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Mer-Steve!!!

The left texture is based on the coloring of his clothing (albeit a bit more vibrant than the default colors), while the right is based on the OG Minecraft fish!!

While the addition of the Alex model didn’t mean the removal of the Steve/Classic one, it could be seen as the “newer Steve,” I guess. That’s why I chose to make a cod texture, because it’s like the “newer” version of the OG fish :3

(Decided to compile these all onto one post, not sure why lmao)

#Funny enough #based on the lore of my story which I would ingrain into the mod #the orientation of the tail fin means that this ‘mer-steve’ would be a siren lmao #same with Alex #//#Minecraft #Minecraft Steve #Modded Minecraft

glad to see the #anti charles leclerc tag has like 0 posts

#formula one #f1 #charles leclerc #same with alex

I’ve finally achieved my goal.

Eighteen years of my life dedicated to slaying my own father, the dar’manda of my clan’s shame, and I’ve done it. Not alone, like I’d always thought it would be - but at the side of one of the most formidable warriors I’d ever met. The same warrior I’d offered my service towards when my trailblazing had come up short.

What was I supposed to do now, that I’d achieved what I’d always dreamed of? What was I supposed to do, when all I had wanted was to defeat my own father and reclaim my pride? I’d joined them with the hope of finding out what to do next, but now, with weeks between my father’s death and I, all we’ve managed to do is take down a few small bounties - their trade of choice.

So when we stopped at the Fleet for a quick break, I found myself by a vendor and picking out a lute.

It’s in my hands now - playing in the room I’d chosen to sleep in, strumming out a familiar tune. The sound is in my hands, has been there since I was a child. It’s familiar, reassuring, and it almost reminds me of my mother, though she’d also died when I was young, taken by her alliance with my father. It was one of the few tunes I could remember her teaching me. I know others - played others perhaps better. But this I knew well.

When I look up from my stumming, I see them lingering in the door. My hand stops, and flattens over the strings, killing the sound where it comes.

Alexei doesn’t speak immediately. They have a . . . strange look in their eyes. Green eyes, circled by dark rings. When I’d met them on Dromund Kaas, those green eyes had looked far more yellow.

“You play music?”

It’s a strange question, given their usual ones. More often their questions were along the lines of “need a boost?” and “cover my six?” and even “can I kill this one for you?”, though that was often more in sarcasm or pure gruffness. Of course I’d seen moments of their softness, though I’m sure they’d rebuke the term. But like this? Their hair’s still back like usual, and though they don’t wear armor, the dark shirt and trousers still make them seem more hardened warrior than relaxed hunter.

Just like a Mandalorian. I’m reassured, once again, that Manda’lor had done well, choosing them to adopt into the fold.

“Bought the lute at the fleet. Needed to keep my hands buys,” I say. I’m normally not good with words. This is further proof.

“Have you always played?”

“Learned pretty young. Right alongside fighting.”

“So if you don’t fight, you make music.”

“Pretty much.”

“I don’t know if I should feel bad or not, then,” they admit, pressing their hands together almost shyly. “I promised you a war. Haven’t found much of one lately.”

I shrug. “You’re waiting on a call from the other Champions. I get it.”

“I guess.”

They’re quiet again. Looking down at their hands, and fidgeting even more. I wonder if I should be worried, before they step further into the room, and sit down on the bed across from me.

“Could you play more?”

I’m rarely shy, but the open look of their eyes, the hunch of their body as they lean closer, the awkward tie of their arms and shoulders out of their nerves - I feel almost vulnerable myself. And I’ve never played for an audience before. Yet, there’s something so curious there, so wondrous.

I look back down to my hands and carefully, carefully, begin playing again.

It’s a gentler tune this time, one of the first I really learned from somebody else, and it’s soft, like Alexei looks in this moment. It’s a tune that’s name I no longer recall, a lilt to it that I remember from old days around campfires with warriors swaying all around. When I look up to them, though, their eyes are closed, and lips pursed. I’m half-startled, not enough to interrupt my playing, but what’s even worse is when they open their lips.

And they begin to sing.

A more feminine voice pours out of them, higher and lighter than their usual darker tones, and something with a great deal of music hiding within it. It’s so astonishing I nix a few notes, only to correct myself when their brows draw in concentration and concern. There are words, beautiful words pouring from their lips. There’s so much emotion, it’s like they’re singing from a dark, haunting place within.

And O, the moons of Alderaan twirl In time with the heartbeats of men And by these raised hands know Among our hearts be soothed

And though time of war be near And blades be drenched with blood Our fingers interlink and lock With the hope that lies within.

I don’t realize that I’ve stopped playing until their last wavering note dies in the air. They don’t seem to notice either, so distracted by their song that it leaves them almost entranced, eyes still closed. The silence is almost too stunning to break. At least, until their eyes feather open . . . and they look up at me with a blush on their cheeks. I only realize how close we were, only a head apart, when they pull back as if shocked by lightning.

“I . . .” they swallow, and cough into their shoulder. They seem to have lost their more masculine voice, at least for a moment, still sounding more female than usual. “When did you . . .?” they stop. “I mean,” they correct, looking up at him, “When did you learn that tune?”

“I was fairly young. Don’t remember the age,” I look down at my lute. “One of the first tunes I learned though. What about you?”

“I’ve . . . always known this song,” Alexei answers, still blushing. “Must’ve learned from another slave. I mean, one of the ones who took care of me. I mean- ...nobody else to teach me.”

“Your voice is beautiful. Must’ve taken a long time to perfect.”

“It’s-” they rub the back of their neck. “It’s too feminine, and I forced myself to talk lower so I’d sound less . . . like a woman,” they shut their eyes. “But I like singing. And your music sounds so inspiring.”

“Inspiring,” I mutter to myself. I want to ask them more, or tell them how wonderful their singing is beyond their sex, but that’s the moment Mako pops her head into the room, and Alexei springs up in an instant. “Mandalorians are in touch!” she chirps, “And they have our next bounty.”

“Good! I mean, good,” they say, quickly adjusting to talk like their usual selves. They look to me and give me half a smile. “You want to- join me upstairs?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I answer, putting my lute aside as they sprint out of the room ahead of me, leaving me to wonder if maybe coming along hadn’t ended my trailblazing, after all.

#torian cadera #alexei wright #fanfiction #my writing #swtor #star wars the old republic #bounty hunter #aka a cute bonding moment #there is in no way a chance that torian doesn't play music #either with a lute or a bes'bev #same with alex #alexei sings but doens't play an instrument #though i think torian starts to teach them the bes'bev later on