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cuddlytogas · 1 month

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an incomplete list of terrible but extremely popular Our Flag Means Death takes that I would like to never see again please

(and I do mean popular, as in, lots of people seem to think they're canon, to the point where I feel slightly insane and like I was watching a different show to everyone else)

1. Ed's mum was loving and nice and supportive, if hampered by her bad situation

this comes up more in fic than analysis, to be fair, but good god, what show were some of you watching? this isn't to vilify her, because yeah, she's clearly a product of colonialism, white christian supremacy, and domestic abuse, but like. that doesn't make how she raised Ed good. clearly she was trying to keep him safe, but "we don't deserve nice things", and especially "it's not up to us, it's up to god", speaks to me of someone who squashes down any ambition on her son's part, has fully bought into the lies of christian colonialism, and tries to pass them down to her son.

as does happen in colonised communities, particularly among older generations. I know us white people like to think that every indigenous person is a perfect left-wing anti-imperial activist, but that's simply not the case, and Ed's mum is so clearly an example of an older conservative christian indigenous parent who had to believe the lies told by their coloniser in order to survive, but is now passing on that trauma to their children. and I just...

if I read one more fic where Ed's mum is a perfect loving supportive angel who always believed in her kid and always supported and protected him, I'm gonna scream. yes, it's sweet, and it's fun to sometimes veer from canon and give your blorbo nice things, but it's still veering from canon. and yet, I see very few people acknowledge that, or actually talk about the nuances of Ed's mother, and how she definitely tried to protect him, but was far from sweet, doting, and unconditionally supportive.

2. Ed's loving look when Stede is picking food from his beard in 1x07

like most of these things, I enjoyed it as a joke or exaggeration at first, until I realised that people were actually being serious. but every time I watch that scene, I see Ed looking absently-mindedly over Stede's shoulder, because a) that's what you do when someone leans in to pick something off you, and b) surely the point of the scene is that they're so comfortable and easy together that they don't notice the intimacy of what they're doing, but Lucius, an outside observer, thinks it's obvious. right?? I can't be the only one seeing it???

[sigh]

anyway. finally, the really really big one:

3. Ed is a soft uwu babygirl princess femme bottom sub who loves her cat collar and is teaching Stede how to dom him in the "say you're the captain" scene

I mean, there's not much to say except to link to duke's absolutely phenomenal twitter thread about "how the 'babygirlfication' and infantilization of ofmd ed teach is an extension of racist perceptions of indigenous men being inherently violent and thus needing to be emasculated to be considered sympathetic"

but especially That One Fucking Scene, good lord. talk about taking shit out of context. everyone looked at a slowed-down gif of one shot in the trailer and cried "babygirl!! he's such a simp, he just wants to be dommed!!", when actually that scene is about how a) Stede is cringefail and terrible at being a typical harsh, commanding pirate, and b) Ed is lovingly embarrassed by this. he encourages Stede to assert himself (and give Ed something to do during his probation/help him make amends with the crew), but like. normally. he's acting perfectly normal in that scene, and mostly annoyed by the outfit and embarrassed by how badly Stede fails. but just because he's sitting down while Stede is standing, and he happens to take a breath in that one shot (because, you know, people breathe sometimes), everyone's doubled down on their "submissive babygirl" bullshit, and I can't get the fuck away from it.

which - listen, it's fun for me, too! it's fun to explore exaggerated aspects of a character, it's fun to read/write/draw that angle in smut, I get it! but I keep seeing people keep claim it's literally canon, and I cannot stress enough that that is Straight Up False. for the love of god, please just watch the show without your (potentially kinda racist) bias glasses on, and remember to treat the characters with respect instead of projecting onto their every interaction a shallow dom/sub binary just because you find it hot.

Our Flag is a show very specifically about masculinity, and what it means to be a man; how assumptions about that can harm and restrict men; and how men can grow beyond them. it's a nuanced and sympathetic examination of this. the whole point is that Ed is allowed to like nice fabrics and be tired of violent piracy and still be a man. the point is that two men fall in love - equal, honest, sincere love - and are still men, still exactly who they are.

(on that note, insisting that Ed is canonically trans or femme because of these things often ends up just leaning into gendered stereotypes: men are harsh and active and dominant, and women are soft and passive and submissive, and if Ed's not the former, he must be the latter, right? it also tends to hetero-ify the central relationship, casting Stede as "the boy" and Ed as "the girl", needing one to be masc and one femme. not always, and again, I understand and have enjoyed transformative works that take those elements and run with them, and explore what the story could be like if Ed were trans/nb/etc - but it's still a transformative interpretation. it's not canon.)

relatedly: those fucking wedding toppers! it seemed blatantly obvious to me that half the point of those scenes was that Ed is distraught and blaming himself for Stede leaving because he wasn't the ideal partner. it's his entire arc for the first half of season 2! Ed hates himself and believes there's something wrong about him that makes him unlovable. so he keeps and then discards the wedding toppers, painting himself onto one of them, because he's projecting himself onto an image of ideal/successful romantic love that he thinks Stede wants, and in which he doesn't fit. he's trying to mould himself into someone else to make himself lovable, not realising that Stede already loves him for himself.

like, it's important that the groom figure isn't actually like Stede, either. yes, it's blond and has a nice, peach-coloured suit, but a) Stede was very specifically unhappy in the posh, heterosexual, married state the figures represent, and b) Stede by this point looks nothing like that figurine. it's directly contrasted with the image of him in the rowboat, scruffy and plain and earnestly in love, rather than fancy, cold ceramic.

so it's important to the whole narrative that Ed's yearning for/projection onto the wedding toppers is false, and born from his insecurity. he gets drunk, and play-acts a stereotypical image of romantic happiness into which he doesn't fit, but real love looks nothing like that, because real love isn't found in stifling hegemonic cultural structures, but honest, emotional connections between people allowed to be their whole, vulnerable selves. Stede is not like the groom, and Ed is not like the bride, because they shouldn't have to be. Ed should not (and does not) have to warp himself into a demure bride in order to be worthy of love: he's already lovable and loved exactly as he is! that's the point!! of the scene!!!!!!

but no, I have to wade through swathes of art and fic and meta about how badly Ed wants to be a sweet little demure kitty princess, how he wants a wedding night and a ring to prove he's Stede's property, and acting as if this is somehow canon, because people on the internet have zero reading comprehension and are scared of brown men.

the whole point of Our Flag is that you don't need to compress yourself into prescribed social roles, and in fact, doing so will only make you miserable; and that racist, patriarchal, colonial institutions should be resisted and dismantled at every opportunity.

so tell me again why the ultimate message is that Ed and Stede should get married under an arch in front of an altar and their lined-up friends, with flowers and rice falling around them, all dressed in white, one in a suit and one in a dress, with rings and a kiss and a honeymoon after, before they move into a detached house with a yard and a fence and re-adopt the kids that Stede abandoned? and this isn't about promises, fidelity, or even monogamy - I'm specifically talking about everyone in this fandom who seems to think that the ultimate goal is the most stereotypical 20th century cisheteropatriarchal christian wedding, but with the name "matelotage" slapped on top, as if that takes away all of the underlying baggage.

just - I know we're all meant to hate men and masculinity and yadda yadda yadda, but actually, to be earnest for a second, men deserve respect too, because all people and all genders do. and two men are allowed to be in a relationship and still both be men - complex men, with their own, layered relationships to their gender - without having to fall into neatly-arranged dom/sub masc/femme roles, or seal the deal with a hegemonically-approved ceremony.

so please, stop reducing an indigenous lead character to a caricature of a femme uwu princess bottom just because he has long hair, wore a robe once, and you're too scared of brown men to imagine him with proper agency. and then please, for the love of god, stop claiming that that interpretation is canon.

#I can't tag this for my own blog organisation without putting it in the wider fandom tag so uuuhhhhhh #sorry to everyone who sees this but fair warning I'm being very critical of some popular fandom trends. dnr if you wanna avoid negativity.#Our Flag Means Death #gender stuff #Togas does meta #it's not an accident that all of these are about ed -_- i s2g some of y'all just CANNOT be normal about that man...#this was actually going to be a fairly concise post but then i decided fuck it i'm putting that whole last rant in writing #it's been building for a long time. and i've said lots of it irl before lol #it always feels sorta vaguely transmisogynistic but i s2g that's not the point #again i'm all here for trans reinterpretations and you can get off to whatever smut you like but they remain that: reinterpretations #they're not canon and stop saying that they are.

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stinmybubs · 29 days

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“Jewelry Box.” FANTASY AU Pt.2

AN: I love this concept too much I need to write more.

Summary: Fighting to succeed to the throne, you do everything in your power to become the next ruler of the Caataeta Empire. Even if meant cursing yourself with a power that secures your throne. You wish for no lover, just people you can help you chip away the curse that's killing you, and to secure your empire. You need husbands, wives. A Jewelry Box.

AFAB! Reader x a series of characters.

Pt.1

You’ve never been more livid in your life. You didn’t want to be married off to a kingdom you’ve never been to! You wanted to rule over the nations. You wanted to call the shots.

Your anger clouded your judgement. “Momo…I’m going to the dungeons. Make sure no one follows.” You hiss, glaring at the innocent black haired girl. Worry was painted all over her face as she opened her mouth ti pro protest but you simply hurried past her.

Oh (Y/n)…please don’t do anything rash. Momo thought, looking at your figure with dismay.

You knew exactly how to secure yourself the thrown. You needs a higher power, you needed to be stronger then the men that are thing you down.

You needed magic. Magicians a rarely ever turned away from empires or kingdoms, they can always do how they please having their own tower all to themselves. You, only held little magic, but you knew an old ancient rule of the imperial family.

You were able to connect yourself with a greater curse, then you could secure yourself the thrown. I must. I have to. No matter the cost I must secure the throne. You slammed the dungeon door open, looking around the damp, and dark stairs.

Momo simply handed you the torch, you refused to let her come down with you. She waved you off with much worry, watching your figure disappear down the spiral stairs.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs you approach the cell rooms, simply glancing in each room before you settle before the giant gate door beneath the castle walls. This is where the imperial family magicians are trained, and this is where you’ll summon the tortured souls of the imperial magicians.

You grabbed a dagger off the weopnary walls, hovering it over your hand thinking of where to cut. You didn’t want to kill yourself, simply sacrifice an amount of your blood. So you cut into your arm.

Watching the blood drizzle out your arm, a faint feeling coming over you. But you stand there strong, watching the Stoney floor cracks be filled with blood and it slowly flow throughout the floor.

“Bring me the damned souls of the imperial family! I give you blood! I give you my life!” You cry, trying your best to stand tall.

There was a flicker, then another. Then whirling, screaming souls of the damned family, reaching out for you. You felt no fear, for your desire for the throne was greater than no other.

“Give me your curse! Give me the power of the throne!” You shout at the screaming whirl of smoke and boney-hands reaching for you. The only thing that scared you was the familiar voice.

Your mother.

“Do you understand what accepting the imperial curse will do?” A tear. A singular tear sheds from your eyes as the voice cancels out any noise. You saw her hand, her golden hand teacher for you. Your mother peaked from the middle of the smoke, she was like a golden spirit trying to stop you.

“You will no longer feel pain. You will no longer feel love. You will no longer feel regret. You will be the vessel of the damned.”

You could feel the warmth of your mothers hand on your cheek. Listening to her words carefully.

“Yes mother! I’ve worked so hard! I’ve done so much, I’ve SACRIFICED so much. I deserve the throne. I am the rightful crown of the Caataeta Empire!” You let all your pain out, you grieve in your mothers hand, sharing all that has wronged you.

“My poor daughter…go change this world. Change you destiny.” Your mother was sucked away from you. Tears streaming down your face. In a blink of an eye the smoke flew out you. But you felt…normal?

It only lasted a minute until your body started to pulsate in pain. Your through starting to clog with blood and vomit. Your eyes began to itch and sting. You I’m Iida tell drop to your knees scratching at the floor trying to embrace the pain.

You tried screaming, you tried making any noise. You reach for the door. Am I dying..? You think, a flash of Momo’s face coming into your mind, your heart began to race. I can’t. You let the mixture of blood and vomit spill from your mouth onto the floor.

Your noticed all your blood for the summoning had already gone. Could you really handle the curse? Your frail body..? Are you really this….weak.

You hold your throat, feeling your eyes begin to tire. No. You can’t faint. You can’t die. You must do as your mother said. You must save yourself, change this world.

Slowly, you began to pick yourself back up. Your desire taking over the pain as you walked yourself out the imperial magician room. You didn’t even look back. The pain was fading, as you walked up the stairs you felt lighter. Relieved?

As you open the dungeon doors Momo greater you with a smile. But soon it was replaced with a look of horror and worry. “(Y-y/n)! Your dress! Your eyes! What happened?” She quickly came to your aid wrapping your arm around her shoulders.

“I’m fine. No need to worry Momo.” This was weird. You didn’t feel anything when you saw her, not like you normally do, youve always felt at ease and at home with Momo. But now…

You felt nothing.

A couple of days has passed and you hadn’t left your room, simply staring at the wall. You’ve noticed a change in your appearance, that being your eyes. A giant red x had painted over your eyes, but you could see perfectly fine.

“Strange…” you murmur, lifting yourself off your bed and to your vanity. You felt nothing, no beauty, no confidence. Nothing.

“Mother was right…as always.” You stare at yourself for a brief moment, just sitting in silence staring at your room door.

The door finally opened revealing Momo with a tray of tasty treats. But you still felt nothing. You were usually excited for tasty treats such as these. “(Y/n)…are you doing well?” She worriedly placed the tray on your tea table. “You haven’t told me to help you get ready…you haven’t left your room…and…” she looked like she was about to cry?

“I’m fine Momo…”you really were. But you just didn’t know what to do, or how to feel anymore.

Why did I do this again…? You question yourself, it was lying staring into the abyss your mind was blank. Ah…yes…I remember. The throne. You didn’t feel the anger anymore, but you still wished for this power.

“Momo, you can stop worrying. Help me get dressed for an audience with the king.” You give her a gentle smile to ease her worries. Momo was happy to help you get ready. You could see her smile, which you always thought was beautiful. But you can’t feel it anymore.

“(Y/n)!? What have you done daughter !” The imperial father shouted, his look of horror upon seeing his daughter.

“What father? Never seen the imperial curse before?” You smirk crosses your face, you loved seeing his horrified face. A sense of satisfaction writhed over you. You finally felt something after days. You felt the sweet taste of victory.

“You look like a demon! No la-“ you quickly approach him. Faster than you thought because you were gone from your spot in a instant.

“This secures the throne…as in the imperial records and law.” You state, looking down on your own father. “I expect my coronation tomorrow, and my imperial brother thrown in prison. Or even killed.” You smirk seeing your fathers face contort in fear.

“You cannot do this! I am the-“ you cut him off, your red x glowing brighter as he started choking. How satisfying. You think letting the man breath after a moment.

“Announce it. Good day father I shall excuse myself.” You curtsy, and make your way back to Momo, in which she nodded to you and followed behind you.

“You still must meet with the Todoroki prince! (Y/n) one last request from your father!” He yelled across the room, holding his neck.

“I supposed I should…let’s host a ball then!” You clap your hands enthusiastically. Of course you felt nothing about it. You need to put on an act of emotion!

“Is this tight enough princess?” Momo questioned, tightening your corset has always been a hassle, you used to hate the pain of not being able to breath in it.

“It’s fine Momo.” You smile gently at her, at least you could no longer feel the pain of corsets.

The ball was dull. Nothing interesting caught your eye, until the announcement of prince Todoroki of course, he to your surprise was quiet young and handsome. Maybe even the same age as you.

You lift yourself up from your throne, your father had an ugly smile on his face sitting in your soon to be throne. Watching as the red and white haired boy approached you, kneeling to kiss your hand.

“Care for a dance..?” His face was stoic, almost no emotion. You simply nod and let him lead.

“How do you feel about this engagement prince Todoroki?” You ask, knowing he probably wouldn’t want this either since he might have a lover. “I don’t mind it…I think it would be a great alliance.” He states matter of factly. Boring, but cute. You think as you two continue to dance.

“How do you feel about this arrangement your imperial highness?” His question seems to be more curious and genuine. “I don’t wish for it of course. But I’ll consider it once I am empress.” You state.

“Empress? Oh yes I heard you were now crown princess, my apologies.” The silence on Todoroki’s end was awkward, but for you it was nothing.

The silence continued until you two had ended the dance, bowing to one another. You made your way to the balcony to feel the cool air. This usually would’ve made you more relaxed but you still felt nothing. “Ah…would I have been happy…? To wed such a young man and join his court?” You stare at the stars. Wondering if you had done the right thing.

“You never know…” the familiar stoic voice of prince Shouto wouldve startled you normally. “No one is ever happy with arranged marriages. Especially my parents…but none of us can change it.” He stated plainly, taking his place next to you on there balcony.

“You are a very beautiful women, you could get any suitor you want especially in your position.” He was very correct, you had everything. Looks, smarts. But what was it all for if you couldn’t succeed the throne?

“I guess you could be right…but why wed someone for position? Especially you shouldn’t want this…since your parents seem so unhappy.” You state back, putting arm under your chin.

“I shouldn’t…especially when my father drove my mother so crazy…she poured boiling hot water onto my face.” He covered the scar that covered a part of his face. “No one would marry something like this…” he looked back at the stars.

“Well I think scars are beautiful…it shows how strong someone can be…it shows the battles someone has been through…mentally and physically.” You look at the boy, making slight eye contact with him.

“And a scar doesn’t define who you are.” You turn on your heel and walk back into the full ballroom.

Leaving that handsome boy a bit dumbfounded.

AN: TEEHEE!!! Two in one day!! This story has me in a chokehold.

#shouto todoroki #todoroki x reader #todoroki fluff #momo yaoyaruzo #momo x reader #mha angst #mha fantasy au #mha fanfiction #mha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x you

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solrika · 7 months

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I think I may have to start an AO3 to collect the things I've made in the Prince AU (started by @zebsfloppyears --I'm playing in the sandbox with their permission). This doesn't feature the boys, but I can't help but think of what the Lasan goverment looked like after the invasion.

Orebah, the chief finance minister, rubbed at his forehead. “This is a mess.”

Jorn, the newly-appointed minister of agriculture, reached over to refill Orebah’s glass. “That’s an understatement.”

“Has parliament settled on the new defense minister yet?” Orebah asked, flicking a look at where the late Galliazeh usually sat.

“No,” replied Paratep, Prime Minister, formally Speaker. “Still in deliberations.”

Sitith, from the customary corner seat of the spymaster, flicked their ears back in irritation. “I doubt we’ll be allowed to appoint one. Officially, at least,” they amended, absently rubbing at the bandages on their side. “The Imperials might put one of their own in the seat.”

“Or leave us with nothing,” Orebah snorted, tossing back his glass.

Devicep, the new director of commerce, subtly pushed the pitcher away from Jorn’s overly-polite hands. “Sitith, have your little birds heard anything about the blockade? We don’t have much interplanet business, but–”

Sitith shook their head. “It’s damn hard to get anyone where I want them. No nonhumans to speak of in their command structure at all.” They twiddled with their datapad, frowning in thought. “I know the Imperials are going to install a puppet ruler. Some kind of regent… I’ll see if I can install someone on the Guard to keep watch.”

Jorn snorted. “How? The Guard are traditionalists. There’s no way they’ll let an outsider handle their precious bo-rifles.”

Orebah smiled mirthlessly, and reached past Devicep’s arm to grab the pitcher for himself. “And yet, rumor has it a human won one during the invasion. There’s nothing holy in war. They’ll learn that soon enough.”

“Leave the Guard to me.” Sitith waved a dismissive hand. “Just to check–you still don’t want to crown Miriana? The people would rally around her. We might be able to raise enough of an army to wage open war.”

“She’s sixteen, and a child, not a game piece,” Paratep snapped, ears flattening. When Sitith simply blinked placidly back, she deflated a little, tail curling sheepishly. “Besides. Under normal circumstances, parliament would hold executive power until she comes of age.”

Sitith made a little notation on their pad. “Fine.” Glancing up, they prompted, “Yakka? You have something to say?”

Yakka, the youngest in the room and the environmental director, started in zer seat. “What?”

“You’ve been opening and closing your mouth like a fish.” Sitith gestured with their stylus. “Out with it.”

“I–well–” Ze shook zerself. “I keep wondering–what does the Empire want from us? They have other agricultural assets within their borders, and they certainly don’t need firepower.” Ze twisted zer fingers around zer glass, frowning down at its bottom. “And I keep thinking of Geonosis.”

A beat of silence, and then Devicep slammed a hand down on the table. “Karbast!”

Yakka grimaced. “Indeed.”

“We are not letting those monsters strip our planet,” Orebah snarled. “Sitith, whatever you need–”

They nodded. “We’ll discuss defense budgets later.” With a pointed look at the pitcher, “When you’re sober.”

“If you’re going to be talking to the Guard anyway…” Jorn tapped his claws on the table. “We haven’t had a general in centuries.”

“We haven’t needed a general in centuries,” Orebah growled into his glass.

Ignoring the finance minister’s grumbles, Jorn continued, “If we truly intend to wage a quiet war–”

“Yes.” Sitith bobbed their head, making another note. “I’ll see what I can do. My first picks all died in the attack. Orrelios is good, but untested. If I have permission to outsource–”

Devicep waved a hand. “I can get your agents on the merchant ships. As soon as the blockade lifts, you can start recruiting in person.”

“Excellent.”

#star wars #star wars fanfics #star wars rebels #lasat

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dracolichbitch · 1 year

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A Date with Destiny

@lucien-lachance Here's that scene i was telling you i was thinking about! enjoy the sassy bitey!

The full moon ended three days ago, and her obligation to stay transformed passed with it, but despite how this tiny cell could barely accommodate her wolf form, Bitey didn’t deign to return to her human flesh. It was fairly amusing how any time the imperial guards would come to feed the other prisoners, they’d take one look at her in her cell and scurry off as far away from her as they could get.

The fact they’d withheld food in the attempt to weaken her didn’t bother her, not when there were still a few corpses still littering the bottom of her cell from the last time the guards tried to bring her out to be interrogated. Philidia had come by earlier to mock her for her capture, but she ignored him in favor of pointedly gnawing on the femur of one of the dead guards in her cell. The pitiful fool couldn’t even keep eye contact with her during that little visit.

After chewing the bone into sad little splinters, it lost its appeal, like a broken toy, and she was debating clawing open one of the corpses to rip out a rib or two to chew on next – ribs always were her favorite after all – when she heard new voices coming down the stairs. A single sniff was all she needed to know that despite the serious calmness in the voices, the newcomers were all deeply afraid.

“We have no choice but to hope this way out hasn’t been compromised. Divines above, how has it all come to this?”

“Remain steadfast. The gods have not yet abandoned us. We will get the emperor out of this danger.”

Unbidden, their voices floated down to her, and the words made her ears perk up, though she made no move to rise from where she was lounging with her head resting on her paws and her eyes closed.

The emperor? Slumming around with the criminals in prison? Interesting if true.

Thump thump thump. The heavy steel boots colliding with the stone floor echoed as loud as thunder in her ears, and the slight twang and screech as the metal scraped against the stone with every step made her cringe, though it only showed in the twitch of her ears, laying flat against her head for a single moment.

“What in Oblivion is that?!” One of the voices from before asked in a much higher pitch once the steps stopped in front of her cell.

“Are you daft? It’s quite obvious that’s a werewolf.” The other voice, a woman’s answered, but despite the woman’s attempt to remain stern and serious, there was a noticeable tremor in her voice.

Were she in her human form, Bitey would’ve laughed. Instead she opened one eye slowly and then the other.

Standing before her cell were three people in rather odd armor she’d never seen before, and the much older man lurking behind them, dressed in dazzling regalia, could only be one person.

“Well, yes… But I mean, what’s it doing here?” The first man amended his question as he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, readjusting his grip on his sword as his eyes darted from her to the woman who seemed to be his superior.

Though the prison would seem dark to any normal human’s eyes, Bitey could see clearly as if the entire prison were lit up with a torch outside each cell. She could see each shaky movement that man made, from the jerk of his head when her eyes settled on him, to the whites of his eyes growing larger and larger the longer she stared at him without blinking.

The woman who seemed to be in charge turned to what seemed to be another person coming down the stairs.

“You there! Guard! Why is this prisoner here? This cell is supposed to be off limits!” The woman barked, her fingers tightening around the torch in her hand as she brandished it in the face of the guard coming down the stairs.

The guard poked his head around the stair case, confusion in his eyes until he laid them on her, and then they went wide before darting away like a fish fleeing from a disturbance in the pond.

“That’s the brotherhood assassin Captain Philidia caught with his sting operation, ser. It put up such a fight that it took five strong men to throw her in the first cell that we could. Two of those men died from their injuries, and the other three will be forced into early retirement. It wasn’t even that monster at the time either. It looked just like an ordinary person except for the eyes. Those were the eyes of a monster.” The man shuddered as he spoke, refusing to look directly at her.

The acrid stench of his fear would’ve amused her, if the way he spoke didn’t make her roll her eyes.

He thinks I was terrifying then? He would’ve pissed himself if he met me when I was feral. She noted as she clambered to her feet with a heavy sigh before stretching herself out the best she could in these cramped quarters before laying back down, seemingly as docile as one of those over-glorified rats that noble women liked to carry around in their purses.

Those the woman captain swore under her breath, Bitey could clearly make out her words.

Divine’s preserve us? Looks like the gods aren’t quite on your side tonight.

The third man in the strange armor, the one who’d deigned to remain silent thus far, and the only one who didn’t reek of fear and uncertainty, finally spoke up, looking between the emperor and herself before him.

“Captain, what do we do? The safest route out of the city is through that cell. We can’t risk going through the city itself, it’s too open.”

The words made her ears perk up, and slowly, a devilish grin spread across her lips. Slowly, she allowed the transformation to take place, and as she slowly stood up on her back legs, her fur receding into her skin and her shrouded armor, her claws dulling back into well kept nails, and her teeth shrinking into much smaller but just as deadly points, she let out a quiet groan from the pain of her skeletal structure readjusting itself. Though she was fully capable of transforming in a flash, able to go from a human into her wolf form mid pounce, it was far more painful to do so quickly, and right now, she had plenty of time.

She stood up straight once she’d fully returned to her human form before tugging her hood down and raking a hand through her shaggy hair back out of her face. She stepped forward towards the bars of her cell to get a better look at the people before her. Her senses were much different in her wolf form than in her human form. As a human they were much less potent, but still far better than the average person’s, or at least, Lucien had told her that most couldn’t hear the faintest footsteps that were like the clambering of a bull to her, or pick up on the subtle smell of his most stealthy poisons.

Most humans eyes didn’t shine in the dark either.

“I’d heard there was a secret passage out of the city through the prison, but honestly I didn’t even bother to look, as I assumed no one would be foolish enough to throw an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood into that cell.” She chuckled deviously, casting her eyes around the cell as she spoke. “Let’s see. That wall has a cell on the other side. That wall is the exterior wall of the prison. Which means, the passage has to be through this wall.” She knocked against the wall, and wasn’t surprised to hear that it was hollow.

“It’s you. You’re the one from my dreams.” A voice that had yet to speak rose up now, deep and gravelly, like old stone grinding against each other.

Slowly she turned back to those standing outside her cell, and was mildly surprised to see the emperor pushing his way to the front to speak to her.

“Dreaming of me? I wouldn’t sound so excited if that’s true. It’s not usually a good sign.” She noted with no small amount of amusement in her voice, but also a tinge of curiosity that she’d certainly deny if picked up on.

“Assassins have killed my sons and now they hunt me. My blades are escorting me to safety, and it can only be destiny that our path leads out through your cell. Whether it be good fortune or no, I cannot say. All I know, is that as the gods have foretold to me, today is the day. I can only pray that they grant me strength.” The emperor spoke, looking eyes with her without a drop of fear in his own. There was no tremble in his voice. His hands did not shake as they wrapped around the bars of her cell. Out of all of them, he seemed to be the least afraid.

Odd, considering it was he the assassins were after.

She let out a bark of laughter as she acknowledged the irony of his situation.

“Oh your gods certainly have abandoned you, haven’t they? To think, your attempt to escape assassins is barred by another assassin in your way.” Bitey chuckled deviously, crossing her arms over her chest as her eyes raked down him before flickering over to his guards. “If those hunting you were smart, they should’ve just done the Black Sacrament.”

The emperor’s face remained as stony as a granite statue as he took her in, and slowly he shook his head, pity clear in his voice as he spoke. “The Divines have not abandoned me, just as they’ve not forgotten about you, despite your misdeeds. For their light to shine upon you once again, you need only look for it.”

Bitey clenched her teeth, grinding them against each other as her eyes narrowed. Lashing out like a snake, she reached through the bars of her cell, and with each finger like a python, she grabbed hold of the front of his robes and dragged him closer as she leaned in with a snarl.

“I have my own gods. I need not the pity of yours.” She growled deep in her chest, the sound unmistakably that of an angry animal.

“Unhand the emperor!” The woman guard demanded, pointing her blade at her from outside the cell. “Right now!”

Bitey smiled venomously at the woman. “Or else what?” She laughed lightly even as she eyed the strangely shaped sword. “You think you can intimidate me with a blade? I’m a werewolf, sweetheart. I could kill the lot of you with my bare hands.” Even as she spoke, she did shove the emperor away from her, not because she was intimidated by the threat, but because she didn’t usually bother killing people she didn’t have a contract for. “Even armed to the teeth, your weapons wouldn’t be able to do much. After all, from the smell of them, it looks like you didn’t bring any silver.”

The guard bared her own teeth in what was a pretty pitiful attempt at a snarl if Bitey didn’t say so herself, but the guard was quick to focus on bringing the emperor to a safer position behind her.

Bitey, on the other hand, had lost interest in talking to any of them, and instead began to feel around the wall she knew had to contain the passageway out. After running her fingers across the stone for a moment, it was easy to find the hidden switch, and with a flick of her fingers and the ear piercing grating of stone on stone, the wall was opening up to reveal the passageway.

So it actually was here after all.

With a wicked smile, she backed away from the passage, before gesturing loudly to it.

“As thanks for telling me about it, I’ll be so kind as to allow your little entourage to go first. Leave the cell door open though. I need to recover my weapons after all.”

The guards stared at her with their mouths agape before exchanging looks with each other. Finally the one man who didn’t seem to have any fear spoke up first.

“Do you really think we’ll allow you to follow us out?”

“Do you really think you can stop me?”

“We could always kill you.”

“Go ahead and try, if you think you can.”

Silver clashed with gold as both she and the guard stared each other down. Seconds ticked by in silence but Bitey did not look away nor blink as she dared him to make a move against her.

Finally the man sighed before unlocking the cell.

“Baurus, this is not your decision to make!” The woman who seemed to be his superior immediately gripped his wrist, glaring up at the man.

“Captain Renauld, what choice do we have? We can’t turn back. The only way forward is through the cell. Our duty first and foremost is protecting the emperor, is it not? Leave dealing with the Dark Brotherhood to the Imperial Legion.”

The woman stared at him for a long moment before letting out a growl and stalking into her cell. She didn’t turn her back to Bitey for a moment as she backed into the passageway, her eyes dangerous narrow slits.

“I’ll only give you this warning once. You make one wrong move against us, and I’m turning you into a fur rug.”

Bitey laughed.

“Oh like I haven’t heard that one before. I suggest you get going before I change my mind, and send your souls to Sithis myself.”

One by one the emperor’s guards went through the passage, and finally she was alone inside her cell once again. With a wicked smile, she stepped past the corpses littering the bottom of her cell and into the prison hallway.

First my weapons, and then I’ll escape. I think I’ve kept Ocheeva waiting long enough. Time to go home.

#oblivion #hero of kvatch #hok #Oc: Bitey

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ap-trash-compactor · 1 year

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telbun AU set up notes

Zsinj has been sent to wild space to do surveying (how Thrawn was ~allegedly~ banished from the imperial court in legends , lol)

Parck and his gaggle of cadets chases the smugglers (per yoozh) but runs into Zsinj’s SSD

Zsinj has already begun the first contact protocols and offers to let Parck’s team get some practice in (Zsinj could give a fuck)

Thrawn is a nuisance of epic scale (per yoozh)

But when Thrawn is captured his disposition is actually Zsinj’s purview, not Parck’s

Zsinj is wrathful, vengeful, petty, stupid, short-sighted, and extremely space racist. (Per his appearances in the EU.)

So instead of presenting Thrawn as a ‘gift’ to the emperor he decides to make this walking ulcer of a being vanish with the rest of xenotrash, and to pocket some cash on the side by selling him to a fighting ring. Not sure which gang’s ring yet.

Thrawn is just… like… he’s a gladiator now. He’s very good at it. And you know our man, he makes the most of wherever he finds himself. There’s a lot of learn about a society from the bottom, not just the top.

Meanwhile Arihnda’s doonium expertise has gotten her to wind up with a gig as Renking’s representative on Kuat, because where tf are you gonna sell doonium if not to the drive yards (yeah the empire is eating up doonium for stardust but that just means Renking thinks it will be a seller’s market at Kuat if he can set himself up right).

Arihnda makes friends who think it’s fun to show their poor friend a good time but also who genuinely are showing her the societal ropes.

One of them suggests she get a telbun. When they clock that she really isn’t into the idea of buying a baby daddy and having a kid she shrugs and says sometimes the young and fashionable avail themselves of (made up word incoming) ‘telbunaki,’ who no one expects to be for reproduction but who are considered a ‘scandalous’ form of personal courtesan.

Unlike proper telbun, who are humans raised from birth to be companions and reproductive partners for the Kuati, telbunaki come from a variety of backgrounds — the more exotic, the better — and are kind of a way for the rich and vibrant to show off their sense of adventure and to go slumming it without leaving their gilded social circle.

The older folks disappear but the young have a little bit of a game of it: the person who finds the most interesting courtesan gets to be the main character of the haute ton until their arm candy becomes boring or is supplanted by something shinier and more exciting.

It’s also not unusual for telbunaki to be from a variety of species. Kuati themselves are not technically human, although they look the part and have made a tradition of interbreeding with humans to cultivate The Look because it gives them an edge in galactic power politics to look as human as possible. (Kuati think they themselves are quite superior, but breeding for aesthetics is nothing, a minor concession, and humans are biologically compatible at a higher rate than any other species, so it’s fine.)

Telbunaki are also popular among foreigners who are staying on Kuat. It’s considered very normal for people on vacation from their real lives to indulge by hiring or buying a telbunaki while they’re visiting. There is absolutely a sex work industry of short-term telbunaki.

So her rich friends suggest she get a telbunaki instead, but not one of the short termers. That would be very passé. Something for middle aged Chandrillans to get excited about. No, if she really wants to make a splash she should do something more outre than that.

As part of partying and the general hedonism of Kuati society, her friends take her to see a fighting pit.

Well guess who’s there!!!! lol

One of her rich friends says she heard that the fighters are often also available to be hired for sex (yes I am stealing this from the Roman Empire, where this was the subject of endless rumor, although we don’t really have definitive sources either way, but in this AU in the GFFA it’s happening), perhaps Rinna should look there for an ‘aki.’

She’s not too hot on the idea but guess who puts on an amazing show~~

Blah blah blah she ends up with a Thrawn

Except she does not have sex with him. She will not. This is just about putting on a show it’s really not necessary to make it real behind closed doors you have your own room please stay ten feet away me thank you thanks so much thank—

This does work fine for Thrawn who is now able to see more of the Galaxy, meet new people, slice data terminals, and sneak off and do his own shit when Arihnda doesn’t need his company in public.

But he is. You know. He’s mildly curious about the person he’s essentially living with.

Cue medium burn.

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scrumpledorph-writes · 3 months

Text

Koben’s Day Off (Learning How To Be Normal)

It’s been a good few days, Jaxon took to the training as well as I could have expected for someone with no experience. One day to let his muscles heal and the concepts sink in, and he should be ready to take on more advanced training for the rest of the week. Not sure how I’ll spend the day, can’t work at a side contract while I’m on retainer. He seems to have no trouble passing his free time, maybe I’ll ask.

Getting familiar with this place. It’s a lot like an old Imperial base once the superficial appeal of the expense wears off. My boots clack on the stone just the same as they used to on steel, and all the closed doors give off the same air of foreboding. The only difference is somehow I feel less welcome here, the same curt professionalism from the guards as we were taught feels like it has an undercurrent of rejection. They must not be used to hosting guests.

‘Good morning Jaxon. Bodily recuperation is an important aspect of training, so today there won’t be any physical conditioning. Given that, I was also planning to abstain from teaching you any more technical skills, so that what I already have can sink in.’ ‘Good, every part of my body has been hurting since the day we started. So, are you just waking me up at a quarter after six wearing your armor because you felt like it, or what?’ I figured he’d have gotten used to it by now.

‘You shouldn’t let your sleep schedule deprecate, it will just make waking up on time tomorrow feel even worse. I’m wearing the armor because it’s comfortable.’ ‘Sure, I guess. Just don’t slave drive me through the morning like you have been, alright?’ ‘What do you mean? That’s how I always wake up.’ ‘You always count out your strokes when you’re brushing your teeth, that wasn’t just like a “getting me into the boot camp mindset” sorta deal? Damn.’ ‘Since I was fifteen. Once this training gets into you, it doesn’t come out. That’s the point. Discipline has saved me from more blasters than you’ve ever seen.’

Not just other people’s. When I felt like every day was pointless and I was going to be stuck at rock bottom for the rest of my life, I remembered my instructor telling me that suicide is the coward’s way out of a bad situation and got up anyway. I haven’t heard them in twenty years, but my range officer’s instructions still ring in my ears every time I pull out my blaster, I can still see the motions of the quarter master’s hands every time I service it. My drill instructor, my squad leader, even Tessa are all over my shoulder judging everything I do. I can’t bear the thought of dying a disgrace to the Empire, even now.

‘Well it’s not into me, so just give me a few minutes to wake up, alright? I’m not wearing much under these covers.’ Close the door, give him some privacy. He has an attached bathroom suite, so I can wait here for him. I hope he doesn’t think I’m being too pushy. I’m almost twice his age, is it acceptable for us to interact outside of work hours? We’ve certainly been growing more friendly with each other, but it’s a professional sort of friendliness. Everyone else around here is on the clock, and Huxley’s poetic waxing is difficult to stay awake through.

I wonder if all this has tarnished his image of me. Maybe he’ll leave that forum of his, or tell everyone what I’ve confided in him, ruin the mystery for the rest of his peers. Why do I suddenly care about that? It would be for the best. The fewer eyes on me the better, and I went five years of independent contract work without knowing about it. It’s not like they’re officers, or clients, so I hardly need to care about their opinion of me. But if I can’t even impress people like them, then what does that say about my skills? Skills don’t matter if you’re so thoroughly unappealing in every other aspect. I can earn credits, but never respect.

‘Alright, I’m up. You waiting for me?’ ‘Yes. I don’t know the layout of the mansion. Your father mentioned a variety of amenities, but I’ve spent so much of my time working with you that I haven’t had the chance to find them. I was hoping you could act as a guide.’ ‘Sure. After breakfast though. Real breakfast; if this is a day off I’m not choking down three “nutritionally complete” piles of unseasoned meat and vegetables.’ ‘They are nutritionally complete, there’s no need for sarcasm.’ ‘There’s more to food than nutrients! That’s the part I’m emphasizing!’ ‘Nothing I’m familiar with.’

It makes sense that this pantry would be decadently stocked, but I’ve never even heard of most of these seasonings, let alone the rest of the ingredients. ‘So, since you’re our guest, what are you in the mood for? Our chef used to work at one of the finest restaurants on Coruscant, until he called an Imperial officer an inbred degenerate for wanting his steak well done and had to flee to the outer rim, so he can whip up pretty much anything.’ He sounds like he’d get along well with Vranki’s doctor. ‘I don’t think I can appreciate the potential on offer. You pick something for me.’

‘Hey Glipnort, could you whip us up an omelette? She wants it “nutritionally complete”, and I want it to be the best thing she’s ever eaten. Make whatever you think will fit both of those bills, please.’ The outer rim really is full of surprising species’. Only a handful are considered civilized enough to be seen in any real density in the core. Three legs, and five arms evenly distributed around his torso, which is also where his face is. Not even going to try to fathom what his home planet is like.

‘So, what’d you have planned for after breakfast?’ ‘I don’t know enough about your mansion or this city to decide.’ ‘Yeah but like if you could just do whatever, what would it be?’ I’ve never been asked this before. Hobbies are a completely common social marker, even talking about your hobbies is something that comes naturally once you feel passionately enough about one. The officers and diplomats used to drone on about their obscure sports or having just bought an expensive portrait from some artist I’d never heard of. What do I like doing?

‘You alright Koben? You’re kinda zoning out on me, you have hobbies don’t you?’ ‘I don’t. I spend most of my time working to make enough money to be able to travel the outer rim as necessary, and the rest of the time outside of that maintaining my physique, equipment, and skills so that my work doesn’t kill me. I tried dating recently, but it didn’t go well.’ Silence, shock. Nothing else to fill the seconds with. ‘Wow. That’s ffffuckin’ depressing. You open to suggestions?’ ‘I am.’ ‘Great, I can think of a few things. After we’re done eating though, food’s here.’

This is the best meal I’ve ever eaten. Most military meal guides are simple, designed for modular substitution in case of shortages and providing enough nutrition to spend the next several hours marching. This is different. Minuscule traces of dozens of ingredients all working in perfect lock step towards reinforcing each other, covering for weaknesses and emphasizing strengths. If I could have a squad work together this well, the ten of us could take an entire planet. I almost feel wasteful just eating it, like the galaxy will never see its like again and it should be preserved as a symbol of aspiration.

‘So, what do you think – it’s good, right?’ ‘Yes. You eat meals like this every day?’ ‘Not every day, these ingredients are pretty expensive. Just the dash of spice in this probably cost a hundred credits. But like I said; you’re my guest, and I’m treating you to the special occasion food. The normal stuff is still pretty good though.’ ‘I’m going to eat this very slowly.’ ‘Sounds good. Meet me in my room when you’re done, got a game you might like.’

Not used to being able to leave my dishes for someone else to clean up. Can definitely see how this lifestyle has made Jaxon soft. Hopefully all the free time he has has left him with a good taste in games. ‘Oh hey, glad you took so long – I barely got the table set up. You ever played a war game?’ ‘We had war game exercises every week in the academy.’ ‘No, not that kind of war game dummy, the kind you play on a tabletop!’ ‘I’m not familiar.’ Do we need all of these little dolls to play?

‘Well, I figure given your history, you’ll like Thunder Soldiers: it’ll be nice and familiar.’ ‘Those are obviously Stormtroopers.’ ‘Well yeah, obviously, but they don’t have an agreement with the Empire to use the official names and likenesses – they’ve gotta be legally distinct.’ ‘Is there a game that does? I think I’d appreciate a more accurate representation.’ ‘There is, but it sucks. The guys who made this game used to play that game, but got fed up with it and made this one instead.’ Sounds like Imperial politics.

‘How do we play?’ ‘The basic premise is both sides have to make a ten man squad, then fight over an area. Here, you can thumb through the rule book.’ These rules are completely unrealistic. Weapon ranges are too short, obstructions don’t penalize accuracy enough, and the armor is rated far too highly.

‘This is a completely unrealistic simulation. The longest range weapons in this game barely function within the average skirmish distance of a real firefight, and the battlefield conditions they say make for a short skirmish would call for an hours long stalemate or the use of heavy ordnance to break enemy positions. On top of that, Stormtrooper armor just doesn’t work this way, it disseminates the penetrating force of a blaster bolt, yes – but it doesn’t neutralize it completely, only specialized troopers are afforded anything close to that, and the thermal properties of even the weakest blaster weapons make it so that completely mitigating a bolt is something that only vehicle grade plating is capable of. It’s just meant to downgrade a lethal shot to a concussion so you can be resuscitated after the battle.’

‘Wow, you sure you haven’t played this before? You sound just like the critics. They made those changes on purpose, because tournaments of the official game do simulate all that accurately, and every match turns into an hour of rolling misses. Trust me, even if it’s not realistic, it’s fun. Now pick your squad leader, I’ve got plenty.’

This game really seems not to understand the role a squad leader plays. Most of them have special weaponry, which is the exact opposite of what they’re meant to carry. That makes them priority targets, especially with some of these being dangerously reactive if hit. I guess if they don’t have rules for keeping these sorts of things in sealed boxes that’s the best compromise they can do, but it’s still – hang on, is that me?

‘Oh, that one! Yeah, uhh, I kind of forgot that one was in there. That’s a custom leader I made when I was first getting into the game a couple years ago. It’s, uhh, well I put you in the game. It’s not really balanced at all, I used the rules to give the whole squad budget to one unit, but it turns out that kind of fucks the math completely. Nothing can hit you and you can fire like four blaster bolts with perfect accuracy per turn, it’s pretty dumb. Don’t use it.’

I have to use it. It’s been years since I had squad reinforcement, so I might as well start with something I’m familiar with. Plus I’ve never played this game before, so I should take all the advantages I can get.

That was completely unrealistic, but I can see what he meant about that making it more fun. No way I could take on a whole squad in one stand up gun fight in real life, I’d need to pick them off quietly either alone or in groups of two. ‘You’re right, that was a fun game. I’m not that good in real life though.’ ‘Okay, now that you’ve proven how bad of an idea that custom character was, do you want to try a real round?’ ‘Alright.’ The radio operator looks good, well timed orbital ordnance has won me plenty of ground campaigns.

I have to admit, even with the minutia being incorrect, in aggregate this is an acceptably realistic simulation. ‘Oh c’mon, you barely know the rules, how’d you win without even losing a guy?’ ‘There was a jungle planet I was fighting on where almost identical scenarios to this one happened every three weeks. I just applied the strategies we used against the real locals. Encircle a position, press the enemy inward, take them all out with one heavy ordnance strike. It works because they’re so afraid of individual losses that they gradually retreat from their positions, meter by meter.’ ‘Wow, guess that might have been a bit close to home then. Let’s do another round, different scenario, different squad leaders.’ I was getting reminded of my time in the Corps, not exactly what I’d choose for a game. I’ll use the engineer this time, I was pretty rarely on defence.

‘Alright, this is starting to feel like bullshit. I used those same tactics you used against me and got completely wiped out, so what the fuck?’ ‘Those tactics only work against an unfortified position, for a conventional siege you need to either starve the enemy out or breach a vulnerable part of their defences. You trickled men in at first, then rallied for a single charge with less than half of your forces. You might have won the day with heavy losses if you’d done that from the beginning, but it would have been by thin margins.’

‘Did you learn that one from a real campaign?’ ‘Yes. Larger scale warfare. Thousands of soldiers on either side – we had the city blockaded, but they had shield generators to prevent orbital bombardment. After enough attempts at probing for weak spots, the ground around the city was a featureless no man’s land for a kilometer out on all sides – scorched by repeated heavy blaster fire.’ ‘Damn...that sounds brutal. How’d you manage to win that?’

‘We held our positions, kept their forces from leaving the city. Other forces ravaged the rest of the planet while it was left relatively undefended, and eventually their leaders signed a surrender after we held all the refugees travelling towards the capital hostage.’ ‘Wow. You, uhh, you don’t sound very torn up about that.’ ‘It was a callous order, but it ended up saving more lives than it cost in the long run. I don’t know how every soldier treated them, but I was professional with the refugees I was tasked with managing. The week was rough, but I’d have made the same call.’ ‘Cool, cool. Hey, do you want to do something else maybe?’ I was having fun. I guess he’s a sore loser.

III

‘How about we listen to an album or something? I’m just gonna take a guess and say you don’t have too many opinions on music, do you?’ ‘Just nothing classical.’ It was all Tessa listened to. Lots of bad memories made to it. ‘No worries on that front, dad listens to a lot of it – I always thought it was pretty boring. Gonkrock sound good?’ I’ve never heard of that genre in my life. ‘Sure.’

This music is intense. It sounds like how blaster fire sailing over your head feels – overwhelming and smothering, but invigorating at the same time. Like if you don’t move you’ll die, so there’s nothing to do but throw caution to the wind and trust your life to a flurry of violence. I didn’t know music could make you feel this way.

Imperial anthems are austere and command respect, marching tunes have a rigid cadence that demands you fall in line, but this is raw. I can tell the band has no experience, and the singer will be mute if she keeps going like this, but they’re screaming their unfiltered passion for the whole galaxy to hear. It’s beautiful, it’s awful. I hate what it is musically, but I want to live what it is emotionally. ‘So, what’d you think of the first song?’

‘It sounded very bad, but in a way that I enjoyed. It made me feel the way I only do in combat, so I think we should stop listening to it to be safe.’ ‘Whoa. That’s a bit of an – intense reaction. I mean, most people think it sounds enjoyably shitty, but that last part I mean. Like what do you think’s gonna happen if we keep listening?’ ‘I don’t know. It fills my body with energy and adrenaline, which I’m only used to discharging through combat. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.’ He’s laughing. Surely he doesn’t think three days of training is enough to hold his own against me.

‘Well yeah, no shit, it’s mosh music – you just need to get up and flail around, let the energy out. That’s how you’re supposed to feel.’ ‘I’m not used to using my body like that. Could you demonstrate?’ ‘It’ll look a bit dumb without music, but sure. You just get up and you kinda go like this.’ He looks ridiculous. His movements have no rhyme or reason whatsoever, completely unstructured. But that’s how the music sounded, and I liked that.

‘Alright, I think I’m ready to try. Put the music on, but at a lower volume for a dry run. We can reevaluate after.’ I understand the logic behind this combination. The wild abandon of these movements compliment the passionate carelessness of the composition, augmenting the feelings while keeping them from reaching critical mass. ‘I understand the concept now. You can turn the music back up.’

These songs all blend together, make the minutes pass quickly. An obvious consequence is that the longer I spend flailing, the higher my core temperature rises. ‘Pause the music please.’ ‘Oh, what’s wrong, is it not working out for you any more?’ ‘No. My armor is skin tight, and I’m starting to sweat. Those are an unpleasant combination. My civilian clothes also accommodate sweat poorly. Would you be bothered if I continued in my underwear?’

Bothered isn’t the reaction I expect, but outright asking if it would arouse him would only deepen any awkward feelings. Barrack life desensitized me to the sexual appeal of underwear, but after seeing the uniform of Vranki’s girls it’s hard not to be reminded of how other people see them. This is entertaining though, and I’d like to keep going without needing to scrub out my body glove.

‘W-well, I mean, Koben – I know you don’t know this so I’m not, like, expecting anything; but generally stripping down to your underwear while raving is kind of a thing that happens right before boning down.’ I can infer what that term means. ‘I assumed there were connotations. Keep your clothes on in that case, you don’t seem to be bothered by the exertion.’ ‘I’m cold blooded, so I guess I can’t relate. Fine, uhh, I’ll do my best to not overreact, but, well, I mean – don’t say I didn’t warn you if I do anything weird.’

‘If you try anything inappropriate, I’m more than capable of stopping you.’ ‘Right, yeah, just imagine you snapping my wrist, that’ll put a damper on things. Alright, sure, go ahead. Ill be here when you get back.’ ‘I don’t need to walk back to my room just to take my armor off.’ ‘Hey that’s great, glad to hear it – I just realized I could do with a trip to the bathroom, maybe a glass of water. How long does it take to get out of that suit?’ ‘Under three minutes.’ ‘Cool, sounds good. You just go ahead and turn the music back on and keep dancing if you’re out of it when I get back. I’ve listened to this album like a hundred times, you can tell me about it when you’re done.’

Much better. The armor doesn’t hamper my range of movement by any meaningful amount, but the weight of it makes my movements a little more deliberate. That’s antithetical to what this music is about. It feels good. Symbolic. I’ve spent so long bound by rules and expectations that this is like a little act of rebellion, just for me. Not consequential enough to feel like I’m betraying the Empire, but personal enough to feel significant.

Why do I still care so much about the Empire? I’ve been a criminal for five years, and I killed my last connection to it when I left. Everything I’ve enjoyed since then has fallen afoul of it. Brayli’s beautiful curves are against bodily maintenance codes, this manor is built on crime, and I used to get called in to shut down concerts that sounded just like this.

I guess I still feel like I owe them for saving me from the mines, but I spent the next fifteen years working for them. I must have paid off my debt to them in that time. They even said I was one of the best soldiers they had. I hunted Jedi! Yeah, this shrieking woman has it right. “Fuck the Empire” indeed. The music stopped, the album must be over.

‘So how’d you like the album?’ ‘Jaxon, why were you just watching me from the doorway?’ ‘Well for one thing, you were flailing so hard you’d have probably knocked me out if I’d tried to join you.’ ‘I see. It wasn’t that my underwear was too revealing?’ ‘Nah. When you first mentioned it I thought you were wearing like a bra and panties or something – that’s basically just a summer outfit, it’s fine. Guess military underwear can’t be too revealing or else you’d have been too busy fuckin’ and suckin’ to get anything done.’ ‘If that happened the Empire would find a way to streamline the process so it didn’t impede our work.’ Good to be able to joke about the soldier life with somebody.

‘The other reason is you were smiling, and it looked really nice on you. I mean you look really nice all the time, but like this wasn’t in a sexy way. You just looked like you were having a fun time, and I didn’t want you to feel self conscious knowing I was there. Sorry if you do now though, I guess.’ ‘I don’t. I’m glad to hear it, in fact. Smiling isn’t something I do often, and it doesn’t feel uncomfortable to be complimented on it.’ ‘You feel uncomfortable getting compliments?’

Enough people have said I’m attractive at this point that I suppose the only logical way to continue is to start thinking it’s true. It took hours of back and forth with the bacta engineer to decide how to make my body look, and Tessa took a vested interest in giving me suggestions – but she told me that she was tailoring it to look good to her. ‘My old girlfriend told me that my body was a guilty pleasure she let herself indulge in, and that I should keep it hidden from other people so it doesn’t scare them. So when someone compliments it, I feel like there must be something wrong with them, and that I shouldn’t accept compliments from someone like that.’

He’s stunned. I’ve been starting to think that must not be the case lately, considering Brayli is so sweet, and Seline is such an expert, and they were both attracted to me. Jaxon is a teenage boy – they’re not exactly known for being very discerning about their taste in women, but the three of them together make a well rounded panel of judges.

‘Koben, I don’t even know what to say. I kind of want to ask my dad to put out a hit on your ex girlfriend right now.’ ‘She’s already dead.’ ‘Oh, good, glad to hear it. You’re – okay, I’ve been trying not to say it because you’re my teacher and all; but it sounds like you could do with having it spelled out for you – so do I have permission? I’m not gonna keep myself from getting, uhh, graphic about it.’ ‘Proceed.’ It sounds like I could use an outside perspective.

‘You’re really hot. Like, I mean, holy shit. I know we kind of already went through this a couple days ago, but clearly you don’t get it. Those muscles of yours? Hot as hell. Half the time when you threaten to put me in a headlock it turns me on. There’s a – I don’t really expect you to know anything about this, but there’s like an entire category of adult holovids dedicated to muscular women, and you’re even more built than most of them.’ ‘Do you browse this category often?’ ‘H-hey, c’mon, focus here!’ I suppose so, from that response. He has no reason to be lying, so I guess muscles on women are considered attractive.

‘Your ex-military look is also a huge turn on. The way you carry yourself, your resting expression, the scar: I mean you even said it yourself how hot you were for your old teacher, that’s how I feel about you! Or at least, how I felt – we’re friends so I don’t really see that any more when I look at you, I just see Koben, but before we really got to know each other I definitely could see you levying out “punishment”, if you get my meaning.’ ‘I do. This is a lot to take in, but keep going.’ Maybe I should have put that one together on my own. I guess I just thought most people grew out of liking being punished because they didn’t feel so guilty.

‘This is – well, fuck it I guess, I’m already oversharing. Sometimes when you’re not in your armor I can see just like a tiiiiny bit of bush poking out of your waistband and shirt, and that’s just really hot. Like, sometimes implication is a lot hotter than just flat out seeing it, and combined with how you’re not even trying to do it it just – I’m running out of ways to say it.’ Huh. I wanted to get rid of that hair because it gets caught in the body glove if I don’t shave it often enough, but Tessa insisted on keeping it.

‘It’s starting to sound like everything about me is attractive. But that makes no sense to me. I’m not trying to be attractive, so how could I be doing it?’ Nobody ever felt this way about the other soldiers.

‘Because you’re a woman! You’re a woman who’s being herself, and that’s one of the hottest things a woman can be! A lot of the prostitutes dad sometimes hires for guests aren’t half as sexy as you are because they’re obviously putting a ton of effort into it, and like; I appreciate that effort, don’t get me wrong, but it makes it feel fake. How obviously you’re not trying to be sexy is the sexiest thing about you!’ Oh. I guess I am a woman to people. Now it all makes sense. I’ve felt this way about women for a long time.

‘I see. I never really felt like a woman. No, that’s not true: I never felt like other people felt I was a woman. My ex always told me that it would be best for me to wear the armour around other people, because they could tell I used to be a man anyway. That she was the only one who could accept me for what I was.’ ‘Hey Koben, you gave me permission to say anything about you – could you extend that to your ex real quick?’ ‘Granted.’

‘Fuck her. She sounds like a cunt, and you must have had horrible taste in women to fall for her. I hope since then you’ve come to your senses on that at least, because she must’ve really done a number on you if it took me spelling out how hot you are for you to realize it.’ Maybe she did. ‘Thank you. I’ve had moments where I thought similar things about her, but I always figured she must have known better than me since she was my superior officer, and a real woman.’

‘Look I’m gonna be honest – at this point it sounds like everything she said about you must have been wrong. You’re hot, you’re a real woman, and if you really need more proof: let me go find you one of the dancer outfits, take a few pictures of you, put them up online, and check back tomorrow to see what people have to say.’ I trust him. He’s too awkward to lie anyway. I can see myself in his mirror right now. If I saw a woman who looked like this, I’d be pretty turned on too. He’s right. I am a real woman.

I really can’t thank him enough for saying all this. Hopefully being able to laugh about it will get the point across. ‘Nice try you little pervert, your father doesn’t have enough credits to put me in one of those outfits.’ ‘Ah well, I had to try. You ready for lunch?’

#my oc #oc #star wars #writing #koben tarani #transgender

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primrose-fr · 3 years

Text

" Imperials, Lightweavers most dazzling creations. They shine with an unmatched radiance.

But, when a light so blinding is finally snuffed out.

It leaves behind nothing but a void. "

#my art #flight rising #flight rising fanart #frfanart #fr imperial #fr luminax #luminax #fr emperor #tw body horror #tw tentacles #lumidad my beloved #this was born from me speculating about the dragons that make up luminax #which I have been calling Ashfall Luminescence and Fleetwind #respectively #and yes that is a normal imperial at the bottom

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soulmate-game · 3 years

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New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

#maribat #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic dickinette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat fic #platonic brucinette #older sister Marinette

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cuttoothed · 3 years

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For day 1 of @aspecarchivesweek for the prompt “wish”. Someday I will write something that isn’t jmart, but that day is not today.

Ace Martin character exploration; Jon/Martin; some Martin/OMC

Warnings: internalized homophobia (brief); internalized aphobia (ongoing); reference to having sex while intoxicated; reference to having sex reluctantly (though not coerced); outing of ace character in their absence

Martin spends a long time wishing he was normal.

It starts when he’s fourteen. Well, no, it starts much earlier than that, but it’s when he’s fourteen that the nebulous muddle of feelings coalesces into something impossible to ignore. That’s when all the boys and girls in his class start making eyes at each other while pretending they aren’t; start talking about who they’d like to snog behind the bushes at the bottom of the sports field, and Martin feels something twist in his stomach when he realizes that the person he’d like to be behind the bushes with is Stephen Dowling, who has dark hair and blue eyes and snaps gum between his teeth all day long.

Martin never says anything about it, of course, tries not to even think about it, but he knows it’s not normal. As if he needed one more weird thing about him along with all his sick mum and his jacket that pulls tight across his shoulders, the seams fraying because he needs to get another year out of it before they spend money on a replacement. He keeps his head down and secretly believes that this part of his life will never be over.

Eventually, this part of his life is over.

He is nineteen and living in London in a cheap flatshare with three other people, he has a job at a real academic institution, and he has a boyfriend.

Ramesh is sweet and funny and has soft brown eyes with the longest eyelashes Martin’s ever seen. His heart flutters in his chest every time they’re together, his breath catching in his throat and spilling out as laughter. Martin feels normal, because this is London and nobody cares if he walks down the street with Ramesh’s hand in his, if he kisses his boyfriend in the queue for the chippie. It’s like a weight Martin never knew was there lifted off his chest and he can breathe properly for the first time in his life.

He and Ramesh go out for almost a month before they’re in Martin’s flat alone one night, all the others gone out, and Ramesh presses him down on the sofa and kisses him and crawls a hand inside Martin’s jeans. Martin feels hot and cold all at once, his stomach coiling sick and every muscle in his body tensing up for fight or flight. He pushes Ramesh away—too hard, too clumsy—and guilt courses through him at the hurt look in Ramesh’s soft eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Ramesh asks, and Martin can’t say, his heart pounding and his hand clenched painfully tight against the arm of the sofa.

“Sorry,” he’s able to say eventually. “I just, umm…”

“It’s all right,” says Ramesh, though he still looks hurt and confused and Martin has the feeling it’s not actually all right. “I probably surprised you. We can wait for next time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” says Martin, grateful at the reprieve. They sit on the sofa and watch a film instead, and Martin scarcely follows the plot as he tries to calm the adrenaline rushing through his veins, making him want to flinch every time Ramesh’s shoulder touches his.

Next time is the same. Martin apologizes again, and Ramesh says it’s all right again and then two days later breaks up with him.

“I just don’t think it’s working out,” he says, and Martin knows it really wasn’t all right after all.

Martin’s sick of wishing he was normal, and what is it they say: fake it ‘til you make it?

He gets drunk and takes home a man he doesn’t know and has sex. He scarcely remembers it the next day and he’s too hungover and miserable to try, but he’s proven to himself that he can have sex and that’s the important thing.

Having sex is normal. It’s what people in relationships do. Martin doesn’t know why he has the hang-ups he does, but he just needs to get over them and learn to relax a bit. Having a couple of drinks helps, he finds.

He has a few boyfriends here and there, and having sex really isn’t a problem. There are better things he could think of doing with his time, but it’s fine. There are even some nice things about it, like feeling close to someone. Intimate.

Eventually, he thinks, maybe he’ll stop feeling like he’s faking it.

It isn’t that he gives up on relationships. It’s just that there are so many expectations that Martin feels he always fails to live up to, so many rules that it seems like everyone but him instinctively knows. Trying feels like more hassle than it’s worth.

And then he gets transferred to the Archives and there is Jonathan Sims with his imperious glare and devastating voice and Martin is fourteen all over again watching Stephen Dowling snap his gum in Geography class.

“You really need to stop mooning,” Tim tells him. They’re at the Institute holiday party and they’re all a bit sloshed, and Martin can admit to himself that yes all right he was mooning a bit over Jon, who’s stood at the bar with his back to them, talking animatedly with Elias.

“I am not mooning,” he says, because there’s no reason he has to admit it to Tim as well. “I was just...contemplating.”

“Contemplating Jon’s arse,” Tim snorts, and then Sasha plonks down three shot glasses on the table in front of them and sits down in a rush.

“Who’s contemplating Jon’s arse?”

“Martin, of course.”

“I am not—” Martin begins to protest, but Sasha shushes him, pushing a shot into his hand. It smells of cinnamon and the liquid inside is bright red.

“Hopeless case,” sighs Tim, and drinks his shot. Sasha does the same and then gives Martin a sympathetic smile, her eyes a little bit unfocused.

“If it’s any consolation, Jon doesn’t shag anyone.”

“Sasha!” Tim scolds, and she suddenly seems to realize what she’s said, her eyes going wide.

“Shit,” she says. “Sorry, god, I shouldn’t have said anything. Martin, please pretend you never heard me say that.”

“Okay,” Martin promises but his brain is snagged on ‘Jon doesn’t shag anyone’, how she said it so easily, matter of fact, as if it wasn’t a big deal at all. He looks up at the bar where Jon is still standing with Elias, his slim hands gesturing as he talks.

“Drink your shot,” Tim tells him. “It’ll help you forget about Sasha’s big mouth.”

Martin drinks his shot, which is absolutely sickening, but he doesn’t forget.

There is one bed in Daisy’s safe house.

It’s evening when they arrive and Martin is exhausted, a bone deep weariness that might be from the travel or the fear or the fog that’s seeped under his skin. Jon looks tired too, dark circles under his eyes and now that Martin’s really looking at him for the first time in months, he’s amazed Jon hasn’t just shivered apart at the seams by now. He is filled with the desire to take Jon in his arms, as if he might hold the fragile pieces of him together, and he thinks that he could.

He saw Jon, in the Lonely, even if they haven’t talked about it since. Saw how Jon felt about him, so yes, Martin thinks he could put his arms around Jon and it would be welcome. He isn’t sure why he doesn’t, except that there’s a part of him that still feels like it’s trapped behind glass, abstracted and numb, and it keeps his arms by his sides while his heart yearns against his rib cage.

In the meantime, there is only one bed, and they both stand looking at it for a few moments, considering the implications and the fact that they have only just found each other again after months of absence.

“There’s enough room,” Jon says eventually, his voice soft and tired. Martin nods; there is enough room.

It’s cold, and they both climb under the covers in socks and tracksuit bottoms and long sleeved t-shirts, pile the thick feather duvet and two blankets over them. It feels like being cocooned, their combined body heat gradually warming the mattress, the slow even sound of Jon’s breathing warming something in Martin’s chest.

He’s here, he’s here with you. You’re here with him.

In the gentle dark they gravitate together, drawn close by the longing that’s suffused all their months apart. When Jon’s lips press gently against his, Martin thinks his heart might burst. He kisses back, and at last that trapped part of him breaks free and he lifts his arms to wrap around Jon, pulls him against his chest. Jon makes a soft, surprised sound and he breaks the kiss.

“Martin,” he says, careful the way he has been since he brought Martin back, as if a wrong word might shatter him. “I need to tell you, before this goes any further—”

“It’s okay,” Martin tells him. “I don’t want to have sex with you either.” It feels so good to be able to say it that Martin could cry or laugh or both.

“Oh,” says Jon, and then huffs a soft laugh. “Well that’s—that’s good, then.”

He kisses Martin again, and leans in against him, close and warm and filling every part of Martin’s awareness. Martin knows he left all hope of normal behind years ago, before worms and fog and evil circuses. But the fact that he gets to have this—just this, with the man he loves; no expectations and nothing to fake; and for the moment at least, no fear. This is far, far better than normal.

And Martin couldn’t wish for anything else.

#the magnus archives #tma #aspecarchives #jonmartin #my fic

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stellarstarwarsimagines · 4 years

Text

Trust and My Kar’ta

Pairing - Din Djarin x Reader

Summary - The Mandalorian has been gone on a bounty, and when he returns, he seems to not be hiding his emotions as easily as he once was. Maybe you’ve broken through that beskar more easily than you thought.

Word Count - 2,034

Warnings - None! Pure fluff!

It had taken one night on the planet for you to realize that you hated it. It seemed as if the Razor Crest would never land on a planet you wanted to be on at this rate. It was always either too hot, too cold, or raining the whole time. You knew that Mando couldn’t control any of that, but it was a downer. Even more so when he wasn’t around to keep you company.

You loved the Child. It had only taken one look into those dark eyes, and you had been smitten. You loved taking care of him, but he couldn’t speak, and sometimes you wanted to have a conversation. So when the Mandalorian deemed his bounties too dangerous for the two of you to be on, you were stuck here on the Razor Crest.

It had been two days since he left, and you weren’t sure how much longer it would be until he came back. It was starting to affect both of you, being stuck on this ship while it rained non-stop outside and the cold poured in. It wasn’t unmanageable, but not comfortable either.

Rocking the fussing child in your arms, you both peeked out the window, looking for any sign of the Mandalorian, and you continued to frown when you saw none. The child whined, and you knew him so well by now, you could pick up the worried tone in his voice.

“It’s all right. The bounty is most likely giving him some trouble, that’s all.” You tried to reassure him. You looked around the room, trying to find something to calm him down, but all you could think of was the small cot that smelled of the man. “Here, why don’t we take a nap? Maybe when we wake up he’ll be back?” You asked, sitting down on the cot.

Although you wouldn’t admit it, you were worried yourself. You always were when Mando went on a job without you. Even though you knew two days was normal for him to be gone when he was chasing a bounty, you didn’t like it. But you also knew that this child in your arms had some sort of special abilities you didn’t understand. What you did know was that he almost seemed to be able to pick up on your emotions. So you weren’t about to let this poor child suffer through both of you being worried. You figured a nap might help both of you calm down, and almost as soon as the two of you laid on the cot, the child snuggled into your neck and quieted down.

Lulling yourself to sleep was easy wrapped up in Mando’s blankets, taking in deep breaths filled with the scent of him, the child’s soft snores in your ears. Soon you drifted off, the icy rain pelting against the sides of the Crest.

There was no telling how long you were asleep, but you were woken up as soon as you felt the child being pulled from your arms. Reacting out of instinct, you reached for the blade hidden in the side of your tunic.

“Hey, hey, it’s me.” The modulated voice stopped you, Mando’s cold and wet glove gripping your wrist and stopping you before you stabbed him.

You felt relief fill your chest and let out a sigh. “Din,” You let out a name you never dared to say unless it was in private, and slid your blade back in place, taking him in. You couldn’t see much in the dark, but he seemed all right. “Are you okay?” You asked him, reaching out until you found one of his armor clad arms. You had learned long ago that it was harder for him to lie to you if you were touching him.

“I’m fine,” He assured you, his voice steady and calm, and you were inclined to believe him. “One bounty turned in and several credits richer.”

Satisfied with his answer, you began to remove your hand from him, but to your surprise, he stopped you, gripping it in one of his.

“Now, cyar’ika, what are you doing in my bunk?” He asked you, giving your hand a slow squeeze.

“Oh,” You had forgotten where you had fallen asleep. You had your own little cot set up in the Crest that Mando had put together for you, and you supposed you could have taken your nap there but . . . “I think the little one was more comfortable here. Reminds him of you.” You added, a soft smile on your face that you were sure he could see.

He looked down at the child who was now clinging to him, his eyes blinking sleepily up at him, and you watched as Mando’s grip tightened on him for the briefest moment before that helmet looked back up to you.

It was one of those times when you wished he didn’t wear it. When you could see and read the expression on his face so it could explain what he was thinking, but you knew that wasn’t going to happen. “I’m sorry, I’ll go -”

“No.” He interrupted, shaking his head. “No, you can stay.”

Your eyes widened somewhat in disbelief. “I can -”

“Are you cold? You’re shaking.” Din asked, interrupting you once again.

You were? You looked down at the hand he was holding and noticed that you were indeed shaking. Yes, you were cold, you realized, but you didn’t think that was the reason that you were shaking. Well, you weren’t about to tell him why you were shaking, so you nodded your head, looking up and into that small black void on the helmet where his eyes would be.

Mando wasn’t one that you would think would be hesitant, his actions when he was hunting a bounty sure weren’t, but you had found over time that he was much more careful with his words, especially around you. Now was one of those times. It was as if you could feel him staring at you, even if you couldn’t see him. Silence enveloped the room, apart from the small snores coming from the once more sleeping child, until he decided to speak. “Would you like me to join you?”

. . . Had he really just asked that? Did he mean join you like, join you . . . or like join you? And did it matter either way? “I would,” you replied, your voice so quiet, you hoped he had heard you through all that beskar.

He had. He nodded, letting go of your hand, and placed the sleeping child back in his little hammock above you. “I’ll be right back.” Din told you, and left you alone with your thoughts.

You laid back down on the small bed, your heart pounding at the speed of a ship in hyperspace. While Din and you had grown even closer lately, it hadn’t felt quite like this until now. The tension was so thick in the air it felt heavy, and there had been something different about the way he had touched you and held your hand earlier, almost as if he was . . . reassuring himself that you were here. You had no idea what it meant or what was in store for the next few minutes.

It was at that moment that all the lights in the Razor Crest went out, and you were surrounded in pitch black darkness. You turned on your side and buried your face in the pillow, wondering what he was doing. He was making it easier for everyone to sleep . . . Right?

Your question was answered soon enough, quiet footfalls entering the room along with something that sounded a lot like beskar being placed gently on the floor. It turned out you were right, because when Din crawled into the small bed with you, it was far too quiet. He had taken off his armor, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. You reached behind you, and sure enough, your hand found his, large, warm, and gloveless. “What happened?” You whispered, knowing that something must have to bring about the way he was acting now.

It was so quiet for a moment, that you thought he might have been so exhausted he had already fallen asleep, but then he spoke. “I got caught up with some Imperials when I was turning the bounty in. They know about you, cyar’ika. They’re coming for you too.”

You took a sharp inhale of breath, but not for the reason you were sure Din suspected. It was clear from the sound of his voice, that not only was he not wearing his armor, but he wasn’t wearing his helmet as well, and you weren’t prepared for the way that made you feel.

Mistaking your gasp for fear, Din spoke up again, “I won’t let anything happen to you -”

But you shook your head, remembering after a second that he couldn’t see it. “Din, your helmet . . . You took it off.”

It seemed as if he took a moment to process your words, and then you felt his hand tightening its grip on yours. “I trust you.”

That wasn’t a small feat, and you knew it. For a man so devoted to his religion that no living thing had seen his face since he was a child, to risk having all that come to an end because of you made tears form in your eyes. It didn’t matter if what was left of the Empire was after you now. Din Djarin trusted you more than anyone else in his life.

The feeling was mutual.

Unable to resist it a second longer, you turned in the cot, one of your knees slipping between his lower thighs while the other rested on top of his leg. “Can I touch you?” You asked. It seemed important to ask for permission even if he had taken the helmet off.

“Yes,” he breathed out, this time without hesitation, as he guided your hand up to his face, and then he let go.

While he had placed your hand on his cheek, you slid it up the side of his face, brushing some of his hair back. It was longer than you had expected, but oh so soft. While it was pointless, you found yourself closing your eyes, imagining in your head what your fingertips were feeling. His skin was smooth for the most part, although there were some wrinkles around his eyes. His nose was pointed and as your hand traveled lower, you felt facial hair above his lips as well as along the bottom of his jaw. You could feel him turning into your touch, relaxing under your caress as his lips kissed your fingertips in a way that sent shockwaves through your body. “Has anyone ever touched you like this?” You whispered, but you were fairly sure of the answer.

“Only you,” he replied, and you had never realized how much emotion the modulator had taken out of his voice until right then. “Can I hold you?” Din asked as you settled your hand in his hair, curling in the soft strands.

“You never have to ask my kar’ta.” You told him, and while you couldn’t see him, you knew that he was smiling when he responded.

“Where did you learn that?” He asked, his arm tugging you closer until you were against his chest, comfortable in his snug embrace.

“A couple of weeks ago, when we were at that market.” You felt Din’s nose nuzzling into the top of your head. “A woman said that I looked at you like you were my kar’ta. She told me what it meant.” Din’s lips pressed a soft kiss to your skin. “You are my heart, Din.”

His hand rubbed up and down your back in a soothing motion, lulling you into the slumber you had been in before, except now it was even better with his body keeping you warm instead of his blankets. “As you are mine, cyar’ika.” He whispered, his voice, pure and soft in your ears, his words bringing a gentle smile to your face as you fell asleep in his arms for, what you hoped, was the first of many times.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you #star wars imagine

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nuwanders · 2 years

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Hi! Hope you're doing well. I have a question regarding Imperial law and what would likely happen to someone after double-crossing BOTH Madanach and Thonar Silver-Blood at the end of "No One Escapes Cidhna Mine." Let's say an Imperial citizen from Cyrodiil killed a nasty nobleman like Thonar Silver-Blood, to prevent any more oppression of the poor, after unwittingly doing his bidding and receiving his pardon during the Cidhna Mine prison breakout (as I'm sure many of us did for both rewards and JUSTICE), and in the ensuing chaos, all the guards who witnessed it were slaughtered; legally, that pardoned prisoner would be able to walk freely in Markarth as they pleased, right, due to the pardon and lack of witnesses? But what if the prisoner felt guilty about it despite hiding the secret for years - or justifying it as stopping evil men? If they turned themselves in, would it have to be in Skyrim? And would it count as murder or mere killing, based on how the magistrate would only have that person's account of what happened? What if the intent to kill was only in the moment and not premeditated? I know that according to "Legal Basics" from Daggerfall, murder would only be punished by a fine, imprisonment or both. So realistically, what would happen to the ex-prisoner? Could they be executed? Thanks in advance; apologies if this is taking away from your studies.

@thelonghanddaydream

Hello again :)) no worries, I'm on my year abroad at the moment so the workload is veryyyy light compared to how it is normally.

As a disclaimer, I haven’t played “No One Escapes Cidhna Mine” since my very first Skyrim playthrough about seven years ago…. I had to refresh my memory on UESP.

For the sake of clarity (mostly for myself), here is a summary of your scenario:

The player character, an Imperial citizen from Cyrodiil, (let’s assume they’re the LDB and refer to them as such) arrives in Markarth and witnesses the murder of Margret in the marketplace.

They receive a note from Eltrys telling them to meet him by the Shrine of Talos. Eltrys informs them of the frequent Forsworn attacks and asks the LDB to investigate why the guards are so complacent.

The LDB discovers the following:

Margret was an Imperial spy working for Tullius tasked with investigating the Silver-Blood family.

Her murderer, Weylin, was following the orders of someone called N.

N is Nepos the Nose.

Thonar Silver-Blood was controlling the Forsworn by imprisoning their king Madanach. Madanach is now ‘out of control’ and is responsible for the killings.

Nepos is Forsworn and was acting under Madanach’s orders.

When the LDB returns to Eltrys, he has been slain by guards.

The guards arrest the LDB for disturbing the status quo and throw them in Cidhna Mine.

The LDB chooses to kill Madanach and flees the mine on their own. Thonar Silver-Blood pardons them.

The LDB later decides to kill Thonar as well. The guards present are all slaughtered so the LDB’s crime goes undiscovered.

Years later, the LDB feels guilty about their crime and decides to turn themselves in.

If I’ve understood you correctly, this is what you meant?

I’ll now address each of your questions in turn (TLDR can be found at the bottom):

1. Can the pardoned prisoner walk freely in Markarth after killing Thonar?

Thonar’s pardon was for the LDB’s original 'crime' of investigating the Forsworn, and thus cannot be applied prospectively to any future crimes committed by the LDB (such as killing Thonar). But yes, if the crime goes undiscovered, then as far as the law enforcement of Markarth is concerned, the LDB’s legal status is that of an innocent citizen.

2. If they turned themselves in, would it have to be in Skyrim?

I believe it would have to be in Skyrim at the very least, if not Markarth/the Reach itself. The way bounties work in-game suggests that each hold is interested only in prosecuting crimes that took place within that hold. This is unlike Oblivion, where the player character’s bounty would apply across Cyrodiil.

Some conjecture on UESP suggests this may be due to Skyrim’s lack of a High King in 4E 201 and the consequent fracturing of the holds. Whilst convincing, this theory lacks a source. Furthermore, if the explanation for the bounty system is to be found in politics, surely it would make more sense if bounties were tracked according to whether you were in Imperial, Stormcloak, or neutral territory? Skyrim’s holds are not yet entirely independent from each other, and it seems to me highly likely that someone like Ulfric Stormcloak would cease to apply Imperial law in the holds that are loyal to him and replace it with his own system of law.

I believe a more likely (Watsonian) explanation is that technological limitations create practical difficulties in prosecuting crimes Empire-wide. If someone murders somebody in the Rift, how is anyone in Haafingar supposed to know, let alone recognize them? Cyrodiil – as the heart of the Empire – is subject to a much greater degree of centralized control, which may explain why bounties in Oblivion apply no matter which county you’re in. Skyrim, on the other hand, is the Empire’s rugged wilderness. If the LDB murdered Thonar in Markarth, I doubt they would be able to turn themselves in outside the Reach, let alone outside of Skyrim. What reason would a magistrate in Skingrad, for example, have to care?

3. Would it count as murder or mere killing, based on how the magistrate would only have that person's account of what happened?

I’m not sure what is meant by ‘mere killing’ but I’m going to assume you mean something along the lines of manslaughter? In any case, legal concepts like ‘murder’ and ‘manslaughter’ don’t have universal definitions, and there is little evidence to suggest that Imperial law has any concept of the latter (more on this topic below).

Afaik (though bear in mind I haven't studied any procedural criminal law), when a person pleads guilty to a charge, they are assumed to be telling the truth. A footnote at the end of Legal Basics even says that Imperial law follows the maxim of ‘guilty until proven innocent,’ which places the burden of proof on the defendant.

So if the LDB turns themselves in and pleads guilty to having murdered Thonar, I see no reason for a magistrate not to take them at their word.

4. What if the intent to kill was only in the moment and not premeditated?

Let’s take a look at the definition of murder in Imperial law (source: Legal Basics):

Complicated, right? Let’s break it down.

Actus reus (material element of a crime, i.e. the prohibited act or consequence of an act) = death/destruction of a person (or group of persons, or entity a reasonable person might assume to be sentient)

(Interesting aside, I wonder what is meant by ‘sentient’? If we understand it in its common usage, this would imply that Imperial law doesn’t distinguish between the killing of people and the killing of animals/creatures. It’s probably supposed to mean something more along the lines of ‘intelligent’. Anyway…)

Mens rea (mental element of a crime) = any one of the following:

Premeditated purpose

Malicious purpose

Premeditated AND malicious purpose

‘Accidental but criminally intended purpose’

Bear in mind that, with regards to any of the above, Imperial law is not concerned with the subjective mental state of the accused, rather, it is concerned with what a reasonable person would conclude about the accused’s mental state from an objective standpoint. In other words, it doesn’t matter whether or not the act was actually, for example, malicious – as long as it would appear to be malicious to a reasonable person, the ‘mental’ element of the crime is deemed to be present.

Furthermore, it doesn’t seem like the requisite ‘purpose’ needs to be a purpose to kill. If an act is committed purposefully with either premeditation, malice, premeditation and malice, or some other criminal intention, and that act then directly causes someone’s death, the act amounts to murder regardless of whether or not the murderer ever actually intended for someone to die as a result of their act. This suggests that Imperial law doesn’t distinguish between murder and manslaughter.

This definition is rather poorly written. There is a significant amount of overlap between the different kinds of intent, e.g. if I decide to assault someone and I accidentally kill them in the process, my purpose in assaulting them would surely be considered both malicious and criminally intended. It is also unclear what the word ‘accidental’ is supposed to refer to; the wording is ‘accidental but criminally intended purpose’, but it makes no sense to describe a ‘purpose’ as accidental. If the act itself is accidental, this seems contradictory, because it is hard to see how an act that is committed with a criminally intended purpose can be described as ‘accidental’. The only way it makes sense is if ‘accidental’ refers to the victim’s death, i.e. someone purposefully engages in some other criminal act, such as assault, which then accidentally results in a person’s death. But the wording of the legislation does not convey this successfully at all.

What does this mean for us? It means that if the LDB’s intent to kill Thonar was formed only in the moment, the killing would still be seen as murder under Imperial law on the basis of it being either ‘malicious’ or an unforeseen (accidental) result of some other criminal purpose (such as if they were criminally intending to assault Thonar and accidentally killed him in the process).

5. What would happen to the ex-prisoner? Could they be executed?

As you say, according to Legal Basics, murder is punishable only by a fine, incarceration, or both.

The only crimes that we know to be punishable by death under Imperial law are:

treason (generic dialogue in Morrowind, see under ‘Law in Morrowind’; Legal Basics)

smuggling (Legal Basics)

killing a tax collector (Socucius Ergalla's dialogue in Morrowind)

piracy (Amiel Richton’s dialogue in Redguard)

sedition (same as above)

grave-robbing (Jensine’s dialogue in Oblivion)

stealing from the Imperial Legion (Saenus Lusius’ dialogue in Bloodmoon)

(possibly) insurrection (General Tullius’ dialogue in Skyrim: I say ‘possibly’ because the context is his final confrontation with Ulfric Stormcloak, who was also guilty of treason, which would be enough to earn him a death sentence on its own)

There is also some contradictory dialogue in Morrowind which suggests that murder is punishable by death, (see under ‘Morrowind Lore’): "By Imperial law and custom, killing is fair in war, self-defense, defense of property, affairs of honor, and sanctioned affairs of state. Other killings are murder, and punishable by death, fines, or hard labor."

However, I believe this is an anomaly for the following reasons:

The vast majority of dialogue in Morrowind lists fines and incarceration as the sole punishments for murder.

Other dialogue in Morrowind suggests that the Morag Tong would often be hired to execute a murderer in addition to the magistrate-issued punishment of a fine/incarceration (see under ‘Fines and compensation’): “That may sound like a sweet deal – kill an enemy, then pay the fine – but folks who have enough money to pay such fines are almost always House lords, and House Wars customs means the Great House of the victim usually buys a writ with the Morag Tong to assassinate the murderer. So murderers pay, and THEN they get killed, too.” This may explain why murder in Morrowind is sometimes considered to be ‘punishable by death.’

There’s also dialogue which suggests that House Councils (during Morrowind’s Imperial occupation) had the power to demand death in place of compensation (see under ‘Law in Morrowind’), but this was only possible following an appeal and therefore not a sentence that could be issued by an Imperial magistrate (the lowest rung of the judiciary).

So in 4E Skyrim we can conclude that these exceptions do not apply and that murder is only punishable by the usual fine and/or incarceration.

The question is not resolved there, however. It may be true that ordinary murder is punishable only by a fine and/or incarceration, but there are two other types of killing which are punishable by death under Imperial law: (1) treason and (2) killing an Imperial tax collector.

Bear in mind that these are both distinct crimes in their own right, and so the stuff above regarding the actus reus and mens rea of ‘murder’ does not apply. The threshold for intent will likely be even lower, and from the definition of ‘treason’ in Legal Basics it seems as if there isn’t actually a mens rea requirement at all:

In your ask, you seem to be under the impression that Thonar is a nobleman of some sort, in which case killing him would fall easily under the above definition. However, I’m not convinced this is actually the case. In-game dialogue suggests that the Silver-Bloods are just an incredibly influential family of capitalist landowners, in the same vein as the Black-Briars of the Rift:

“The Silver-Bloods. They have a whole mine filled with prisoners to dig up silver ore, gets smelted by workers they pay, and they own half the city.” (Yngvar the Singer)

“We own Cidhna Mine. Best prison in Skyrim, and source of half the wealth in this city. We keep the Reach safe. We flood Markarth with wealth, but does the Jarl listen to us when we want a say? No.” (Thongvor Silver-Blood)

“It goes without saying that [the landowners of the Reach] rely heavily on us for our silver and support. All the miners, farmers, and laborers in the Reach get their daily wages through [the Silver-Bloods].” (Rhiada)

"It's an old family. Very well-respected throughout the Reach. The Silver-Bloods run nearly all the lands in this Hold, as well as the local inn. And of course, they own Cidhna Mine, the finest prison and source of silver in Skyrim." (Rhiada)

“[Thonar] handles all the family business. If you're here to talk politics, though, you'd want his brother Thongvor.” (Rhiada)

“We can't imprison the very people that own the jail we would be throwing them into. The Silver-Blood family are to be left alone, am I clear?" (Jarl Igmund)

“We're the only family worth knowing in Markarth. We own everything in this city, even the jail.” (Betrid Silver-Blood)

Every statement regarding the power and influence of the Silver-Bloods makes reference almost exclusively to their land ownership and to the profitable silver trade from Cidhna Mine, as opposed to any kind of inherited or appointed title (like Jarl or Thane). I therefore don’t believe that killing Thonar would be classified as treason and so it wouldn’t be punishable by death on that basis.

He could, however, be a tax collector. He works in Markarth’s official Treasury House and lots of dialogue shows that he is regularly collecting money from Markarth’s citizens: “They send their brute, Yngvar, to shake some coins from me every few days,” (Bothela). However, it is unclear whether Thonar does this on behalf of the Empire/the Reach, or whether the money collection is more like racketeering (Ainethach’s dialogue suggests that Thonar manipulates the Forsworn to justify a protection racket; see also “We keep the Reach safe,” above) or simply the collection of private rent payments on Silver-Blood land.

Personally, I believe it’s more likely that Thonar is acting in his own private interests. If Tullius had hired Margret to investigate the Silver-Bloods, it seems unlikely that Thonar would be collecting money under the Emperor’s mandate. But as it is unclear, it is up to you: if you’d like to think that Thonar is an Imperial tax collector (perhaps he is responsible for collecting tax in addition to his own private business enterprises), then killing him is punishable by death. If not, killing him would amount to ordinary murder and so is punishable only by a fine and/or incarceration.

It’s also worth considering that what is standard practice on paper might not always translate into reality. Magistrates in the Empire likely have a lot of control over individual cases, and given limitations in technology, it would be difficult for the Empire to comprehensively regulate judicial practice across the Empire, especially in its more remote parts. Dialogue in Morrowind is proof enough that the provinces often have their own way of handling things (see above). A footnote at the end of Legal Basics even says, “both the definitions and punishments may fluctuate wildly according to location and situation.” So it could be that even though the LDB is technically only punishable by a fine or incarceration, Markarth’s magistrate or Jarl nonetheless sentences them to death. Again, this is up to you.

Last to consider is the possibility of raising a defence. Some of the dialogue from Morrowind (see above) listed possible defences to a murder charge in Imperial law, namely killing in war, self-defense, defense of property, sanctioned affairs of state (I suppose this refers to Morag Tong writs), and ‘affairs of honour’. The LDB could potentially argue that their killing Thonar was an ‘affair of honour’, in which case it would be considered a mere killing and not foul murder. However I doubt such an attempt would be successful, as other dialogue in Morrowind suggests that ‘affairs of honour’ refers specifically to duels (see under ‘Affairs of honor’).

6. Summary / TLDR

Where does this leave us?

If the prisoner were to turn themselves in, it would likely have to be in the Reach or at the very least in Skyrim, due to the practical limitations associated with prosecuting crimes far away from where they took place (and on the basis of how the bounty system functions in-game).

Imperial law doesn’t seem to distinguish between ‘murder’ and ‘mere killing’, except where a defence can be raised, which isn’t the case here. It doesn’t matter if the killing isn’t premeditated or even intentional – so long as it is the result of a ‘malicious’ or a ‘criminally intended’ act, it still amounts to murder. The lack of eye-witnesses would likely be irrelevant to the magistrate if the prisoner turned themselves in.

Because Thonar is most likely neither a nobleman nor an Imperial tax collector, his killing would amount to ordinary murder and so would not be punishable by death. However, there would most likely be nothing to stop a harsher magistrate (or even the Jarl, on appeal) from imposing a harsher sentence.

Hope this helps!! As you can probably tell, I had a lot of fun researching the answers to this :))

#teslore #skyrim #tes #the elder scrolls #markarth #thonar silver-blood #ask #thelonghanddaydream #unrelated aside but #i discovered while researching that a barristers' guild exists in cyrodiil #which supports that thing about legal counsel being available to citizens of the imperial city and nowhere else #interesting to know :))#text #gonna make a new tag for all this legal stuff #tes law #long post

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cora-vizsla · 3 years

Text

The Kings Pet (2)

Chapter 2

Rated: Explicit (18+)

Work Count: 5K+

Warning: Smut, Dom!Boba, sub!reader, dirty talk, teasing, edging, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (established relationship)

Authors Note: If I missed any tags/warnings, please let me know! Part one is here and has warnings and if you feel like it needs to be added let me know. Thank you to everyone who shared and liked it. I very much so appreciate it!

It was comfortable; the routine you were in. There was very little time that you had to be by yourself, which was absolutely new. Most of your life had been spent on your own so even though the companionship was uncomfortable sometimes, it was welcomed. Even though Boba was often gruff, he was bordering soft with you.

You knew he deeply cared about you. That much was obvious. The way he always made sure you were fed and comfortable spoke volumes to you. You didn’t need words of affirmation when everything he did for you was for your benefit. You may have been the one on the floor by his feet, but he was the one ensuring you never went without.

On the day that a bright silver man came in armor very similar to Boba’s, you took notice of how quiet everyone in the room became. His footsteps echoed and everyone seemed to tense except for the man you were leaning against. He turned to face the throne fully, but his helmet stayed on.

“Din.”

“Boba.”

His helmet moved slightly so it was pointed to you but looked back up at the armored man above you. Neither of them seemed ill at ease but if he was anything like your Master, he wasn’t much of a talker.

“What brings you to my palace?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard that while saving the child I ended up with the Dark Saber.”

Boba immediately barked out a laugh which made you jump out of shock. He continued laughing and leaned forward, resting his hand gently on the top of your head.

“Sorry, mesh’la, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You gave him a smile and nodded. You had started to pick up on the affectionate things he said to you in Mando’a and it made your heart seize. He still called you pet most of the time, but the times where he did break just that tiny bit and call you sweet things made your heart swell. You saw the visor of who he called Din look at you again.

“Fennec told me about the princesses incessant need to win the saber through battle.”

“I don’t want to fight her. I tried to yield. I have no interest in the throne of Mandalore.”

“You should take it just to spite her. Though she’s already lost it twice. Perhaps she should stick to ruling cantina tables and hunting down Imperial ships.”

Din shifted his weight and sighed, resting his hand on his blaster holder. Normally Boba would have been on his feet firing but Din really just seemed exhausted. You weren’t sure how you knew that considering you hadn’t seen his face, but his entire body was screaming he just wanted to rest.

“What do you need of me?”

“I’m going to Mandalore to leave the saber there. If she wants it so badly, she can just take it. If it leaves my hands on her planet perhaps, she won’t pursue me anymore. I could use some backup.”

“Do you think she will chase you?”

“Yes.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Does she know you’re going to ask me for backup?”

“Yes.”

“So, then I get to shoot her ship.”

“If it comes to that, yes.”

“Let me pack my things.”

He leaned forward and lifted your chin towards him gently.

“Stay here, mesh’la. Keep Din company while I prepare myself and give Fennec instructions. You’ll stay here with her. I don’t want you put in harms way.”

You gave him a small pout but nodded. He chuckled as he stood up and left the throne room. Everyone else seemed to get back to business but Din stood there, presumably staring at you. It made you a little uncomfortable which was confusing. People looked at you all the time but not as intently as he was.

“He speaks to you in Mando’a. Do you understand it?”

“No. I usually just interpret it with his tone. If he’s angry, it isn’t good. If he’s cheerful, it’s a good thing.”

“Boba is cheerful?”

You let out a small giggle and cover your face. You felt bad laughing at the idea but what he said was what everyone always thought, they were just too afraid to say it.

“He can be. Not when people come here asking him for things but when no one is bothering him.”

“Were you here when he took the palace?”

You felt your face heat up when you realized he was trying to figure out your relationship with Boba.

“No. I was brought here for stealing. When he found out why I stole he took pity on me and made a deal with me. He would protect me and absolve me of my crimes if I..”

You weren’t sure how to explain the dynamic in a way that wouldn’t make you sound like a slave. To be honesty, you weren’t really sure what your connection to him was anymore. You did have sex with him, but it wasn’t like you didn’t want to. You were always more than willing and eager to do whatever he wanted to do.

“Is he forcing you to stay here?”

“What? No! Not at all. I.. I like being here with him. I’m sure it looks odd.”

“I am not judging you. He seems to care for you.”

Your face started to heat up again and you tried to make yourself smaller.

“I think he does. It’s not like I asked him.”

He hummed and walked over, sitting on the raised flooring. He wasn’t next to you but much closer than anyone else had dared to do so. You glaced over at the door to the throne room and Din chuckled.

“He won’t be mad. There aren’t enough Mandalorians left for us to kill each other unless it’s life or death.”

“Your armor looks much newer than his.”

“It is. Mine was crafted in pure beskar and his was his fathers. He didn’t tell you that?”

You shook your head, feeling very small. In reality you knew very little of the man. It didn’t matter much to you. What mattered was how he treated you.

“He is an honorable man. He helped me with the most important task I’ve ever been given. Someday I will pay him back for that.”

“Who.. who is Bo-Katan?”

“An entitled princess who thinks she is better than everyone else she meets.”

You turned your head and smiled as Boba walked towards you. Fennec was right behind him and she flopped down in the throne, propping her leg up on one of the arm rests. Boba sighed at her but turned his attention back to you.

“Walk with me to my ship, mesh’la. I want your face to be the last I see before I leave.”

You furrowed your brow and glanced at Din who was shaking his head. You walked with Boba up the steps and into the burning sun. You pulled your hand up to shield your eyes from the light, and he chuckled, quickly pulling you up the ramp of Slave I. You looked around at the inside realizing it was the first time you had been in his ship.

“Fennec will be with you the entire time. She will keep you safe. Do you need anything before you go?”

“No, sir.”

“You look sad, pet.”

“I.. I will admit I don’t want you to leave.”

“I would prefer not dealing with Bo-Katan as well. If it weren’t dangerous, I would bring you with me.”

“I’ve never been off Tattooine before.”

He reached out, gloved hands cupping the sides of your face. You smiled up at him and put your hands gently on the metal covering his chest.

“Someday, little one, I’ll show you the entire galaxy. Would you like that?”

“Very much so. But.. you don’t need to do all of that for me. You already do so much.”

“Hush now. Everything I do for you is because I want to take care of you, pet. You’re such a good girl for me.”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded to him.

“I’m going to miss you, mesh’la. There are some things I need you to do for me though.”

“Anything. What is it?”

He used his thumb to push your chin up slightly, exposing your neck to him before moving his hand down to lightly grip the base of your neck. You tried to suppress a shiver but when you failed, he chuckled lowly at you.

“I want you to spend my time away thinking of all the ways I like to pleasure you. I want you to think about my face between your legs as I make you cum in my mouth. Can you do that?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Then I want you to think about the way I feel between your legs as I have you on your back. I want you to remember what it feels like to scream my name while I pound into that tight pussy of yours. Can you do that too?”

You whimper and nod, gasping when his hand starts to tighten on you.

“Ah, you know the rules, pet. Aren’t you supposed to use words when talking to me?”

“Y-yes. Yes, I can do that, sir.”

“Good girl. Next I want you to think about all the times I’ve had you ride my cock while I sit on the throne. Think about what it feels like to have yourself stretched out around me.”

“O-okay. Okay I will.”

“One last thing though.”

“Yes, sir?”

He kept one hand on your throat and ran the other down your body, moving inward until he had his hand roughly cupping you between your legs. He moved his helmet, so the face was right by your ear and you whimpered when his voice came out in a growl.

“You can’t touch yourself. You can’t put your pretty little fingers anywhere near your pretty little cunt. I want you wanting and needy for me when I come back. Do you understand?”

A whine ripped from your throat and you sounded ridiculous to yourself, but Boba practically purred out praise for you.

“Head back inside, pet. Remember what you promised me, and I will be back to you as soon as I can.”

“B-be safe?”

He pulled your head forward and pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’ll be back to you soon, mesh’la.”

It had been two weeks and to say you were frustrated was an understatement. You swore that Fennec knew what he had said to you because she hadn’t shut up about sex since Slave I took off. You hardly said anything, but your patience was wearing thin.

You thought about not doing what Boba had asked of you but getting the imagery he had pushed into your head to stop playing had been proving to be impossible. You were sure that it would have crossed your mind anyway but hearing him verbalize all of it had made you needy before he even left. You huffed out what you were sure was the ten thousandth sigh of the hour and Fennec finally leaned forward to look at you.

“Alright, huffy, mind telling me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

You realized how unbelievable you sounded when you grumbled and crossed your arms over your chest. She quickly pulled you up, so you were sitting next to her with your legs tossed across her lap. You squeaked when she pulled you up, shocked at how strong she was.

“You’ve been positively pouting for weeks.”

“I’m fine.”

“All you do is sigh and squirm down there. I’ve never seen you so much as move more than once an hour when Boba is here. Are you uncomfortable with me?”

“What? No! Of course not.”

“Then what is it, sweetheart?”

“I just.. I’m just doing what he asked of me while he’s gone.”

“To be impatient?”

“No.. to.. think of certain things.”

Realization flashed across her face far too quickly for her not to have known before you spoke. She tucked your hair behind your ear and sighed.

“You poor thing. No wonder why you’re so uncomfortable. Why don’t you scurry into the bed and take care of that? I can’t believe you haven’t already.”

“I.. can’t.”

“Why? Do you not know how to?”

“Of course, I do! Maker, Fennec. I’m not a child.”

She laughed and smiled at you.

“Then what is the problem?”

“I’m.. not allowed to take care of it.”

“Is that what he said?”

“Yes. He said I can’t.. touch down there.”

“That you can’t take care of yourself?”

“Yes. Why are you even asking this?”

“Well, I mean technically there are still ways for you to feel some relief.”

You looked at her and crossed your arms.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, I was told to take care of you. I’m to give you whatever you need, just like he would.”

She placed her hand on your thigh and you thought your chest was going to cave in. You could see that Fennec was beautiful, but the idea had never even passed your mind. She chuckled and tiled her head, looking at you.

“I know you’re his obedient little pet but there are always ways to still listen to him and do what you want.”

“He would be furious.”

“Would he? Or would he be impressed that you thought of a way to obey him and be happy?”

“I.. I don’t know.”

She hummed and sat back, looking out at everyone. You thought to yourself about what she was saying. He did want you resourceful but at the same time you had never even considered not fully and wholeheartedly listening to him.

“I don’t.. think it’s a good idea.”

“Whatever you choose. I think you can suffer for one more day anyway.”

“What?”

“Oh? I didn’t tell you? He will be back tomorrow.”

You looked at her and realized that she offered it knowing he would be back. You huffed and moved off her, trying to seem much madder than you were. In all honestly knowing he would be back soon made it even worse for you. Now not only were they memories running through your head, but they were your not so distant future.

The minute Boba returned he barked for everyone to leave. Fennec gave you a knowing smirk and sauntered out of the room, a bottle of blue alcohol in her hand. You stayed perfectly still, trying to act like you hadn’t been in agony for the last two weeks. He walked towards you and motioned for you to come to him. You scrambled across the floor, crawling not wanting to waste the time to stand up. Once you got to the edge of the stage you sat on your knees, your hands gently resting on your thighs.

“Mesh’la, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

You smiled up at him and he pulled his helmet off, setting it next to you. You inhaled sharply, surprised that he took his helmet off so quickly. You looked up at his rugged face and bit your bottom lip. You missed him somuch.

“I didn’t think it was possible to miss Tattooine so much, but then again I didn’t think anyone like you would be waiting for me to get back.”

“I missed you.”

He reached forward and laced his fingers through your hair, balling his hand tightly into a fist and pulling to tilt your head back. You gasped and his lips turned into a smirk.

“Did you do what I asked of you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl for me.”

He rewarded you by leaning forward and hungrily kissing you. You parted your lips easily for him, letting him invade your mouth with his tongue. He broke away and you whimpered at the loss of contact, reaching out to grasp at his chest armor.

“Such a needy little thing. Go to our room and wait for me. I’ll be in soon.”

You nodded and immediately pulled yourself to your feet, heading into the back. There had been a time when you had your own room, but after a while you stopped leaving his room at night. You knew he had given you your own space to make sure that you were comfortable and didn’t feel trapped, but it also made you lonely. Like you had told Din, you wanted to be with him.

You sat on the bed and thought about how much things had changed. You had been desperate just to live at first, happy to do whatever he may want knowing he was the reason you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere. You had expected him to be rude and uncaring. Although he was always in charge, he never made you feel like you didn’t matter as a person. All the horrible scenarios you had pushed out of your head as he made his offer had never come true.

“You seem lost in thought.”

You smiled up at Boba walking into the room. He stopped, dropping his bag by the wall and turned back to face you.

“Come here, mesh’la. Help me with my armor.”

You stood fluidly and walked to him, gently and carefully unhooking all the beskar armor he wore. He stood still, watching you, until all he had left was his helmet. You reached your hands out, gently resting it on the bottom, waiting for him to tell you if he wanted that off or not. Often times he kept it on which unnerved you a bit, but it was exhilarating to never know how he was feeling. The noises you could elicit from him told you how much he liked certain things and that in of itself was satisfying.

“Go ahead, pet. Let me look at you without the barrier.”

You lifted it off him and smiled when you saw him smiling down at you. He had been reserved at first, barely showing any emotion past lust. The longer you were around him the more he showed you his happiness and amusement. It was something that you alone were privy to experiencing. He took the helmet from you and set it on the closest surface, pulling you into his arms as soon as they were empty.

“How was your mission, sir?”

“Successful. Never mind that now though. Fennec tells me that my pet has been rather needy while I was gone.”

You felt your face heat up, so you looked down at his chest. He hooked your chin to make you look at him again and gave you a stern look.

“Don’t look away from me, pet. I’ve missed those beautiful eyes. In fact, you’re all I could think about at all. Glad Din isn’t much of a talker or I would have probably driven him nuts.”

You let out a small laugh as he started to walk you backwards until your knees hit the mattress. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours until he grabbed your hips and tossed you backwards, further on the bed. You squeaked in surprise making him chuckle deeply. He crawled up the bed until he was propped up over you, his waist slotted between your legs.

“This right here is where I belong.”

Your face started heating up again but there was absolutely no getting away from him. He stared down at you intently before moving down to kiss and bite at your neck. You let out a shuttering breath and tilted your head to the side which only spurred him on. When he moved to the base of your neck he bit down hard and you gasped loudly, arching your back slightly.

“You’re always so responsive for me, mesh’la. You have far too many clothes on though.”

He sat back and yanked you up into a sitting position and pulled your shirt off before you could even begin to help. He grabbed the front of your breast band and yanked, snapping it in half. You protested but he quickly pushed you back down and chuckled.

“I’ll buy you more, pet.”

He left little room to argue before he was yanking your pants down your legs. It always took your breath away when he was so aggressive with you, and by the look on his face he knew it. Sooner than seemed possible, you were entirely naked laying in front of him.

“How did an old man get so lucky to have someone as beautiful as you in his bed.”

“You aren’t old.”

He chuckled and crawled forward, spreading your legs and kissing the inside of your thighs.

“Older than you.”

“You’re the king. You could have anyone you want. You’ll trade me in for someone younger and more beautiful soon enough.”

He bit down on your thigh and you gasped loudly, clutching at the sheets below you.

“None of that talk. You are mine and you aren’t going anywhere. Understand?”

You nodded quickly so he smoothed over the bite mark with his tongue. You sighed as he continued moving up your legs until he reached the joint of your hip and stopped. You suppressed a moan and tried to stay as still as possible.

“Look at you, pet. Absolutely needy and wanting for me. Such a good girl doing exactly what I asked of you. How much did you think of me?”

“All the time.”

Your voice sounded whiney and you grimaced when he chuckled and roughly massaged your thighs.

“And you didn’t touch yourself, right?”

“No, sir. I did everything you asked of me.”

“But you wanted to?”

“Y-yes.”

“You’d rather do that than have me take care of it?”

“No! No, maker no.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure I believe you, pet. I think you should take care of it yourself while I watch.”

“W-what? I.. Why?”

He gripped your thighs tightly and you gasped again.

“Don’t question me, girl. Do as I tell you to. Show me how you would have taken care of it if I had let you.”

Your chest was heaving as you ran your shaky hand down your body until you found your clit. He kept your legs spread open and watched as you began to gently rub yourself. Your needy body responded quickly since it had been weeks since you had been touched by any hand.

“Look at me.”

His voice growled out and you immediately obeyed. You gasped at the intent look on his face and sped up slightly without consciously doing it. You felt your orgasm start to rush towards you, so much quicker than you were expecting. Your legs started tensing in his hands and right before you were about to hit your peak, he snatched your hand away. You gasped loudly and squirmed at the sensation suddenly stopping. He watched you squirm, but he made no move to touch you.

“Come here and undress me.”

You let out a shaky breath but moved towards him, your climax slipping away from you the more you focused on the task in front of you. You pulled all his clothes off of him with relative ease, counting in the fact that your hands were shaking the entire time. He said nothing as you pulled off his pants and his already hard cock sprang forward. You desperately wanted to wrap your hands around it but instead sat back on your knees waiting for him to tell you what he wanted.

“Lay back down.”

You started leaning backwards but he grabbed behind your knees and yanked, knocking you backwards quickly. He spread your legs again and moved so he was laying on his stomach, hooking your legs over his shoulders. Without warning, he leaned forward and licked through your soaking wet folds. You moaned loudly and squirmed. He latched his hands on your hips and held you down roughly as he covered your clit with his mouth. He swirled his tongue around it before starting to move directly against the already sensitive bud. When he removed one of his hands from your hip and slipped two of his fingers into your aching cunt you moaned loudly and gripped at the sheets, desperate to hold onto something. He hummed against you and you could feel your orgasm building again, almost painfully so. The closer you got the faster he seemed to move, and your breath quickened. Right as it was about to hit you, he moved away. You screamed out in frustration and you heard him chuckle deeply.

“I meant to ask you, mesh’la. Why didn’t you take Fennec up on her offer?”

“What!?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, entire body shaking and tears pricking at your eyes. He looked completely calm with just the slightest smirk on his lips.

“Fennec. She asked you if you wanted her to take care of you while I was gone.”

“What? She told you that?”

“Of course, she did. Why did you turn her down? Technically she was right. I didn’t say no one else could touch you. Just told you that your fingers couldn’t.”

“I.. Wha-“

Saying you were frustrated was not even close to describing it. You shut your eyes and took a few calming breaths, desperately wanting to at least rub your legs together but he had moved back to gripping your thighs tightly, keeping your legs spread in front of him.

“I-I know that technically that wasn’t against what you said but.. I.. I didn’t think it was right to let anyone else touch me.”

“And what if I had given you permission?”

“I.. Uhm.. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Okay.”

He moved his mouth back down to your clit and you practically sobbed in relief. You fell back on the bed and moaned as he worked your overstimulated nub. He moved quickly and added in two fingers, pushing you towards the orgasm you desperately wanted. You tried to keep your body as still as possible, hoping that he wouldn’t figure out how close you were and pull away again. To your absolute agony, he stopped right before you could get your release. You sobbed out and laced your fingers through your hair roughly in frustration.

“What!? Boba, please!”

“Please what, pet?”

You sobbed again and covered your face, tears starting to fall from the corners of your eyes.

“Please. Please I need you.”

“How do you need me? Be clear, mesh’la.”

“P-please let me cum! Please I’ve waited so long for you to get back. I need you to make me cum pl-“

“Tell me what you need to me do, pet.”

“I-I just need you! Whatever you want. Please. Please, sir.”

“That doesn’t work for me, little one. I need you to let me know exactly what you want.”

“I-I.. use your mouth?”

“That didn’t sound like you were very sure.”

“Fuck! Use your mouth on my cunt, sir. Please. Please let me cum I need you.”

“Was that so hard?”

You grit your teeth and did everything you could not to scream in frustration. He chuckled again but does exactly what you asked of him. He moved down and sucked lightly on your clit while he worked his tongue against it. His fingers pumped in and out of you, curling upwards to hit the spot that drives you absolutely wild. You’re a moaning and squirming mess as your body raced towards the orgasm, he had been denying you. You screamed out, arching your back as you finally tip over that edge. He continued to work you as you screamed and moaned from his touch. Once you came down, he climbed back up you and kissed you.

“You have quite the dirty mouth when you’re frustrated.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice was breathless and calm as you lazily blinked up at him. He smirked and pressed himself forward, so his cock was up against your entrance.

“I’m not. I love hearing you beg for me. I think I’ll make you do it more often.”

You tried to protest but quickly silenced yourself as he pushed inside of you. You were still sensitive but had missed the feeling of him inside of you so much. He let out a groan once he was fully slotted inside of you, somehow always making you feel more full than the last time.

“Stars, princess, it’s like your body was made for mine.”

You nodded and he started moving lazily inside of you. He leaned forward and captured your mouth with his, kissing you as he slowly moved in and out of you. You were used to him roughly fucking you any time he was able to, but you decided right away that what he was doing was amazing. That continued on for what felt like ages and you moaned and sighed at everything he was making you feel.

“Tell me who you belong to, mesh’la.”

“You, Boba.”

“Anyone else?”

“No. Just you.”

“Who do you want to make you cum?”

“You. Stars, always you.”

He let out a satisfied growl and started moving quicker, pushing you closer to a second orgasm. You pulled his face back down to yours, kissing him as his body slammed against yours.

“That’s it, cyar'ika, I want to feel you cum on my cock.”

With three more thrusts, you were coming undone again. Boba moaned at the feeling of you tightening around him and with a few stuttering thrusts he came with you. He kissed you roughly as you came down and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Was that worth waiting?”

“Yes, stars yes.”

He slipped himself out of you and laid down on his back, pulling you close to him so you could rest your head on his shoulder. You traced your fingers across the scars he had on his chest and he hummed at the feeling.

“Did you mean it when you said you’d show me the galaxy?”

“Do I ever speak lies?”

“No.”

“Then that answers it for you.”

You nodded against him and nestled in closer. You felt sleep start to take you as he pulled the sheet across both of you. You had missed him terribly and finally felt the exhaustion of not sleeping well the entire time he was gone.

“Goodnight, mesh’la.”

“Goodnight, Boba.”

His arm tightened around you as sleep finally took you.

#boba fett x you #boba fett #the mandalorian #star wars #boba fett x reader #there is something wrong with me #i can't believe i wrote this

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dragon-pups · 3 years

Text

Clear Water

Uncle Crosshair teaches Omega how to swim.

Prompt: Omega doesn’t know how to swim and drowns

TW: Drowning, Death

@icedcoffee101 @brekkers-girl

Break because this is long.

After months of being on the run, constantly dodging imperial soldiers and their brother, they finally won. Well not really, but it feels like a victory of the highest caliber. They have him back. They finally freed Crosshair from the chip. Their family is now whole, and they’re safe.

They found a beautiful planet to hide out on. The whole surface is covered in lush rolling hills and great lakes full of the clearest water. Large forests full of game dot the landscape. Gentle breezes blow the sweet scents of recently bloomed flowers.

The sense of peace that flows through them all is new. They’re free, they’re together, they’re home. No more war for the moment. No more constantly being on edge. They have room to breathe now.

ꭥꭥꭥ

It didn’t take them long to find the perfect spot for their bunker, but it took them weeks to make it. By the end they had a bunker roughly the size of their barracks back on Kamino, stuffed to the brim with weapons and rations. The bunker was located close enough to a forest for them to hunt game and close enough to a lake to take a day to swim and relax.

The lake was interesting. Large and clear. You could see all the way to the bottom. There was never any aquatic life moving near the surface, but there was always something just out of view. Moving along the bottom.

ꭥꭥꭥ

Wrecker, Echo and Hunter didn’t hesitate before they jumped in and raced to the middle. Tech sat on a rock with his legs in the water, messing with something on his datapad. Crosshair was more dignified, carefully hanging his top on a rock before approaching the water. His slow pace is why he saw Omega still at the crest of the hill looking over the lake.

Crosshair sighed before he started his way back up the hill. By the time he had reached her she was flushed and wouldn’t meet his eye, even when he crouched in front of her. Crosshair raised an eyebrow and waited. Finally he gave up and sighed again.

“Brat-”

“I don’t know how to swim okay!”

Both of his brows shot up at the sudden shout. He quickly schooled his face back into a bored look. He grabbed her by the chin and made her look him in the eyes. “So what?”

“I-I”

“You’ll learn”, and with that Crosshair got up and headed back down the hill.

He stopped halfway and casted a glance over his shoulder. When he was satisfied that Omega was following he quickly made his way to the shore. He waited with his feet in the shallows for Omega to come to him. When she didn’t he marched back out of the water and grabbed her hand.

They walked together until the water hit Omega's chest. By that point she wrapped her arms around his waist tightly and buried her face into his side. Holding herself as far out of the water as possible. He couldn’t help the way his brows furrowed together as he looked at her, taking comfort from him of all people.

He gently shifted her up to his chest with one arm secure around her back and the other supporting her legs. He slowly shifts to his knees, so they’re both up to their chests in the water. He ran his hand up and down her back twice, before he gently pulled her arms from around his shoulders.

He slowly pushed her away from him, never once letting go. He even more slowly encourages her to lean back into the water. One hand on her back helping her float, the other below her legs. He slowly floats her in a small circle, letting her get used to the water.

He helps her float for an hour before he starts teaching her how to tread water. Slowly teaching her how to keep her head above water. They kept up the slow lessons before it was time to break for a late lunch, courtesy of Tech.

When they got back in after lunch Crosshair was only able to teach her the basics of how to perform a breaststroke before a sudden storm rolled overhead. It was a quick scramble to gather their stuff and pull back to base before the downpour started.

ꭥꭥꭥ

The downpour lasted for days. They were stuck inside and all Omega wanted to do was get back to the lake. She enjoyed her lessons from Crosshair thus far, and she wants more time with him. As the rain starts to slow she starts asking them more and more to go back to the lake. They keep telling her to wait, that they will once the rain stops and the lake has time to warm back up. But she wants to go now.

She couldn’t sleep the night the rain finally stopped. She was too excited to get to swim with her family again. Maybe, maybe she could go check the lake. Make sure that the temperature is right, so they can swim tomorrow. Yes, that’s what she will do!

Omega quietly creeps from her bed. She grabs her boots and slowly makes her way to the door. She knew Hunter wouldn’t wake up, because Tech gave him a shot of painkillers and a sedative to help with his migraine. She was still careful to not wake the others. She carefully closed the door behind her and quickly threw on her boots. She scurries around the far side of the bunker, as far away from Hunter, Tech and Echo’s bunks as possible. They were the most likely ones to wake up from the sound of her footsteps.

She sprints as fast as possible to the lake. It's fuller than she remembers, the shore halfway up the hill instead of the bottom. Oh well, nothing she can’t handle. A quick dip couldn’t hurt. Crosshair has been teaching her how she should move the next time they go to the lake to swim. Yeah, and then they could get to some of the games Wrecker has been talking about tomorrow!

She removes and tosses her boots to the side and jumps into the water. It’s colder than she remembers, far colder. Even the short distance from shore she jumped was too far for her to reach the bottom. She tries to paddle and kick like Crosshair taught her, but it’s so cold. She struggles to get closer to shore. Her head drops below the surface multiple times. Everytime she can force her head back up she's a bit farther from the hill.

She can feel her teeth start to chatter together. Her limbs become numb. It's harder and harder to keep her head above the water. She wants to scream, but can’t. There's not enough time to catch a breath let alone scream.

She can’t move. She can’t get back to the surface. She needs to breathe. She can’t stop it. She continues to flail trying to get to the surface, even as the water consumes every inch of her being. Darkness engulfs her vision as she slowly sinks away from her family.

ꭥꭥꭥ

He hears her get up. A child as naive as her thinks that sneaking is as simple as just not stomping. He hears her leave, which in and of itself isn’t a concern. They hadn’t been able to make a working indoor ‘fresher yet. What was strange was that she didn’t tell one of them first. She normally woke up Hunter or Echo, but she left without telling anyone.

It wasn’t until he heard her run along the wall of his and Wreckers bunk that he started to worry. Maybe she just saw an animal or something and went to check it out. The kid is always curious she’ll be fine, he reasons lying back down. When is she ever fine. That kid has gotten them all into trouble more times than Wrecker could count.

Minutes pass as Crosshair debates with himself. When Omega doesn’t return to the bunker the sinking feeling in his gut increases tenfold. He drops from his bunk and runs out the door. Something’s wrong. Something has to be wrong. He looks around, but can’t see her.

The lake! She kept talking about the lake!

He runs as fast as his bare feet can carry him. When he crests the hill he can’t see her, but her boots are here. She must be close.

“Omega!”

Crosshairs shout echoes far into the distance, but nothing. She wouldn’t have gone into that lake; it's gotta be freez-

She wouldn’t know. She’s never swam before.

He quickly sprints for the edge of the lake and dives in deep. He swims for the bottom. Looking for any sign. Hoping she’s not here for him to find. Hopefully she's just a few hills over. Hopeful-

There. He catches a flash of blonde hair and dives for it. He grabs her and rushes to the surface. When he gets her to the shore she’s cold and not breathing. He tilts her head to the side allowing a stream of water to flow out of her airways. He then begins to give her CPR. Desperation in all his actions.

“Come on Omega. Please...”

Nothing.

Continues?

#bad batch #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #omega #crosshair #hunter #tech #wrecker #echo #bad batch fanfic #Great Angst War of 2021

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belit0 · 4 years

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Indra when his s/o threatens to peg him please? (Nsfw) 💖

INDORA JUST RELAX OKAY GEEZ (face palm)

It all starts when in a (stupid) act of boldness, it occurs to you to get out of your highly submissive role in front of Indra, by countering one of his orders. You were always curious about how he would react to a different attitude, but you never thought you were brave enough to actually do it.

As the Ōtsutsuki comes out of the shower, with a towel around his waist and another in his hand drying his hair, he talks to you, while you were sitting on the bed waiting so you could sleep together.

"[Y/N], comb my hair. It gets less tangled when it's your hands."

Even if it was a tender gesture of trust that he asked for you to take care of his mane, the demanding and imperious tone with which he always speaks to you only encouraged to reveal yourself. Waiting for the right moment, and with an idea in mind, you pointed him to sit in front of you and with his back straight.

With a wooden comb, you went through each long brown trace, trying not to let the humidity produced by his recent shower obstructs your task. When the situation of his hair was controlled, you knew it was time to try luck.

Normally, you would have allowed Indra to guide you to your place in the bed, and then snuggled up next to you in a tight hug, but when he tried to get up from his place to get dressed, you took a handful of his hair, pulling it and forcing him to remain seated.

"I want you to be mine tonight."

In the face of your unexpected action, the Ōtsutsuki stood still in his place, analyzing your new courage. You felt his body tremble, and you could tell his skin was suddenly bristly. A slight grunt echoed in his chest after a few seconds, and you were widely surprised when he turned in place, undoing your strong grip on him, and imprisoning you against the mattress and his body.

One thing you found interesting was the fact that he had his Sharingan activated, which he rarely did during your fucks. The towel on his waist had fallen to the ground at his sudden movement, and a quick-hardening limb was pressed against your clothed entrance.

"I don't recall authorizing you to speak like that. I am the one who carries the power, is that clear?"

Under his stocky figure, you could do no more than a nod and utter a low "Yes, sir...", but this did not please your man.

"I asked if it was clear. Louder."

Gathering strength again, you fixed your eyes on his and said what he wanted to hear.

This triggered an unrestrained night of passion, where for some reason, Indra allowed you to ride him several times, an event that rarely happened in front of his constant leadership. This gave rise to even greater confidence, for according to your understanding, it was the nerve to subject him as he subjects you that drove him into a demanding heat.

After that night, where for the first time you tried how it felt to handle Indra himself, you decided that you needed more of it and that you would do anything to get it.

Having proven your worth as an active part in the sexual moment, it was not unexpected that he allowed you to be on top again in the next encounter. The power and the satisfaction of admiring his features from a new angle, of being able to handle him with all the roughness he is used to handling you, of knowing that he is the one who responds to your need now, was simply too arousing.

Until you wanted to take things further.

While you were riding him, at a slow and tortuous pace, dragging him towards his release and then suddenly pulling him down, denying him his right to cum, you thought of experimenting with something new. Your control over the Ōtsutsuki is not a verbal question, but a physical one, because you know that, if you speak and your threat is not convincing enough for his ears, your privilege will disappear in a flash.

But this time you decided that your words would be sharp and concise, adequate to put him in his place and stimulate him even more. Bending over him, you pressed your mouth on his cheek, down his neck and up to his chest with wet kisses, and spoke in a low voice.

"If you are not a good boy, I guess I'll simply be the one inside you."

Simultaneously, your hand positioned itself over his sack, and one of your fingers made the attempt to slide past it.

That's when your streak died out completely.

A rough hand closed over your throat, making you look up, only to see Indra's weight gain on yours in bed, shifting positions with your body in the blink of an eye.

In a second, you found yourself under him, still connected to his limb, being pressed against the pillows by his iron grip on your windpipe. This time, his Sharingan was active again, but something that made your blood run cold was present.

Indra was staring at you with his Eternal Mangekyou, and a murderous air hung around his presence. Intimidated by your man's new stance, you grabbed the hand that was holding you by the throat, trying to pull it away from your body.

Even though he wasn't exerting pressure and was merely restricting your movements, it was disturbing.

"I always wanted to try your tight hole, but I felt it was courtesy not to ask, [Y/N]. Regardless, your disrespect needs to be addressed, and you still have a virgin entrance that I need to take care of, don't you?”

Your body spun around on the mattress again, finding you now on your stomach, while your man's hands held your waist up, exposing your bottom to him.

You understood then that you should not threaten Ōtsutsuki Indra with anything that you were not willing to experience for yourself.

#indra otsutsuki #otsutsuki indra x reader #naruto shippuden #naruto imagines #otsutsuki indra #naruto x reader #indra #indra otsutsuki x reader

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