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radioactivepeasant · 8 days

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Snippet (or chapter?) Thursday

Viper: Exodus

Jak, now a captain in Spargus's infiltration division, has been gathering people who have helped them in the past, and Daxter has convinced whole sections of the slums to trust the Wastelanders over the Grand Council. (LONG post warning, it's basically a whole chapter)

240 people crowded around the narrow road in front of the Naughty Ottsel, murmuring nervously to each other. They had been slowly preparing for this night for weeks -- hardly enough time to uproot an entire life. But then, many of them had been uprooted already. Many carried young children, only recently reunited with their families after Praxis's mass kidnapping orders during his hunt for Mar. They varied between terrified silence and hungry wailing as the people waited for their chosen leader to arrive.

It had been a difficult, and at times acrimonious, task choosing someone to lead them once beyond the walls for good. Fifty people had withdrawn from the evacuation entirely when a Lurker was ultimately chosen. But Brutter had lived among the people of the Water Slums for years. They knew him. They trusted him.

His deputy, the blonde barmaid from the pub, seemed like an odd choice at first. But as preparations progressed, it became clear that Tess had a way with people -- and with weapons. Her confidence put them all at ease.

The murmurs quieted when Tess appeared with Brutter, Jak, and Daxter. More people gathered in the pub doorway behind them to watch, but it was clear that they were on team "leaving Haven is mutiny or cowardice".

"This is everyone?" Brutter called, furrowing his fuzzy brow. "Water Slum friends?"

"Here!" One of his former neighbors called, waving from a section of the crowd.

"Good! Saltpeter Row?"

The inhabitants of the row houses made varying sounds of acknowledgement, and Brutter nodded, continuing to call out the names of streets who had agreed to join the secession.

"Morgan street!"

"Redcap Row!"

"Shark Flats!"

"4th Street!"

Only a few groups were unaccounted for in the end, though this wasn't as much of a surprise as expected. They'd known from the beginning that some would probably back out when it was time to go. Better the devil they knew than the one they didn't. But everyone else had shown up.

They shuffled restlessly, meager belongings in carts or on their backs, and waited to find out what was going to happen. Surely they weren't all going to walk to the abandoned temple!

Brutter nodded to Jak, and the boy stepped forward and raised his voice.

"Okay! Here's what's going to happen! Anyone with small kids or trouble walking is going to take the air train to the foot of the mountains. The Babak are waiting with balloons to get you to the temple. It's going to take a few trips, so don't crowd. You'll all get there, I promise."

Daxter took over as soon as Jak finished.

"Everybody else: we're formin' a convoy of four groups! If you know how to fight, yer on the outside of the column. If you don't, stay in the middle! We're gonna stop for breaks sometimes, but we're hiking straight through the Industrial Sector, folks. It's gonna be a good hour or two before we get everyone into the Power Station teleport ring."

Jak nodded and pointed left in the direction they'd be heading. "Tess will be leading Group 1 with the gyro-burster to clear out any threats ahead of us. Jinx is taking Group 2. Group 3, you're with Mogg and Grim. Everyone else, you're with me. For now, everyone with kids move to the right."

The shuffle was tedious, and it was close to ten minutes before everyone was divided into the five groups. The thirty-five people with elderly, children, and mobility issues huddled together as the rest split into crowds of roughly fifty each. Even fifty civilians was a massive number to protect from Deathbots and metalheads. Tess and Jak shot each other grim looks, each worrying about the same thing:

How many people were they going to lose on their way to the power station?

"I'm coming too!"

Jak turned to see Keira pulling her arm free of Samos's grip. His heart leapt: he'd hoped against hope that she would flee the city with them. That she would wrench herself out from under the sage's thumb.

"Keira, no!" Samos gasped, "This is madness!”

He turned a stern look to Jak. "This has gone too far, Jak! You are out of control!"

"Out of your control," Daxter corrected sharply, "That's what you mean, right?"

"You're leading these people to their deaths! I will not allow my daughter to be one of them!" Samos snapped.

Jak felt nerves crawl up his throat. He wanted to vomit. It didn't matter how confident he was as a Captain of Spargus, Samos had programmed his behavior for years and standing up to him was hard.

He swallowed back bile and cleared the trepidation from his throat.

"You didn't have a problem sending someone else's kid into hell for your own gain. You're not doing yourself any favors by waiting until now to have a problem with it."

Keira gestured to him. "See? Thank you, Jak."

"Keira, that's enough," said Samos sternly, "I know it seems harsh to you, but someday you will understand that I am simply doing what is best for you!"

"No, I'm doing what's best for me," Keira retorted, "I'm *helping people."*

"Keira, I forbid you to step out that door!" the sage cried in a panic.

Keira swung a bag up onto her shoulder.

"I'm no good to anyone in a gilded cage, kept out of danger. And you have no right to fight about it after what you put the boys through."

"Of course I have a right! You're my daughter!"

Keira set her jaw. She closed her eyes and took in a long, shaky breath. Then she stepped out the door.

"Goodbye, Daddy."

Tess squeezed her shoulder as she passed them to gather her platoon. "Hang in there, kiddo," she murmured.

Brutter also eyed her with sympathy as he followed.

"Let us go, friends!" He loudly croaked, "Before we are losing the moonlight!"

Jak frowned thoughtfully. "You got a gun?" he asked Keira quietly.

She shook her head, still trembling with the same adrenaline he felt.

"N-no. But I've got some EMP grenades I've been working on. In case of bots."

Jak's eyebrows rose, and he grinned. "Can't wait to see 'em."

"Yeah well. You probably won't have to.”

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

Two days after the exodus

"I hooked the generator up to the temple, so we should have working shields in a day or two." Keira collapsed onto the ledge beside Jak, utterly exhausted.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dropped an impulsive kiss onto the crown of her head. "You're a miracle worker, you know that?"

The butterflies in Keira's stomach made an unwelcome encore appearance, beating their little wings to fan heat up into her cheeks. She liked this new Jak. He was more open with his feelings. Braver about touch. But Precursors if it wasn't an adjustment!

Still. She needed the comfort just now. Keira had just uprooted…everything, for the second time in her young life. She'd walked away from her own father, and no matter how justified she knew it was, it still hurt. She felt small, and lost, in a world far too large for her. Had she really stopped to fully count the cost of joining the formation of the refugee village?

Yes. She had. Keira forced her mind away from the betrayal in her father's eyes, back to the joy that was in Jak’s eyes when he whispered to her that he'd found freedom.

"I don't feel like a miracle worker," she confessed after a few minutes, "I feel like a fraud. I'm- I'm just shy of completely overwhelmed. We have almost nothing, and if Haven decides they don't like us being up here, I don't know how long my shields will even work. Why are they looking to me for all the solutions? Why not Brutter, or Tess?"

Jak made a sympathetic noise. "Yeah...I know how that feels. But apparently sixteen is "too young" to be carrying that kind of responsibility on your shoulders. So. I dunno, take it easy on yourself, I guess?"

Keira rested her head on Jak’s shoulder with a soft hmph, and noted with some amusement that she could *hear* how fast his heart was beating. Lucky for them Jak had already been in battle that day, clearing out the last metalheads, and had no more eco to react to the adrenaline. Dark Jak was much more snuggly than regular Jak, and much denser in mass, which made it fairly problematic if he happened to doze off while resting against her.

“Kee, I-”

Jak swallowed hard.

“I have to- we need- Mountain Clan is going to join the Wasteland Federation. You- everyone is going to have to get used to a new set of laws. A new. A new king.”

Keira winced. She'd had enough of overbearing authority figures.

“It's going to be…interesting,” she said begrudgingly.

“I have to report to him.” Jak sounded like he was trying to sound her out, gauge her reaction.

“I was going to call him tonight, actually. I just…I guess, don't freak out if he…when he gets here.”

Here? Keira sat up to look Jak in the eye.

“This king person is coming here?”

The buzz of the crickets down the slope seemed to rise, drowning out her thoughts. In a way, she'd known it had to be coming. Jak and Daxter wouldn't have been so insistent on evacuation if there wasn't actually a war coming. It just hadn't felt real.

She looked down at the tents and rudimentary huts their people -- Precursors, she had people now -- had spent the last two days setting up along the hill. So many people who couldn't fight, or wouldn't. If the Wastelanders really were a warrior people, would this king even accept them?

“He has to, Keira. Even if Haven hadn't-” Jak tensed, and a low anger rippled below his words. “Even if they hadn't tried to assassinate him, Damas would still have to come out here. He's the current head of the Federation, and all clans have to send representatives when someone threatens the whole.”

Leave it to Jak to speak of someone with that much power as casually as he spoke about Daxter.

“You all just call him by his name?”

Jak shrugged, and the grin he offered was a little sheepish. “Not to his face. Unless you're me, or Sig. Daxter could, he just likes to call him Spikes or King Lunatic instead. Damas doesn't mind.”

“Spikes?” Keira felt her eyebrows go up. "King Lunatic?!"

“You'll see when he gets here.”

Jak was entirely too calm about that. Keira grimaced, but reasoned that if he was more relaxed now than he was when talking about Ashelin or Samos, that had to be a promising sign, right?

“He um. He sounds…tough,” the girl said, gingerly searching for words. “Is…Is he-”

Keira gave up beating about the bush and decided to just ask the question honestly.

“Jak, you talk about him like you actually trust him. Do you?”

“With my life,” Jak answered, simply and openly.

“And I'd trust him with all of those people down there, more importantly. I'd trust him with Daxter’s life. With yours.”

What could she say to that? Even when they'd been little kids, when they had foolishly trusted Samos to have their best interests at heart, Jak hadn't trusted him around Daxter. And after the…the prison, Daxter was probably the only person Jak truly trusted. For some warrior king of a nation of Sigs to have earned Jak's faith so completely was hard to believe. Almost as hard to take as the respect in Jak’s voice when he so much as mentioned this man.

Who was this King Damas, and what had he done to make Jak of all people so devoted to him and his cause? And more importantly in Keira's mind, did he deserve Jak's loyalty?

“You look up to this guy,” she realized.

And Jak laughed. He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked embarrassed, and laughed.

“Yeah…I mean, I…yeah…he's kind of my hero.”

He covered his face abruptly as his ears burned scarlet.

“Don't you dare tell him I said that.”

“Oh right, because I'd totally get a chance to have a casual conversation with a king and squeal on you.” Keira rolled her eyes.

“If he's as cool as you think he is, maybe he already knows, anyway.”

“No!” Jak groaned, “Don't say that, I have an image to keep up!”

Keira cracked a smile and settled her head back onto Jak’s shoulder. His arm slipped around her waist, and she felt his cheek rest against her hair. An innocent closeness neither of them had felt in too many years, shared for a moment at the beginning of something new and a little frightening.

“When do you think your king will get here?”

Jak grinned into Keira's hair. She'd stopped calling Damas “this king”. The simple acknowledgement of how important he was to Jak felt a lot more validating than he'd anticipated.

“If I call him tonight, I'd say tomorrow evening at the latest. It's only about five hours from here to home by air train.”

Considering the commotion at dawn, when some hut building efforts were abandoned in favor of clearing a landing strip, Keira had her suspicions that the Wastelanders were already on their way before Jak ever placed that hushed and enthusiastic call.

“Clear the field!” Grim waved his arms wildly, scattering refugees into tents and back onto the rope bridge the Babak had built into the temple. “Make some room, everybody!”

Jak was out of his tent with Daxter on his shoulder before the craft had even begun its final approach. He darted to the edge of the makeshift runway and just waited. Brutter opened the door of his hut with a surprised croak, and Tess was already loosening her gun in her holster. Just in case.

There was a pit in Keira's stomach as she joined the people watching the air train land. This was it. Judgement Day.

Out of the air train seven heavily armored Wastelanders practically sauntered, six taking guard positions in a semicircle while the seventh strolled right up to where Jak stood ramrod straight.

It was unnatural, seeing Jak like that. Even more so seeing Daxter in the same attentive posture on his shoulder. Keira watched them nervously for cues.

Jak spoke about the leader of the Wastelander Federation like he was this great hero. Like he idolized the man. Keira suspected she'd get a better read on this new authority figure by observing how he spoke to the boys -- if he spoke to them directly at all.

The king of the desert was an imposing man wielding an elaborate staff. He didn't look like the type to suffer fools gladly. Keira watched his eyes sweep across the huts and lean-tos covering the slopes leading to the temple. They had already constructed fifteen small houses in the style of Sandover Village, and Vin and Keira had just finished setting up a basic eco grid for power. Was it good enough?

"By the forges boys!" The Wasteland king suddenly laughed aloud. "When you said you could find allies in the city, I thought you meant five or six, not an entire village!"

He clapped a hand to Jak’s unoccupied shoulder in a gesture Keira recognized -- with her share of bittersweet longing -- as pride.

"Welcome to Mountain Clan, sir," Jak answered, just as proud.

So. Jak wasn't exaggerating his admiration for this man. Not that Keira had thought he would. Jak wasn't prone to exaggeration and hyperbole. And while he still stood smartly at attention, if Keira looked closely she could see her friend practically vibrating with excitement. He behaved like a soldier -- the soldier Haven always wanted but could never have -- and yet at the same time he reminded Keira of nothing as much as a little boy whose parent had finally come home from a long journey.

That thought stuck in her mind as Brutter and Tess approached.

To her shock -- and the shock of the boys -- the Babak let out a jubilant cry when he recognized the man in armor.

"Brother Damas!" he trumpeted, catching the attention of the other Lurkers helping in the new village.

"Brother Damas lives! Our hearts are full!"

Damas looked taken aback for a moment, then a smile creased his weatherbeaten face and he reached out to clasp Brutter's forearm.

"You-! I remember you! It's been a long time, Bluefeather."

"Too long," Brutter croaked.

"Are your people safe?" Damas frowned. "I'm- I'm sorry. One operative wasn't enough to help free them. It was a poor repayment for the way you supported my family during the coup."

Sadly, the Babak leader shook his head. "We Lurkers were not saving your friends, Brother. We could not stop the executing after you exiled. Always my elders feel they failed you."

Damas squeezed the Lurker's thick forearm with an earnest expression. "You failed no one, Brother. Welcome to the Federation."

Beside them, Jak's face went from confusion to wonder to a barely restrained glee. Damas had organized the abolition efforts? That meant Jak had been working for Damas long before he ever heard the man's name! He exchanged excited looks with Daxter. This went beyond best case scenario for them. Their honorary tribe and their adopted people were now united.

"Now then!" Damas turned on his heel to raise an amused eyebrow at Jak.

"I've been getting extremely detailed reports from you, Captain. Come! Walk me through what you're doing up here!"

Jak practically scrambled to follow him, an almost silly grin stamped across his face. It made Keira's heart ache to realize she hadn't seen that smile since Sandover. Brutter broke into her thoughts with a gurgling chuckle.

"Once king, always king," he said fondly. "Brutter did not know he had offspring! Jak is very good son. Very loyal."

Keira jolted. "Offspring?! What do you mean?!"

Brutter looked confused, as though he thought his observation was obvious.

#writing prompts #fic prompts #jak and daxter #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter au #viper au #keira hagai #jnd tess #jnd brutter #brutter is a gem and he gets to lead a whole Wastelander clan now #in this house we hold Samos accountable for Very Sketchy Choices and overall nastiness #when Damas says detailed he means Jak's sent like twenty pages of every tiny observation including whether he saw any animals that day #60% of his report is useless but Damas thinks its funny that he's taking his job so seriously so he kept all of it #yeah after this Keira gets the courage to talk to Damas alone about the time loop and There Are Emotions #long post #fic chapter #free day Thursday

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floydmtalbert · 4 months

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Tab + “nostalgia” from this prompts list, for @shoshiwrites

It is a hot, still evening in late August. The war has been over for a year.

Floyd steers the pickup onto a dusty side road skirting the edge of a cornfield, driving slowly, heading nowhere in particular. He holds the wheel loosely with one hand; the other hangs out of the open window. The lowering sun is warm on his forearm and on the side of his face, and glaring bright, so that he has to narrow his eyes as he stares through the dirty windshield down the road ahead, stretching away into a heat haze along the horizon.

There are no other cars on the road, no houses or farms in sight. No people. Just the cornfield, flashing yellow-green past the window, and the road ahead, long and straight, rippling in the heat. Everything quiet and lifeless, save for the pickup, the hum of the tyres on the asphalt and the rumble of the engine.

The mail that morning had brought a letter from Bill Guarnere, chatty, containing a photo of Frannie and their baby boy, and full of updates on other Easy men and plans for a reunion. Floyd can’t see the point. A bunch of fellas sitting around talking about the good old days, when they weren’t all that good, and aren’t exactly old, either.

He huffs a long sigh, makes a slight adjustment to the steering wheel. Maybe it’s only him that thinks that way.

Floyd came home nearly a year ago and picked up where he left off. He sleeps in his childhood bedroom, under the old patchwork quilt his great-aunt made, with his high school basketball trophies still on the shelf, dutifully dusted by Nellie Talbert every week, and all the old photographs pinned to the corkboard: himself as a ten-year-old with the family dog, him and his father fishing on Lake Michigan during the one vacation his parents had been able to afford, photobooth snapshots with girlfriends, all married, now, or gone to Indianapolis for work. A few months back he’d even found a bunch of dirty magazines hidden in a box under the bed, a relic of his teenage years. He’d burned them in the backyard, and filled the box instead with his medal ribbons, and his jump wings, all the patches and chevrons, and other bits and pieces, and the bundle of photographs he never looks at but still can’t bear to throw out, and kicked it back under the bed.

He turns onto another road, the pickup bumping over a pothole. The sun is behind him now. He drives past a couple of ramshackle houses, and, further on down the road, a farmhouse, with a barn and a cluster of grain silos. The road is long and straight and level, but he takes it easy. No hurry, nowhere to go.

Major Winters writes now and then—and that’s another thing, Floyd can’t stop thinking of him as Major Winters, even though the man keeps telling him to call him Dick. He’s working in New Jersey, with Captain Nixon, has already been promoted once. Chuck is doing better, working, seeing a nice girl. Joe Liebgott is getting married—or is maybe already married by now. His latest letter sits in Floyd’s bedside drawer, unopened. Smokey calls every couple of weeks, talking about using the GI Bill to go to college.

Floyd got his old job back with Mr Nelson, doing odd jobs on the farm, and in the evenings he takes his dad’s Chevy and heads out for a drive, alone, going nowhere in particular. Sometimes he circles the reservoir, watching the changing colours of the sky reflected in the water. Sometimes he drives through the suburbs on the other side of town, where the houses are tidy and painted fresh white, and have big wraparound porches and garages, and trees on the lawn out front. Other times he heads east, taking one road after another through the acres of farmland, left turn, right turn, zigzagging out and around and back on himself. Just driving, and smoking, sometimes drinking, half a bottle of whisky in a paper bag that he tosses out before he gets home.

In the rearview mirror the sun is a deep orange, flaring along the horizon.

He tries to think of what a reunion would be like. He imagines a big room in some hotel, with a dance floor, and tables set up around it. Maybe there’d be coloured paper garlands strung along the walls and across the ceiling, like they did for his high school prom, or the USO dances in England. He imagines all the fellas there, with their wives in cocktail dresses, and pictures of their kids in their wallets, catching each other up on their jobs, and their houses, and the new car. Or else their college classes, the cute girls on campus, the fraternity parties. And then the talk would turn to the war, d’you remember when and I’ll never forget that time, the jokes and the hijinks and everything else tucked away and the whole thing a big adventure, and done with, in the past.

Floyd slows the pickup and guides it carefully over a culvert. The engine chugs.

He doesn’t want to remember the war, but he can’t seem to move on from it, either. He sleeps in his old room, and works the same job he was doing at eighteen, and after work he drives around aimlessly, with nothing to do and nowhere to go. He’s tired, bored. Mostly he’s angry: at everything, and everyone, and himself most of all.

Maybe it would be good to see the guys again, he thinks as he turns onto another road. Just once. Maybe then he could get it out of his system. Snap out of it, stop holding himself back.

Twilight is falling now, and the air is soft and warm. Floyd switches on the headlights and keeps his eyes on the road ahead, dusty, uneven, patched asphalt revealed in the wobbling beam of light, and glances up now and then to watch the colours fade from the western sky.

He wouldn’t go, he decides. There was nothing to say, nothing worth remembering. He props his elbow up on the sill, and then hangs his hand out of the window again, feeling the air stream through his open fingers.

#Thanks for this prompt; Sho! It really works #And also: I'm so sorry. You might think I'm not but I really am #Floyd Talbert #Band Of Brothers #My writing #God this really got away from me #And yes this is inspired by the Speaking of Courage story from The Things They Carried

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melanie-ohara · 4 months

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In The Woods Somewhere

Whumpuary2024, Day 05 - (Alt) Prompt: Stabbed

Something in Sabine's burgeoning connection to the Force draws her out to the woods just as the Peridean sun rises…

AO3 Here

Sabine jolted awake and sat bolt upright in her bunk with a gasp. The lights in the room were turned low and the chronometer told her there were a couple of hours to go before dawn, so she slumped back against the pillows and tried to figure out what it was that had woken her. It could have been a dream, but since Mandalore she never remembered her dreams, and she had a distinct image of a forest in the rain still in her mind. It didn't look like anywhere she knew, but the trees looked distinctly Peridean to her. When they had been on the Ghost together, Ezra had visions through the Force - but they were strong and overwhelmed him while he was awake. There was something, though. Some strange pull she felt that coaxed her out of her bed and out of the ship. Ignoring it just made it stronger, so she sighed and got up.

Ahsoka was probably already awake, so she didn't bother moving quietly when she left in full armour, carrying both blasters and lightsaber. Shin and her bandits hadn't appeared for weeks now, but they were still out there - along with wild Howlers and probably countless other predator species - and it paid to travel prepared. Sabine hopped down from the idling T6 into the Noti camp below it, and made her way to the edge, aiming for the tree line in the distance. Her plan was to walk until it started raining, and then look for a place that matched her vision, but she was still wary: their slow pursuit of Baylan Skoll had skirted around the trees so far, and from what she had managed to decode of the Noti language, they feared the forests as much as the ancient Nightsister ruins. 'The domain of betrayal', if her translation was right. Still, the Noti were pacifists, and Sabine had weapons and armour that far outstripped anything the locals had access to.

The rain started and the pull got stronger. Ahsoka had told her so often to surrender to the Force when she felt it, but Sabine still found herself trying to resist it: trying to guide herself to a destination she would never find without the help of the Force. It was the Mandalorian in her, determined to make her own way, and while she still hadn't decided the path she wanted her life to take, right now she needed Jedi instincts to find whatever was out there. Something about the pull had changed now - it felt urgent. Desperate, even. Something in the dark between the trees was calling out to her like a distress call. Sabine paused, shut her eyes and took a deep breath, and waited until she could stop second-guessing herself and follow her instincts. When she opened them again, she was already walking.

When she next glanced up from the ground, placing her feet to avoid a series of knotted roots, what she saw in front of her lined up so immediately with the image from her dream that Sabine almost fell over in surprise. At the exact same moment, the tug at her guts disappeared like a cut cord, and she was left standing alone and unsure in the darkness and the rain. Outside the forest, the sun would have risen by now, but under the canopy there was barely enough light to see.

"Hello?" she called, but received no answer. The trees absorbed her voice before the echo could get very far. She doubted anyone would hear her over the rain.

Sabine tried to place her trust in the Force and took a few steps forwards, but when her gut instinct insisted she was going the wrong way, she couldn't help turning back. And there, slumped against a rock between two trees, was Shin Hati. Her hair was starting to grow out and she had pinned it back behind her head, and her clothes and armour had been adapted and added to with bandit equipment, but it was definitely her.

Caution dictated she draw a weapon and approach slowly- after all, Shin was a deadly assailant who had spent their entire time on Peridea trying to kill her. It could be a trap. Sabine dimly recognised that after she had started running towards her, and by the time she had crashed to her knees in the mud by Shin's still form all of her weapons were still clipped to her belt.

"Shin?" she demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking. "Shin, wake up!"

Why did she care? Why was there a roiling, sinking sensation, like a battleship going down, churning through her guts? Why was Shin not moving? Her hair was plastered to her face, which looked even paler than usual, and when Sabine lifted her eyelids she found her eyes rolled back into her head. Her pulse was thready and unstable, but it was there. She wasn't dead, but she was dying.

Sabine glanced down, and saw that Shin Hati had been stabbed.

This wasn't the neat, perfectly circular mark of a lightsaber blade - like the one Shin had given her when they first met - this was a messy, jagged incision that left blood and severed skin behind rather than a perfectly cauterised scar. A lightsaber, even in the hands of whatever Shin and Baylan were, was a Jedi weapon first and foremost, and killing was a last resort. This had to have been a bandit weapon.

A soft cough turned Sabine's attention back to Shin's face, where she saw the briefest flicker of her eyelids. Her throat worked to swallow, and Sabine tried to shake her again.

"Wake up, blast it!" she growled, but Shin remained silent. "Karabast," she muttered, reaching into her armour pouch for a bacta spray and unclipped the cover from the nozzle. "Don't blame me when you're not ready for this," she said, and pressed the tip against the wound in her stomach.

Shin's eyes shot open and she screamed as the bacta started to knit severed veins back together and stem the bleeding. The sound wrenched at Sabine's heart as much as it did her ears, and she gripped Shin's shoulder with her free hand to try and soothe her.

"I know, I know," she said, concentrating on running the device all the way around the rough edges of the wound. "It stings, I know."

Sabine had been unfortunate enough to learn a lot of battlefield medicine during the war, and she knew when someone wasn't going to make it without a full bacta immersion. She didn't know if there was a full-scale tank on the T6, but the alternative was that Shin Hati would die out here, from a wound inflicted by her own allies. 'The domain of betrayal' wasn't a myth after all.

"I have to get you to the ship," Sabine said, trying to sound reassuring and not let on that she wasn't sure that would save her either. The helmet made her sound insincere so she took it off with one hand, scrabbling for a bacta patch with the other. There was no way it would heal Shin's slashed organs or repair her internal bleeding, but it might seal the initial flesh wound enough for Sabine to carry her. She wished she had brought Mirshko the Howler with her, but there was no point thinking about it now.

"Sabine?" Shin's voice was a thin whine that Sabine barely heard over the rain.

"It's me," she said, lifting the tattered remains of Shin's bloodstained robe to press the patch to her skin. The wound was so big the strip barely covered it, but at least the infusion had stopped the more severe bleeding. "You can murder me once I save your life, okay?"

"Took… lightsaber," Shin managed. Her eyes opened for a moment, and a lump rose in Sabine's throat as she saw how bloodshot they were. A second later they closed again, and Sabine worried she had been too late.

"Shin?!" she shouted, and the other woman stirred very slightly.

"It's a trap," she said. "They're… they're coming."

Sabine's blood ran cold.

#wolfwren #sabine x shin #sabine named her howler courage in mando'a #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #alternative prompt #stabbed #fanfic #writing #star wars #shin hati #sabine wren #peridea #post canon

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capn-twitchery · 4 months

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Tell me some fun snippets from your brain (not winning at getting them out without invitation but I also want to Know)

OOOH thank you let me see what i've got,,,,here is a definitely incomplete list of incomplete concepts rattling around in my brain that i wanna expand on sometime

backstory stuff for both of them! red honey stuff for twitch i still gotta iron out the details for

& stuff for grace pre-neath which is very vague currently, and i FINALLY figured out why he's doing nemesis--but it's not for himself. it's for a dead guy that he murdered

also wanted to do an interactive story from grace's pov of the aftermath of the ship ending up in the neath & the search to find help, slowly losing crew along the way (tragically Or murderously) up to when twitch bails him out

evolution gripped me by the brain and i really wanna clink twitch against the second sacristan (as Enemies of some kind) but i gotta figure out where i'm going there. you can definitely get a bad ending AU out of it but i'm not sure what else!!

speaking of bad endings, sending grace to the grand geode to get Dawnpilled >:3c he ends up there in canon anyway (and gets out before he ends up as a sequencer) but both would be fun to explore

i have some wips for this already but some ideas for the SSea officers on twitch's crew, their dynamics, their history with twitch, etc etc. there has to be some drama there, i can't imagine murdering and resurrecting the navigator for purely selfish reasons does nothing to the crew dynamics

i also have about 100 unorganised snippets of dialogue or mini comics in my head,, most of them are just silly goofy things based on me trying to figure out wtf grace and twitch have going on

their first meeting(s), feelings about developing crushes (horrified, mostly), overdramatic arguments bc neither of them can verbalise their feelings if it kills them, twitch being a goddamn weirdo, but also cuter things. because i am nothing if not a hurt/comfort fan 😌

(i hope this was even semi understandable to anyone other than me!! i am notorious for never pinning my ideas down. thank you for asking me to ramble it is Always appreciated♥︎)

#i am also So willing to expand on anything if anybody wants to know #but i also hope i'll keep gaining courage to just post about it without prompting >:3 gotta take my own advice. no more npc syndromr #anyway thank you again for the ask ;;♥︎#this is a very optimistic list of things to write for a guy who is too afraid to write or post writing #londonmusings #inquiries #hurdygurdywizard

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onceandfuturelesbian · 8 months

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sooo i have a headcanon (?) based on a merlin fic

knocking on heaven’s door by theroundbartable

great fic, definitely recommend

*spoilers ahead*

so basically merlin found out he’s the god of magic/life/creation and the other gods are basically his children but he doesn’t have the memories from before he chose to become human so his kids are like wtf come back.

he’s still immortal and i think arthur is still destined to return to him.

sOOOO i’m thinking that when arthur does finally return, he’ll maybe become a god too ? maybe merlin makes him one so he doesn’t have to lose him again ?

so my question is,,, what would arthur be the god of?

courage? nobility?

or would merlin be a little shit and make him the god of pratness or smthn stupid like that ?

#i think courage #cause #courage strength and magic #but then where is gwaine #cause i don’t think he comes back in this version #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #bbcm #merthur fanfic #fanfic #merlin fanfic rec #merlin fanfic prompt #merthur fanfiction #merthur fic recs #onceandfuturelesbian prompts

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courage-doodles-blog · 12 days

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[CTCD X Scooby Doo Story Prompt]

[CW⚠️ VOMITING]

[First cuts to Bunitty, Scooby and Shaggy in the Nowhere farmhouse. Bunitty sees the two eating some dog bone shaped biscuits out of a green coloured jar with orange paw prints all over it]

Bunitty: What are those you got here green shirt dude?

Shaggy: Like dude, these are me and Scoob's favourite kind of snacks [gives Bunitty the jar]

Bunitty: [looks at the jar and reads the label on it] 'Scoo-by, Snacks!'

Bunitty: Ohhh, so their like treats for you and Scooby Doo

Scooby Doo: Yeah [laughs]

Bunitty: Hmm well... [opens the jar and takes out a Scooby Snack] don't mind if I do have one

Shaggy: Like sure dude, help yourself out

Bunitty: Gee thanks green shirt dude [eats the snack whole in her mouth] Mmm

Bunitty: [gulps it] Their really not bad at all [claps her hands]

[The three take out a Scooby Snack each from the jar and eat them whole]

[Two hours later]

[Scene cuts to Bunitty suddenly feeling light headed while she holds her stomach and facing at a bin. She then now pukes in the bin]

[Nathaniel walks in the room]

Nathaniel: Bunitty dear, is everything alright— OH MY GOD!? [runs to Bunitty and places his hand on her back]

Nathaniel: Bunitty Bunitty, Look at me my dear. [gasps] Oh... god my dear.

Bunitty: Brown cat... why is my head feeling all spinning... [her mouth begans to fill and faces at the bin, puking in there]

Nathaniel: Did you feel hot my dear or is it something that you ate?

Bunitty: [coughs] It's probably the... something that I ate one

[Cuts to Nathaniel speaking to Shaggy and Scooby Doo in a disappointed manner for giving Bunitty their Scooby Snacks]

Barry: [watching this happened, while hugging sick Bunitty] So... is this what happened Bunitty

Bunitty: [has a blanket wrapped around her, feeling sick, nods] Mmhmm

#ctcd #courage the cowardly dog #ctcd oc #ctcd ocs #ocs #my ocs #oc #my oc #story prompt #ctcd x scooby doo #scooby doo #ctcd oc barry #ctcd oc bunitty #scooby doo oc nathaniel #scooby doo oc #shaggy rogers

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poinsettia89 · 7 months

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Definitely thinking about RPing a birth in a crowded, stuck elevator. The carrier and their partner having been on their way to head to the hospital on a chaotic weekend night, and a bunch of people keep piling into the elevator as it heads down the floors. No one makes much of how crowded it's getting, as they all anticipate on getting off. in the lobby— until the elevator stops moving entirely and everyone begins to worry. And in that overpopulated, overheated little space full of people complaining, the carrier's water breaks.

#I love the idea that it just goes pin drop silent for a second until someone finally has the courage to ask if what they think happened #*really just happened*#and the carrier just lets out this moan and leans on their partner and the whole elevator starts panicking #you could have people who are trying to help; who are scared of birth; people who want nothing to do with this; who are enjoying too much #meanwhile the carrier is just so embarrassed to be seen like this at *all* but they can't help the need to push and deliver #they don't want to be exposed but it's *so hot* and they're feeling it press down and gushing fluid onto the floor #their partner trying to help reassure them and shield them but they're kinda freaking out #poinsettia's rambles #poinsettia's rp prompts

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pinkytoothlesso11 · 9 months

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Awaken chapter three of my post RoTT fix-it Trollhunter! Strickler AU!

Strickler, reluctantly accompanied by Jim and Toby, heads down to Trollmarket to confront his Destiny and be judged by the Soothsayer.

With surprising results.

Not to mention has a run in with Draal that may have painted a target on his back...

Jim has difficulty dealing with everything.

#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #walter strickler #jim lake jr #Blinkous galadrigal #Aaarrrgghh #Vendel #Kanjigar the courageous #My fanfic #Awaken #Trollhunter! Strickler #Post RoTT #Sorry about how long it took to get this out I was working on this between prompts for Stricklake month #And I'm going to work on Challenging Destiny soon too! Not sure about Heart of Stone...#Cause I want to start drafting my spooky season fic

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the-sycophant · 3 months

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Getting to Know You

Roleplayer Name Behold! I am the mighty & powerful Yurim Kiel. Yurim is fine. Marlowe is...okay, I will respond to it.

Pronouns She/Her

Muse Ñ̴̨̘̮̥͖͍͆͒̄a̷̡͓̩̣̮̤̥̮͑̊̊̉m̶̢̺̺̯̬̆̂͑̐͜e̸̺͉̠̮͖͉̪̾̌͝ Miss Marlowe Morning, divine servant of Menphina and holy Companion, blessing upon the world and those that walk it. Marlowe is...okay, she'll respond to it.

Preferred Communication n/a? I tend to be a bit more quiet/reserved at first, definitely introverted, but my DMs/discord are always open, in-game too if you're able to catch me between my sweet sweet pvp

Experience I have been roleplaying for quite a bit of time, but for FFXIV only about a year or so. Would like more practice in-game, for sure.

Preferred Roleplay Type I don't know what this means, 'type', but I am fine with discord, docs, or in-game, w/e. Like most things, it depends on my writing partners & what they want as I can be pretty flexible. Same goes for themes or vibes, I'm open to discussion & plotting as much as I am just going with the flow.

Pet Peeves & Dealbreakers I'm very easygoing as long as you treat me like I'm a person (which I definitely am a human person). Mostly just respect my time. Dealbreakers...idk man.

Plots or Memes Anything. Plots, memes, pvp, me just dropping things in your inbox that makes me think of your ocs without saying anything else, ya know

Long Replies or Short Replies No preference. Can do novella style or short form, whatever fits the situation/RP partner. You want to feel nice it is to finally have your fingers loose, all tired from wielding the blade all those years? How the length of wheat catches on the callouses of your command, sweat beading on your skin from the warmth of the sun as you're walking towards your wife and child, great! If you want a few sentences, awesome. Just give me something to work with, please, and I will do the same for you...don't make me shoulder the entire RP, I'm not strong enough, nor skilled enough. Maybe consistent one word or one sentence replies are a dealbreaker...hmmm...

Best Time to Write I mean whenever I have the energy, I guess :v but I do fancy a bit of writing before bed. I find it very relaxing. For regular RP...I am PST & sometimes I've got folks lined up & scheduled during the week, but... just ask I guess? What's the worse that'll happen?

Are You Like Your Muses? In some ways. In some ways not. (: -----------------------------------------------------

Tagged by (TY!!) || @musesofawolf Tagging || No one! That's right, I don't want to know any of y'all!

#prompts #| Out of Courage |#I hurry & throw this into the abyss #now I crawl back into my hole

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gloryseized · 8 months

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hc;; I don’t write Link as having done horrible things to koroks but there’s been more than a few times when he’s been riding on horse back or the Master Cycle Zero and taken out a few birds. Or deer. Or wolves.

And that doesn’t even begin to touch the huge swatches of trees he’s decimated 😔

#mute courage || link #thus it is written || headcanons.#link has committed nature crimes but not those nature crimes #prompted by a meme response naturally

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aceghosts · 1 year

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OC Moodboard: Commander Rooney Shepard + 🔮 (Zodiac Sign)

Requested by: @captastra

"Aries natives will always be ready to take action and will tend to be direct when it comes to expressing themselves. You never have to guess where you stand with these folks, as they will always let you know. These folks do not tend to hold a grudge, preferring to air out differences quickly, and move on in life. Ruled by Mars, the fiery qualities of the Ram bring great courage and determination to these natives.

Like anyone else, Aries may feel the fear, but has learned to act anyway, always striving to overcome limiting beliefs and self-doubt. Although very individualistic, these folks can also be very loyal, treating friends as fellow warriors that they feel bonded to in life’s challenges. You can count on your Aries friend to advocate for you, defend you, and face any hard conversations on your behalf to help protect, encourage, and empower you." (x)

[Send Me an Symbol for a Moodboard]

#Commander Shepard #Themshep #Commander Rooney Shepard #I Won't Let Fear Compromise Who I Am #myedits #moodboard #mood board #moodboard prompts #moodboard prompt #this description is very fitting for Rooney #They're extremely courageous #and they'll always go to hell and back for their friends #although their unwavering determination and strict moral code can make them a pain in the ass at times

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skyward-floored · 1 year

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Febuwhump day 11 - fever

Starting febuwhump in the middle of the month with my Links from my own au Courage of Ages, because I looked at the list and basically gave into temptation 😅

I’m going to try and keep these short so i don’t get stressed, just fun oneshots and an excuse to write my Links more :)

Here’s an explanation of courage of ages, as well as who’s who, but in this fic only four of them show up. Gloam is tp Link, Hue is albw & tfh, Era is hw, and Sprite is oot & mm.

————————————————————

“Gloam?”

The Hero of Twilight blinked his eyes open, looking up at who’d addressed him. Hue stood next to the tree that he’d been dozing against up until a few seconds ago, looking like he felt extremely bad for disturbing him.

“Hey Hue, what’s up? You need something?” he yawned, and the younger hero shifted his weight nervously, and scratched the back of his neck.

“Era isn’t awake.”

Gloam tilted his head. “And..? Is that a problem? I mean, we weren’t going to head out until tomorrow morning anyways, he may as well take a nap.”

“No, I mean he hasn’t woken up all day,” Hue stressed. “I was going to tell you earlier but I couldn’t find you or anybody else, so I figured I’d just wait, but now...”

Hue glanced behind him at the inn in the distance where they were all staying.

“He’s barely moved. He was making weird noises before too, I’m... I’m kinda worried Gloam.”

The goatherd furrowed his brow and stood up, forgoing his comfortable spot against the tree to instead follow Hue back inside to where Era had apparently been sleeping all day.

If it were almost any one of the others Gloam would brush it off as them just taking a nap, but Era was one of the Links in their group who barely slept under normal circumstances.

Maybe he was just really tired?

They entered one of the rooms several of them were sharing, Gloam noting the lump on one of the beds. Drawing closer with Hue on his heels, Gloam saw Era tightly curled up under the sheets, already odd since he tended to sleep ramrod-straight on his back. His blanket was tight around his shoulders, breath wheezing in his throat, and when Gloam leaned closer he could see his face was flushed.

Wait...

Gloam leaned down and pressed a hand to Era’s forehead, then winced at the heat under his palm.

“Darn it, he’s got a fever,” he muttered, and at his touch, Era’s eyes flicked open.

He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and hair limp with sweat. He was always so put together, Gloam had to admit it was weird seeing him this... disheveled.

“We moving again?” the knight rasped, and made to sit up, arms trembling. Hue pushed him back down, and shook his head.

“No way, you’re sick Era. We’re not moving anytime soon.”

Era’s face paled.

“Sick? No. No way, I’m not sick I can’t be sick—” he said thickly, panic leeching into his voice.

“Era calm down, you’ve just got a bit of a fever,” Gloam soothed, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “You only need some rest, you’ll be fine.”

Era swallowed, and Gloam could see him mentally push the panic down.

“But... we need to get going tomorrow,” he protested with a cough. “This was only supposed to be a quick stop, and then—”

“We can spare a day or two,” Gloam interrupted. “We switched pretty recently, I doubt we’ll leave this time for a little while yet. And you can’t go anywhere in this condition.“

Era looked like he was about to argue, but instead sneezed several times in a row, each one getting progressively louder.

Hue muffled a giggle at the surprisingly high-pitched sneezes, then shrank back at the look Era gave him.

“Umm, I’ll go get some soup I saved from the other night,” he said, then quickly escaped out the door. Gloam watched him go with an amused smile, then pulled a chair to Era’s bedside, sitting down as he looked down at the other hero.

The knight’s eyes were half-lidded and weary, but he made an effort to look more awake once he realized Gloam’s gaze was on him.

“I really am all right,” he rasped, and Gloam shook his head, sighing.

“No, you really aren’t,” he countered. “Hue said you’ve been sleeping all day.”

“So?”

Gloam eyeballed him. “You are always up at the crack of dawn, same as me. The only reason I didn’t notice you sleeping in earlier was because I was preoccupied,” he said a bit guiltily, then resumed his stern look. “You. Are. Sick.”

Era shrank in his blanket, looking away from Gloam.

“But I’m holding us up,” he rasped quietly. “We were going to try to make it to the castle, we might not have time if we w-wait—”

Era broke off into a stream of thick coughs, raspy and painful sounding. He groaned when he finished, and Gloam handed him some water, the knight weakly sipping at it. Once he’d finished, Gloam put his hand back on his forehead, trying to get a sense of just how bad his fever was. Era flinched, but relaxed after a minute, eyes drooping.

“I think your fever could be worse, but I don’t know how long you’ve had it either,” Gloam murmured, then pulled his hand away with a sigh. “Either way... it’s certainly not the greatest. We can see if this town has a healer, but in the meantime try and get more sleep?”

“Slept all morning,” Era mumbled. “Don’t need more.”

“You’re practically dozing off Era,” Gloam said dryly. “Just go back to sleep. Or I’ll get everyone in here and they can yell at you too.”

Era winced. “...don’t do that.”

The door creaked as he finished speaking, and Gloam turned, expecting to see Hue. But Sprite walked in instead, looking a little out of breath, like he’d run all the way here then stopped right at the door in an effort to seem nonchalant.

“Hue said you’re sick,” he blurted out, then crossed his arms and gave Era a foul look. “How on earth did you manage that?”

“You think I know?” Era croaked, and Gloam watched the worry in Sprite’s eyes grow more prominent at how weak his voice was.

The kid hesitated, then stalked over and jumped up on the bed next to him, ignoring Era’s immediate protests.

“Kid I’m going to get you sick, get off,” Era said sharply, but Sprite only crossed his arms behind his head and laid down.

“You shared your canteen with me yesterday, I’m probably already doomed,” he snipped back. “And I heard you and Gloam arguing, just go back to sleep, huh? It’s going to take you forever to get better if you don’t rest.”

“This from the kid who sleeps like two hours every night,” Era said with an eye roll, and Sprite elbowed him.

“Just go to sleep!”

Era still looked reluctant, and Sprite sighed, then creamed the knight with a pillow he’d grabbed without an ounce of apology. Era let out a affronted hey! and Sprite glared at him, holding the pillow threateningly under his arm.

“Era. Captain. Old Link. Go to sleep,” Sprite stressed. “Or it’ll be even longer ‘til we can leave.”

Era continued to glare half-heartedly at him, which Sprite returned with an equally fierce look, and Gloam decided to leave them to it.

“I’ll go see if Hue found that soup or not,” he said, trying not to smile, and began to leave the room.

“Wait, make sure nobody else comes in here,” Era rasped before he could go, grabbing Gloam’s wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. He gave him a serious look, and Gloam paused. “We don’t need it spreading. Keep Cloud out especially, you know h-how—”

He broke into a coughing fit again, and Gloam pulled his blanket back up around him, Sprite giving the knight a thinly-veiled look of worry.

“We’ll try and keep everyone out, calm down,” Gloam assured. “We’re serious though, obviously you need more rest. At least try and go back to sleep, I’ll go bring you some food in a bit.” Era didn’t reply, and Gloam left the room as Sprite rummaged in his pouch, already wondering how he was going to keep all the other Links out.

The sound of an ocarina followed him down the stairs, the slow notes of a lullaby ringing softly through the inn.

#legend of zelda #legend of Zelda au #courage of ages #coa Gloam #coa Hue #coa Era #coa Sprite #febuwhump #day 11 #fever #febuwhump2023 #writing from the floor #posting this and then looking away because abgddhdsgh #I go through this same song and dance whenever I post anybwritung with my Links #ack #ALSO if anyone has particular links they’re fond of or suggestions for prompts #hmu I might take em

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