more ink under the black fingerless gloves. Gloves that your team bought you as a joke when you were elected their leader. Black leather but with fine, almost delicate stitching that forms the outline of every bone in the hand, ones that you wear every single time you get the call. The rest of the tattoos are hidden beneath your clothing except the three small black swallows at the bottom of your hairline.

There are questions on his face that you can’t be bothered to answer right now. You shrug into the heavy ballistics vest and pull the velcro tight.

“Team Two. I want you stacked up tight in this corridor between shipping containers. Nuts to butts gentlemen, hope you showered.”

The next six men peel off from the pack and are gone.

Only two men are left, so you point to the smaller one on the left. “I want you to cover the back doors from the sky.” You point to the man on the right. “I want you on the west exits. Trench it if you can. There are no windows on that side, just two big industrial doors. I’ll make sure spikes are out in case of vehicles.”

They nod and are out the back doors of the mobile command and vanish into the rapidly forming darkness. You’re about six miles east of the compound, far enough that any light is barely visible. You shut down the lights and start to exit when the agent grabs your arm.

“I asked you where the Lt is.” He says it as “Ell-tee”. You wonder briefly if he’s a veteran too.

You grab your night vision goggles and strap them to your head, leaving them on your forehead. You yank your arm from his grip and grab your rifle case.

“I am the fucking Lt. And I’m very clear on our goals, Agent.”

You nod your head at him and spin on your heel but not before you hear his voice. 

“You and I will talk after this.”

Well, fuck.

===============================

Sixteen hours later and you’re laying on flat on your back on top of a shipping container. You’d climb down yourself but you don’t want to risk any damage to your precious ‘Vera’, a Barrett M107 sniper rifle. You hadn’t thought to bring up the case because your mission’s timeline changed suddenly and you hadn’t bothered, focused on scrambling up four shipping containers for a better sightline. Things had gone sideways but in the end the good guys won and the bad guys went to prison.

There is a heavy thunk of metal on metal and you roll to your side to see Agent Chris kneeling in the ladder bucket of a fire truck. “Ready to come down or are you working on your tan?”

You flip him off as you crawl to your feet, cradling your rifle and make your way down.

“Transport will take you back to base.” He slides to the side to give you a chance to stagger onto the platform.

You nod, too tired and spent to form words. Your legs are like lead, too many hours spent on your belly first in the chill of the night which turned into a sweltering day. He catches your arm first and then your rifle. He lowers you to the ground and starts yelling for a medic.

When you open your eyes, the first thing you realize is that you’re soaked and so disoriented that briefly you think it’s raining. 

And then you realize you’re not alone and your back is pressed against a person. A person whose denim clad legs are on either side of your legs. Your vest is gone. Your weapon is gone.

A little stab of panic cracks your chest as you realize you’ve been stripped to underwear and undershirt. The shower is one of those overlarge ones, enough for you both to sprawl.

You groan and try to sit up and strong arms pull you back.

“Slow down trigger. You’re in my room.”

Him.

Agent Chris Something. 

“Your internal body temp was too high. Technically too high for life function according to the medics. Apparently you’re too goddamn stubborn to die. We had to cool you down.”

“Report.” You rasp.

He hands you a Gatorade. “Drink. Slowly.”

You force yourself not to gulp as he continues. “Zero casualties from your team. Couple of minor scrapes. You run a tight ship there Lt.”

“Thanks…I think. Who stripped me?”

“I did. How’s your head?”

You tilt your head side to side to test your equilibrium and then you feel his palm as he twists your hair off your neck and secures it with a band.

“Swallows?” He asks as his fingers linger there for just heartbeat too long. 

“Yeah.”

“How many do you have?”

“What? Tattoos?”

He shifts you long enough to adjust the water temp up a little bit.

“I..I’m not sure anymore.”

“A full sleeve and also your hip, strong ink work, bold designs. And then you have these little tiny swallows.” His lips barely graze the delicate flesh on your neck as his hand clamps down on your right hip.

“You know I know where all your ink is sweetheart. Why didn’t you tell me that night you were a Fed?”

“Same question could be said for you.”

“Why were you in my local bar nine days ago?” He runs a hand over your side, knowing full well  where he knows the words scrawl across your skin. 

“Intel.” You squirm and his thighs lock your hips. 

“You had my reports.”

“I prefer to have a first person view of the shitshow I send my team into.” You pull away and turn on him, kneeling on the tiled floor. “Sorry I’m not a super special agent but I’m damn good at what I do. And to be honest, I didn’t know who the hell you were and I didn’t trust you. Obviously, I was right, since I distracted the fuck out of you.”

He looks as exhausted as you feel, he’s soaked but still fully dressed. He holds up his hands in surrender. “I would have done the same thing. Just so you know? You’re the only thing that distracted me. Still are distracting me.”

You stare at each other for a couple of heartbeats before you jump into his lap. Your mouths clash together, opening to the other while your hands cup his face. 

“Wait.” He gasps which you promptly ignore, your mouth on his jaw, his neck.

“Sweetheart, no. Not until you’re completely recovered.” He grabs your face in his hands. “I’m not fucking you in a bathroom again. Tell me the story behind the ink.”

“Which one?” You struggle not to kiss him again. Must be the adrenaline dump. Must have been delayed because of your heat stroke. 

You’re a damn liar.

“All of them.”

“The swallows were first. Got them after my first deployment. To remind me.”

“There are three.” 

“We lost three.”

He nods, doesn’t push. He knows you’re not ready for that conversation. Still sitting on his legs, you peel your soaked shirt off and toss it aside.

“Ribs was right before my second deployment. I wanted to have that reminder.” You press his hand against the words.  “I will never falter and I will not fail.”  “Hurt like a bitch too.”

“Got back from deployment and I was fucked up in the head. Too young to have seen what I saw. So I got my spine done.”

He doesn’t have to look, he knows what it says. 

“Scars show us where we have been, they do not dictate where we are going.”

Moving his hand to your right hip, you leave it to linger over the stone tower and crescent moon that stain your skin. “Tarot card. The Tower. Represents everything I felt when I got out.” He doesn’t comment on the two puckered scars at two of the corners. 

You twist your arm so he gets a better look. “Queen of Swords. When I finally found myself again, I wanted to be independent, strong. It helped me patch myself back up and apply for the agency. I got this before my expert firearms test at Quantico. Eagle, Globe, Anchor…with my rifle sight in the globe to show how both of those pieces of me make one.”

“And your hands?” He asks softly. 

He takes both of your hands in his and kisses the ink across your skin at the base of your thumbs.

“Breathe.” Says the left.

“Hold.” Says the right.

“Just a reminder when I line up the shot.”

“How about you give me a shot?”

“What?”

“You’re incredible for reasons not related to a bathroom in a bar. I want a chance to lick every single one of those tattoos.”

“If that’s the case, wait until you see my piercings.”

Chris groans as you smile into his kiss.

@nano--raptor @cchellacat @eurynome827 @jobean12-blog @book-dragon-13 @aesthetical-bucky @marvelgirl7 @sallycanwait68 @buckys-broody-muffin @softpeachbarnes @godofplumsandthunder @azurika-writes @ikaris-whore @this-kitten-is-smitten @randomfandompenguin @littleredstarfish

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#HBC #hbc drunk drabbles #prompt fic #Destroyer!Chris #destroyer!chris x reader #Sebastian stan #gonna need to write the prequel now #fanfic #allie writes

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Unexpected - 15

The Tower: Unexpected An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous //

Pairing:  Avengers x ofc, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2367

Warnings:  pregnancy, Smut (M|F, vaginal sex, pregnancy sex)

Synopsis: A little over 2 years after moving into the Avengers Tower, Elly finds herself pregnant against the odds.  While some are excited, others are terrified, and pregnancy that none expected to happen causes rifts through the group and threatens to end the relationship.  

Author’s Note:  Written with the temporary cali girl @fanficwriter013

Chapter 15: The Compound

At 33 weeks, I’d been told to go on partial bed rest.  I was huge and they were worried that I wasn’t going to make it to term.  I could still do things.  Go for walks or take a swim.  I just had to take it easy and when I was down it was feet up, relaxing.  I actually could even have sex still if it was very slow lovemaking.  Mostly it was just nothing strenuous, no lifting and I wasn’t allowed to do any cleaning.

At the same time, our house was finished at the compound.  The compound itself still had a lot of work before it was fully operational, but we could move in, settle into our new family life and get ready for these babies to arrive.

We took the Quinjet there and being in the back both felt quite stressful considering I was supposed to be taking it easy, plus I couldn’t see anything, so I had no idea where we were or what I’d see when we arrived.

“When are we going to be there?”  I asked craning my head to see out the front.

Tony chuckled and rubbed my leg.  I could tell he was feeding off my excitement a little.  He wanted to show us, but he liked that none of us had much of an idea of what to expect.  “Calm down, we get there when we get there.”

“But I want to see it,”  I whined.  “And I need to pee.”

“Patience. And there's a bathroom over there.”  Tony said.

“There is?  Why didn't you say?”  I asked, heaving myself up.

“I did. When you got on board.”  He said defensively.

I groaned and waddled towards the bathroom.  The baby brain had gotten so bad lately.  “Oh god.  I'm gonna need to tattoo reminders onto my skin like that guy from Memento.” 

“That might be a little much,”  Tony called after me as Sam started laughing.  

I awkwardly used the military-style bathroom and came back out, sitting down next to Tony and leaning my head on his shoulder.  “You've seen it right?”

“Yes, dear,”  He said.

"It's nice?"

“Of course it is.”

“Do I still have my swing bed?”

He stifled a laugh and rubbed my leg.  “Yes, dear.”

I hummed and rubbed my cheek on his shoulder.  “That's good too.”

“I know,”  He teased.

I laughed and kissed his cheek.  “So modest.”

“Hey, I worked really hard on the new place.”  He said, sounding slightly offended.

I rubbed his leg and nuzzled at his neck.  “I know.  I'm so excited to see it.”

“Good, because we're landing in 60,”  Natasha called back from the cockpit.

I craned my head around trying to get a glimpse of the house.  All I could see was trees and a tiny piece of the Hudson.  “Damn Quin having no windows back here.”

“Patience,”  Tony scolded.  I huffed and stuck out my bottom lip.  “You’ll appreciate it.  Just watch.”  

The jet landed and Clint started going through the shutdown procedures as Nat climbed back to where the rest of us were sitting.  “Well then,”  She said.  “You wanna hit the button, genius?”

Tony got up and walked to the hanger door and pressed the release button.  “And here we have -”  The doors opened and revealed the new Avengers compound.  “- Home.”

I got up and walked to the doors my mouth hanging open.  The facility was enormous.  We had landed near a large hangar that had already been completed and housed several other jets, helicopters and Tony’s car collection.  There were a dozen other buildings that were part of the Avengers’ official facility.  Offices, labs, dorms, conference rooms, and training facilities.  It was massive.  The main building where the public would come first sat right on the Hudson.  There was still a lot of construction going on.  It wouldn’t be finished anytime soon but you could see what this was.  This was bigger than the 13 people that currently fell under the label Avenger.  It was bigger than the scientists and spies and psych department and admin that currently supported the Avengers.  It was bigger than the secret branch of SHIELD still running.  It was bigger than SHIELD had been.  This was a vision.   A privately run group, not there to answer to any government meant to actually protect the world from the things no one else had the ability to do.  It was a way for my family to pull back a little and not have to be the only ones there to do this.  So they had a large support system that was there first before it got to the point they had to step in.

I couldn’t see the house from here but there were cars waiting for us.  Natasha stayed to do cooldown on the jet while the rest of us went to the cars.  We drove down a road that wound down to the left of the main building and disappeared through some trees.  Tony pointed out where my lab would be as we drove past it, but soon the facility was all but hidden.  We drove out into a clearing and there was a large modern looking mansion sitting on the water.  It was reminiscent of Tony’s old Malibu house, though it was a little less spaceship than that.

I got out of the car and looked up at it.  “It looks pretty big.  I wanna see all of it but... how long can I walk around for before it counts as not being on bed rest?”

“Not very long,”  Bruce said, sternly.

I frowned and turned to Tony.  “Most important bits?”

He indicated to part of the house that sat slightly off to the side.  “That’s where our little home labs are.”

I sighed and looked at it wistfully.  “New lab.”

“You can look at them tomorrow, honey.”  He said and took my hand.  “What do you want to see now?”

“I don't know.  What do you like the most?”

Clint laughed.  “Don’t ask him that.”

“About the house!  He designed it, he has to have favorites.”

“I do,”  Tony said.  “Come on.”

He led us in through the front door.  The entrance was large and open.  A spiral staircase sat in front of the doors and it wound its way around a water feature.  Down here is mostly entertaining.  Dining room.  One of the kitchens.  On that side is a big entertaining area.”

He didn’t seem to want to stop at them though and just headed for the stairs.  “One of the kitchens?”

“Yes,”  Tony said, matter-of-factly.

“How many kitchens do we have?”

“Three.”

He said the number so easily.  Like it was totally normal for a house to have three kitchens.  I opened my mouth to question him further but decided against it.

We got to the top of the stairs and he opened a door on the left.

“This is the den.”  He said.  We followed him in.  It as a large but cozy room with a large flat-screen TV on one all that was hooked up to several video game consoles.  There were large couches.  A foosball table.  A pool table.  A bar.  It wasn’t meant to entertain in though, but rather just to chill out.

“Clint you are never leaving this room,”  I said as he went straight to the consoles.

“Nope.  I live in here.”  He agreed.

“I bet these two never leave when they're older either,”  I said running my hand over my stomach.

“Probably not.”  Clint agreed.

“Alright.  What else?”  I asked.

“Through this way.”  He said.  I followed after him and he gestured around.  “This is a hallway.”

“Oh, thank you.”  I teased.

“Don’t be a smartass.”  Tony scolded.  “It’s a smart hallway.”

“How’s it any smarter than any hallway that features FRIDAY?”  I asked.

“And now we get to the answer.”  He said and gestured to an electronic pad on the wall.

I approached it and looked it over.  It reminded me of his old arc reactor.  “So, what am I doing?”

“Put your index finger on the pad.”  He said.  I did as he said and waited for him to go on.  “Now, there are different commands. But this one -”  There was a soft whirring noise, and a portion of the wall shifted and sunk away to reveal another hall.

My jaw dropped open.  “Tony!”

“Yes?”  Tony teased.

“It's like Hogwarts!”

“No,”  He said, dryly.  “It’s Stark Manor.”

“Stark Manor?”  I said heading down the hall.  “Rude.”

“I built it,”  He argued.

“Because of these two.”  I shot back, touching my stomach.  “But it's amazing.”

“This is the adult’s wing.  There are three wings.  This one.  The family one and a teen one.  This is where we go if we really just need a break.  There’s a lot of us.  It happens.”  He said.  “I think we’ll spend most of the time in the family one.  That’s where kids rooms are.  There’s the big group room there, though the bed isn’t in a pit anymore.  It’s the closest to the main kitchen and the living room.  There are nurseries and that kind of thing.  The teen wing is for when they’re older.  Then they can escape from us if they want to.”

I turned to face him and looked into his eyes.  “Look at you, planning ahead.”

“I’m really excited about them, El.”  He said running his hands over my stomach.  “I know I took too long to get there, but I’m all in.  I want them to have everything.”

I smiled and kissed him gently before pulling back.  “Okay, I think I need to get off my feet.  But not the swing bed, I don’t think I can get into it.”

“Right, you can come to my room.”

He led me down the hall and to a door.  He put his hand on the control panel beside it and it unlocked opening onto a stairwell.  “You and Bruce have access too.”

“Not the others?”  I teased as I followed him up the stairs.

“If I’m up here, it’s because the others are annoying me.”  He teased back.

“Aww…  I don’t annoy you?”  I asked.

He pulled me into his arms and looked into my eyes.  “Sometimes, but I’ve locked you out enough.  Never again.”

I felt myself tear up and I leaned in and kissed him deeply.  He let me lead.  Following my movements.  Each caress of his lips over mine countered mine over his.  He pulled away slowly, tugging on my bottom lip, fore taking my hand and leading me upstairs into his room.

It had a large domed skylight and windows that overlooked the river.  His bed sat in the middle of the room facing the window.  It was a king-sized with an oversized bedhead that almost looked like a wall with lamps built into it.  Otherwise, the room was very minimalistic.  There was a row of dressers.  And two doors.  One I assumed lead to his closest and the other to his bathroom.  There was a sofa chair by the window with an ottoman.   I knew there was tech in the room, I just couldn’t see it.

I took off my shoes and stripped down to my panties before climbing into bed.  Tony stripped off too and climbed in beside me, spooning me from behind.

“You’re gonna nap too?”  I asked.

“No.”  He teased and kissed my neck.

I giggled and wriggled my ass against him.  “You did good, Tony.  I can’t wait to explore more of it.”

“Well, there's plenty of it to explore.”

He started to tease my breasts, squeezing them gently and tugging on my nipples.  “Tell me some things about it.”

He kissed the side of my neck and slowly rolled his hips against my ass.  “Well, there’s a library.”

“There is?”  I breathed.

He chuckled.  “Thought you might like that.”

“What else?”

One of his hands ran down over my stomach before slipping into my panties and teasing my clit.  “We have a piano. I haven’t had one for a while.”

“Can you play?”  I asked.

“Mm-hmm.  Clint can too.”

“How come I didn’t know this?”

He sucked on the side of my throat and pinched my clit.  I moaned and bucked against his hand.  “I guess we haven’t had a lot of time to do normal people stuff.  We’ll make more time.”

“Mmm good.”  I moaned.  I was already wet.  I seemed to be wet all the time lately.  His fingers glided easily over my clit and down.  He pushed two inside me easily and I gasped and moaned loudly.  “We’re gonna make a happy home here, aren’t we?”  I said at a needy whine.

“Yeah, honey.  We are.”  He said softly.

I leaned my head back and he captured my lips.  We kissed deeply and slowly, our tongues dancing together.  As he did he worked his fingers in my cunt.  He curled his fingers, stroking my g-spot with them as his thumb rolled over my clit.  He kept rutting against my ass, until I could feel his cock, hard and pressed against it.  We never broke the kiss though, even as we both moaned into it.

I came, shuddering around his fingers.  He removed them and pushed his boxers down as I wiggled out of my panties.  He adjusted my hips, lining himself up, and with a thrust, he was inside of me.

“Oh god, yes.”  I moaned.

“That’s it, dear.”  He cooed as he started to thrust.  I gripped his hair and nipped at his earlobe as he pressed his forehead against my shoulder and fucked me from behind, keeping me spooned and safe against him.

My moans got louder as he made soft grunts and groans against my skin.  With a sudden clench of my muscles, I came, moaning against his ear.  It washed over me and my cunt squeezed and fluttered around his cock.

“Fuck,”  He groaned and came inside me.

He slipped from inside me and I rolled over and smiled at him, still feeling a little high from my orgasm.  “We were probably the first ones, huh?”

He laughed.  “Oh yeah.  We totally just broke in the new house.”

// NEXT

#the avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #tony stark #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #clint barton #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #avengers fanfic #avengers x oc #steve rogers x oc #bucky barnes x oc #tony stark x oc #stucky #clintasha #natasha romanoff x oc #wanda maximoff x oc #clint barton x oc #bruce banner x oc #sam wilson x oc #all caps #science bros #birds #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #fanficwriter013 #the tower

[endlessdoom]

Earth

10 Maps-set

By Roger Ritenour

ZDoom version.

1998 original release.

MAP01: The Ruins

Ah, the classic Earth, a map-set that would revolutionize with its sophisticated and realistic environments. The first map is a testament to the kind of ambition the author brought to this creation. A medium sized map with a large extension of enemies and a somewhat unexpected difficulty, for an introductory map. With a design that tries to replicate a more natural and realistic look in terms of natural environments, The Ruins also takes us to what seems to be the reminiscences of an ancient civilization with a Greco-Roman style. One of the few maps of its kind, even to this day, only that gives it a certain charm that is difficult to replicate. If it weren't for its somewhat unfair difficulty (which you would expect from a classic) this would be a great map in every sense, but in spite of that, I can easily see why it is so iconic.

MAP02: The Tomb

A sensation of exploration and adventure floods this WAD that almost seems to imitate an Indiana Jones adventure. The Tomb is a medium to large map set in the interior of a catacomb in a pyramid. With a somewhat abstract design, full of mazes, traps and demons, this map manages to capture perfectly well the essence of exploration and adventure within the confines of Doom's world. Unfortunately, a somewhat incomprehensible layout and switch-hunt make it a bit boring after a few moments, becoming a tedious task where the action comes second.

MAP03: Mines of Moria

You don't expect an exact replica of the Mines of Moria, but I can understand the charm and atmosphere that the author was seeking to recreate. It is a rather labyrinthine map, dark and with very little ammunition. A bit dangerous if we do not know how to handle the encounters against heavy enemies. The layout of the map has a progress so lost, but due to its nature of crossed roads, two things can happen: Either we find the necessary keys for the exit by accident (they are only two keys) or we spend a long time walking around.

MAP04: The Chasm

A huge ravine and a mountain/rocky map await us. A classic style of trying to recreate natural landscapes with the Doom engine during the 90s. What we can expect is an extremely simplistic and even somewhat boring landscape to observe, but the charm is always in its pure essence. With a less complicated design than the previous one, this is a map of less exploration and a little more tight combat.

MAP05: Strategic Defense Command

The introduction through the crack with the elevator makes this map a visually attractive adventure, taking into account the date. A somewhat complicated map due to the use of a multitude of enemies in tight rooms, but with a layout that combines good ambience with an adventure style, this is an entertaining map, although perhaps more difficult than it should be.

MAP06: Observation Station

Now we travel through a key capture while facing huge hordes of enemies. Once again, like the previous map, this one makes use of large groups of enemies in rooms with almost no maneuverability, especially an area after getting the red key, where we face a heavy horde of enemies with an Archivile, which is more than protected behind the horde of enemies. After that we even have a Cyberdemon at the end, which is not a major problem, but feels like a nuisance at this point.

MAP07: The Emerald Tower

A very short level that focuses on slaughtering a large group of Pinkies and then a small squad of Mancubus. Nothing special in itself, so it feels a bit of a lackluster in a way compared to the rest. At least it works as a good resting point. Kinda.

MAP08: Ammo Pit

A strange madness. This level seems to match the labyrinthine style of Mines of Moria and The Tomb, while adding the difficulty of previous maps to it. A bit insane in terms of item placement and monster placement and a somewhat simplistic level design. It's a slightly boring map compared to the others, perhaps its most remarkable point is the strange ''Ammo Pit'' near the beginning of the map, which I couldn't find a way to circumnavigate or complete, or even use. The map is solid when it comes to the 1999 visuals, of course, it is simply that particular area that I do not understand what its purpose is other than to kill us.

MAP09: Islands

Two floating islands connected through portals take us on a somewhat hot but more open and less dark adventure. While the visual theme itself is quite appealing, the execution is somewhat bland. The totally flat land and the trees that stop our movement make the combat a little more boring but at the same time more relaxing, since at least we don't have to worry so much about being dragged to the pits of hell. The connection of the keys is a little lost but simple enough not to take too much time. In itself, it's a slightly fast map (or long if we don't find the blue key) with a more special style but a bit poorly executed, but what can we expect? It would be a little unfair to say such a thing in the full sense of the word.

MAP10: The Hill

We got to the last map, and oh hell, Roger definitely let go of all his anger on this map. A bit complicated as far as his gameplay is concerned, at least now we have a little more ammunition but the amount of enemies and the positioning they have make this map a gameplay nightmare. I hope you like dodging Revenants missiles because that's what we will do 50% of the map. After that we have to go to different towers to get the keys while surviving different traps with hitscanners up to the eyeballs. A complicated map no doubt, but at least it offers a more entertaining combat thanks to the use of open field.

End.

Overall:

» Earth (1998) Roger Ritenour

I think we all have a special period that we appreciate and love among all the others. Maybe it is because of a magical charm that we feel is impossible to replicate in other eras, or maybe it is because there is a select group that we enjoyed during that time; in one way or another we all have our favorite mapping eras, but when a clear point arrives in which we can all agree it is that the 90s were a wonderfully enigmatic time. The birth of many artists who left their mark on Doom history plates, as well as of mapping styles and philosophies that would change history forever, giving way to the evolution (or mutation) of different WADs that would revolutionize the world. It's 1998, and one of those WADs has just been born. Earth, a WAD from 1998, It is an exemplary work that left a clear mark on the world of Doom, probably marking itself as a milestone in certain aspects. Considered by many as one of the best WADs in history (after all, it's on the list of the 100 WADs of all time), Earth is an exemplary case of what the 90s were like; a stage of evolution where certain raw models were born to give birth to something interesting over time. First things first; the visuals. Earth stands out for this in total and absolute grace. This is the best factor and there is no doubt about it. Taking into account that we are in a stage where the visual effects, the texture work and the geometry of the game had not been fully exploited yet and most of the editors at that time did not offer enough capabilities to create them, as well as the source-ports were not fully capable of surpassing the vanilla limits. Earth stood out for taking that to the other side and bringing with it a unique, distinctive look that can be appreciated to this day. Imagine a beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the wet rocks in the background. The clear, dreamlike sky that emanates a galactic atmosphere. Imagine an adventure through caves lost in civilizations of millennia ago, where nothing stays but the remains of ancient relics forgotten by time. This is Earth, a collection of 10 maps made with the goal of delivering realistic adventures that will leave behind the traditional Doom style and go deeper into a natural look that evokes environmental sensations. Some maps will lead you beachy, floating island, while others go into the depths of rocky mines that intertwine between tech-bases and hellish grounds. This is the peak of 1998 visuals, the absolute best there was. Despite looking raw as fuck, I still think dearly that it manages to succeed in delivering that feeling of exploration and adventure. But not all that glitters is gold, and this is where we encounter the rocks of the road. Earth, despite being revolutionary in its visuals, fails to adapt to gameplay. We all agree that the 90s were not... uh, precisely the best time for gameplay, but many WADs had already managed to find a precise balance between both factors. On the other hand, Earth seems to sacrifice its gameplay for visuals. It feels like a rookie, almost as if Roger has run out of time to make balanced and interesting encounters. Most demon encounters focus on bullet-sponges, unexpected traps, and sadistic positioning. This makes Earth an experience that is best enjoyed in low difficulties like HMP or lower, but UV? It may be a little harder than it needs to be. Earth is a classic in every way and one that even if it lags a bit behind in gameplay, even for its time, I think it is necessary to play it in its entirety in order to learn the appreciation of the evolution of WADs. It was one of the first to set the pace regarding visuals and therefore has its reputation as a totally solidified classic. It may not be the best representation of Earth in the world, but there is no home like home, and our home is Doom. A Doomed Earth.

#doom #gaming #wad #review

[essays-for-breakfast]

Battle of Stars

Melizabeth Week Day 7: AU

Author’s note: This is a Star Wars AU - for self-indulgent reasons - with almost no semblance of the original plot, and the author flexed all her nerd muscles while writing this. Forgive me!

The Manta class troop transporter tilted sideways as the pilot battled against the harsh winds of Ruusan’s upper hemispheres, and Elizabeth swallowed a wave of nausea from the sudden jolt. Her hands found their way to the lightsaber at her side all on their own, and the cool metal calmed her stained nerves. Fear was an unnecessary emotion for a Jedi to harbor, especially for a newly appointed Jedi Knight. Elizabeth had earned this title through hard years of training and field missions on the most outlandish terrains the galaxy had to offer, always under the guiding hand of her master, Hendrickson.

If her master could see her frightened face, he would surely remind her of the pure light of the Force that protected every Jedi and led them through even the most difficult times.

The Force is with you, Padawan, even when your fear prevents you from seeing it, was his favorite mantra, and he had made sure Elizabeth could recite his teachings in every situation, no matter how precarious. Including the smoldering battlefields of Ruusan.

But despite the calm stream of the Force inside of her, Elizabeth tensed when a projectile exploded a mere armlength away from the outer shell of the transporter as the shields absorbed the bulk of the damage. The ship tumbled sideways like a confused Aiwa, and Elizabeth dug her fingers into the leather handle above her head. In the cockpit, separated from the troop compartment by an open bulkhead, an alarm howled, a warning that the shields had dropped under twenty percent. Another hit and they were done for.

And despite the cacophony of nearby explosions and the constant up and down of the troop compartment, Jedi Master Diane stood unmoving between the Republic soldiers, as firm as a rock in the raging seas of Glee Anselm.

The older Jedi offered Elizabeth a reassuring smile. “There is little to worry about,” she said, “the Sith don’t have the resources to hold a crossfire like this up for long. Their troops will need to spare their blaster fire if they want to stand any chance during the ground assault.”

As if on command, the sound of laser artillery penetrating the sky and the handful of republican transporters faded to be replaced by the buzzing of engines as their unit continued their descent without further troubles.

“I wish I had your confidence, Master,” Elizabeth said.

“It is all a matter of experience,” Diane said. “The more battles you fight, the better you will learn to understand the nuances of warfare and what aspects you should focus on to gain the upper hand. Didn’t Master Hendrickson teach you these things?”

“He did, and we assisted our troops in a few skirmishes along the Tingel Arm. But Master Hendrickson values the role as peacekeeper more than that of a general. Whenever possible, he dragged me to some distant planet to study the local fauna and help those in need.”

At the time, Elizabeth had found these trips into the Outer Rim boring and unfitting for a Jedi, after all, the war with the Sith threatened to destroy stability all throughout the galaxy. And as soon as Elizabeth had traded the Padawan plait for the title of Jedi Knight, she had volunteered to join the constant stream of supply units headed for Ruusan, one of the most heated and most crucial battlefields, to support her fellow Jedi in the fight against the Dark Side. But the grueling minutes before the fight, during which she could do nothing other than trust in the pilot’s ability to land his vessel safely, almost made her miss the peaceful fields of Dantooine.

Diane nodded thoughtfully. “Your master is a wise man. With priorities that are sadly becoming more and more rare among the ranks of the Jedi. Even the council grants Master Ludociel more freedom to carry out his feud with the Sith than necessary.”

“But aren’t the Sith and especially the Emperor an evil that must be destroyed to bring peace to the galaxy?” Elizabeth asked. The Jedi temple was filled with nightmarish stories about the Sith and their dark arts, and she had been warned of the tempting yet destructive nature of the Dark Side since her days as a Youngling.

“Some Jedi would say that, yes. But fighting for the sake of fighting is meaningless – I would rather avoid the path that leads to more conflict.”

A jolt went through the transporter that made Elizabeth’s teeth smack against one another, and a second later, the bulkheads opened to allow Rusaan’s sandstorms to enter.

Elizabeth squinted but jumped into the open as the first hail shower of blaster bolts rained onto the transporter to leave smoldering marks on its shell. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me, Elizabeth recited the ancient saying of the Guardians of the Whills, and activated her lightsaber. The blue bolt of pure light sent the blaster fire back to its marksmen; one Sith trooper went limp behind the makeshift trench he had used as cover.

Diane was leading her troops forward, green lightsaber in hand, and soon their unit advanced through the enemy lines and towards the goal of their mission: the ancient temple embedded into the mountain range ahead. Before the war had come to Rusaan, the stone structures had represented a shrine to the local population sited amidst a prospering forest, but the Sith had since burned down the trees and had turned the temple into one of their strongholds – where the forces of the Republic planned to secure crucial data about the enemy’s plans and tactics. Elizabeth had garnered this information from the official report handed out during the mission briefing, but the burned earth in the mountains’ shadow still turned her stomach upside-down. Master Hendrickson would have shed a silent tear had he been tortured with this view.

Elizabeth silenced the cries of injustice in her heart and filled her mind with a feeling of peace the way she had been taught. Guided by the Force, she pathed her way through the enemy defenses and the dunes of sulfur-heavy sand, swung her lightsaber in a perfect display of Soresu, the third form of lightsaber combat, and never halted until she reached the entrance of the temple, a gaping chasm filled with the stench of the Dark Side.

When she failed to detect enemy presences in the immediate area, Elizabeth turned to meet Diane’s eyes across the battle field. The Jedi Master briefly paused her chain of heavy-hitting attacks, and called out to Elizabeth over the buzz of laser artillery that announced the arrival of enemy reinforcement.

“Take a few of my men and advance into the temple. We will join you shortly.”

Elizabeth waited for three heavily armed republican soldiers to catch up and offered them a nod, before they climbed the final steps and entered the shadows. Inside, the howling of the storm faded to distant background stereo, like interference on a flawed comm channel.

A chill befell Elizabeth in her light Jedi tunic, but she fought the unease with a few calming breaths. Water dripped from the detailed reliefs on the wall, hinting at an underground spring located deep within the mountain that collected Russan’s sparse rainwater. The tiny streams reflected the glow from Elizabeth’s lightsaber and the small search lights attached to the soldiers’ helmets, but apart from that, the hallway with its high ceiling was cast in shadows. Somewhere in the dark, a stream of water gurgled along. Always in expectation of an ambush, their squad crept forward.

“No heat signals up ahead,” one of the soldiers informed after performing a scan via his HUD. With the anonymous helmet, Elizabeth had difficulties identifying the soldier, but she believed the voice to belong to a man named Howzer, one of Master Diane’s top commandos. “Thanks to the storm, the comm’s already dead. The sand could’ve messed with the scanners too.”  

“Stay on guard,” Elizabeth said and followed her own advice by dropping into a defensive pose as she placed step by step forward.

The Sith were well known for their traps designed to take out unexperienced Jedi. One of her training partners during her temple days, a kid named Mael, had run into such a trap on one of his first field missions, and he was declared missing by his master ever since. In all likelihood, the Sith had long disposed of his corpse. Or they had taken him to their outpost on Korriban to use him in their experiments. Separate mind and body, mutate the flesh of their victims, or turn them into weak-willed puppets to add to their army; Elizabeth had read reports on these and crueler methods of torture when her master hadn’t been around to see.

She shook the thought off and concentrated on her environment. The Force might offer you glimpses into the future, but you can only use this advantage if you remain in the present, as Master Hendrickson liked to say.

Her crono confirmed only a few minutes had passed, but the walk through the dark felt like hours before Elizabeth and her squad came across a durasteel gate too technological advanced to fit into the old hallways and high-rising pillars around.

Howzer ordered his men to take cover with clipped gestures before he tapped the control panel embedded into the stone next to the gate. The bulkhead protested with a shrill squeal as the opening mechanism pulled the durasteel aside to reveal the chamber beyond. A multitude of screens enlightened the room to give the impression of a control center, but before Elizabeth fully realized the situation, a shadow rushed past her, followed by one and then a second outcry.

Elizabeth spun and skidded on the polished floor tiles as she caught a glimpse at their attacker. Two of her men had slumped lifeless to the ground, and above them towered a male human with a cold grin on his face. The red of his lightsaber painted bloody hues onto the walls. He was no doubt a Sith, his poisoned aura like a nexus of evil appalled Elizabeth to the core.

She had never faced a Sith before, and all her passionate preaches about fighting and destroying the scoundrels of the galaxy vanished, washed away by the cold imprint this man left in the current of the Force around her.

The blaster bolts hurrying past her head tore Elizabeth out of her paralysis as Howzer targeted the Sith with mechanical precision. The Sith’s face remained unflinching, and he deflected the shots with arrogant ease until the play bored him and he reached out with his unarmed right hand. Elizabeth could almost see the Force as it twisted between his clawed fingers. Howzer gargled but still managed to pull the trigger while the air was ripped out of his lungs by the hands of the Dark Side. His efforts amused the Sith more than anything, and he sidestepped the laser bolt without a change in expression.

Elizabeth finally regained her sense of self and jumped into the fray with a parade of swings aimed at the Sith’s head. His green eyes widened for less then a second before he raised his weapon to deflect. A mix of red and blue danced across his boyish features.

“Send for reinforcements, I’ll hold him off,” Elizabeth yelled, and Howzer, who had dropped to his knees as soon as the Sith’s attention no longer rested on him, obeyed and staggered towards the exit.

Elizabeth and the Sith parted, and his lips twister into a malicious grin. “How bold of you, Jedi, to think you can hold out until your unit arrives.” In his mouth, the word Jedi sounded like an insult rather than a title to command respect.

Instead of an answer, Elizabeth dove into the stream of the Force and allowed its wise hands to guide her next moves. She charged and turned her forward momentum into a chain of short swings with varied angles but minimal countermovement. Despite his smaller statute, he parried her attacks with enough physical strength to sent a quiver down her arm muscles every time their blades clashed. He retreated with quick steps that always allowed him to meet her with the advantage of a strong stance. Elizabeth’s best chance of victory was to pin him down and prevent him from dealing out hits himself. A small hope at best.

While she had trained all variants of combat her teachers at the temple and later Hendrickson had to offer, Elizabeth had never battled an opponent as versed with their lightsaber as this Sith. Each movement was a perfectly calculated effort, each shift in stance a display of uncounted practice sessions. More than one with the Force, he became one with his lightsaber the longer the duel proceeded. Elizabeth had seen Jedi Masters enter a fighting trance that reduced their reaction time to a fraction of a heartbeat, and the speed of this Sith rivalled the best of them.

If he had intended to end the fight, he could have done so numerous times over. But for some reason, Elizabeth’s efforts seemed to entertain him.

He allowed her to push him back with an endless loop of the same hits in slight variation, amused by her inability to alter from the patterns she had learned at the beginning of her training; his dark aura had disabled Elizabeth’s ability to strategize, and those fight patterns ingrained into her muscles were the only tactic she could rely on.

But apart from a physical and speed benefit, her opponent had another advantage to use in his favor: knowledge about the terrain. And as Elizabeth dared to hope she might corner him between the wall and her blade, he dropped low, struck for her legs, and stood behind her in one single motion. Elizabeth evaded the hit but tripped on the slippery tiles. She expected to stumble into the wall, but the ground beneath her suddenly vanished and she fell into the canal hugging the wall that had been obscured by shadows. The water didn’t run deep, and Elizabeth’s joints protested as she absorbed the impact with a roll.

Soaked and on wobbly legs, Elizabeth met the eyes of her opponent standing several meters above with a relaxed posture that screamed victory.

“Don’t try it if you want to make it out alive,” the Sith said, and Elizabeth gritted her teeth. With the aid of the Force, she could have catapulted herself back to ground level, but he had a point, he would cut her down if she tried.

“You fought valiantly, Jedi,” he continued, “but I’m afraid your efforts were in vain. Thanks to our little dance, my troops have gained enough time to destroy any information you and your pathetic ensemble of light bringers could have used against us.”

“You never intended to uphold this base.”

The Sith grinned. “No, my master generously surrenders these empty halls to the Republic. There are far more interesting targets worth pursuing. I look forward to face you on another day on a different battlefield, Jedi. For the time being, I must take my leave. My master is not a man of patience.”

Disheartened, Elizabeth lowered her lightsaber. The entire operation had been a failure from the start; the Sith had anticipated the advancements of the Republican army. But if Elizabeth stroked her opponent’s ego, perhaps she could gain at least some information of value.

“Your master must be a great figure in the war if he polished your skills with a lightsaber to these impressive degrees.”

The twitch of amusement in the corners of his eyes showed he had seen through her charade. But he stooped to an answer regardless. “You might have heard of him as the one who stands above the Ten Commandments, the elite of the Sith Empire. I merely carry out his plans. So long, Jedi.”

He saluted mockingly and disappeared out of view. Elizabeth remained in the canal while the water brushed past her boots, too shocked to speak or move. The man she had fought was no ordinary Sith, no distant servant of the Dark Side without prowess or knowledge of the enemy’s plans. The man with the blond hair and the excellent footwork was Meliodas, apprentice of the Emperor himself.

By the time Master Diane and her men arrived, Elizabeth had regained her composure and confirmed the failure of the mission and the destruction of valuable data. But her thoughts kept circling around Meliodas and the ease with which he had defeated her; he thought so little of her he had revealed his identity for the sole purpose of his amusement.

And while the soldiers searched the control center for minute clues the Sith might have overlooked in the haste of their departure, Elizabeth swore to herself to train harder and learn the fighting trance technique.

The next time she would face Meliodas, she would best him. To bring the galaxy one step closer to peace. So that the light of the Jedi might withstand and cast away the darkness of the Sith Empire.

#melizabethweek #nnt fanfiction #nnt au #nanatsu no taizai #star wars #my writing #meliodas #elizabeth #what am I doing with my life? #legends lore #bonus points if anyone knew Rusaan beforehand #fanfiction

[phroyd]

A fracked natural gas well in northwest Louisiana has been burning for two weeks after suffering a blowout. A state official said the fire will likely burn for the next month before the flames can be brought under control by drilling a relief well.

DeSmog obtained drone video footage shot 10 days* after the blowout, which occurred early in the morning on August 30, the day after the well was hydraulically fractured. A tower of flames reportedly shot into the air that could be seen from more than 30 miles away. While the flames are no longer as intense, the fire is still visible from a distance of more than a mile. GEP Haynesville, LLC, the well’s operator, told local ABC affiliate KPVI that the fire started during flow-back operations, but the exact cause has not been determined yet.

Experts have voiced concerns over the pollution being released, especially given the length of time this fossil fuel well has been leaking and burning.

“Blowouts are (unintended) large, uncontrolled pollutant sources with potentially significant health and environmental consequences,” Gunnar W. Schade, an atmospheric scientist at Texas A&M University, told me via email after viewing the drone video obtained by DeSmog. “Blowouts need to be shut down as soon as possible.”

Sharon Wilson, Texas coordinator of environmental advocacy group Earthworks, outlined what happens during well blowouts like this.

“The gas is under pressure so if they lose control, the gas, frack fluid, produced water, and oil/condensate all blast out of the hole,” Wilson said during a call after viewing the video. “They have to get specialized teams to come shut the well in.”

Air Quality Impacts?

The Louisiana Department of Environmental Quality (LDEQ) has determined that the blowout and fire present no major air quality concerns. “LDEQ responders consider this a very low-impact event,” Greg Langley, LDEQ spokesperson, said via email. “The well is clean, it’s gas and what is being released is being consumed in the fire.”  

“LDEQ is receiving daily air monitoring results from the environmental response contractor hired by the well owner,” Langley explained. “The company set up four air monitors to test for sulfur dioxide, hydrogen sulfide, volatile organic compounds, and lower explosive limit. LDEQ also does periodic air monitoring with our own equipment. All meter readings have been below detection limits.”

Most of the air monitoring is being done with a chemical detector called MultiRAEs, according to Langley. When asked which volatile organic compounds, a class of air pollutants that includes the carcinogen benzene, were present, Langley replied, “Nothing was detected.”

“It’s laughable that they say there are no air impacts from this event,” Wilson said. She frequently monitors oil and gas industry sites with an optical gas imaging camera that detects leaking methane and other pollutants invisible to the naked eye. Wilson’s videos have been instrumental in identifying numerous leaking wells in various shale regions across the United States, including Louisiana’s Haynesville Shale, where this blowout is burning. Wilson reports her findings to state regulatory agencies, which on occasion have fined operators for the leaks she flagged.

“Even without my optical gas imaging camera, I know there are air impacts because I can see them with my naked eyes. You can see that the gas coming up is not all being burned off and the plume of smoke and gases is traveling a very far distance,” Wilson said, based on the drone footage.

Wilson recommends placing air sampling equipment on a drone to survey the area above the fire and leaking well.

“The problem is the plume is up much higher than an LDEQ inspector standing on the ground holding a MultiRae meter,” she said.

Wilma Subra, a technical advisor for the Louisiana Environmental Action Network, agrees that using drone would be advisable and that air canister testing should be done too. This latter approach captures air samples over a period of days and measures how much of each compound is present. Subra thinks air canister testing is the best way to know if the emissions around the blowout are a threat to human health.

Louisiana’s Response and Oversight

The Louisiana State Police’s hazmat (hazardous materials) team and the Louisiana Department of Natural Resources (LDNR), which regulates oil and gas production, are also monitoring the blowout.

Like LDEQ, these two agencies concluded the accident did not warrant alerting nearby residents of potential health concerns. A few people live within a mile and a half of the site.

“Any time there is a loss of well control, there is a concern about environmental impacts,” Patrick Courreges, communications director for LDNR, told me. DNR’s “first concern is for the physical safety of the workers on site and for any people potentially affected in nearby homes and businesses,” but in this case the site is fairly remote and air monitoring, in place since the first day of the blowout, hasn’t indicated any potential immediate impacts of harmful gases, he explained.

“Currently, well control contractors are on site, under the supervision of the operator and State Police Incident Command to keep the impacts contained as much as possible, using water to help control the heat and potential spread of flame,” Courreges said. “While there is no good news in a blowout, the fire does actually help with lessening the impact of the escaping methane by burning much of it off, though obviously the goal is to get the flow of methane stopped and the fire out as soon as possible.”

“The longer-term solution is likely to be the drilling of wells to intercept the affected wellheads and stop the flow of gas in the damaged wellheads,” he told me. That might take a month. A design for a relief well has not been submitted yet to DNR, though one is being planned. Drilling a relief well was the same basic approach which ultimately stopped the flow of oil from BP’s Macondo well blowout deep under the Gulf of Mexico in 2010.

“Full-on blowouts in hydraulically fractured Haynesville Shale wells are rare,” Courreges said. “While there have been instances of valves or piping giving way over the years that required emergency response, I don’t recall any blowouts on this scale from those type of wells.”

Wilson is skeptical of that response. “We don't know how common this is because the industry tries very hard to keep these events quiet,” Wilson said. “If they happen in a remote area, no one finds out. They are always downplayed and the regulators help with the deception.” She believes that “there has never been a system in place to adequately regulate this industry, so they are allowed to self-regulate by doing their own testing.”

“For decades we have endured these oil and gas disastrous accidents that have harmed health and pushed us into a climate crisis,” Wilson said, “but we don’t have to put up with this anymore because the technology to transition to clean renewable energy is available today and it’s cheaper. The only thing holding us back is the political will.”

Natural Gas Blowouts

Methane, the main component in natural gas, is a greenhouse gas that is up to 86 times more potent than carbon dioxide in the first 20 years after entering the atmosphere. A study organized by the Environmental Defense Fund (EDF) and published in June last year reports that the U.S. oil and gas supply chain is leaking roughly 60 percent more methane than previous Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) estimates, which largely relied on industry self-reports.

Wilson compared this blowout to the 2015 Aliso Canyon catastrophe in southern California and the 2018 XTO blowout in Ohio, which both gushed large amounts of methane. “This blowout is a huge deal,” Wilson said. “We are at the climate breaking point and no one can even say how much methane is blasting into the air.”

Schade told me that estimating the amount of pollutants released from the “flare” (the industry term for intentionally burning natural gas in oil fields) is possible by looking at data from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s Visible Infrared Imaging Radiometer Suite (VIIRS). This source will show data about the flare detected by satellite, allowing the atmospheric scientist to calculate the estimated amount of heat and emissions.

After reviewing the satellite data available so far, Schade reported the heat generated from this burning Louisiana well is at least three times the magnitude of the largest flares in the Permian oil fields of neighboring Texas. According to his estimates, this burning well may be releasing approximately 8,700 pounds of nitrogen oxides, pollutants that lead to smog and acid rain, each day.

“The emissions from such a source can be enormous,” said Schade.

*Updated 9/13/19: This story has been updated to correct how long after the blowout the drone footage was recorded, which was on September 8.

Phroyd

#fracking #pollution #blow-out

[razieltwelve]

The Port (Final Rose)

Port Cerulean was the largest and most important port in Atlas. It was one of the few places in the kingdom with a harbour large and deep enough to accommodate even the largest cargo ships. Although great advances had been made in air transport, the cost of transporting vast quantities of goods entirely by air was simply too high. To survive, Atlas needed to ensure a steady influx of supplies via sea.

That was why Atlas had committed so heavily to programs designed to clear the sea of aquatic Grimm. They might not have been able to kill all of them, but they had thinned the numbers enough that constant patrols and advanced sensor systems could guarantee a relatively safe journey along designated naval transport corridors. 

If Port Cerulean ever fell, Atlas would be in a world of trouble. Without the massive areas of arable land that Vale possessed, Atlas was forced to import much of its food. Without those imports, it would only be a matter of weeks - maybe less - before they found themselves in dire straits. Moreover, there were many other products that they simply couldn’t produce for themselves in the quantities they needed.

To prevent any of these horrible outcomes, Port Cerulean was one of the most heavily fortified locations on the planet. A massive sea wall had been built that controlled all access to the harbour via a number of closely monitored gates. It was covered in weapons and designed to withstand attack from hordes of lesser Grimm.

Throughout the harbour were a number of towers that contained comprehensive weapons packages designed to eliminate any Grimm that managed to get past the wall. Further back on land were the truly heavy weapons, a quartet of gigantic plasma cannons whose output dwarfed even the damage put out by ultra-heavy artillery. They weren’t designed to fight lesser Grimm. Instead, they’d been built to engage colossal Grimm.

The plasma cannons weren’t alone. Scores of missile tubes, laser batteries, and conventional artillery outposts dotted the harbour. If the Grimm ever managed to destroy Port Cerulean, they would take absolutely horrendous casualties doing so. The newest additions to the defences were a trio of enormous rail guns, amongst the largest in the world. Plasma cannons might not have been ideal for breaching the very thickest of Grimm armour, but the rail guns could propel one tonne projectiles at unbelievable speeds.

X     X     X

“Look at that!” Ruby cried. “Have you ever seen a bigger rail gun?”

Yang bit back a laugh as her sister waved animatedly at the colossal weapon that occupied a large chunk of the hillside overlooking the port. “Nope.”

“I wonder how they generate enough power to operate it.” Ruby’s cheeks flushed. “They say it can fire a one tonne projectile at more than fifty thousand miles per hour. The kinetic energy alone is like hitting something with fifty tonnes of dynamite, and that’s not even taking into account they use three-step warheads as projectiles.”

“Three-step warheads?” Blake asked.

Ruby nodded eagerly. “Yeah! A three-step warheads is a special kind of explosive. You use the kinetic impact to trigger an atomic bomb, which then triggers a nuclear bomb, which can then trigger an exotic reaction that results in the creation of about a kilogram of anti-matter. Just one of those can completely dwarf the output of a typical small-scale tactical nuke by a factor of maybe a thousand.”

“…” Weiss looked a bit queasy. “And they have three of those rail guns here?”

“They’re not for regular Grimm,” Ruby said. “They’re for colossal Grimm. The last one to make landfall in Atlas was five years ago, wasn’t it? They had to hit it with multiple Dust-catalysed super-explosives to slow it down long enough for Aunt Lightning to show up and kill it. I still think they should have used nukes. Sure, there’s a bit of radiation to worry about, but the extra oomph is worth it.” She sighed dramatically. “I still can’t believe Diana wouldn’t lend me a three-step warhead. I mean she was basically the lead designer. I bet she’s got heaps of them in her closet.”

Yang opened her mouth and then closed it. As insane as Ruby was for even wanting one of those things, she was probably right. Diana probably did have at least a few of those stashed away somewhere.

“Ruby, what would you even do with one?” Blake asked.

“See if I could scale the design down enough to work with a hand-held rail gun. It’d be like shooting Grimm with tiny nukes. How cool would that be?”

The other three members of Team RWBY exchanged a look. They’d have to keep an eye out for trouble, just in case Ruby managed to badger those designs out of Diana.

“Don’t forget,” Weiss chided. “We’re here for a reason. As part of this semester’s practical missions assignments, we have to observe how critical defensive bulwarks are operated. I can scarcely imagine a more important bulwark than this. Without it, Atlas would fall.”

Ruby took a moment to compose herself. “Yeah. You’re right.” She took a deep breath. “But it’s hard to imagine this place falling. It’s got enough power to fight off tens of thousands of lesser Grimm and enough big guns to bring down even colossal Grimm, provided they get enough warning.”

“It is better to have too many weapons than too few.”

Weiss turned and snapped to attention. “General Ironwood!”

The general nodded at them. “At ease. You aren’t here as my subordinates. Rather, you are here to learn. As aspiring huntresses, you may one day be asked to stand in defence of this port.” He gestured. “I find myself in possession of an hour or two of free time. Perhaps you could walk with me while I tour the defences.”

“Certainly, sir,” Weiss replied quickly. “It would be an honour.”

X     X     X

James Ironwood was a man who prepared for the worst. At one of Atlas’s highest-ranking officers, that was his solemn duty and honour. He had supervised the renovation of Port Cerulean’s defences personally. Many had bristled at his push to have outsiders from beyond Atlas involved, but his was a practical approach. Hope was a genius, one of the greatest minds in the world, and his help was greatly appreciated. Yet to place so many burdens upon him would surely lead to disaster. Instead, James had paid handsomely, using precious political capital to sway his superiors and colleagues, to have other intellects of similar standing brought in.

The massive rail guns and their projectiles had been Diana’s brainchild, just as the design of the titanic sea wall had been Vanille’s. Hope had designed the automated defences, his expertise in robotics proving invaluable as he crafted a masterpiece that would stand against even tens of thousands of Grimm. It would be a symphony, thousands of weapons working in unison to cover the breadth of the wall, prioritising anything that could damage it while ensuring nothing could breach it.

Every winter, the Grimm came. The vast floes of ice offered them unique opportunities, even as it made travel by sea increasingly difficult. And every winter, the wall turned them back. Last winter, they had killed more than one hundred and fifty thousand Grimm over the span of three months. That was an average of fifty thousand Grimm a month, a little over one and a half thousand a day. And through it all, Port Cerulean had continued to operate, a testament to the bravery of the captains who plied the seas and the expertise of those who manned the walls.

They were heroes, each and every one of them, and James was proud to say that he had personally appointed their commanding officer and much of the senior staff. However, he kept such thoughts to himself as he explained the basics of the wall’s operation to Team RWBY. Given their pedigree, it would only be a matter of time before they found themselves on call, ready to respond should the next colossal Grimm make its appearance.

“Overlapping fields of fire are key,” James explained. “As is proper allocation of weaponry. Using artillery to kill a lone lesser Grimm is a waste not only of resources but also of time. When Grimm are assaulting a location en masse, it is important to eliminate them before they can completely overrun the defences. This requires both speed and precision in decision making.” He gestured. “The wall’s defences are geared toward different types of Grimm. Some are designed to clear areas of lesser Grimm, which is important when a swarm attacks. Others are designed to eliminate smaller numbers of more powerful Grimm, which is also important since such Grimm are often capable of damaging the walls and its defences.”

James was pleased to see they were remaining silent, their eyes wandering over the wall as they considered his words. Ruby, in particular, was gesturing, seemingly teasing out the angles of fire and coverage herself.

“Apart from the wall, this port also has its own dedicated aerial and naval assets. Where possible, we prefer to kill the Grimm before they get here. As such, we make extensive use of missile frigates, submarines, and air-dropped torpedoes and depth charges to thin their numbers. Even larger Grimm can often be dealt with if located early enough. At the very least, we need to know if we have to call for reinforcements.”

James pointed to a ship that was approaching. “That ship is carrying tens of thousands of tonnes of grain. Think about what would happen if we were to lose it. How many mouths would go hungry?” His gaze sharpened. “Which is why it is being escorted by a pair of our ships, and why the wall’s defences are already active, ready to strike down anything that attacks it.”

Ruby gulped. “How many ships like that come in each day?”

“As many as we can get,” James said bluntly. “Ruby, Atlas does not have the luxury of vast, fertile fields as Vale does. Ours is a rugged kingdom, rich in many resources, but desolate and cruel in many ways. It is always cold here, and our winters are brutal. To survive, we need not only our wits and our courage but also our neighbours.” He raised one hand and clenched it into a fist. “Thus are the kingdoms stronger together than apart, like the fingers of a fist. We trade our technology, our mineral wealth, and our expertise for what we cannot produce ourselves. We bring in what we can by air, but our needs are so great that only by using the sea can we make ends meet.”

Blake made a face. “In Menagerie, we used to count the ships coming in when I was a kid. There were days when we didn’t have any.”

“Things have improved,” James said. “We have spent vast sums to clear the seas of Grimm, and Professor Dia’s work to establish the Grimm Monitoring Network has paid off handsomely. Moreover, we now have close cooperation with Arendelle’s navy, which has done much to increase the amount of ocean traffic we can sustain safely.” He paused. “Too many in Atlas see the world in terms of competition. They’re not wrong, but we must never forget that we have to work together.”

“You and Ozpin argue a lot,” Yang said. “Or at least my parents say so.”

James chuckled. “Oh, Ozpin and I argue all the time. I argue with Professor Dia as well. That does not mean we disagree - it is more a matter of specifics. We each agree that cooperation is necessary, but exactly what form that cooperation takes requires plenty of discussion and compromise.”

“Look!” Weiss pointed. “That’s one of my family’s ships.”

Another ship was approaching, and it bore the familiar logo of the Schnee Dust Company.

“Indeed.” James turned. “But we’ve spent enough time out here. I’ve been told you may have an interest in observing some of our… larger weaponry.”

Ruby practically squealed. “Can we fire some of it?”

James’s lips twitched. “No.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Despite its many advantages, Atlas does have to import much of its food, as well as other things. To ensure a steady supply, it has taken great care to establish safe transportation routes, and it has massively fortified its ports and airfields to withstand attack. Unlike Vale, they do not have the luxury of having Lightning and Fang basically down the road for help. Incidentally, quite a few Yun do tours of duty in Atlas as part of a Clan-sponspored mercenary group.

They are popular since the Yun are well known for their prowess in battle and their sense of honour. Once hired to defend a location, the Yun can be counted on to either defend it or die trying. They are also joined by many Dia and other clans since overseas work is another way to build up precious experience while making money. It helps that the Yun aren’t much bothered by the cold and are perfectly happy climbing mountains.

You can find me on fanfiction.net, AO3, and Amazon. Please check out my newest story on Amazon. It’s called Monster Whisperer.

#final rose #fanfiction #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #james ironwood

[thedistantstorm]

Breaking the Wheel

The Last City | Post Red War | New Monarchy | The Vanguard | City Politics | Suraya Hawthorne | Hard Truths | Pre-Relationship Steelponcho if you squint

"... what did she mean by that?"

Hawthorne shifts her weight subtly, he only catches the end of the movement. "Don't think too much about it. It's in the past."

Cool blue eyes narrow and soften all at once. "You told her that I was trustworthy," He reminds her. “That you trust me.”

Around them, the fragile, rebuilding City carries on. Lamps, lanterns, contained fires are lit where there is little remaining electrical infrastructure. No one pays the Commander and the newly appointed Clan Steward any mind. Cayde and Ikora have long since gone on ahead of them.

"Was that a lie?" He asks, knowing full well it isn't.

She shakes her head, blinking out of their staring contest. He frowns. "You are," Hawthorne eventually says, as people pass them by.  She steps forward, as if she's going to run right into him, but then to the side, so they stand shoulder to shoulder. She faces the base of the crumbling Tower, plumes of smoke still rising into the sky. He looks out at the rebuilding City - hardship and cooperation sowing the seeds of hope.

"Tell me," He says, and it's meant to be a command, but commands do not work on her. It's what he tells himself when his voice comes out softer, hoarse and concerned.

It has nothing to do with the growing well of suspicion in his loins he does not want to believe - does not want to find out, even if he knows, he does - to be the truth.

-/

They have made it a point to be accessible. Part of his reasoning in keeping Hawthorne in the fold is that she has her finger on the pulse of humanity. She doesn't see it, but he's learned to see that her supposed arrogance and standoffish behavior is a well-worn shield, designed to protect against attachments and the inevitable emotional hurts that would follow. Another is that she is unassuming. Cunning. Intelligent. Her resources held tens of thousands of people. She'd organized a relief effort in a week, held ground and kept people safe with minimal casualties, and her reasoning was that it was the right thing to do. He still wonders how it is her criminal record was more like a novella, sometimes. He knows she was preparing for a war, of some sort, but he doesn't understand what war she anticipated or why.

The people in this district are making due. It's barely different than the Farm here, though they're building houses and restoring what salvageable framework remains. But, the sense of permanence helps. It keeps spirits up. They're home. They've won. They will prevail here, too; Things will get better.

The old Tower burns at his back, jet fuel from the old hangar and electrical sparks causing many disturbances, wildfires that are more dangerous to fight because of how compromised the framework is. The district directly below it had been completely wiped out. They will not rebuild it until they are certain what's left of the Hall of Guardians will not collapse down upon it. Just thinking of it makes a distinct sadness creep into his heart. 

It was his home. 

He shakes his head. He cannot think of it now. There will be time later. (There won't, but his people need him.)

Before him, the rebuild of the Anchor District is going smoothly. He focuses on that. On the greatness that can be accomplished when Humans and Guardians stand together and work as one. 

Beside him, Hawthorne looks around with a sharp gaze. Not judging, like he'd initially thought when they met months ago. She's looking for something. She's seeing something he doesn't.

"Alright?"

She blinks. Her gaze doesn't dull. She hasn't found what she's looking for, or it requires more investigation.

"Fine," She says. "Let's see what's happening down here." If nothing else, it pleases him that she’s acclimated to considering the new Tower her place of residence.

Above them, red and white banners flap in the early evening wind.

Part of this is checking on rebuild progress with the dispatched planners. Another is making sure resources are being stretched appropriately and that if something else is needed: lumber, steel, medical supplies, food, that it's addressed. Moving people back to the City from the Farm is a slow process. One they will do right.

The planner smiles at Zavala when he asks if they have what they need. "New Monarchy is helping us," He says. "They're filling in the gaps. We want for nothing."

This has always been a poor area, and New Monarchy helps the poor. New Monarchy always supported industry as well, specifically plasteel. It's no secret that the Vanguard does requisition quite a bit from them. They've got jobs waiting for these people. Hideo was rather insistent that once the rebuild was sound he'd find ways to get people back to work, to do his part to rebuild the economy.

And yet, Hawthorne frowns when they leave, her face reverting to a careful mask when he makes it obvious he's looking at her.

"What is wrong?"

She clasps her hands behind her back, wringing them.

"He didn't seem to be lying," He informs her mildly, guessing at her apprehension. She’d expressed a concern to him before, regarding the Clans and the Factions. Specifically the latter infringing upon the former.

Hawthorne stops walking, the step she'd been about to take forward aborted mid-execution. "He wasn't," She tells him slowly. Her hands come around her front. She crosses them. 

He's spent enough time to know what uncomfortable and pensive look like on her. "What is it?"

"I dont-" She sighs. "I'm worried," She finally admits.

Blue eyes blink at her, so very bright. She does not market herself as an emotional creature, though he knows she feels as deeply as he does. To express it so blatantly means she does not feel her feelings are unfounded. “Explain.”

As if she's at war with herself, her dark eyes flutter closed. She squeezes her hands where they rest above the opposite elbow, releases her defensive pose and exhales.

There is something in her gaze that could cut diamonds, their normal shade of earthy brown cool and dark. "You asked me to stay because you believed I'd make a difference."

He nods, mutely. He was there, he does remember his well drafted list of reasons, his defenses, all the things he hadn't needed because he'd started honestly and she'd rewarded that with some trust and commitment of her own.

"Part of why I agreed is because you can't save this City from itself."

"What?"

She reaches out: her nimble, cold, gun-calloused fingers wrapping around his wrist. "You,” She pauses, features concentrating, trying to put things the best way she can, with the least amount of offense. He knows she’s trying, that she holds a fear of failing her people - their people - very close to her chest. “You don't know know this City like I do." Something in her gaze softens just a smidgen. "Come with me."

-/

They meet up with Ikora and Cayde near what will eventually be the restored plaza at the heart of the district. For now, the storefronts house people en mass, providing better shielding from the elements than tarps and tents.

Hope in the face of destruction, the heartiness of Humanity is something breathtakingly heartrending to behold. This was the scene of a last stand. Of humans and militia defending survivors. He’d been told the story. Flowers and candles alight the street, banners - Vanguard, New Monarchy, patchwork flags for Clans - fly overhead.

A ball rolls in front of them, and Cayde makes quick work to nudge it back to them. They holler and cheer, he aims finger-guns and makes a show of blowing them out with little sparks and smoke when they ooh and ah after him.

Ikora, tempered by Cayde, offers them a gentle acknowledgement of her own. She does not do as well with these sorts of things, but she is trying. She’d never admit it, but the truth to Hawthorne’s accusations - what it means to be a Guardian - all those nights ago in one of the decomposing barns of the Farm really bothered her.

They are welcomed into one of the larger, more intact storefronts. Hawthorne does not take point, like he’s expecting. Instead, he is the one who leads them, following an older woman to a back room with a wooden table.

It isn’t much. There are rolled up sleeping mats in what looks to be a door-less storage closet. The woman offers them something to drink, trying, despite it all to be a gracious host. They decline, and she nods. For the best. The people are still rationing water. The Cabal polluted much of the freshwater supply within the city with their refuse, jet fuel, and otherworldly oils.

They make idle small-talk, about the way the City’s rebuild is panning out, the good that comes when Light and Lightless work together. The woman tells them of the children whose parents and other elders take turns watching them so that work can be done, of how they’re working to re-implement some form of education system until things can return to normal.

“Thank you for your support,” She says eventually, nodding to each of them in turn. She has bright, silver-blue eyes that contrast her pewter-grey, fading hair that’s tucked back into a bun at the base of her head.

Zavala nods. “You have everything you need? We are happy to-”

“Yes,” She replies quickly, looking away. “Thank you.”

Across the room, Hawthorne leans back against the wall, crossing her arms again. Zavala looks at her. She gives him a sad smile.

“You can tell the truth,” Hawthorne encourages, gently.

The woman’s eyes find hers like magnets, pupils constricted. Conflict and panic written across her face.

“I-” She swallows. “It’s the truth. We do.” Her gaze finds Zavala’s and it makes him flinch, internally, makes him want to recoil. This woman is afraid of him. Why is this woman afraid of him? “You’ve been more than generous.”

Hawthorne closes her eyes while Ikora’s eyes narrow and Cayde stops his idle fidgeting for once. The woman looks at her, pleadingly. The Clan steward steps to the woman, sitting at the table and drops to a knee, crouching beside her. “I trust him.”

“But-” His ears feel hot, and there is something akin to panic that bubbles in his chest. He has never wanted to strike fear into the hearts of the people. He wants to protect them from anything, anyone, any form of danger or strife. He would never be their aggressor. Why does this woman believe he would bear her any ill will? He would lay down and die for her - for any of them. He would-

“He is not Hideo’s man.” Hawthorne says. She rises and places a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes are unfathomably open. He cannot look away. “He is the City’s and hers alone.”

Then, Zavala blinks at the woman, who looks at him in earnest. Broken. Hopeful. Terrified. He wants to ask how, why she feels the way she does, but more than that, he wants to get down on his knees and beg her to understand. Compelled, he takes one of her hands in both of hers and tries. “What is happening,” He asks. “Please, tell me.” His voice is hoarse. Ikora and Cayde look at each other, then the ground. Their stances are rigid, uncomfortable.

“Tithing began last week.” She sighs. “What we don’t have in money, they take in other ways.”

“Tithing? For what?”

“New Monarchy is supporting the rebuild.”

“The Vanguard is funding-”

“Not all of it.” The woman barks back, a whip-crack of anger in her voice. “I had thought it would subside, because of the War,” She looks up at him, her eyes three shades paler than his, but blazing with emotion. “Food, medical supplies, water. Manual labor. Not glimmer, but even more valuable now.”

“They should have enough,” Ikora says.

Hawthorne looks at the wall across from her, eyes half lidded and stormy.  “They have factories to rebuild if they’re going to meet their contracts.” Her eyes meet Zavala’s.

He breathes sharply, eyes darting over the grain of the wood that makes the table top, grasping for something, anything he can do. “I will-”

“You didn’t know,” The woman realizes, speaking with sudden conviction. She places her other hand atop his, no longer blinded by fear. “Did you?”

“I-”

“He didn’t,” Cayde agrees immediately. “Zavala would never ever, not in a million years, ever let this go on if he knew.”

“They are trying to keep the poor poor. I do not want my grandchildren to beg for scraps like I did, like my children after me, because it is only by New Monarchy’s graciousness that we should be divvied any aid when they are the ones who take our wages and extras in the first place. They do not give us support. The Guardians, City Forces, Militia, the Clans give us support.”

The woman says, “I don’t know that they’ve ever done anything good for me or mine.” She frowns, her eyes focusing on something not present, something that exists only in her mind. Hawthorne turns and steps out of the room. “No. They’ve done one good thing for this City.” She turns her head, looks to his right, directly at Suraya. “They’ve exiled a child.”

Hawthorne’s eyes turn to steel, her fists clenched tightly at her side and she shakes her head almost imperceptibly.

“They could not.”

“They did,” She pushes.

“Impossible.”

“Not as much as you’d think,” The woman says, softer. Her withered hands squeeze his and withdraw. “That man would have the world believe you are to be our king. Certainly you know it. He tells us that you are pleased when they do well. That you are his friend - a friend of New Monarchy.” She growls, “Commander Zavala, a friend of New Monarchy is no friend of this City, not of her people, and not of me and mine. A friend of New Monarchy is that, and that alone. Even if their tenets say otherwise.”

Zavala learns. He listens and he learns and he takes to heart - even if he does try to listen objectively. This is the woman’s opinion. But she is not the only one with it, and there is no way for him to deny it holds some modicum of truth. He sees it when they return to the City streets, and the sun is setting. There is apprehension in the faces of the downtrodden, in the ones who live in the shadow of the factions, of New Monarchy. They believe him to be Hideo’s king. Belief is a powerful, terrifying thing.

-/

“That woman believed New Monarchy had the ability to exile a child,” He tells her, pacing in front of one of the still-abandoned storefronts. “The Consensus is the only governing body in this city who could exile anyone. And by no means would they ever,” He spits angrily, “EVER, exile a child. Not for murder. Not for theft. Not for anything.”

“They didn’t,” Technically, Suraya thinks.

"Then what did she mean by that?" He feels a prickle of something unpleasant, a suspicion growing in his belly.

Hawthorne shifts her weight subtly, he only catches the end of the movement, "Don't think too much about it. It's in the past."

Cool blue eyes narrow and soften all at once. "You told her that I was trustworthy," He reminds her. "That you trust me. Was that a lie?"

"You are," Hawthorne eventually says, as people pass them by.  She steps forward, back toward home, back toward the Tower.

"Tell me," He asks of her. “What did she mean? She was not a liar.”

“The child,” She sighs, shaking her head in a way that indicates she cannot believe she’s saying this, “They exiled themselves.”

“What?”

“It was that or New Monarchy would target their family. They made a choice. It was one they’d been planning to make, anyway.”

“Who.”

“It doesn’t-”

“Suraya.” His eyes burn into her with something akin to fury, compassion, heartbreak wrapped together and packed in an ultraviolet glow.

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and doesn’t answer.

He closes his eyes, and for a moment she wonders if he’s going to cry, faced with the truth. His City, his beloved, precious City failed her. “Why?”

“I’d been stealing from them, for people like these. He’d said things-” Horrible, ugly, revolting, untrue things, “-and I punched him-”

“You were a child.”

“Almost fifteen.” She takes each of his clenched fists in one of her own. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It most certainly does.”

“You’re a good man,” She says, and it breaks the undercurrent of rage in his voice, his surprise giving him pause. She offers him a tiny smile as she steps back. “You would have stopped him.”

He answers her without hesitation. “Of course!”

“I’m not upset that it happened. Not to me. Not anymore.” She looks up at the Tower, then back at the seedlings of the City reborn. “I don’t want it to happen to anyone else.”

“We can change things,” He whispers, with conviction. “I know it.”

She nods. His arm comes around her shoulders. She bars her own cross his lower back. The City expands. The Vanguard is listening. They have the Clans. It will be a fight, but things will not go back to what they had. 

“We already have.”

#commander zavala #suraya hawthorne #destiny fanfiction #new monarchy #ikora rey #cayde-6 #executor hideo is not a good guy #city politics #my writing

[elilamshol-blog]

Star Wars - Commando, a fanfic Part One

Geonosis - 14 Hours post invasion

Gray Team

  The majority of the Republic's troops had returned to their assault ships and were now on their way back to Coruscant. Only a few thousand troops had been left behind. Most of whom were engaged in clean up operations.

 Zero-Five was one of those who'd been left behind. A gunship pilot, he had been tasked with ferrying supplies to and from the planet, though his last haul had actually been the bodies of about a dozen fallen troopers. It had taken over an hour to scrub the blood off the cabin floor after that one.

 His current haul was much more lively though. Four Republic commandos, dressed in black armor. A stark contrast to the white armor worn by most clone troopers.

Zero-Five had heard about how good these commandos were supposed to be, even back on Kamino, before the invasion. He hoped that even a tenth of that would turn out to be true.

 A red beam of light flashed off to the left of the gunship, missing it completely, but making his stomach churn.  It was turbo laser fire, from somewhere on the surface. He reached up and flipped off the running lights. All it would take is one lucky shot to bring down the gunship. He would land the gunship down in the dark.

 "I thought the enemy had been cleared from this area," said the leader of the commando team.

"Apparently not all of them," said Zero-Five. "Looks sporadic and light. Still, that's a turbo laser battery. Not something I wanna mess around with."

 The commando said nothing.

LZ Garden came into view. A flat stretch of Geonosian ground that had been cleared and painted with a red cross. It was going to be a tight squeeze. There was a destroyed AT-TE just on the edge of the landing pad. The turret was pushed away, but it was still too close for his liking. He guided the ship down slowly and laid it on the pad.

 The troopers on the ground were already fixing to load up another group of bodies for him to carry back. He sighed, watching the commandos as they departed. He really hoped they were as good as the rumors said. He didn't know if he could do this for the entire war.

  Commander Phi had been on the ground since the battle had begun. It was a lot quieter now. There was some sporadic blaster fire off in the distance, but it was nothing like what he'd heard earlier.

 He couldn't wait to get back to the assault ship and take a nice, long, hot shower. But first, he had one last objective before he and his men could leave. The recently arrived commando team needed to reach the spire that stood nearby.

Phi shuddered at the thought of going back inside that place. He and his men had spent hours clearing every single floor and he was certain he was going to have nightmares about the things he'd seen. The Geonosians were a particularly nasty race. If he never saw another one of them again, it would still be too soon.

 Phi and his men had cleared each floor, starting from the bottom floor and working their way up. They hadn't touched the tunnels underneath. That's where the Commandos were going.

 Phi didn't envy them in the slightest.

"Welcome to Geonosis. The rear end of the galaxy."

"What's the current situation inside the spire?" asked the lead commando.

 Phi's HUD designated him as Theta Seven Seven. There was no other information available.

"The uppers floors are clear, for now at least, but we never touched the tunnels. Don't know what's down there or where they go. I lost a lot of good men though."

 The commando glanced at the rows of white sheets; some of which were being loaded onto the same gunship they had arrived in. There were far too many.

 "We'll make sure those bastards pay for every single one," said the commando.

"Please do," said Phi.

 He lead the commando team down a trench, which had been a fortified Separatist position only a few hours earlier. The remnants of the battle still lay scattered about. Destroyed battle droids, a gun turret which had been upturned and was still smoking, and a lot of dead Geonosians.

  The clones under Phi's command had made sure they were dead. A single shot through the head of each one. It was gruesome, but had paid off. More than a handful had been playing dead, waiting to strike the troopers when they let their guard down.

 They reached the spire.

  Power had been cut to the spire during the earlier battle, leaving it bathed in shadow. It towered over the troopers, colossal and imposing, with large spears of rock jutting up from the ground, like the fingers of some massive beast.

 Phi tightened the grip on his DC-15 as his eyes scanned for any sign of movement.

They were at the blast door now. It had been left open and orange dust had blown in across the floor. A dead Geonosian, still clutching a spear, sat just inside. It was still guarding the spire, even in death.

  "We'll take it from here," said the lead commando. "You can return to your unit now. Good luck commander."

 Phi sighed quietly with relief. He had little interest in going any further. "Good luck commando."

 He took one last look back as he walked back toward the gunship, but the commandos had already disappeared inside. Crazy fools, he thought to himself.

 The commandos changed their visors to low light visuals and swept the interior of the spire. Evidence of the previous battle was still everywhere, including in the air, which tasted heavily of ozone. There was a burnt flesh smell to it too.

 They moved the way they'd been trained to, like water. Each movement was fluid and deliberate. There was no wasted excess. Every single action had a reason.

 Bypassing the ramp the led to the upper floors, which were supposed to be clear, they made their way toward the blast door that led to the lower levels of the spire and the tunnels that connected to them.

 Unit TB-442 had been waiting for the moment when it would be required to fight. Patient, obedient, it would have waited there indefinitely if need be. But then its audio sensors picked up something. A noise, coming from the other side of the door that it had been ordered to defend.

 The droid cranked its sensors to max and listened. There was absolutely something there, but it didn't know what. Perhaps a relief unit? Had the Republic army been defeated? There had been no word since the power had gone out all those hours ago.

 The door suddenly exploded, shards of metal sent flying inward. TB-442's armor took several hits, lighting up the droids HUD. Nothing had breached the armor or had damaged the vital components beneath.

 The thermal detonator that came flying through the door next, did. It blasted TB-442 off its feet and threw it backward. The concussion from the blast crushed its armor inward, causing multiple failures. In the last moments before its power failed, it saw them. Clones.

 The Republic had won. It had failed its task.

  "Well, now that grenade just seems like overkill. Who leaves one single droid to defend a blast door?" said Gamma.

"I almost feel bad for it," said Echo as he bent to examine the disabled droid. "It probably would have sat here until its battery was completely drained. Never moving; Forever."

 "Then we ended its miserable existence," said Theta. "Can the chatter. We know we've got hostiles in the area now."

 The four commandos spread through the room, which had obviously been set up as a defensive position, but had been abandoned for some unknown reason. A sonic turret sat unused, the barrel turned toward the door they'd come through. Around that was crates, which had been stacked to create a wall from which the droids could fire from behind.

 The door leading out of the room was at the back. It was unlocked and led deeper into the tunnels beneath the spire.

#star wars #the clone wars #republic commando #geonosis #clone troopers #clone commando #battle #the republic

[kagetsukai]

Drops of Satina: Day 16 - Blessings

Raphael and Lily Trevelyan belong to @out-of-the-embers. Thank you so much for helping me with this prompt!!! The name of the nobleman was concocted by @shannaraisles, who is forever the best ever?

Words: 2,767 || Read on AO3

Summons to the Inquisitor’s quarters came as a surprise and put Hannah in a state of mild panic. She had never truly spoken with the Inquisitor - most of her communication being handled by either Commander Cullen or, occasionally, Lady Montilyet - so the fact that she was going to have a direct conversation made her worry. In her past job experience, any time The Big Boss wanted to chat with her, it meant immediate termination and a need to look for a new job. With a heavy dread in her heart, Hannah put away her work, locked everything up and slowly made her way towards the Inquisitor’s tower.

Whatever she had expected to find at the top of the seemingly endless staircase was not what she found; the room was as large and splendid as Hannah remembered, but instead of obvious opulence it was tastefully decorated with practical furniture and multiple bookshelves. A large desk sat on the opposite side of the room and the Inquisitor stood up and moved around it the moment Hannah stepped past the balustrade

“Hannah!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

Hannah dipped into a courtesy and frowned a little.

“You have formally summoned me, Inquisitor,” she pointed out. “I could not refuse.”

Lily frowned and hummed. “That… is a good point,” she said. “Either way, I’m happy to finally get to talk to you. And please, call me Lily. I don’t want to be so formal when we’re about to have tea.”

Hannah stared at the woman, confused.

“Tea?” she asked.

“Yes, tea,” Lily replied with a shaky grin and pointed to a fancy couch that Hannah hadn’t noticed before - there was a table before it, ladened with food and drink. “I was gifted some black currant tea and I thought that maybe you’d like to share it with me?”

A multitude of questions crowded in Hannah’s head, one more insistent than the other. While she no longer thought she wasn’t going to get fired from her position, she still had no idea what was going on. Just to be on the safe side, she decided to play along.

“I must admit, I’ve never had black currant in my tea,” Hannah said carefully. “But I’m always interested in new food experiences.”

“Excellent,” Lily said and directed Hannah to sit down. “Shall we get to it then?”

Once they sat down, Lily went about pouring out some tea into their two cups and offered sugar and milk to go with it. Then she offered the little sandwiches and scones and cookies that sat neatly arranged on fancy porcelain plates. Hannah was surprised, because those were the kinds of things that were left for servants to do and not the most powerful woman in Thedas. Still, she held her tongue. For her part, Lily looked extremely tense. Hannah noted the stiff posture, the fingers idly picking at the nails, and the slight frown between the brows that reminded her of Raphael. Something was going on, that was for sure.

“I guess I should tell you why I asked you here today,” Lily intoned. Hannah nodded, but said nothing. “For some time now I’ve been hearing rumors of how certain members of the Inquisitions treat you and I have to say that I never condoned it and I am sorry you had to put up with it.”

Hannah narrowed her eyes.

“I had sent Master Wardell to the Exalted Plains as a test,” Lily continued. “He was supposed to go on site and repair a bridge in the area. Not only he failed to give me anything beyond a few planks tossed across a gap, but he belittled my intelligence when I questioned his actions. When I asked why he couldn’t build me a bridge like the one in Emprise du Lion, he immediately got defensive and angry. Do you know why?”

Of course Hannah knew why Wardell would be unable to replicate the bridge in Emprise du Lion, but she also knew she could never say it out loud. She didn’t have to.

“I think he wasn’t the one who had designed that bridge,” Lily said and finally looked directly at Hannah. There was steel in those gentle brown eyes as she continued to speak. “I think it was you who did it, which is even more impressive because you had to have done it sight-unseen. Which means you should be the one who’s in charge of our engineering team.”

This was getting to be too much so Hannah set down her tea cup before she spilled any liquid.

“Inquisitor,” she said and paused. “Lily,” she corrected herself. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Master Wardell--”

“Is no longer employed by the Inquisition,” Lily finished.

A dragon could have landed between them and it would have shocked Hannah less than the words she just heard. She kept staring at Lily, her mouth slightly open.

“What?” she asked weakly.

“Master Wardell is gone. I have no patience for men who disrespect women just because they’re women,” Lily said evenly. “Which means the position of Chief Engineer is open and it would bring me great joy and satisfaction if you agreed to take it.”

Words formed at the tip of her tongue, but no matter how hard she tried, Hannah couldn’t make a sound. The fact that the bane of her existence would no longer make her life unbearable brought on such vivid relief, she actually felt her body uncoil from the stress she didn’t know she had been carrying. Then the full meaning of it all hit and her eyes widened.

“Wait, you mean--” She paused, suddenly overcome with emotions. “I’d be making all of the decisions? Officially?”

Lily smiled a little and nodded.

“Yes,” she simply said. “Will you accept the offer?”

“Yes!” Hannah immediately agreed before Lily changed her mind. She had worked her entire life to get to this point and she wasn’t going to let doubt get in her way. “I accept.”

It was such a happy feeling to know that for the first time in her life, Hannah was being recognized and rewarded for her hard work. Even when she had a commission with Queen Anora, her position was largely in name only and had been given to her as an appeasement to Warden Tara Cousland. If this thing with the Inquisition went well, Hannah would be able to finally have enough influence to force the College of Engineers to accept her among them and give her the title of “Master”.

“You’ll be taking over Wardell’s office, of course,” Lily continued. “His men arrived earlier today and have been packing everything, but once they’re done, the space is yours.”

No more crowded spaces with multiple people shuffling about and breaking her concentration, Hannah realized. She wouldn’t have to lock up her desk every time she had to step away, either. All of this information was so good, Hannah was having a hard time keeping her emotions contained.

“Thank you. You will not be disappointed,” she whispered. “This means so much to me. A lot more than you could ever imagine.”

A soft blush tinted Lily’s face as she smiled wider, clearly pleased with herself.

“I’m glad,” she said and her brows furrowed again. Something else was clearly on Lily’s mind, because she shifted in her seat and sighed deeply. “I am very sorry I didn’t realize what had been going on. If it hadn’t been for Raffy, I probably wouldn’t have known.”

Hannah blinked. “Raffy?” There were so many implications and her mind tried to consider all of them at once, creating a cacophony of thought that threatened to overwhelm her.

“He talks about you a lot, you know,” Lily offered and chuckled. “Won’t shut up, really. I feel like I already know you really well just by the stories he’s told me over the past few months.” She paused and looked down at her hands; the quiet guilt that radiated from her made Hannah frown even more. “He’s been through so much, so seeing him be so happy with you…” Lily looked up and smiled sadly. “I’m glad he’s found you, that is all.”

A familiar sort of pain swelled in Hannah’s chest as she tried to work through her emotions. It should have annoyed her that it took Raphael’s intervention to get others to respect her, but she felt grateful instead. She finally had someone in her life who was willing to fight for her and had her back - and that was invaluable. The fact he also made her incredibly happy was just a lovely side-effect.

“I’m glad, too,” she said and felt herself blush a little.

Lily kept looking at her, eyes slightly sad and distant, as if she was trying to figure out Hannah’s innermost thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

Hannah nodded. “Of course.”

“What are your intentions towards Raffy?”

Perhaps she should have known this question would come up, since their conversation had turned to such personal topics, but it still made her gape at Lily in surprise. How could she answer when she didn’t understand her own feels just yet?

“Intentions?” she said slowly. “I don’t have intentions towards Raphael. If I’m to be honest, most days I’m surprised he wants to be around me to begin with.”

Lily nodded, though she didn’t seem convinced.

“I get it - I think,” she said, then frowned. “I’m sorry. I know I’m probably coming off rude, but I can’t help worry about his well-being. The last thing I want is to watch him get his heart broken.”

Oh. It all suddenly made sense and Hannah felt herself relax. She smiled a little and felt her cooling blush return in full force.

“If that’s the case,” she said, “I can tell you one thing for sure: I don’t know what the future holds, or if we’re meant to stay together, but it’s not my intent to hurt Raphael in any way, shape, or form. I care about him very much.”

The words felt like a love confession in Hannah’s mouth, and she felt terribly embarrassed that she let herself speak so freely, but it seemed to have the desired effect: Lily’s body relaxed visibly and a small smile graced her face.

“And I’m glad to hear that,” Lily said.

Silence returned between them. It felt a little awkward to sit with Raphael’s cousin and discuss Hannah’s feelings for him, so to cover her embarrassment she reached for her tea cup again and grabbed a plate with sandwiches. Lily followed suit and they were soon engrossed in their own thoughts.

The first one to break their silence was Lily.

“So I heard you had a bit of trouble with a nobleman the other day,” she said in a casual tone. “Does that happen often?”

Hannah scowled into her tea cup at the memory.

“Not so much anymore,” she said, trying to keep a growl out of her voice. “Usually it’s enough when I glare at any idiots who feel entitled to demand things from me.”

Lily nodded along.

“Makes sense,” she said. “Still, I will not tolerate such horrible behavior within the walls of Skyhold - no matter if they are high-born or a commoner. I permanently banned him from Skyhold; Lord Bruic Scheissehausen will not bother you anymore.”

Hannah had been in the middle of a sip of tea when she heard the name of the nobleman who had accosted her and it took all of her willpower not to spit take everywhere. She coughed several times, trying to clear her airways, while Lily stared at her in confusion.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked and frowned. “I don’t actually speak Fereldan so I wasn’t sure if I got the pronunciation right.”

Once Hannah collected herself again she waved off Lily’s concerns.

“No, no, you’re quite fine in your pronunciation,” she said around a grin. “I just wasn’t prepared for the man’s name. Did Lady Montilyet not translate it for you?”

Lily’s frown deepened. “Now that you mention it, her face was unusually amused when we talked about it, but I didn’t think anything of it. What does it mean?”

Hannah snorted and broke into a new bout of laughter. “His name--- his name is Brick Shithouse,” she finally managed to get out and dissolved into unrestrained giggles.

Lily’s eyes bugged out at once as an undignified snort issued from her mouth - which she promptly covered with her hand.

“Oh Maker, that’s horrible,” she said softly.

Hannah couldn’t help herself. “A horrible name for a really… crappy man,” she said and snorted as well.

Lily groaned at the terrible pun. “That was an awful joke.”

“Not as awful as that name, though!” Hannah managed to wheeze out. She was crying-laughing at this point and Lily was having a hard time keeping things together as well. “His parents really had to hate him.”

A new thought brightened Lily’s face in delight. “No wonder he’s unmarried! Who would want to be called ‘Lady Shithouse’?”

Hannah’s brain immediately provided an answer: “Perhaps a woman named Latrine?”

That was the last straw for Lily and she burst out laughing at full volume. It further triggered Hannah and they were soon howling together while trying to stay upright on the couch. Any time either of them tried to collect themselves into a semblance of calm, she would look at the other and start laughing again. There seemed to be no end in sight.

“What’s so funny?”

Raphael’s raspy voice washed over Hannah like a blanket and made her sober up significantly. There were still tears in her eyes so she tried to wipe them off as she turned to face him - and Lily did the same. He stood there, at the top of the stairs, staring at them with curious suspicion.

“I’m not sure how to say this--” Lily started, but Hannah waved her off.

“You saved me from the shittiest man in Ferelden,” she said and burst out laughing again. Lily followed suit.

Not being in on the joke, Raphael seemed a little annoyed at the little display before him, though he did his best to play along. He moved to sit down on the couch next to Hannah and gently put his arm around her waist.

“I already knew that,” he pointed out. “That doesn’t make it so funny that the two of you are crying into your teacups.”

Once again Hannah tried to contain her mirth; she took several deep breaths and fanned her face to help dry out the tears that kept streaming down her cheeks. She pointedly avoided looking at Lily in case her amusement triggered her - this had to be said quickly.

“Apparently the nobleman who accosted me was called Lord Bruic Scheissehausen,” she said and choked on a laugh. “Which in Fereldan means Brick Shithouse!”

Both Lily and Hannah dissolved into giggles again at the way Raphael’s eyes turned into saucers in shock.

“What the fuck,” he swore. “That can’t be real.”

“Oh, it’s real alright,” Lily chimed in. “Lady Montilyet was the one to tell me his name.”

Raphael stared at Lily for a moment before his face broke into a grin.

“That’s amazing,” he said. “He’s an ass, so he deserves an asshole name.”

Another bout of laughter bubbled up in Hannah’s lungs, though it simmered down the moment she got to look into Raphael’s smiling eyes. The funny name quickly drifted out of her mind, instead replaced by a steady heartbeat of Raphael’s name her body called out any time he was near. She could feel the small circles he was rubbing into her lower back and it made her melt under his ministrations.

“Anyway,” she heard Lily say. “Now that we got our silliness out, perhaps we should finish the tea service?”

Hannah turned back to Lily in time to see the other woman smile softly in her direction. It made Hannah blush in embarrassment for getting caught in such an intimate embrace.

“Can I join you?” Raphael asked.

“Of course,” Lily replied. “Grab a cup. There should be more than enough for everybody.”

As they busied themselves with food and drink, Hannah couldn’t help but marvel at how different her life had become in a span of just few weeks. Not only she found a man who cared about her in ways she never knew possible, but she also got a promotion and gained a female friend who didn’t seem threatened by her existence. Somehow, life became good.

#fanfiction #may-hem #drops of satina #dragon age #da:i #female Trevelyan #male Trevelyan #female OC #Raphael Trevelyan #Lily Trevelyan #Hannah of Highever #Hannah/Raphael #cuteness ahoy! #it's so fluffy I could die #humor #I amuse myself #I'd apologize but I'm not sorry #I have no chill #why must I write so much #send help

[scoutception]

Final Fantasy Mystic Quest: forever standalone

The world of Final Fantasy spinoffs is a wild one. Aside from miscellaneous mobile games, most of what you’ll find is connected to something greater in the end. From the famous Ivalice series containing Final Fantasy XII and the Tactics series, to the Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, to more humble Crystal Chronicles series, they’ve all spun out into their own little subseries. Others, however, are connected to series outside of Final Fantasy. Final Fantasy Adventure, for instance, started as its own little spinoff before becoming the start of the Mana series, while The Final Fantasy Legend games were just SaGa games retitled so they’d sell better. Bravely Default owes its existence to an obscure little game called The 4 Heroes of Light, which I shall be covering in my next review, and even World of Final Fantasy has its own mobile game spinoff. The one odd, standalone spinoff through this all is ironically one of the very first; an extremely humble little game called Final Fantasy Mystic Quest, intended as an entry level RPG made for the American audience who, at the time, namely 1992, hadn’t widely accepted JRPGs as a genre. Whether it succeeded in this endeavor is something we’ll be examining now.

Story:

The story of Final Fantasy Mystic Quest concerns a little world cleanly separated into 4 regions of earth, water, fire, and wind, each with an elemental crystal providing blessings on the land. with a tower called the Focus Tower standing at the center of the world, the sole passage between them. All was well in the world until the Vile Four (think the Four Fiends from Final Fantasy I), appeared, sealed the Focus Tower, and attacked each crystal, draining them of energy and robbing the world of their blessings, causing, among other things, a small village to be destroyed by an earthquake. A survivor of the disaster, a boy named Benjamin, meets a mysterious old man on the Hill of Destiny during his escape, who tells Benjamin that he is the Warrior of Light spoken of in an ancient prophecy, who will save the world from this very disaster. Thus, Benjamin, with the help of various allies who tend to ditch him at the drop of a hat, such as the unreliable thief Tristan and the archer Phoebe, who goes into self pity mode rather quickly, and ventures forth to destroy the Vile Four, save the crystals, and ultimately confront the mastermind behind it all, the Dark King.

If this sounds at all familiar, that’s because it is. Yes, they essentially copied the plot of Final Fantasy I, only somehow even less detailed. While you do have actual characters as party members, they aren’t much to write home about, with very basic personalities and very little screentime with which to even put them to use. While the game seems to try to have a jokey, lighthearted feel to it, similar to Final Fantasy V, with events such as the old man randomly appearing to deliver one piece of advice before flying away, often leaving Benjamin baffled, the dialogue is very stilted and only makes it come off as awkward and forced. Outside of the events that lead to the dungeons with each of the crystals being unlocked, there’s no real overarching plot otherwise, and outside of the reveal of the Dark King’s existence, and that he was the one who created the prophecy in the first place, more or less as a joke, which goes absolutely nowhere, there’s no twists to be found. While the simplicity might have been part of the “entry level” design, in the end it just means there’s not much memorable to be found.

Gameplay:

Final Fantasy Mystic Quest uses a turn based battle system similar to Final Fantasy I. At the start of your turn, you select among several commands, such as basic attacking and magic, with the main difference being the party is restricted to a maximum of two characters, one being Benjamin, who is always in the party, and the other occupied by several guest party members who join and leave at various points in the story. Benjamin, as it turns out, is rather versatile, gaining a good assortment of abilities throughout the game. There’s 4 types of weapons he can use, namely swords, axes, claws, and bombs, along with 3 types of magic, which are white magic, used for recovery on allies, or, strangely enough, used offensively on enemies, black magic, plain attack skills, and wizard magic, which are even stronger attack spells. He can also raise his defense with shields, armor and accessories he finds. Benjamin’s allies, on the other hand, aren’t quite as skilled, all being limited to single weapon types, and only a few spells each, though the party member you’ll have for the final dungeon, Phoebe, is a magical powerhouse herself. It should be mentioned that, like FF1, instead of a traditional magic point system, it’s limited by each type of magic only being to be cast so many times without resting or items. The game is, however, quite generous with the amount of casts you’re allowed, reaching past 40 casts for black and white magic at max level.

One thing that must be mentioned is the progression system. Every so often you’ll find a new piece of equipment or spell in a dungeon, or be able to buy them in towns from specific NPCs. This only applies to Benjamin, as the other party members have set equipment, and there’s only a few pieces of equipment for each type. This may not sound like a big deal, but outside of these few instances, it means money is only good for buying consumable items in battle, and since they’re littered all around dungeons anyway, and everything magic points are restored at the end of battle, this leaves few reasons to actually buy them anyway, with the exception of the seeds, which restore all of your magic casts. Every piece of equipment is also always superior to earlier found ones, to the point that they automatically replace your weaker pieces automatically, not even giving you a chance to use them again, leaving them as nothing other than nice looking decoration on your equipment screen. Aside from regular elements like fire and thunder, weapons have their own associated elements to them, which certain enemies will be weaker to than others, and defensive armor carry resistance to status ailments or elemental attacks. Weapons are also used during exploration: swords are used to hit switches, axes are for cutting down obstacles such as trees, claws grapple you to far away areas, and bombs destroy other obstacles like rocks, plus, unusual for an RPG, Benjamin is able to use his stubby little legs to jump, even over NPCs would other be blocking your path like idiots. While an interesting system, don’t expect puzzles or anything like a Zelda game. Your obstacles are bare minimum creativity, and are all easily passed as long as you’re not mostly asleep, which, admittedly, is more of a challenge than it sounds.

There’s no getting around it, this is a very, very easy game. Random encounters don’t exist, with all enemies being set and visible on the field, anything that isn’t a boss is barely a threat anyway, and even if you do meet an unfortunate demise, you can just restart with no penalties. Bosses are generally more interesting, usually being actual threats, but outside of Pazuzu, who periodically puts up a barrier that reflects magic, most don’t need strategies other than attacking and healing. All of this was entirely intentional, considering the game’s goal of being entry level, and I do believe that not every game has to be made for everyone, but all the same, the game feels rather, short shortsightedly designed. Other than collecting every piece of equipment and all the spells, there’s nothing to give replay value, and since anyone who’s played anything even slightly more complex will very likely find themselves bored by the simplicity, it makes for a very disposable game, meant only to fulfill its purpose as an introduction to RPGs, any legacy it has driven by nostalgia. Thus, while the gameplay is technically sound enough, there’s very little reason to give it attention. I wasn’t even intending to wrap up the gameplay segment of this review this quickly, but that shows how little I’ve even been given.

Graphics:

Overall, the graphics of Mystic Quest are, ok. The field graphics resemble Final Fantasy IV, if frankly a bit less detailed and muddier. The locations and designs are rather unmemorable, however.

One thing I can praise, however, are the battle graphics. Aside from some nice spell animations, enemies are much bigger and much more detailed, and while the designs are nothing special, they actually change their graphics as they become more and more detailed, which is a fantastic little detail I wish showed up in more games.

Sound:

There’s really no getting around it, the main legacy of this game is its music, and rightfully so. While the track list is rather small, and there certainly are quite a few unmemorable tracks spread around, the ones that are good are really good, the highlights being the rocking three battle themes, especially the boss theme, and the final dungeon theme. They’re definitely worth looking up for a listen to. In fact, the one game other game in all of Final Fantasy that gave Mystic Quest focused recognition is Theatrhythm Final Fantasy, the game all about music. That alone should be all the indication you need.

Conclusion:

Overall, this is a solid not recommended. Easy and simple on purpose it may be, it’s such a short and dull experience that anyone not explicitly seeking an introduction has no real reason to try it. Even those with morbid curiosity, like me, won’t find much, since it’s not out and out terrible. It holds up ok enough for what it is, but doesn’t even think of being more than that. Even at the time, it was rathe unnecessary, considering Final Fantasy IV had already been released a year earlier, in a massively simplified version. All in all, you’d be better off looking pretty much anywhere else for an introduction to the genre. Till next time.

-Scout

#Final Fantasy #game review #snes #JRPG

[mass-effect-galaxy]

Joan’s Song 5: The Spectre

“Commander Shepard, It is the decision of the Council that you be granted all the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel. 

Spectres are not trained but chosen. Individuals forged in the fire of service and battle; those whose actions elevate them above the rank and file. 

Spectres are an ideal, a symbol. The embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance. They are the right hand of the Council, instruments of our will.

Spectres bear a great burden. They are protectors of galactic peace, both our first and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold.

You are the first human Spectre, Commander. This is a great accomplishment for you and your entire species.”

“I am honored, Councilors”, Shepard said. ‘About time’, she thought

The ceremony felt somewhat make-shift and was a bit of a disappointment to Shepard. Of course, with Saren the Council had a rouge spectre running around the Traverse, attacking human settlements at will. Even worse, the Council had known of it, did not warn the Alliance, and had failed miserably in solving the problem by sending Nihlus after Saren. The least the Council could do now was giving a human spectre status to hunt down Saren.   

One advantage of being a spectre was free housing on the Citadel. Shepard had expected a room in the C-Sec barracks. She wasn’t prepared for a two-story apartment in the Tiberius Towers. It was furnished tailored for a human; however, Shepard didn’t like the style: several separate living areas with leather couches, two bars, an office with a poker-table and a fireplace, a completely impractical open kitchen (she wouldn’t be cooking much here, but still). The dining area had a giant table, but someone had removed the chairs. There was not a single spot she would label as “cozy”. This was the home of a middle-aged male human single. A lot of work to do. At least she would be able to do something herself about the disturbing giant paintings on both floors. 

Technically, Shepard’s assignment to the Normandy was concluded with her being appointed a spectre. In Council Space, she would now be outranking Captain Anderson anyways. Someone already had brought over Shepard’s things from the Normandy. Her bags and boxes were piled next to the entrance; as were Kaidan’s and Ashley’s. Already from the cap that brought them here, Shepard had called Admiral Hackett and asked for both being placed under her command, her personal “spectre team”. By chance, the apartment had three bedrooms and would now be their home and headquarters.

There was an additional set of packages on one of the couches. “Christmas!”, Ashley shouted and sat down unpacking the first one. Shepard liked her that way: Ashley had dropped a lot of the diffidence she had shown on Eden Prime in Shepard’s presence. It had not fitted her. That package revealed a red overall with dark boxes on the shoulders, legs, and the back. An armor. It looked ridiculously. Shepard touched one of the boxes and the hard-cups extracted. Now it was lacquered-black with a red under-armor. “I think, I stick to Alliance colors”, Shepard said. “You bet, Commander”, replied Kaidan unpacking another package. It held a folded rifle. Shepard took it and pushed the button to unfold the weapon. It was a black assault rifle with the red spectre-wings and the designation “HMWA VII” stamped into its butt. The other parcels contained the respective sniper rifle, a shotgun, and a pistol. “Just one set. I’ll requisition yours as soon as possible.”, Shepard promised. 

Kaidan went out for the evening, a date with some doctor from the Citadel.  “Or maybe, he has some itching he doesn’t wanna talk about and needs an excuse to see the doctor?”, Ashley joked. She and Shepard were at the bar in the room with the big screen on the wall. Shepard was checking the little refrigerator beneath the bar. “You dig up anything useful down there, Ma’am?”, Ashley asked. “Scotch, Tizza, and ice. Sounds like ‘Acrturus Shots’ to me.”, Shepard replied. “Shoot, Skipper.”

A few shots later, Ashley said, “Proper way to celebrate Armistice Day, isn't it?” Shepard had no idea what Ashley was talking about. “Armistice Day?”. “Yeah, First Contact War, you remember. We always celebrate it in our family.” Ashley sounded sad. “Really? I know, my father fought there, in a unit with Hackett and Anderson. What about your family;  lost anyone to the birds?” “Shepard, I am Ashley Williams.” Shepard shrugged, confused. “General Thomas Williams granddaughter.” “Shanxi-Williams?” Shepard blurted that out and immediately regretted it. “Sorry, that was unkind.” “It’s okay, Shepard. I am the offspring of a traitor.” “Ashley, listen”, Shepard said, “your grandfather's tactics were sound, and by surrendering in time, he saved countless lives. He was no traitor, the admirals just needed someone to shift the blame to.” Ashley blushed, “that’s kind of you. He would have liked that. After all, you are a hero: Akuze, Elysium, Torfan.” 

An awkward moment of silence followed. Then, Shepard said, “I am not a hero, I am a monster.” Ashley resisted the impulse to answer. This sounded serious. “On Torfan, I should have surrendered. The Alliance certainly would had paid any ransom for us. Maybe, the animals had executed me, but the others had lived.” Shepard suddenly realized that she personally was responsible for Jan’s death - not the batarians, not Major Kyle, not Admiral Hackett. ‘It was me!’ “Instead, I chose to fight. I killed the prisoners, I had my men been slaughtered, and I have blown up a compound full with our people. All for nothing but my damned selfish pride.” She trembled. ‘I am sorry. I am so sorry.’ 

Ashley came closer. She laid a hand on Shepard’s leg. “Jo, listen.”, it was the first time she called Shepard that way. Her grief turned into butterflies in her stomach. “Whatever decision you made, whatever you did or didn’t do, was bound to happen. It brought you to the place you are now. And this is the place where the Galaxy needs you.” This was one of those moments that had to come to a kiss. “Right now, I need you just by me”, said Shepard bending forward to kiss Ashley. 

Ashley didn’t open her mouth to return the kiss. Shepard backed off. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to..., I thought...” she stuttered. “This is unexpected. I am seriously flattered, Jo. But I am really not into girls, I mean, ‘that way’.” Shepard nudged her, “Hey, I am not ‘girls’, I am Commander Shepard.” This somewhat saved the situation. They drank the last shot in silence. Shepard was the first to speak again, “Ash, I would understand if you’d feel uncomfortable serving under me now. If that’s the case, please be straight with me. I’ll arrange for another posting; a proper command with the Fleet, of course, no more garrison duties for you. I’ll promise” Ashley shook her head, “Skipper, I don’t know where this journey takes us, but I’d be proud to be a part of it. I cannot rest from travel. I will drink Life to the lees.” “You read poetry?” Shepard was genuinely surprised. “I have a degree in English Literature”, Ashley replied with pride. Shepard opened and closed her mouth. “Really?” “Yeah, Online. But don’t spread it around.”

Shepard woke up with a slight hangover. She took a pill against it. Once her head was clear again, she changed into sport tights and -shirt, both with N7-emblem. She could use some jogging but the “fitness room” of this apartment was lacking a treadmill. She checked her omnitool, but it seems there were no gyms for humans or asari on the Silversun Strip, only a fight-club for turians. Sparing would be nice, but to turians, it was part of their sexuality - and she was not interested in a bird fluttering on her back. Jogging in the streets was forbidden on the Citadel. Only humans did that for sports and it always caused a stir with the other species. Finally, she went for some rounds against the punching bag in the lower bedroom. This was supposed to be Kaidan’s room, but he obviously had not slept here. ‘Luckier than me, Alenko?’, she thought while going through a sequence of roundhouse-kicks.

When Shepard was back in her room, Anderson called her. She put him on the big screen over her bed. Anderson frowned seeing Shepard still in sport dress. “What’s that, Commander, one day off the leash and all discipline has gone? This is no shore leave! Saren is still out there and he is up to no good.” “Yes, Sir, understood. Any leads from the Council.” She heard the showers from Ashley’s bathroom. This sound caused Anderson to frown again. After all, it already was 0830. “Indeed, the aliens came around with a certain ‘Martriach Benezia’. She is working for Saren. She has a daughter by the name of Dr. Liara T’Soni, who is, and that’s interesting, an expert on the protheans.” “That must be our link to the prothean artifacts”, Shepard concluded. She had not talked with anyone about the vision from Eden Prime. Instead, she had drawn the alien that had ‘spoken’ to her and compared her image with the few artistic depictions from prothean times on the extranet. They were matching; even though most of them got the skin color wrong. “So, you want me to get that asari and use her against her mother?”, she asked Anderson. “Shepard, you are a spectre now. Only thing I can do is set you on the trail. What you do or don’t do is up to you. That’s the point with having independent spectres. There is one other thing though”, Anderson launched his omnitool, “You take the Normandy, I am transmitting the command codes to you.” Shepard protested, “That’s not right, Sir. The Normandy is yours.” “Commander, the Normandy is not mine, she belongs to the Alliance. And when the Alliance says you get her, you get her. Besides, she was specifically designed for operations like these.” “Thank you, Sir. I won’t let you down.” 

Time to go hunting asari.

The apartment hadn’t changed since Kai Leng was last here, and security in the Tiberius Towers still was a joke. He started his tour by checking the refrigerator. Someone has been making pancakes. Two were left on a plate. Kai Leng picked the plate and started to eat while moving on. Shepard had left most of her personal items here. There was a holographic easel in the office. He launched it and went through her pictures. Most either showed planet-sites or were portraits of other women. They were good on a technical level, but Kai Leng wouldn’t call them ‘artistic’. One was a nude self-portrait of Shepard: a rather slim woman, he would have expected her to be more muscled. He copied that one to his omnitool. The very recent one caught his attention too: a blue alien with four eyes. “A prothean”, he mumbled. He copied that one as well. Time to check the upper floor. In the bathroom, he found a bottle of “Oceans of Illium”, a fragrance preferred by asari prostitutes. It contained pheromones that attracted other asari but didn’t work on humans. ‘So, that little pervert likes them blue too.’, he thought. The bottle was still sealed, though. After having eaten the pancakes Kai Leng used Shepard’s brush for his teeth. Afterwards, he cleaned the brush in the toilette. Leaving the plate in the bathroom, he checked on the wardrobes. Not surprisingly, there were only a few clothes. One revealed an N7 hoodie, similar to his own, a spectre armor, and a red Apex armor that had been in use by security forces on Elysium before the Blitz. A drawer held some underwear; only black and white, nothing special. He took a white sport thong as a trophy. Lying on Shepard's bed, he went through the recordings of his surveillance bugs. Afterwards, he called the Illusive Man, “Sir, you were right about the protheans. She is now heading for the Artemis Tau Cluster.” “Anything about the reapers?”, the Illusive Man demanded to know. “No, Sir. No one has mentioned them so far.”

#mass effect #joans song #commander shepard #femshep #femshep x ashley #ashley williams #shepard x ashley #kaidan alenko #captain anderson #kai leng