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officialleehadan · 2 years

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On the back of the Tide

Hello darlings! It's a spooky one, brought to you by Brandon who is Level 35 and got to pick TWO Prompts for Prompt Month. Darling, thank you so much for your support. Today we got to introduce a scary new monster. I hope you love it!

Prompt: HGE – Terrors of the Deep

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There were a few places. Not many, but some, where even the mermaids cared not to swim. Where the water held terrors worse even than the worst of their kind. Where monsters lingered, older than the god who first made their race, who were not to be trifled with. There were some things in their world that had legends of their own, and those legends were not to be underestimated or taken lightly.

Wise, to avoid deep water with a terrible reputation, well-earned over many, many centuries.

Evelene was the only mermaid who chose not to heed the warnings whispered by the local Shoal. She was powerful in her own way, and this monster was one that she had, long ago, treated with. They were not friends, for this monster did not have friends, but they were not enemies, and she was not prey.

It was more than any other creature of the water dared to claim.

Now she rested beneath a bridge, her back to one of the deep supports, as the tide began to press through the narrow strait that created one of the sea’s most powerful natural currents. As a precaution, Evelene had wrapped herself in a bubble of still water. It had taken her two days to tame the currents to her will, but she had time, unlike her venture into the Strid, and salt water was always kinder to her than fresh.

So she waited, cradled in her safe little bubble as the tide rose. When it was at its most powerful, she released her hold on the bridge’s support, and let the current carry her into the lair of a monster. As a courtesy, she freed a bottle, filled with the water of her own home-waves off Macedonia. It was not called that anymore, of course, but in her heart, it would always carry the name her mother had known it by.

The water escaped the bottle and joined the rush. To any other being, it would be undetectable, but Saltstraumen knew this water better than any being, and it would know who had come to call. It was ancient and sexless. A being of frightening intelligence, and utter disdain for life. If there was news of the oceans, Saltstraumen would know. It hoarded gossip and tales the way Hoshi did, and never hesitated to whisper them where they would cause the most trouble.

In short, just the ally that Evelene needed.

(First.)

The word echoed in her mind, heavy like the surge before a storm and threatening as the maelstrom that spun before her. Evelene anchored her water-bubble before she could be pulled in. Saltstraumen would not hesitate to devour her if she was foolish enough to fall into the maelstrom that shared its name.

Below her, the ocean’s floor shifted, suddenly giving and mobile as the monster below her roused from its gluttonous feast.

“Hello, Saltstraumen,” Evelene greeted the monster civilly and readied her defenses just in case. Saltstraumen was always hungry, and the daughter of a god would be a meal it would not always refuse. As mercurial as the water around it, the monster was always a danger, and never predictable. “I have a story for you.”

The heavy pressure in her mind might have killed any other mermaid. It might have killed any other mortal, in fact. Evelene was not mortal, blessed by her father and uncle and bound to the life of her dragon. She sent her power through the water and torqued the maelstrom before her hard enough to scatter the currents apart into little swirls of frantic bubbles, the rush of the massive current turned aside by her will alone.

She might not win a fight with Saltstraumen. It was unbelievably ancient and unimaginably powerful.

But it might not win a fight with her, and that made it both amused and cautious of her.

This water was not hers, but it was water, and she was as much a creature of the oceans as it was.

The pressure in her mind faded to a rush of the tide against sharp rocks. There was no apology. She did not expect one.

Instead, great tentacles, the size of the largest trees, as thick as buildings, rose silently through the water around her like a forest of gently curling trunks, lined with immense suckers, each lined with teeth. Saltstraumen’s skin was as changeable as its mood, but today, it looked like the stones beneath its favorite maelstrom, jagged and dark. It was a massive creature, grown over millennia of lingering in the currents, mouth wide to accept whatever the tide brought in.

The legends of fishing on a kraken’s back were not so much myth as they were terrible warning, for Saltstraumen would devour anything unwary enough to come too close.

(Do tell,) Saltstraumen invited her, amused by her show of strength. (Release the tide.)

“Ask me nicely.”

(Tell me your story.)

Evelene smiled, a smile that only her dragon and her favorite aunt, who chose winter’s cold over summer’s wealth, had ever seen. It was a smile for a foe who knew her well and had reaffirmed their truce, if only for this visit.

She released the tide and felt the maelstrom blaze into existence once again. Below it, Saltstraumen’s immense mouth yawned open like a forest of spears fit for giant hands.

“Some of my own have been taken by the vampire's curse and made blood-hungry,” she said, content with the terms of their unspoken agreement. It would eat her if it could. She might kill it if they tried. This was the agreement of beings such as them. “They spread madness through my sister’s daughters. It is a threat to all creatures of the ocean.”

(Not me.)

It sounded certain, but the kraken was too intelligent to believe it. It was ancient and powerful. It was lethal, and could control the waves as well as she could, or better. It could still be killed by a swarm of maddened fangs wrought by tainted magic twisted with god-blessing. If the vampire’s curse was allowed to spread through the mermaids, it would leave the ocean barren, and sooner or later, they would come for even the most deadly of the ocean’s monsters.

“You know better,” she replied confidently as her protected bubble of currents caught her hair gently and billowed it around her face. It glinted gold as fish scales, a lure fit for a dragon. It was good that Blaec had not come with her. He did not know how to speak to things that were older than him. “Where did it begin?”

Saltstraumen thought about it. It was not a hasty monster. Very little was, once it was old enough. Decisions simply were not pressing, and very little was a matter of speed.

(Seek the place where the curse began,) it said finally, tentacles twitching and shifting with its thoughts. Evelene watched those tentacles closely. They were more dexterous than anyone expected, and impossibly strong. If it managed to grab her, she would not escape. (The water there is thick with blood from land and sea. You will know it.)

It was more than she had hoped, but Evelene did not offer thanks. Instead, she folded her spines flat to her body, and put every ounce of her magic behind a single hard column of water that shot her upward like a torpedo. Just in time, as Saltstraumen’s tentacles closed in on her, toothed and grasping and hungry. It was not angry, but it was hungry, and she had overstayed its patience.

Fortunately, she was not without other allies.

The jet of water exploded into the icy night and carried Evelene high above the waves even as Saltstraumen reached for her, almost faster than the water and eager. The moon was only the finest crescent, a breath after moon-dark. It allowed for an escape that could never have been managed in the day.

In the ocean, there was little more deadly than the kraken that gave a maelstrom its name.

In the air, there was little more deadly than the First Dragon.

Blaec gathered her out of the water-jet with claws that were tender and practiced, and powered into the sky. His immense wings strained for the height that would protect them. By the time Evelene was dry and her scales had fallen away, they were safe, coasting on the powerful winds that gusted down from the arctic.

Below them, Saltstraumen was laughing, faint in her mind, but heavy as the tide that still gushed out into the ocean.

(Did it have anything useful to say?) Blaec asked when he had transferred her to his head, where her clothing waited. Evelene dressed quickly against the cold air and laid flat on her dragon’s ever-warm scales to chase the ice from her veins. (Where are we going next?)

“South America,” Evelene said grimly into the wind. There was pressure in her mind again, but this time it was the welcome heat of her dragon and she welcomed him in. He lit her heart and eased the lingering fear of the monster she had narrowly escaped. “We seek the beginning of the vampire curse.”

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HGE - Terrors of the Deep:

Dive Down Deep

Underworld Arms

The Lighthouse on Styx (Subscriber Only!)

A Story of the Ages

The Strid (Subscriber Only!)

On the back of the Tide (New!)

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MASTERLIST

#humans are weird #Humans are space orcs #humans are space Australians #humans are strange #humans are terrifying #humans are space fae #dragon #dragons #mermaid #mermaids #deity #human galactic empire #vampire #vampires

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netmors · 16 days

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Eleventh Fleet AU - Thrawn, Eli Vanto and Karyn Faro's timeline concept arts set.

Suddenly I wanted to make a selection of art and see the progress - I really enjoyed drawing the timelines for the characters. I'm especially pleased with how they turned out ////v////

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sci-fi-space · 10 days

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“Three Body Problem” by Derek Tsang (S1 E4)

“Step into the unknown with Episode 4 of ‘Three Body Problem’ - ‘Our Lord.’ Uncover the secrets of the San-Ti civilization and the Oxford Four’s struggle against an impending invasion. #ThreeBodyProblem #SciFiSeries #Episode4Summary”

S01 E04 “Our Lord” The episode opens with the aftermath of Jack Rooney’s death, leaving the Oxford Five now the Oxford Four. The group is struggling to cope with the loss and the realization that the virtual reality game they’ve been playing is far more than just a game. It’s a recruitment tool sent by the San-Ti, a civilization on the brink of destruction, looking for Earth’s brightest minds to…

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carlosbaldellou · 9 months

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The kind and the furious

When humanity was welcomen in the stars, nobody knew what to expect of these deathworlders. Their world looked stunning. Full of life. Well, mostly. They had serene places, fruit trees neatly arranged. Sure, the tectonic activity was on the high end of the spectrum, but perfectly livable. But then, you noticed the animals. The arms race of evolution. Predators that evolved to avoid other predators. Hervibores with toxines so potent as to wipe out the largest predator animal in the galaxy. Predators that somehow evolved to resist those toxins and other ludicrous natural defenses. It was... madness, to most of the galaxy.

Humanity spread far and wide. They had looked into the dark abyss of space for a long time, and now that they could roam trough it, they went everywhere. Small human settlements started to pop up everywhere. The races were cautious, but this new species seemed like a good neighbour. So they welcomed them, still unsure as to how to clasify them.

Untill a disaster happened. A huge chain explosion in a residential area. Buildings collapsed and fire roared. The emergency response teams were overwhelmed. But they, with time, managed to quench the fire and control the situation.

And then, the humans came. With their personal vehicles. From neighbouring cities. From far away cities. They started to clean the rubble, even if it was not their duty. They helped the victims. Looked for survivors. Cared for them. Healed them. Sure, kindness and help from your own species was expected to a degree, but from another species? It was unheard of. You cared for your own. But humans were different. They were kind to everyone. They helped as they could. Preparing meals. Setting up tents. Moving rubble... And every time a survivor was found, they cheered with enthusiasm.

The galaxy at large looked at them. And humanity was labeled as the kindest species in the falactic collective.

That is, until it was found what had happened. While moving rubble, some metallic carcass was found. One that was traced to an explosive from a species outside the galactic empire. Tensions rose. War broke out a couple years ago.

Humans joined the war. Everyone thought they were kind. Everyone tought they would provide support.

Everyone was wrong.

When humans started fighting, they showed why they were the dominant species of their world. Sure, they did not have vicious claws. Sure, they did not have venoms. Sure, they were not armoured. But they were smart. They were cunning. They had planned for stellar warfare before we found them. They already had devised strategies. Simple, brutal strategies.

Humanity grabbed the biggest asteroid they could find, strapped some rockets to it and launched it straight to the enemy positions. Their fleet, guarding behind it. Using it as cover. When tvey were found out, they jumped to defend that asteroid. They were a small group agains an entire planet. Nobody tought the humans could win.

Everyone was wrong.

Humans fought with all their cunning and might. They fought with ferocity and ruthlessness. Disabling thrusters and energy systems first. Then leaving the poor enemy ships to die. They were no longer a threat. The asteroid advanced and got into descent orbit. Impact was inevitable. And the humans left. They had done their job. A quarter of the world was wiped from the initial blast. The rest of the planet was uninhabitable, and would be for a long time.

Humans fought. Their strategies evolving. Changing to counter their enemies as they started to be prepared. Always a step beyond. Always with a new warfare solution. Orbital bombardment with titanium rods, cloaking technogy never seen before, new ship designs seemingly every day.

Humans fought. Captive humans found ways to escape prison and sabotage the enemy from within. Wounded humans went to fight again while still recovering. Their savagery in limit situations scared allies and enemies alike.

The war ended with the enemy surrendering completely. Mostly thanks to the humans. Peace was signed. And then, the humans sent aid to the defeated enemy. Cargo ships full of medicine and food started arriving. Human troopers helping with the reconstruction efforts.

Humans, like their homeworld, were a race of extremes. Capable of the biggest acts of kindness the galaxy had ever seen, but also the most furious and savage acts when it was necessary.

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Hope you all like it. It's my first story of this kind

#humans are space orcs #hfy #writing

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adeptus-nonsense · 4 months

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humans are poets as well as warmongers

Humans nowadays are well known far and wide in this galaxy. Mostly because they are some of the most chaotic, Stupid or bold "daredevils" around (think i used that word correctly).

While i do recall my first meeting with the humans very V E R Y badly since i served in the contact wars when the Graktuka a well known theocratic empire and very influential and politically strong contender in the galaxy stumbled across human colonies. They saw this as an hostile action since the planet they were settling were a holy world, That however is a story for another time.

Just know that the Graktuka empire shrunk by a significant margin to the point where they asked for militairy support. The humans had apparently developed a kind of magnetic accelerated firing plattform piercing through multiple layers of hull completely ignoring shields. Given that Graktuka empire relied on shields since most of the galactic arsenal is plasma based but their hull wasn't weak at all. Unconventional weapons had to be used to even dent their armour. Realising that the humans ships were massive but rather primitive and slow a ground based invasion was seen to be the optimal way off going.

If you were there you would know why humanity is as feared as they are. Masters of the what did they call it? Art of war? Yeah something like that. Fields of bombs buried into the ground detonating with a light step. Weapons dedicated to injure soldiers just enough to save them but not kill them in order to make the invader spend more resources on saving said soldier.

Even our bases of operations with shields were not safe, let me tell you if you think regular humans can cause damage to stuff by touching things dont even get near trained saboteurs with your stuff. They break things in a ways that seems like a simple malfunction and will work after a simple repair. When the shield generator first broke down i thought i could fix it in a matter of minutes, I still havent fixed it to this day and i have taken that thing apart thousands of times without finding the fault.

safe to say we lost that war and this is just one one planet. This was the short part. Just be glad that they pack bond with just about anything. Saw a human carry a cleaning unit and named it "Ronald the Roomba" And that is apparently our ships mascot. But this is things we all are aware of. Let me tell you of their poetic side

This is not something most of us see as common knowledge about humans, but their cultural aspect besides war is for a lack of better words beautiful. This thing they call music.

for all their wars they know how brutal they are and write songs about everything they did wrong and how they wished how they could change it. But that is not all, according to human Jakob music portrays emotions and ones feelings in a way that regular communication doesn't and you dont even need to understand the words to understand the emotion said piece is carrying. Which i know to be true, it's almost therapeutic

I think My log of it will be a better way to describe since it is honestly hard to describe [alltough be careful their music is quite loud for most prey species]

Year 4574 human sector 456854 log 1 of service leave. I am currently here on a passion project of mine. While the war has ended 6 years ago off now the tensions do still exist. Me and some comrades in service are taking some time off and going to what humans call a bar and apparently there is a human performing. I have no idea of how this is gonna go. All i know is humans are incredibly chaotic especially when intoxicated. Still i should probably record this for the culture scientists at social scientific hub.

Log 2

*murmur and loud talking in the background at the bar*

"for clarifications sake, my name is Groakslo, i am here with my two comrades Kyukla and Telosa. We are currently at the bar only to see that humans are actively drinking poison, i was quite shocked to hear this and asked if it isn't dangerous and the bartender said and i quote "nah we gucci" note to self find out what gucci is."

Log 3

"the humans were beginning to get rowdy and even slight outbursts of violence did occur but nothing the surprisingly loud bartender couldn't handle by a very concerning threat, followed by him saying that the band is preparing so settle down. Telosa and i looked at each other very confused but still awaited this "band"

Log 4

"the band arrived and started to set up weird things, long instruments with metal strings, of varying thickness, i asked the a human who were close by what they were and he said instruments. I asked what they were used for and he said to play music. I was getting nowhere and decided to see for myself what they were gonna do."

Log 5 (i decided to be quiet for this one)

"welcome folks and aliens of all sorts shapes and kinds! Thank you for coming to this bar for our first debut our name is The Lines In between, and for those who dont know human music, we'll slowly lean you into it with this first on and it is namned Memories beneath the stars" [3 hours of music recorded]

Final log (yes i know i could voice record but i want to write while the memory is fresh i'm bad with words)

I never knew that humans could make such songs. Telosa and Kyukla was particurlarly affected. The song was as the name suggest the memories we made sneaking out to watch the stars as younglings, reminiscing about the times when the stars were the most unknown, adventure filled and beautiful place to be in. But also about the connections they've lost over the years, the good times wiped away like a water slowly polishing a stone into sand. It was odd, beautiful calm, sad all at once.

The voices i heard when i fought humans in war can not even be compared to that of the singer in that band, what is most perplexing is that the once borderline rioting bar was completely quiet when the band was performing, almost as if in a trance completely captured by the singers voice, smooth, rough, raspy but controlled in a way i thought impossible. A song about 4 human minutes somehow managed to capture the full emotional spektrum of not only humans but multiple species in that bar.

Humans truly are an astounding species. Truly a species that are on all of the extremes, stupidity, ingenuity, violence, poetry and many many more. For now i'll sign off and hope you at the social cultural exchange fellas have a field day with the music file attached to this.

Grokslo, highly decorated former geothermical shield generator militairy specialist.

#humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are space fae #humans are space orcs #this is my firsy real post and more to come :)

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wolven91 · 22 days

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Skin Deep

The crit'yun are an ancient race.

Chitin instead of flesh, feather, scale, or fur. A mind that was vast enough to include all their kind, but also individual minds, all working towards a common goal broken up into hives then castes. They were like ants of old, but massive.

As for the hives, in the deepest, most protected parts of their worlds, there were pools of a biological soup that gave birth to new and needed bodies. There was no 'set' appearance to the crit'yun. If they needed pincers the most, then the creature that crawled from the ominous goop had pincers. If they needed size or bulk, the goop would recede as a titan lifted itself clear of the liquid, allowing it to cascade from it in great waterfalls as it stepped into the galaxy.

The crit'yun had been around since the various races that now dominated the galaxy had begun to crawl from their own primordial soups millennia ago. They watched the galaxy and recorded its comings and goings with a careful eye. Nothing was forgotten, everything was shared. Perhaps once the crit'yun had spread themselves across the galaxy, like a grand empire? But that wasn't the case now.

Their territory with a sliver that spanned several arms of the galaxy. They stayed there, watching and listening to the galaxy that appeared and grew now that they stayed dormant.

But the modern galaxy feared them, even before their most recent awakening.

Not just because they had perfected what was important to the current races, war and weapons, but because they were an antithesis to what was considered beautiful within the galaxy. Skittering. Twitching. Eyes that didn't look like eyes, or none at all, still watched without blinking. Legs and hands that were weapons.

They were judged on their first introduction. The crit'yun were aliens, even to the aliens.

When humanity appeared, it created an almost visible ripple amongst the insectoids. Something new. Something they hadn't seen. Something they hadn't recorded with their incredible minds. Something, that was dying.

Like a locust swarm amassing, the crit'yun, after thousands and thousands of years in isolation and refusal to engage with the wider galaxy; was suddenly abuzz with activity. The galaxy feared the crit'yun despite the diplomats they sent to assure the Galactic Community of their honourable intentions. They avoided crowded systems, sent only the most appealing of the crit'yun to parley when needed, but they were still shunned as dangerous, foreign things.

This was where Max came in.

Max had been in the 'care' of slavers. He was one of the lucky ones. He hadn't even been aware of their foul intentions. They had lied, placed him in comfortable quarters and began their journey towards a buyer before being found by the crit'yun.

"We are still sorry. That this. Was your first step. Sorry, that we, no... you... did not find... ally, friend, family." Chittered the creature. It was the size of a large dog, perhaps a Great Dane? It's red membrane wings flutters and twitched, but the numerous black dots, that Max had come to learn were its eyes, watched him carefully. Its speech pattern was strange, but it sat next to the human on a raised bench of resin that coated the inside of the crit'yun ship.

"It's alright. I should have known, I just didn't... think I suppose?" The human said with a sigh, gesturing with his hand before it fell back down against his knee.

"Absence. No. Lack of knowledge. Ignorance. Not worthy of fault. " Assured the creature as its head tilted one way and then the other.

The human smiled idly, more to the floor than to himself or a crit'yun. His hand, ever moving reach over without thought and rubbed a hand against the almost perfectly rounded head of the alien insect. Although there was no fur there, the distracted human merely felt calmer by the action. It reminded him of his own dog, Max missed him.

It was almost a whole minute before Max turned his head to the crit'yun and blinked, seemingly surprised that he was petting the insect and immediately withdrew his hand.

"I'm sorry! I didn't-" Blurted the human, holding his hands up in apologetic surrender.

"Why?" Asked the creature. It's perfectly round head turning, the beady black eyes rotating with it. It was a perfect impression of a puppy tilting its head.

"I wasn't thinking." Replied the human honestly, lowering his arms once more, paying attention to the creature.

"Ah. This one knows this. Nature. No... Natural action... To act by instinct. True Freedom. Fear no. Fear not. No offence made or received." Confirmed the alien, bobbing its head. Unbeknownst the Max, the instinctual drive it spoke of was its 'purpose'. Every crit'yun was born and made with a goal, a true purpose in life. The broodmother's was to birth and care for their young and vulnerable. The guards was to defend and destroy threats. To this drone? It was to reapply the resin to the ceilings of the crit'yun craft.

Since the human had shown preference to it, it had already been replaced, its purpose was now to stay by the human and ensure it wanted for nothing until the broodmother's craft arrived.

Max gave a smirk as this giant insect spoke in such an odd way, struggling to find the correct words, all the while he had accidently just treated it like a favoured pet. His brow furrowed as he thought about it though.

"How come the translators don't work for you?" The man asked curiously. He was aware that translators normally just adjusted any word heard for the word the speaker meant, in the listener's language. It shouldn't have been hiccupping over the insect's words.

"They do." Replied the creature smartly.

"But you mix up your words?" Pointed out Max.

"Ah. Translators fine. It is mind that is... limited." The insect explained, bobbing on all six legs.

"Mind?" Max was only more confused now.

"Yes. This one. Crit'yun you see with your eyes. Is only drone. Mind limited. In time... We will present acceptable crit'yun to you." The drone explained, speaking the words the broodmother sent through the hive's mind. It was a delicate thing, to speak through a drone, but doable. They didn't normally have the drive to talk or even need to. It was pure luck that this done was a talkative one, often humming to itself as it happily worked. The broodmother could only whisper simple concepts and the drone would repeat them as best it could.

"What does that mean?" Enquired the human. The crit'yun was pleased with the new specie's curiosity but feared that this was the moment they would lose this creature's trust. The crit'yun knew what they looked like, and the diplomat form could only look so much like them before it caused distress.

"We hide. Will hide. What makes us. Robes will hide chitin. Our eyes will be only... One... Two..." Counted the drone, repeating the broodmother's words. Her signal was getting stronger, straining the creature's mind.

"You don't have to change for me you know? I don't mind." Promised the young man.

"You... flinch." Pointed out the drone.

"I'm not going to lie, its intimidating, being surrounded by bugs, but I bet I don't look great to you."

"Clicks for this one. True. Truth is spoken. Very well. When this drone... is returned to the hive. Hive will not attempt... much... to hide selves..." Promised the drone, settling down onto its folded limbs. Tired now.

"Good. I was always told be proud of who you are. And you guys saved my life, so in my book you're alright."

"We wish to record your book. Please present it." Asked the drone, it's mind growing tired now that the broodmother had relinquished her hold on its mind. She was on the ship now. The idea the drone could record new history and present it to the broodmother? As it slipped from the waking world, if it could smile; it would have.

"Oh. Uuhh..." The human said, unaware he was the only one present now.

[r/WolvensStories]

[AO3]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #insect #insect x human #crit'yun

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panickingmoth · 2 months

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When humans first joined the galactic community, they found themselves lost among the countless other species, until they meet another species nicknamed the Collectors.

The Collectors were a telepathic species with a strong tendency of hording everything from materials to stories to other species. Aided by an almost perfect memory gained from countless centuries of keeping track of their horde, and long lifespans, the Collectors became experts on every aspect of science, culture and economy, there was only one thing that they could not comprehend, creativity.

In hope of getting some reputation and rekognition, Humans started selling movies, books, stories and art, anything to impress the Collectors enough so that Humans were spared.

At first the Collectors were interested but that change the first time they met face to "face".

Soon there was a message going out to every single empire that humans, earth and the entire solar system was "obtained" and protected by the Collectors.

As it turns out, the Collectors were obsessed by the stories that humans came up with, to the point they would stalk writes and read their mind almost 24/7 just to "read" the next book.

#inspiration #humans are space orcs #funny #idk how to tag this

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niqhtlord01 · 4 months

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Humans are weird: Never put a human in a zoo

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The sudden extinction of the Dre people was as sudden as it was unexpected to the galactic community. They were one of the oldest and most technologically advanced races in the universe. Heavily isolationist by nature, coupled with their inherent self-sense of superiority they viewed much of the other space faring species as little more than savages by comparison as none of them presented a credible challenge their rule. Yet within a month they had lost nearly 99% of their population across multiple worlds.

The worst hit was their homeworld of Belnuck situated at the heart of their empire which became an empty husk of a world seemingly overnight. Ancient and powerful cities of technological wonder now were little more than ghost towns to be picked clean by scavengers.

There were no signs of civil strife or unrest, no exterior threat from military forces, not even a record of natural disaster on their homeworld. Nothing was found that could give a clue as to what could have erased such a prominent power as the Dre, and so it was written off as a deadly unsolved mystery and the galactic community went on.

At least, that was what the public report stated.

It wasn’t until a group of Kreen scavengers came upon a set of personal journals that the shroud of uncertainty was lifted. Only to be then shortly locked away and sealed under the highest security restrictions to ensure the truth never saw the light of day.

These are those journal entries: ------------------------------- Personal Journal Entry J-757931 Head curator Migu

The benefactors are requesting we add new exhibits to the zoo again.

I thought they would have been content with the Draxic specimens we captured last month but it seems the general public no longer find giant lizards fascinating to observe. One of them suggested we allow the Draxic to mingle with other exhibits for inter species interactions for potential science research; but I could tell right away that what they really wanted from this was to have guests pay to see those lizard savages rip apart our other attractions like a Frong in a Skitch field.

I wish they could at least try to hide their greediness behind some semblance of rationality. At least then it would be easier to stomach.

I’ve scheduled a discussion with our head capture specialists to go out and find new attractions for the people later today. I don’t have much hope they can find anything as fascinating to revive interest but one never knows. End Log Entry. ---------------------------------- Personal Journal Entry J-757935 Head curator Migu

Capture team theta appears to have acquired something of value.

The specimens were caught will transitioning into real space at the edge of a system and were removed from their vessel shortly after.

Their technology was primitive in nature, but from the recordings the capture team sent back their esthetic design choices appear to be unique for such a low species. Accessing their data banks was a trivial matter and provided a wealth of history to them.

They appear to call themselves “Humons”, and have only recently begun intergalactic travel.

From the data we have gathered these humons are a highly warlike society repeating cycles of great conflict to great resurgence throughout their history. During war time they have fought with everything from sharpened wood stakes to low grade thermo nuclear devices.

While lacking the physical exciting traits like armored skin or shape shifting qualities, I believe their nature as a self-destructive race will make them a comedic addition to the zoo.

Theta team is on their way back now with them and I’ve already given instructions to create the new paddock for them in the east wing. With any luck the benefactors will find them as amusing as I do and calm down. End Log Entry. ------------------------------- Personal Journal Entry J-757940 Head curator Migu It could not have gone any better. The public loves the new attractions and the benefactors love the increase in profits. Theta team captured roughly a dozen of these humons and when coupled with their historical data we were able to depict several invigorating habitats. We injected them with the standard nano machines to provide feedback on each of them for both the caretakers and the guests. I do have some concerns about handing the medical needs of these humons as none of our handlers know how to treat them, but I have tasked them with dissecting the gathered data for any relevant medical information. They seem very energetic and many of them have not stopped trying to escape their exhibit since they woke up. A few of them have already begun crafting crude weapons to defend themselves while forming mini factions. The largest group has created a primitive wooden fortress by sharpening sticks and creating walls with them. The smaller group has kept their distance from the larger groups while the remaining few have decided to remain in isolation from both groups. Guests love it when they start banging on the windows and try to talk with them. The children in particular I overheard already picking out their favorites and rooting for them to survive should they begin fighting. We’ve not had this kind of engagement since we brought in Bengols with their psionic abilities. ------------------------------

Personal Journal Entry J-758021 Head curator Migu

It’s been several cycles since my last entry and we’ve had a few snags. Our lack of medical knowledge regarding our latest exhibits has proven costly. Despite our best efforts to decrypt the remaining data from their ships it appears medical information was damaged beyond recovery during the capture process. This has left us unable to properly care for them during medical emergencies; which have happened far sooner than expected.

After several days of captivity several of the humons began showing signs of rapidly deteriorating mental stability. They’ve displayed signs of paranoia, societal breakdown, and an increase in aggression levels to the point they murdered other humons in the enclosure.

We’ve never had this problem before with our other exhibits, at least within such a short timeframe, and now the benefactors are calling for my head. They are upset that their most prized money generators are murdering each other risking their profit margin.

I’ve suggested applying mild sedatives to calm them but was denied. They insist that curbing their more primitive tendencies would cause customers to lose interest in them.

The suggestion of capturing more of these humons was strongly advocated for but it was my turn to deny that request. Deploying a capture team was an expensive endeavor and if the humons continued killing each other the costs would overturn any increase in profits.

I’m putting together alternatives now for my next meeting with them. Hopefully something will come along and save our hides. ---------------------------------

Personal Journal Entry J-758043 Head curator Migu

The problem for the time being has resolved itself via an unexpected avenue.

One of the capture humons was seen treating the few remaining humans; providing basic medical treatment and care.

Ordinarily we would have written off such behavior but because of our current medical situation we decided to bend regulations and reach out to the subject directly.

A translator unit was acquired and we were able to speak directly with the humon. It took several minutes to calibrate, thankfully much of their speech was unrecognizable. They would not stop trying to speak with us while it was being adjusted and went on and on about wanting to be set free and demanding answers. Honestly you think these humons would be grateful that we are lowering ourselves to speak with them.

When they finally calmed down we explained the situation to them. In exchange for their cooperation they would be given special privileges to treats and comforts for the duration of their stay. They wanted to be let out and freed from the exhibit but I quickly shut that down as a non-starter.

It eventually dawned on them that this was going to be their new existence for the remainder of their life and could live in comfort or watch as their friends died one by one; and they accepted the offer. -------------------------

Personal Journal Entry J-758117 Head curator Migu

While unusual the negotiating tactic with the humon has resolved the issue for us and the benefactors are happy once more.

With the medical humons help they were able to stabilize the injured humons while also negotiate a form of agreement between the humon factions in the exhibit. They could still maim and injure each other while guests were present but would not kill and then would be treated afterwards before the next day’s opening.

Interestingly enough the medical humon has proved very useful. They’ve been able to communicate with the rest of the humons and get them to fall in line. What’s more they’ve been minimalistic in requests with the biggest being to be taught some of the basics of our medical equipment so he can use it himself.

Ordinarily we don’t allow this but it would have freed up some of the medical wing so we allowed it with extensive supervision.

I must admit I am rather proud of myself for resolving the situation, and with such little expenditure. Things now are running smoothly once more and the profits are seeing ever increasing margins. Maybe now the benefactors will get off my back. Though honestly I think it’ll only last one or two months before the humons are worn out and they want something new.

---------------------- Personal Journal Entry J-758135 Head curator Migu

Oh gods it burns!

Everyone at the zoo is screaming and clawing their own skin!

Gods damnit make it stop! MaKE IT Stop!!!!!!!!!!!

-----------------------

Emergency Transmission January 2873 Chief Medical Officer Maxwill Clemons

This is Chief Medical officer Maxwill Clemons of the ship “Hades Rest” calling out to any terran ships requesting immediate rescue.

I am not sure what planet or system we’re in, but hone in on this signal and you will find us. I will be repeating this message every hour on the hour for as long as this place has power.

I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been in this god forsaken hellhole. The automated day/night cycles have made my attempts at record keeping near impossible.

Maybe a month? Two? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.

We were kidnapped from our ship after exiting a jump and woke up to find ourselves in some sort of alien zoo. The aliens refused to speak to us at first, instead watching us from windows and laughing at us while we struggled to find out what was going on.

They’re all dead now. The aliens that is.

I never knew what they called themselves and I don’t really care.

They treated my friends like animals, so I took their precious tech and turned it on them. Made the nano machines they injected us with register the alien DNA as a deadly virus in need of immediate eradication.

First one I got was the one who was so smug about our capture and display. They changed their tune after I spat in their eye and their face started melting as the nano tech spread. Two others came in after the screaming started and they got infected as well before fleeing the room.

I stood up and went to my comrades “habitat’ and let them out as every alien around us began screaming and melting away. That was at least three days ago now and I haven’t seen one of them yet. Their whole planet now is like one massive ghost town.

We’ve enough provisions to last us and the other freed captives for some time, but please do hurry. I want off this fraking shit hole as soon as possible. --------------- Message repeats:

Emergency Transmission January 2873 Chief Medical Officer Maxwill Clemons

This is Chief Medical officer Maxwill Clemons of the ship “Hades Rest” calling out to any terran ships requesting immediate rescue. ------

#humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #ai generated art #stable diffusion

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toadlessgirl · 1 year

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Okay, time to get pretentious and REALLY talk about this shot.

So put on your over-analysis goggles, and let’s talk about the Imperial Cog, Renaissance-era military forts, 18th century prison architecture, the military-industrial complex, the surveillance state, and why this single shot of Mon Mothma standing in a doorway in “Nobody’s Listening!” (the 9th episode of Andor season one) is making me so feral I want to kiss Luke Hull and his entire production design team right on the mouth.

For those of you not in the know - the shape on the screen behind Major Partagaz is the crest of the Galactic Empire - often called the Imperial Cog. It appears throughout Star Wars media on flags, tie fighter helmets, uniforms and as a glowing hologram outside ISB HQ.

In canon it was adapted from the crest of the Galactic Republic.

irl it was created by original trilogy costume designer John Mollo. Mollo has stated that the symbol was inspired by the shape of historical fortifications.

Bastion forts (aka star forts) first appear during the Renaissance with the advent of the cannon. Their shape eliminated blind spots, allowing for a 360 degree field of fire.

An apt metaphor for the Empire. Powerful, imposing and leaving you with nowhere to hide.

The Imperial crest also strongly resembles a gear or cog - hence the common “Imperial Cog” nickname.

Given how inextricably linked military and industry are, it’s also an apt metaphor. Both alluding to the Empire’s massive industrial power, and how it treats all of its citizens with a startling lack of humanity, valuing them only for what they are able to produce for the Empire.

The idea of the cog is repeated in the shape of whatever it is that they’re producing in the prison. They’re literally cogs in the Imperial machine making more cogs for the machine... while inside a larger cog.

This shape, in relation to a prison, also references something else which was almost certainly intentional on the production team’s part.

In the 1791 British philosopher and social theorist Jeremy Bentham proposed a design for a prison he referred to as the “panopticon” - the name derived from the Greek word for “all seeing”.

The basic design for the panopticon was a large circular rotunda of cells with a single watchtower in the center. The plan would allow a single guard to theoretically observe every cell in the prison, but more importantly cause the prisoners to believe they are under surevillance at all times, while never being certain.

Later philosophers (notably Michel Foucault) used the panopticon as a metaphor for social control under totalitarian regimes or surveillance states. The perceived constant surveillance of a panopticon causes prisoners to self-police due to the belief they are always being watched, even if they don’t know for certain that is true. They live in constant fear even if nobody is actually watching them, even if “Nobody’s Listening!”

The idea of the metaphorical panopticon has in more recent years been adapted to many other examples of social control: CCTV, social media and business management...

Like the concept of cubicles in an open floor plan office.

So that all being established - let’s finally talk about Mon Mothma’s apartment.

The cog shape is everywhere. There’s hardly a shot where at least one cog isn’t visible. Every room is connected by cog-shaped doorways.

The shape serves as a backdrop to most scenes, often centered and featured prominently.

(Side Note: The cog also appears as a repeated pattern on room dividers with the interesting added detail of intersecting lines that make them resemble spider webs.

The fact that Mon is often filmed directly through these web-like screens (particularly when conducting rebellion business) leads me to believe that this was a very intentional choice.

Even in the very heart of the Empire the nascent Rebellion is starting to build a web of networks and intelligence.)

I had originally presumed that the repeated appearance of the cog was just Luke Hull and his production team adding some brilliant visual storytelling to their already amazing sets. But the following line from episode ten leads me to believe they intended for these details to have an in-story explanation as well.

When speaking to Tay and Davo Skuldon about the apartment Mon states that “It’s state property. The rules are strict on decor. Our choices for change are limited.”

While it’s unclear whether the “state” in this instance is Mon’s home planet of Chandrila or the Empire itself - that second option makes the decor even more insidious.

If Mon’s apartment is Empire property that means the shape of the doors is intentional in-world, not just for the sake of visual storytelling. It means that this was a conscious decision by the Empire. A reminder to even the richest and most powerful of its citizens that they are always watching - whether you can see them or not.

Which brings us back to our original shot.

My favorite thing about this shot isn’t just that is shows how very alone Mon Mothma is.

It isn’t just that she’s in the heart of the Empire, surrounded and dwarfed - just another cog in their machine.

It isn’t just that’s she trapped in her own metaphorical prison, worrying her self sick about who may be watching, not safe even in her own home.

What makes this shot truly extraordinary to me, is that right in the midst of the Empire you can see a new symbol forming.

Forming with Mon Mothma right at the center.

It’s a bit blocky, still constrained by the the harsh lines of the Empire, but giving how intentional every design decision on this show has been I find it pretty hard to believe it’s there by accident.

A symbol that will one day adorn the helmet of a boy from Tatooine.

One that will come to represent what all rebellions are built on...

#andor #andor spoilers #star wars #HOW IS THIS SHOW SO GOOD?#mon mothma #production design #history #long post #whose extensive knowledge of star wars and the history of the criminal justice system is useless now MOM

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open-sketchbook · 3 months

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I wrote (another!) novel!

It took me almost three years of editing and refinement, but my second novel, Lieutenant Fusilier in the Farthest Reaches, is finally out in digital form! A print version will be out SoonTM.

It's... really hard to pitch this book, but I'll do my best. In a post-scarcity, strangely utopian alternate future stuck in 19th century aesthetics, all of humanity has been elevated to positions of wealth and nobility by a cheerfully industrious robotic working class. With nations united in a Galactic Concert, they spread through the stars; while so far empty of sapient peers, there lurks dangerous creatures and the automated remnants of long-lost empires.

Most machines are very happy where they are, working to make humans richer and more comfortable, but Theodora Fusilier (one of many thousands to share that name) has ambitions. She's saved for decades to afford an officer's commission in the British Army, a position normally reserved for humans, and today's the day. What's the worst that can happen?

It's a gonzo blend of weird sci-fi imagery, a pastiche of the Richard Sharpe novels, a character study of a workaholic, and a deconstruction of the imperialist themes in portal fiction. Like much of my work, it's an attempt to point my interest in military history toward something constructive, and it was great fun to write and hopefully a lot of fun to read.

You can get it on DriveThruFiction or Itch.io. If you get the digital version, you'll get a discount to the print version when it comes out so you don't get double-dipped.

The deliberately misleading cover was created by the amazing Molly Skyfire (NSFW link).

#novel #self publishing #lieutenant fusilier

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officialleehadan · 2 years

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Temper Town

Hello darlings! Today's story was brought to you by L! Darling, thank you so much for all your support. I hope you love it!

Prompt: Draco loses his temper and rains some destruction. HGE – The Others

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“You have made a very bad mistake, coming here.”

It wasn’t often that Draco lost his temper. He prided himself on his own self-control, particularly after he awoke as a vampire. He knew exactly how devastating he could be if he decided to employ the power stolen from his unexpected Turning.

Now, of course, he was older, wiser, and able to decide when it was time to unleash his true power.

It was a traveling band of vampires, disguised as a troupe of traveling performers. They went from town to town, feeding and murdering as they pleased. There were no laws for their kind. Nothing that could stop them from raining death wherever they went.

Their latest stop just happened to be the town Draco now called home, deep in the wilds of the same land he had been returning from when his human life was stolen from him. Now he spent his time seeking out his own kind, but he often returned to this small, unnamed town and the house he built for himself high in the mountains above. The people knew he was cursed, but they took his gold and kept their whispers to themselves.

Draco didn’t let the whispers bother him anyway. He was rarely home, and his house was protected by magic discovered on his travels.

He had a promise to keep after all. One leech would die for every one of his soldiers who died on the mountain under the fangs of his sire. That wasn’t to say that he killed very one of his own kind to cross his path. Some, like him, were seeking the ones who Turned them, hunting for revenge. Others simply wanted quiet, peaceful lives, settled with lovers and spouses who could sustain them without the need to kill. It was from them that he learned what he truly was, and how to manage the gifts that came with his cursed existence.

Draco left them to whatever peace they could find. He would not steal happiness as his happiness had been stolen.

These vampires, however, were not seeking peace.

Draco got as many of the townspeople out of danger as he could, and then, finally, let his temper free itself from his steely control.

It was time to allow himself the violence that lived at the core of his being.

It was time to have some fun.

“Little Lord thinks he can stand up to us,” one of the vampires, a man with the pale skin of the northmen, and the accent of a Gaul on his tongue. “Brave little Lord. We are your nightmares. Grab him, but leave that him for last, boys! Let him see what we do to those who speak out!”

They, Draco realized all at once, did not see that he was their kind. They did not understand the enemy they faced.

More the fools they.

There was a blur of motion to Draco’s left. To a human, it would be almost impossible to avoid. Draco simply took a step backwards as the vampire shot past him, startled to discover his prey had escaped.

“You speak of nightmares,” he said, and called on the strength of his own hidden curse. These vampires were children. Rowdy and excitable. They had no training or control. They had no mercy. They would do nicely. After all, he still had a great many vampires left to kill before his fallen soldiers were avenged. There were shouts around him when he snarled his hand in the hair of the next foolish childe to blur past him. It was another man, young and fair and snarling. Draco wrenched the boy’s head back, and drained him dry, before he dropped the corpse at his feet. Blood dripped down his lips, rich and heady. “You have found one.”

A pile of half-finished fence-posts, each about the haft of a spear, lie close to hand. Draco scooped one off the ground and stepped forward, the speed of his age and blood powering through his veins. The next childe he caught was a woman, and she howled when he rammed the long, sharpened stake through her chest and drove it into the ground. She writhed in agony and he left her there to die.

“You must not know my name,” Draco told the leader of the motley troupe. His gladius hung at his hip. He did not draw it. It was too good for these young monsters. “You will not live to whisper it in fear.”

Two more of the troupe lunged at him. He batted one aside contemptuously, and plunged his fangs into the throat of the other. Hot blood gushed over his tongue and down his throat as he slashed through the pounding artery under the skin. Before anyone could stop him, Draco dropped the dying vampire and grabbed for the other, and drained him as well.

Fed to glutting on three of his own kind, power like he had never known came to Draco, and he smiled with his fangs out, bloody and willing.

“Come, stupid childe,” he taunted the leader, who was staring at him in horror as he realized Draco’s true nature, and that Draco was his senior by many centuries. No young childe was he. He was born in the height of Rome’s power, and he had not been a child when he was Turned. “You can die facing me, or running, but you will die tonight.”

“Kill him!” the vampire shouted. There were echoing cries from all over the town. Draco smiled to himself. Good. Better they came for him than for his innocent town. He knelt and gathered up more of the sharpened fence posts. Those, he leaned against the nearby wall, easily to hand. “Tear him apart!”

Draco had counted almost a dozen vampires in the troupe when they came into town. Three were already dead at his fangs and hands.

Nine left.

The count left Draco smiling in a way that he could not explain. TO think, counting down on lives stolen away, yet again. Centuries gone, and yet he still remembered the dying cries of his soldiers as his sire picked them off, once by one.

Now it was Draco, taking his enemies apart as easily as the breaths he no longer needed to take.

The troupe vampires were fast. He would give them that. Not fast enough, of course. He impaled the next two who ran at him and left them beside their sister, who still writhed, suspended off the ground as her own weight slowly drove the stake into her heart.

“So,” Draco said, and looked around at the seven vampires who circled him, afraid and wary now that they had seen him dispatch one of their own. He gave them a grin that was mostly teeth and entirely a promise of violence. “Who wants to die next?”

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HGE - The Others

Sea and Sky

Triton's Daughter (Subscriber Only!)

Burst and Burn

Forward to Treasure

Particular Particulars

To Distant Stars

Sister Gift

Five United (Subscriber Only!)

Temper Town (New!)

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MASTERLIST

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netmors · 3 months

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STAR WARS: Eleventh Fleet AU

Concept art for the Eleventh Fleet.

Finally got to Eli Vanto…

…however, among the Chaos of the Unknown Regions, he is better known as Eli'van'to or Ivant.

As the first human to join the Chiss Ascendancy, the future Commodore of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet was faced with a galactic sense of déjà vu as he recalled his youth under the leadership of an equally strange, red-eyed alien in the Imperial Navy. But, if earlier Eli was an assistant in the shadow of his… friend, now the main role fell to him.

Unlike Ronan, Eli's path was not as simple as it could have been. Both Karyn’s in the Empire and Eli’s in the Ascendancy - the status of “protégés” and assistants to the Grand Admiral simultaneously gave them advantages, but also entailed no less huge problems. Perhaps Vanto had it a little harder.

From a man from Lysatra who wanted to be an ordinary, inconspicuous supply officer, he became first a commander in the Imperial Navy, and then rose again to commodore in the Chiss.

Once upon a time, the Moff’s assistant, whose name Vanto deliberately forgot, said that he would either vegetate forever in Thrawn’s shadow, or the alien would drag Eli down with him. In a sense, she was indeed right.

However, it was not Mitth'raw'nuruodo, but Eli who built his destiny. He had many chances to leave, but… well… chiss, as always, was only a catalyst on the path of human stubbornly moving forward.

And Commodore Van'to's name was indeed a name to be reckoned with in the Unknown Regions.

And a few more “thoughts out loud” about Eli…

During his ten years outside the Galaxy, Vanto never joined any Family - neither the Rulings nor the Great. This distinguished the man even from the top of the Fleet, who "renounced" their "families" to serve the entire Ascendency.

At the same time, some families still left their mark on his Chains of Honor. And many after.

The chains will become a reflection of events, the secret of one of which Eli will keep “to the grave and even below it.”

However, despite his “neutrality”, in a sense, he now has a native “person” - girl-navigator Un'hee. Syndicure doesn't give up trying to place her in any family, but chiss always refuses and prefers to remain without a “family”.

And as if in retaliation to the “oldfart from Csilla,” teenager always introduces himself in Lesser Space as Unhee Vanto.

At that time, the poor Commodore swears to High General Ar'alani that he did not swear in Basic in front of the girl. Unfortunately, he often attended such meetings with admirals Tro'omis and Ma'kro, and only give them a reason to “criff” a colleague. To which one of them then received a response from Thalias and Sacheri.

…and the price for everything is the gray hair of the Supreme General.

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quasi-normalcy · 6 months

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Another point about the Romulans: They remembered their ancient kinship with the Vulcans, even though most of the Vulcans themselves were unaware of it; they were in fact working behind the scenes to reunify with the Vulcans, right at the time that humanity appeared on the galactic scene.

So basically, they have this rich, 2,000-year-old history with their old enemies/cousins; they've reached out, tentatively, to the highest levels of Vulcan High Command with a plan to merge their empires. They just need to get their boy in place as a dictator on Vulcan, and in order to do that, they need to stage a terrorist attack. Okay, well; against whom? Against the embassy of this absolute nothing-burger bunch of space-hillbillies called the "Humans." Whatever, they only just invented warp drive like 5 minutes ago, who cares about them? Blow up their embassy, blame this pacifist sect, get V'Las some emergency powers and then toast to the 10,000-year reign of the Romulo-Vulcan Empire.

But what's this? The humans are investigating? They've made contact with the pacifist sect and it turns out...that they have Surak's katra and and the true record of his writings? What? And now V'Las is being arrested? And now the Vulcan government is being dissolved, and the entire planetary religion is undergoing a reformation?? And the new government wants lasting peace with its neighbours! Well, we can't have that! We'll send a false-flag ship in to sow chaos between Vulcan, Andor, and Tellar; we'll have them back on a war-footing before they know what's going on, and hopefully get V'Las out of prison--

And our false-flag ship was just destroyed...By the Space-Hillbillies. AGAIN? Well, clearly these "Humans" are more dangerous than we've anticipated. No matter. We shall send our imperial navy to swoop in upon their nascent civilization, just as the unmerciful raptor swoops in upon its pr--

What the FUCK, our fleet was DEFEATED!?! And now the Vulcans are forming a union with these peasants?? They were supposed to be forming a union with US! WE are the ones with the thousands of years of shared history! WE are the ones with the bonds of blood-kinship going back since before our ancestors left Arret bearing tales of the Ganmadan! Who the hell are these people!?

And then they go off to sulk behind the Neutral Zone for the next 200 years.

#one can't help but feel bad for them #romulans #vulcans #star trek #enterprise

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sci-fi-space · 14 days

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The Sci-Fi Web Series

“Embark on an interstellar journey with our latest blog post 🚀 ‘The Ultimate Sci-Fi Web Series Guide’ is your ticket to exploring the most captivating series the universe has to offer. Dive into the unknown and join the cosmic conversation today! #SciFi

Exploring the Universe One Series at a Time: The Ultimate Sci-Fi Web Series Guide Welcome to the cosmos of storytelling, where science fiction web series transport us to the edges of imagination and beyond. In this blog, we’ll embark on an interstellar journey through the most thrilling sci-fi web series that have captivated audiences around the globe. Why Sci-Fi Series Have Us Hooked Science…

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fanfic-obsessed · 11 months

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Well Technically...

It is not often that I get an idea that includes Vader (with the genocide and horror that is implied) that makes me giggle. This however made me giggle.

So Vader returns to the light right before he dies and comes back as Anakin the Force ghost. Now despite what it appears this is not a kindness. Anakin spends decades following his kids and the galaxy at large watching how little his existence mattered (galactically Anakin Skywalker was barely more than a recognizable name, and even that was diminishing as the people who knew of the ‘hero without fear’ died off; Vader would be forgotten even more quickly because no one wanted to remember him) even as he saw the long term consequences of his life (Luke’s struggle with his own identity-both as a man and a Jedi-, Leia’s struggle with her ancestry-finding out that your blood father killed all your other available parents was not a good feeling, Reva healing from the trauma he directly caused, all the ways that Ahsoka had to reshape her own soul to patch the holes Anakin put there, the echoes of the clones that died at his hand and command and the horror of the ones that survived). He has to watch his grandson not only make his mistakes but somehow make them worse, which was something that he did not know was possible. We get all the way through the the sequels, with a heavy emphasis on Anakin watching how the consequences of his actions (particularly the slaughter of the Jedi but many of the the things he did both during the empire and during the war) while acknowledging that he is not even remembered enough to be cursed, how the galaxy has spun on, not just without him but in spite of him and he is not even a footnote.

After Palpatine’s final, for now, death, Anakin is approached (for lack of a better term) by something shaped like Obi Wan Kenobi, circa the beginning of the clone wars. When this being speaks, it speaks with two voices at once, the Daughter and the Son. It asks if he could go back to before his Fall and change things, would he.

Anakin is sure he would, there are so many things he would do differently.

The being says that it can send him back to just before his tipping point, where his Fall and all the evil he did became inevitable, but cannot send him back further than that. Anakin agrees. Just before he sent back the being tells him that should his Fall become inevitable again, they would shred his mind and soul and it would be more excruciating than any pain he had ever experienced.

Anakin, who had spent 20 years in agony, now had one(1) fear.

Anakin “closed” his eyes in the Force, wondering when he would be sent back to (Killing Padme, Marching on the Temple, Believing Palpatine over Fives) only to open his eyes as his mother took her last breath. He was back on Tatooine, in the Tusken camp.

Anakin was confused, this was the point of no return? He had not even thought about the Tusken camp in decades, had not truly considered them at all since Padme absolved him of their slaughter.

But this was also an Anakin that had spent decades in pain, and then decades observing. He was much more patient, by necessity if not choice, less likely to act on violent impulse then the last time. Also the majority of his rage died in a cloud of lightning with the Emperor. Instead of killing the Tuskens in a rage, he wept over his mother’s body in the grief he denied himself the first time. The reaction surprises the Tuskens so much (due both to the nature of Tatooine and the animosity between them and the moisture farmers they had not seen human tears of grief before) that they let Anakin take the body and leave.

They still bury Shmi and go to rescue Obi Wan (though it does not end in a marriage this time). The War still starts but Anakin is also running around trying to fix things, including himself (and actually doing all the actual emotional work on figuring out and fixing his own issues), meditating (Frankly Obi Wan is starting to be concerned that anakin is possessed), trying to not kill anyone (because he really isn't sure what the tipping point about the Tuskens was and does not want to risk it), get the chips discovered in such a way that they do not tip off the Sith (He brings a few clones, including Fives to the temple to Spar and 'accidentally' hits Fives hard enough to knock him out and pracitcally forces Master Che do a deep enough scan), make a list of the people he killed to try and do something nice for them. At some point he decides his ‘penance’ for his life as Vader was that he would somehow bring all the currently known Sith back to the Light (including Palpatine).

In the Force, the Daughter is watching all this, her head in her hand repeating over and over ‘The point of no return was murdering children, you moron. All you have to do is not murder children’. And everything he is doing works towards that goal, but she doesn’t expect him to fix the universe (in my head it is a bit akin to asking someone to tell you an equation that use 2 and equals 4, expecting 2+2 or 2*2 but instead them confidently saying((2xSqRt(100))-40+36)/4)

The Son is watching this all with Force popcorn, this is the most entertaining thing to happen in ages.

It is important to note that the Dark in this does not mean Evil. It means selfish, which is not the same thing. You can be a selfish dick and still not be evil. Mostly in this case it means that for those that inhabit the dark their priority is 1)Their own wants and needs; 2)The needs of the people they like, as long as it doesn’t inconvenience them; 3) The wants or needs of others if it benefits them in some way. The Son was bored by what the Empire did to the Force, and he found having the Light there (and everything Anakin was doing) entertaining.

I just keep picturing the Daughter, in the Force, exasperated with Anakin because, yes everything he is doing is good for him and the galaxy but his ONLY job is ‘don’t murder children’ and it never even occurs to Anakin that that was the only act he needed to avoid.

#star wars the clone wars #anakin skywalker #fanfiction prompt #star wars au #sheev palpatine #darth vader #star wars #star wars sequals #the clone wars

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