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unholyhelbig · 2 months

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I just want to say I'm already hooked on the beast you made me. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 5151

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, animal bones, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Thank you all for the overwelming support on the first chapter! I truly didn't expect that much reception. I'm going to be traveling for the next week so the next chapter might be delayed a bit]

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1917, Rural Pennsylvania

A sweeping river cut through the patch of sweetgrass on the south side of the farm. It emitted a gurgling sound that often soothed your nerves. There was a rocky clearing sandwiched between the tree line and the plain of grass that had become a perfect spot for you to settle in and read the hard-covered books you’d gotten from the corner store.

Your father would bring back any book you requested from the city during his travels. You devoured them faster than he could provide them and had read ‘Eight Cousins’ ,Lousia May Alcott’s foray into the adventures thirteen-year-old Rose, enough to nearly tear the pages from the binding.

The book itself held the clean honeyed scent of the earth, of the secluded spot that you called your own. Your muscles would thrum from loading the bales of hay into your fathers ford. Your fingers were calloused, and dirt caked around your ankle in a dark ring. All of that vanished when you cracked open the book about a girl that was so much like yourself.

It was easy to lose yourself in the paragraphs, the hum of the river sometimes lulling you to sleep. Your mother would pack you a sandwich on warm, hand-kneaded bread, usually some salted meat and mayonnaise. She’d pack sweet tea and send you on your way, knowing that you wouldn’t return to the house until you saw a flicker of a firefly.

Today, you’d fallen asleep under the sun. The book was discarded, and your forearm draped across your eyes. It was easy to drift, and easier still to dream about leaving the small dairy farm for something bigger- the very city that your father would return from with new literature and arts, and spices that made your mouth buzz with flavor.

You were in a haze when the ear-piercing scream cut through the air as if it were a natural solid. Your ears pinched at the sound, heels digging into the coarse sandy shore. Maybe it was a dream. It could have been an animal that had sunk its pointed teeth into the artery of another.

So, you waited, panting with your heart in your chest and the corner of the book barely lapped by the muddied water. And there was this sound. It was no fox caught in a trap or bovine tangled up in the barbed wire fence around the property- no, this was familiar. This was your sister.

Helena was quiet, often described as demure and borderline submissive. Despite being younger than yourself she carried a certain poise about her. Mother would often boast about how she would have no trouble finding a husband, how the boys already fawned over the child of hers that was not feral and unkempt.

Her cry was the loudest you had ever heard her and it had you on your feet, scrambling up the bank. Once past your small world of wonder, you were greeted with an endless sea of sweetgrass that was waist high in some areas.

A warm breeze created waves against the landscape, the farmhouse a small speck among the expanse of land. Your head was spinning, it was hard to track exactly where it had come from. It took another cracking screech to set you North.

Your legs pumped until you were consumed in a blind speed. You’d been renowned for your quickness, for your dedication to get from point A to point B. The kids in your town often joked that you were steadier than a steed. Not only were you the fastest in the class, but the fastest in the county according to some. Still- only a child of fifteen, and no man would want to wed someone with speed. It wasn’t a practical skill.

There was a pit deep in your stomach whirled, instinct knowing precisely where Helena was yowling from.

Jorge had gotten there at the same time you did; his brow was leaking with sweat and he panted against the hot air that surrounded you both. Your older brother was tall and lanky, serpent-like with beady black eyes and pitch hair to match your father’s. His shirt hung low against his midsection, his skin pale despite his hours in the sun working the fields.

“Stay back, y/n.” He demanded sharply.

The old well was a mere foot in front of you both but neither made the effort to move forward. The aged wooden plank that covered the stone shaft had been splintered through the middle, worn from age and weather.

Helena’s soft cries echoed up. When your father had first acquired the property, the previous owners explained that it had been boarded up after of the bulls had fallen down and snapped it’s neck. It was too large to pull out and they left it to starve and then rot.

Your father never let any of his children peer down into the well. You wondered if something had pulled Helena here, or if she had simply forgotten of it’s existence. Jorge dropped down to his knees and did a cautious crawl as if his own two feet couldn’t’ hold him anymore.

You saw the exact moment his skin became waxier, almost a gray porcelain paleness that had a green tint. He was swallowing too much, his white shirt coated in the red clay dirt.

“What?” You asked, voice breaking “What is it?”

“Go get Mama.”

It would have been easy to listen to your brother. He was the man of the house when your father wasn’t there but with him pleading for your mother, for an adult, you got a rancid taste in your mouth.

Against your better judgement you edged close enough to the abandoned well. The sun was setting in a fire-filled orange haze with enough color and angle to get a good view of the bottom; a slosh of fallen grass and rainwater, and muck, and yes; the bones of a beast once left to decay and rot in its own silence.

Your sister was wedged within the ribcage of the befallen bull, almost as if she replaced the beating heart that stopped pulsing long ago. Her hands gripped at the sun-bleached bone, knuckles nearly the same color.

It took you a moment to make out the slick, and the red that stemmed from the center of her stomach. The head of the bull had shattered under her weight, all expect the stretching length of it’s curved horn. That was wedged through her abdomen, surrounded in a vibrant rose red that puddled and had already coated her hands.

Prints from her struggle were against the limestone edges of the well. Her eyes pleaded up at you; your kind and caring, and animal-loving sister was trapped inside the remains of one. You fought back the urge to vomit, the rash thought that if the bone ripping through her flesh didn’t kill her, then infection would.

“Y/n get mama!” Jorge hissed again, and this time you didn’t hesitate. You nearly tripped over your own boots with the fever it took to back away from the scene, the metallic scent of blood mixing deliciously with the turn of rotted soil.

You had never run so fast in your life.

Wanda Maximoff had never felt the cold that wormed its way to her bones before. It was the type of cold that almost wasn’t, a stinging, horrible feeling that had her startled from the folded metal chair. It collapsed within itself as the blinked the wine-dark color from her eyes.

She stumbled backward, only to be brought back to the starkness of the room by a soft grip on her elbow. Wanda allowed herself to be held, if not for stability but for comfort. Steve Rodgers had a welcoming hand on the small of her back, the other steadying her.

He was a solid force, and her reaction stirred him.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from her lips, “Jesus Christ.”

There was quietness to the room in the aftershock of the fallen chair. It was nicer than a standard holding cell. The walls were cream colored, triple enforced to keep people like you inside. There was a bed bolted to the wall, a bunk that was almost like a summer camp endeavor.

A charged glass wall was blocking you from the rest of the world. It was seemingly unbreakable, and in this moment, so were you. Wanda didn’t want to test the glass, nor did she know how to make sense of the memories- your memories- that had flooded every inch of her body.

You were asleep, chest rising and falling at a normal pace, as if none of what Wanda had just seen was flitting around your mind. Soft snores pushed past your lips, one arm hanging over the side of the bed while the other followed the flow of your breathing as it rested on your chest.

Wanda didn’t understand the secrecy and the precaution that surrounded you. The Avengers compound was a constant ebb and flow of different heroes, Inhumans and mutants. What made you so different? What made you an 0-8-4?

It was a term that Natasha had used only once that was usually attached to objects, not a person. It was an object of unknown origin and in that case, it was a power-filled object from space. Space. She’d been through different dimensions, but that, for some reason, struck her as terrifying.

0-8-4’s were never brought here, but then again, they’d never been alive either. Steve had told her that your energy signal was off the charts, and that they wanted her to dig around your head. Something that she denied doing at first. It was an invasion of privacy.

But, there was a certain pleading within Captain America’s eyes that scared Wanda more than the personal rules she set for herself when it came to her power. What she had seen, what she had felt was barely scraping the surface of what your mind contained. She wasn’t keen on pushing past that barrier for the conclusion of that story. Was it even yours?

“What? Wanda, what is it?”

“I… I don’t” She shook her head, eyes hardening as she stared into Steve’s “Where did you find her?”

He hesitated to answer, his eyebrows furrowing before he looked away from the witches’ prying eyes. She’d been part of this team for years now and they were still reluctant with what they were willing to share. Wanda clenched her jaw, then unclenched it before her stare flashed back to your resting form.

There was a small frown that creased your features. You looked so… harmless. You had shifted, folded into yourself as if you were scratching the surface of what flashed before her. Your arm was folded under your head, knees flush to your chest. A small, beautiful whimper escaped you.

“She’s in distress, Steve.”

“Discomfort, more like. It’s better for all of us that she stays in there for right now. The last thing we want to do is harm anyone but if that requires some temporary-“

“Imprisonment?”

“Containment.” He said firmly, eyes hard. Wanda crossed her arms over her chest but stayed silent, letting him continue. She was sure she wouldn’t have been asked if not for her ability to worm her way into minds, to rearrange things. “What did you see?”

“A memory, one that can’t possibly be hers. The timeline doesn’t fit, this is a woman in her mid-twenties and who I saw was barely a teenager on a farmstead. To experience that much tragedy, that much fear and heartache.”

She started to pace, trying to not only work through her own thoughts, but yours as well. It could have been a story, and she was convinced of the fact save for the vividness. There was the feeling of grass tickling her arms and the sharp, undeniable stench of blood.

“Her younger sister died, fell through some rotted wood and fell to her death.” Wanda’s fingers pressed against the edge of her hairline. “She could have lived, but I have my doubts.”

He lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at her. His expression betrayed his compassion towards you, his stance uncomfortable with the topic. While the revelation was heartbreaking it hardly made you extraordinary. They’d all lost people, none had stirred Wanda as you did.

Wanda’s stare found his after darting to you once more, “Steve, I have the sinking feeling that what I saw was only scratching the surface. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories that were pressing in on all sides.”

The sensation of being observed is what pulled you from your fitful sleep. Exhaustion had washed over you like a tidal wave, all at once and leaving your mouth dry like a spoonful of salt. There was a stiffness that rivaled that of the grave you’d crawled out of, and you hoped that it was all a dream.

You were in your bed, in your apartment, after having one too many drinks. It was a horrible stretching nightmare that had plunged you into one sea of darkness from another. But even you weren’t that naïve.

Just as you felt a stranger’s eyes on you now, you had felt the dirt under your nails, the cold sodium-filled takeout as you attempted to chew it. More than anything, you remembered the burning feeling of the Black Widow pressed fully against your back, bending you over Jenn’s kitchen counter.

“I would prefer if you kept the feeling of my wife’s body against yours out of your mind.”

You shot up with a dizzying amount of quickness, heart suddenly in your chest. There was an imbalance to the bed that you were laying on. It was smaller than your own and unfamiliar. The room was stark white. It hurt your eyes and you had to blink the color away. You pressed the heels of your palms close to your eyes.

It felt as if you were locked in a glass shower with an audience and stage lights. The more you looked, the more you realized it was a room, something with no personal effects but a bed and a dimmer switch that you itched to utilize.

A pitcher of water was on an end table. It wasn’t color exactly, but it was more than the rest of your surroundings. Possibly with the worst manners you’d ever exhibited, you drank straight from the pitcher, not remembering the last time you had a drink. Suddenly, you were parched enough to soak your collar.

Despite your audience, you continued until you felt your stomach protest. You used the back of your hand to wipe away the moisture, black dirt was smeared across your skin. It was then, and only then, that you forced yourself to look past the walls of your prison, your enclosure.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” The woman said, walking close to the glass. You could see her clearly now, there was an heir of recognition about her, in the same way that there had been with the Black Widow.

“You were in my head.”

“For a while. It’s my job. But your thoughts are also deafening.”

“Sorry,”

This woman was intoxicating. Alluring and beautiful in her presence. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt hugging her form. You weren’t positive what time it was- what day it was- but it could be late into the night. She looked like she was roused from sleep, and a part of you felt guilty for the fact.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie.” Her voice was much more tender than it had been a few moments ago. “You can’t control being brought back from the dead. A lot of trauma comes with that.”

You stood shakily and walked closer to the glass. They’d taken your shoes and the tile under your feet was frigid. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered into yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that they had undressed you, probably taken your clothes for testing. Instead they left you in a blue set of scrubs.

You averted your stare from your own reflection, not willing or ready to look too hard. You’d much rather look at this stranger, your heart not slowing, your head pounding. Nothing but a simple pane of glass separated you.

“And I was brought back from the dead, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a fucked-up dream where I got hit by a car and then poof God, if there is one, decided that me of all people was worth bringing back.”

She lilted her head, quirked an amusing brow at you. A chill flushed down your spine and seemed to fizzle out at your toes. This woman was gorgeous and terrifying and made you want to squirm. But if this was prison, you had to assert dominance. Right? That’s what Wentworth taught you.

This cell didn’t look or feel like Wentworth, and this Warden had an amused smile tacked to her lips like she had heard your every thought. And she had. At least you assumed that she did. She’d mentioned her wife earlier, and the woman’s body against your own was plaguing you like a runaway freight train.

When she didn’t say anything, you clawed to fill the silence “I want to talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce? Honey, he’s off world.”

“Off… world.” You laughed, softly at first but then almost manically, tears forming in your eyes that you wiped away with your cold fingers. “No, no, that’s really cool. I worked a 9-5 and now I can’t talk to Bruce because he’s in Outer Space.”

“Maybe not outer space, maybe another dimension.”

You leveled her with a humorless glare. She had both of her hands up as if she wanted to comfort you, or the caged animal you had become. You had to give her credit, she seemed just as horrified as you were. She offered up a dim, faltering smile.

There wasn’t a way for you to process this in a gentle manner, there was no one to guide you through it other than Jenn. She’d done this before, lived a whole life that was flipped upside-down and she’d come out on the other side. It was the uncertainty that scared the hell out of you.

“You were in my head earlier,” You stopped suddenly, pressing your fingers against the glass. The woman didn’t flinch. Your frantic breath fogged with each exhalation. “Do you know why I came back?”

She shook her head, “No. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, you let your hands drop. “At least we’re on the same page.”

The nurse they allowed to enter through the side of the containment unit took cautious steps towards you that made your chest ache. All your life, people had said how welcoming and kind you were; how they were never afraid to come to you with their worries. It had bothered you before the incident, before your death, but now you missed seeing the stare of those who didn’t harbor any fear.

She was small, a mouse of a thing that had pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Her name tag read Julia. Your mind rushed with the paths she’d taken to this place. She must be interning here, much too young to hold a classification herself.

Your finger twitched on your knee, palm sweaty. It’s heat radiated through the thin blue fabric of the pants they’d provided you with. You hated needles, always had. But, you struggled to stay still and the effect that had on poor nurse Julia was making you fidget more.

There was a scent about her. It was under the layers of hairspray, nail polish, and shea butter. It was a sweet metal that made your stomach swirl. Was it her sweat? You’d never smelt anything past walking by the bomb that was the boys locker room, and it certainly had never been this tantalizing before.

Your eyes met hers, crystal blue and uncertain. “You’ll just feel a little pinch”

This is when you pulled your gaze back and instead focused on the cream colored walls. There was no problem with needles, you’d dutifully sit for your flu shots, but something about the sharp edge pushing through a layer of skin and fat before hitting your vein made you nauseous.

“We just need enough to run a few tests.” Julia soothed.

She was a normal nurse in that one, small way. Your mind was itching, blood seeming to congeal. It refused to cooperate and her burning touch was all but dominant against your skin. You both waited for the small tube to fill with black liquid.

Finally, you felt her press the gauze against the crook of your arm and withdraw the needle. Another small pinch and then a massive relief. Her smell hung around you and filled the room. There was an undeniable urge to sink your teeth into her. To taste her.

You’d stopped the elevator just hours before to assess your penchant for brain consumption, but this wasn’t that. This was an intoxicating pull. This was animalistic, the same rush of emotion that had flooded you without prompting during your earlier conversation.

Julia squeezed your shoulder calmly, not entirely over her own reservations, but on the penance that she was a nurse and this was her job. You kept yourself rooted to the bed, fingers digging into the wood. She left the room and you could hear the compressed lock reseal you inside, breathing a sigh of relief.

That sweet odor lingered, and your reaction to it scared you more than anything. The wood beneath your fingertips splintered, and suddenly that anger, that fear, rolled away to shock. That wasn’t… normal. None of this was normal, but you weren’t exactly picked first in sports either.

You were a middle kid, a I guess I wouldn’t mind having you on my team kid. Suddenly your fingers were cutting through wood like it was butter. You let out an indignant squeak and shifted the blanket until the slashes were covered.

“Is everything alright?”

Wanda, you had learned that her name was Wanda, occupied her usual spot in front of the window. A slick sweat covered your forehead. She was holding a small tray that had a steaming bowl of soup and a delicious hunk of French bread.

“I figured you were hungry,” She lifted her chin towards the panel next to your door. “May I?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

And you were, truly. You hadn’t seen anyone but her since you’d woken up. There were shadows of others, people that made the pit in the center of your stomach grow three sizes. You knew exactly what they were doing, you watched enough true crime with Jennifer to know.

Here was this beautiful and powerful woman offering you food and words of comfort, and you allowed yourself to fall for all of it. Listlessly. Because what did you have to lose? You’d already died, and the thought of putting your family through the heartache of resurrection and then possibly enough committal to the ground was too much.

So, let her Stockholm syndrome you. The food smelled divine.

Wanda didn’t hold the same fear that Julia had. In fact, once the compression of air signified that it was okay for her to enter, she did so without hesitation. She set the food down on the equally dull side table and lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, making herself at home.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt that had the outline of SHIELD on its sleeve. You frowned, for a company that does everything in its power to keep itself hidden, they sure loved that stupid bird so much.

“Go on, sweetie. You can eat.”

Wanda had a command about her that made you fold and listen despite any reservations. You took up a spot on the far end of the bed and shoveled the first spoonful into your mouth. An explosion of heady flavors coated your tongue, coaxing a low moan from your lips.

Blush rushed to your cheeks at the spark in the set of stormy eyes that watched you like a hawk. You rushed to break the tension. “So, what’s the plan here? Run a bunch of tests and keep me locked up?”

“Somewhat.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “Y/n, I have the ability to get inside the psyche. Not only can I read every thought, every action, but I can control them too. It’s not something I like to do, nor something I want to. Not without permission.”

You frowned again. You certainly hadn’t given her permission to enter your mind before, and she tensed at the realization. But, you took another bite of soup and swallowed down the spiced broth. What’s done was done. You didn’t expect her to ask, much less admit to her wrongdoing.

“I prefer to ask. Can you tell me what you do for work?”

“Paralegal, the bar seemed like too much stress. But I’m good at my job. I was good at my job before a car turned me into sidewalk art.”

“Right, and your family, what about them?”

There was no desire to think of them and their perfect lives that you’d shattered with your death. Your mother used to sit in the tepid air on the porch swing, downing a glass of wine before she turned to you with tears in her eyes. She’d urge you to be careful working in the city. She’d plead for you to come home. More than anything, she’d utter the phrase a mother should never outlive her daughter.

“My mother is a seventh grade biology teacher and my father runs a painting business that’s been operating my whole life. They’re not very exciting people. They must be worried sick about me.”

Wanda nodded, “Any siblings?”

“Not anymore.”

She stilled at your words and didn’t pry. You were well aware of the fact that she could push through your deflections and learn the information that she wanted to know. But, you respected that she didn’t. Instead, she stared at you, and you stared right back, suddenly not hungry.

Wanda was someone that you felt the need to open-up to. Unlike the brief encounter you had had with her wife. Not that you let that word stick with you, not in the same way that her touch did. Again, you had to push the thoughts to the back of your mind, even if Wanda wasn’t prying.

Instead, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, sending a wave of shivers through your body. You suppressed a whimper at the sudden contact.

“I had a brother named Pietro. He was fast, unnaturally so. Neither of us ever wanted to be heroes, we didn’t think about the future like that. So, when the Avengers, these so-called saviors of the world, recruited us, we knew about the dangers. But it still shocked me when he died. He was my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be fragile like that.”

You stared at her with an amount of tenderness in your eyes that she wasn’t used to from the others. They cared, sure, but in the way that a co-worker would care enough to purchase cut flowers and a ‘sorry for your loss’ card. You were different.

“They’re our protectors.” You swallowed hard, mouth dry “when something drastic happens, it doesn’t seem real.”

“It still doesn’t.”

There was a lapse of silence that pushed memories in your direction. The burning cold weather on the day your own brother had died. You remember the scream that died in your throat and the way you’d knelt in the cracked snow until you couldn’t’ feel your legs or your fingers. It took an EMT with a heated blanket and a horror story about hypothermia to pull you to your feet.

“Jonathan.” You whispered.

She let out a questioning hum, pulling her feet from the floor and making herself more comfortable on the less-than-comfortable bed. “Your brother?”

“My older brother. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he never complained. He was a hockey player and a damn good one too. He’d use the lake behind our house in Jersey to practice and one winter the ice broke underneath him. He drowned, and I was too weak to save him.”

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. You couldn’t read her facial expression. It was a mix of confusion, or sadness, but not pity and that was something you appreciated. You’d had enough pity, just as your family had enough grief without you adding to it.

She opened her mouth to reply, but both of you were startled when three quick knocks shattered the silence. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, stood on the other side. She showed no interest in breeching the containment unit. Instead, she leveled her wife with a dark stare and held up a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” Wanda whispered, giving your leg a settling squeeze.

She left the plate and exited the holding cell. Her words were muffled, but those unripe green eyes that Natasha possessed kept flicking to you nervously. She too, didn’t’ show pity. It was interest and if you were being honest, you thought you saw the smallest spark of fear.

Wanda took the paper from her wife, squinted at something you couldn’t’ see. You felt like you were at a parent teacher conference, just out of bounds of hearing but you could see their body language; the way that Natasha itched to move closer to Wanda, the fingers that the taller woman pressed to her lips, thumb creasing the paper.

Finally, Wanda turned back towards the glass. Natasha met your stare without issue, hitting the intercom on the other side of the cell. It was her who spoke, her raspy voice falling from the speaker.

“In the spirit of transparency, we want to be honest with you about your blood results.”

You stood from the bed, moving to one side of the barrier. They were intimidating like that, standing shoulder to shoulder with a natural beauty. It made you want to shrink. If not for the paper in their hands you would have curled into yourself at the sight.

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

“No, honey.” Wanda shook her head, “Quite the opposite, you’re getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Natasha lifted an eyebrow and pressed the paper against the glass so you could read it. None of it made sense, it was lines of DNA that looked like musical notes. You shook your head, giving her a confused look.

Natasha scoffed, peeling the paper from the surface of glass. Wanda bit her thumbnail nervously. “According to these…You’re Asgardian, Kitten.”

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uyuartik · 3 months

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bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part iii

tags: angst, fluff, arguments, period typical misogyny (of course not from obi wan), just overall wealthy pricks being little shits, the trope of THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, but not really, do you believe in second chances (i don't) (💀), little smut compared to the rest because originally there was no smut in this (but i HAD TO use that idea), REPOST because i fucked up in the first place

a/n: welcome back for the finale!

well, i can't think of anything to say except this has been a blast for me, and i'm so happy that there are those who enjoys this madness as much as i do. hope you like the ending too. thank you all!

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can’t wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three

enjoy!!!

word count: 8.3K

chapter three: fuck it it's fine!

You don’t board that ship. A slight sickness you excuse, then spend your days sulking at home, still covered by the expanse of your lies. It is not totally untrue, though. You did really wake up with a swollen throat, and that put the integrity of your health during the journey at risk, thus with great grief, canceled the plans. Nobody knew that you’d not even mention the symptom on any other day, just requesting some honey tea and hardly noticing it disappear in the morrow. And it exactly worked out as predicted, more so, without leaving its discomfort for remorse. But after that, the hours stretched out each day, like you were living in a different plane where you were not welcomed. Perhaps you actually weren’t, for if you followed your fate, you’d be eating different foods, and walking foreign corridors. In an attempt to run away from that feeling, you try to socialize just a little, attending even the most dull tea parties. Also, your preference of company has to be specialized now, and that proves difficult sometimes.

So, that’s exactly why you indeed sulk at home, even though all your efforts.

But not tonight.

Then again, perhaps you should've.

His presence has nothing to do with it, to be perfectly clear. On the contrary, he makes it a little endurable. The forced small talk and empty eyes you once feared dearly are not the case, even after your last encounter. Of course, there's a little awkwardness, an uncertainty about where the line of intimacy now stands, shadows of anger and disappointment still darkening the atmosphere, but the overall sensation comes down to longing. You both lost a great friendship, cast it aside in a blink, but your souls don't accept this new arrangement that quickly, trying to fall into the familiar rhythm once more each time you feel your walls break. You don't allow it, neither does he. Yet, it is about the only thing that turns this night into a not complete waste of time. Even a pleasant one, you'd dare say.

If it weren't for literally everything else except this.

The hushed little uninformed jokes start during the dinner. It is the lord of the house that says them, to his close circle, barely hanging onto etiquette he had glimpses of. As minutes tick and glasses of wine roll, that glimpse is gone, and even in your seat at the end of the table, you hear him clearly. The pressed lips and masked mimics pretending not to be aware of it soon become apparent on every face, excluding you and Lord Kenobi. You glower the first time another of the guests feels confident enough to make his dirty contribution to the subject. Typical, you try to stay calm, tapping your fingers on the table. The world is filled with the likes of him, and the last thing they deserve is your attention. The reflex doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he sends a sympathetic smile, showing that you’re not alone and accepting this invitation was a most regretful choice. He uses a few retorts to close the deal, let the dinner continue in different matters- or in silence, that would be fantastic indeed, but his smart wit and slight intimidation work only for a couple of minutes. Now it’s your turn to reflect that sad smile, and you do.

The sadness doesn’t come from the circumstances around you all, though. Your heart feels heavy, for not trying better ways to handle that morning. That guilt will haunt you, drag you into the gloomy pit you’ve been in, and maybe, you should stay there for some time, a penance for your mistakes.

After dinner, when the ladies and gentlemen huddle around different interests, you get a chance to cool off. The soft peals of laughter and giggles fill the room, a much more pleasant sound than the roar of men. You get to entertain others with your stories of other cities you’ve been to, and they tell their interesting incidents, and make fun of their husbands, people who deserve, as their commotion spills out of the walls. The topic of their conversation, marriage, diffuses out into your circle in such a way, that once again, you’re restraining yourself, trying to listen to the problems one of the ladies is complaining of, and not to hear the crude comments going on on the other side. You’re stopped from rushing out of your armchair simply out of respect you have for the woman speaking when you pick up your name passing in their remarks. Plus, Kenobi’s words, you don’t flatter me by offending the lady, reach every ear in the room, sharper than a knife. Your cheeks burn with anger, then with gratitude, and at last, out of embarrassment, because how are you going to explain he’s just doing an honorable thing, that it’s his character to defy ill minds when he sees one, and this has little to do with his “pursuit” of you? Your breaths are shallow and quick as you focus on the discourse, and dodge every attempt to pull the subject towards your relations.

Though, the snake doesn’t give up on eating, even his own tail, it seems.

In less than half an hour, a joke about abduction is whispered, and you surge from your armchair, the screeching sound echoing. You murmur what resembles to be an excuse (you’re still deciding whether they are worthy of one), and send one glaring gaze at the group, enough to make one flinch, and walk out.

Out of the entire house.

Lucky for you, this is a night in which you carpooled with another guest, meaning you only have your own feet to carry you away in this pouring rain.

But of course, that’s not enough to deter you.

You take big steps, enforced by your fury. Thus, the house leaves your sight in no time, but not their audacity, still ringing in your ears. Implications about your freedom. Complaints of wive-hood. Humor about how perfectly reasonable is to get rich, by kidnapping a young woman… (Honestly, after all that, you don’t have mercy for them of the panic they might experience when they realize their guest is not refreshing in another room, and have left the estate altogether. Alas, that guest is you.) You string curses at them, the only form of thinking you have in regard, and feel the bulk of emotions resonate with every stomp, even spilling out of your tear ducts. Your dampening body, and the length of the road don’t make it any easier, feeding your frustration. Your only anchor is your self worth, the reason you began this path in the first place, and you desperately hope it will turn the tide in a while.

Though now, the picture you paint with those foul words and wet clothes isn’t exactly the brightest.

It is still among these moods, that Obi Wan catches up to you. You’re not exactly surprised to see him, his carriage closing the twenty minute distance you put between yourself and that damned house with a speed that you think can’t be that good for the horses in the long run. They stop abruptly at your side, and you have all those insults readied if it turns out to be that fucked up man or polite declines if it is indeed Obi Wan.

But, you can’t speak them. The world feels like it freezes, the raindrops slowing down, and carrying away your burdens as they fall to the soil. The small door opens, and Obi Wan rushes out of it, with an expression that is so honest and raw. His fright vanishes at the sight of you, that scared gaze dissolving, eyebrows relaxing… You can actually see his lips move, Thank God. He is totally undisturbed by the downpour, already making his strands stick to his forehead. His hands find yours, and pull you close, almost like an embrace. You look into his eyes, how focused they are on you, as if they could burn you from the inside with their intensity. You have an undeniable urge to kiss him right now, and that has nothing to do with lust, but your wish to undo the last couple of weeks, uphold that strong connection once the two you had. Of course, you don’t, you can’t, thus, you let him lead you inside, and continue towards whatever destination.

Funny, how you feel much calmer doing the thing you thought you wouldn’t. Moreso, you have no woes about it either.

The silence is deafening, but nobody dares to open their mouth, the greatness of the storm of emotions you both are having too heavy on your tongues. He puts his less soggy jacket around your shoulders, you welcome it with a nod. That’s the moment you realize the redness on his knuckles. It’s not hard to guess the scene, and that has your head turned to the floor, processing the entire night. It is also at this moment that you become aware of your fresh tears, still sliding over your cheeks. Even if he notices them, he doesn’t do a thing about it, an indifference you’re grateful for. He just looks out of the window, and contemplates, same as you.

===

The tub filled with hot water doesn’t make you any wetter, but it helps with the temperature. You’re sorry that you exhausted the owners of the inn you had to stay in, (for it was getting impossible to travel in that rain) with this request, but a voice tells you that Obi Wan wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re unbelievably silent as he sorts it all out, staying in your bubble, unintentionally playing the part of the damsel in distress. You listen to his list of requests, for the horses, for three rooms (the best reserved for the lady, he insists), a tub to be prepared for you, and some tea-

“No need.” Your voice is weak, but it is clear. He would’ve protested this answer, but it is the first time you’ve talked after leaving the house, how ironic, and the realization sets deep in both of you. After that, you feel the words pile up on your tongue, but in a blink, you find yourself in a room. Alone.

“So sorry, I thought they gave me this room.” He stands at the door, holding it half open, face turned in the opposite direction.

“Obi Wan.” His gaze hesitantly finds your way again. God, he’s about to kill you with that blues… “Can we talk for a second?”

You name yourself a hypocrite for asking that, in this state, but you can’t breathe with all that untold things if you spend another second without explaining yourself to him, and apologize for all the trouble you’ve caused. And, isn’t this already proof of the trust you have for him, how vulnerable you can be in his presence?

And, there’s nothing he’s not seen before, after all.

He gingerly closes the door, locking it in a swift motion, and makes his way to you. You pull yourself together, and reach for his hand for him to help you out.

“No, stay. Your fingers are still cold.”

You can’t hide the small smile forming on your face as you settle back, careful to keep most of your body underwater. He, ever noble, keeps his eyes straight on your face, which somehow doesn’t help. There’s something about his rolled-up sleeves, the matching three-piece suit down to two for the damp jacket sits behind the chair in your back against the fireplace. His hair is drying up in all defiant shapes, and you have to stop imagining that morning he woke up next to you.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. I- I never intended to cause this big of a mess, and make someone clean up after me. Certainly, not you, of all people. You shouldn’t have tired yourself this much, and I’m sorry for it.”

“You can’t expect me to do nothing.” The sentence begs for a dear to be added in the end, and he has to fight his throat to silence himself. Instead, there’s a kind tug at the corners of his lips.

“You’re right.” You nod. “But the truth is, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed to get out, I just couldn’t sit there pretend I didn’t hear all those nasty comments.”

His fist clenches at the reminder, and you once again spot the bruises settling in on his knuckles, filling with the desire to mention them, but you inevitably decide not to. “That asshole-“

”He was obnoxious since the first hour, and loud, but that doesn't scare me, for thus he has proven himself to be just a foul mouthed man. But, that title started not to cover the extent of it- it was too much and I couldn’t take it anymore. You may say it was obvious from the start, but I tried my best to not evolve this into a thing I would regret afterward. And I succeeded.”

“So you don't even regret ever setting foot in that house?”

A tinge of disgust seizes your face, but only for a moment. Even with all those words echoing in your ear, you don't have hatred in your heart, or any remorse. You're not so quite sure about its reason, nor do you wish to be, avoiding all analysis. Like you don't know the basics already. But the sudden change in your expression tells everything. “I don’t think I can ever regret it. At least, not in its entirety.” You say, hugging your knees and lowering your head. Hot steam no longer hits your skin, you realize in your attempts of distraction.

There's a second of silence in the room, despite the thunderstorm raging outside. You are as cold as in the beginning because of it, and you almost contemplate how good of an idea this conversation was, especially under these circumstances.

“I’d say the same.” Obi Wan speaks, and that's when goosebumps rise on your skin. Your eyes meet his, then flutter away quickly, overwhelmed. Does he mean-

Why is him meaning that any different than yours, huh? Why is it any worse when he says it?

“You should get out of there.” He reaches for a towel, and you shyly stand up, turning your back and pressing your arms around yourself. Nothing he hasn't seen before, right? As the coarse fabric is draped around your shoulders, you can’t help but feel afire, the imprint of his hand around your shoulders for a second lingering way more than it should, creating a tingling sensation.

“Thank you.”

“Well, I must return to my room now.” He folds his hands together, like trying to preserve where they’ve touched, and his eyes still stay respectfully up, causing your heart to lose its rhythm. There has never been a scenario that involved nakedness without… sexual intentions, and clearly, it’s not even crossing your minds right now. Your awareness of it takes up all the space in your mind, tosses every other idea out, and leaves you at the mercy of your soul.

“Obi Wan.” Fuck, the way you call his name, it is bound to weaken him every time. “Can you-” Oh, haven't you demanded enough from him? “I- I would like it if you stayed.”

His mouth hangs open for a second, with a subtle sharp inhale. His fingers tighten around each other, then relax all together, hanging free by his side. “Of course.” For all the words that come to his lips, it’s a most simple answer.

Not that you have any complaints.

You’re filled with another kind of thrill, being this open with your wishes, but having no clue whether they’ll take the night, having no clue where you want the night to go, or how to act in this very moment, half covered. You just know that you prefer him, being in the same chamber as you. You’d prefer to listen to his idle talk or slow breaths, than the silence of the room. You’d prefer him to snore in your bed than to picture him in his own, lying awake. (Because let’s face it, it’d take a while for him to surrender to sleep, if left to his own devices.)

He takes a step towards the armchair, unbuttoning his vest and you come back to your senses, stepping out of the tub in the opposite direction, towards the nightgown the innkeeper gracefully lent to you. It’s slightly large for your body, definitely not tailored for someone close to your size, but if Obi Wan ever heard you commenting on the fact, he’d wholeheartedly claim you still looked like an angel. Since you don’t, he doesn’t too, but it’s obvious in the way he takes in your form, a battle of excess fabric against your movements. He has to bury a groan when your sleeve falls down your shoulder, a simple accident. He knows that shouldn’t have been seen by him, or you didn’t do it on purpose, that tonight is not meant for those activities, and it shouldn’t get him so bothered up, but it fucking does. Does it also make him want to slap himself? Yes.

Walking near the fireplace, you wring the excess water from your hair and run your fingers through the strands before rubbing that towel aggressively, for the fact that it is already soggy enough, and is not gonna do much. You despise sleeping with wet hair, it is an invitation for you to get sick, not to mention that you’ll be sharing the bed, leaving frustrating streaks of wetness on the sheets for them.

“Hey, hey, let me help you.” Is he a little bit scared? The answer is another yes. But he’s not gonna stand there and watch you fight with your hair. He takes the fabric, locating the most usable spots, and slowly massages your strands with them. Objectively, it’s not a lot different in terms of overall results, but it does more than that anyway. Despite the forbidden intimacy, despite the question of “How is he so good at it?”, you’re lulled by the constant movements, the tension in your muscles easing off. He keeps you by the fire longer than you would’ve stayed, and that achievement belongs solely to him. Frankly, he too is not sure how long the two of you could stand like that, or put an end to it. All that matters is that your hair is pleasantly damp, less bothersome, and he did that.

To be honest, with each minute he is in your presence; the task of holding onto his manners, respecting his broken heart, and following your lead is getting harder to manage.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyelids barely held open, and he feels like a juggler, suddenly losing his sense of balance, and dropping one of his props.

“You’re welcome.” Perhaps he was the one to thank, for the pleasure. That’s the second prop, falling down.

Still, it’s obvious how that sentence misses a darling thrown out after it.

You climb the bed, and he follows suit. You both favor the edges of the mattress, and there’s a ridiculous distance between both of your bodies, but you’re both too timid to use it, even at the risk of tumbling down.

Only after the urge to find a better position kicks in that you move, and end up just a little closer, face turned to his side.

He’s already turned to you, eyes closed but definitely not trying to sleep, or relax if nothing. He opens them of course, after you rustled the sheets that hard.

“What if I get sick tomorrow?” Admittedly, that’s a silly question, but the scenario occupies your mind. All the elemental factors are present, and you only have a formal dress on your back. Also, the fact that it would be all your fault, yet you are the one to complain? You hate yourself for saying it out loud.

“Then we would stay ‘til you got better.” His point-of-fact words, softened with his bedtime voice, must be annoying. Must be. It is not. It is the raw truth, straight from his core. You won’t disrespect it, (again). “I would take care of you.”

(Doesn’t he, always?)

A shiver runs down your spine.

(He’d name this place heaven, if it allowed you two to stay together a little longer.)

“Obi Wan.” Whispering, trying your best to break that ugly silence, not to crush under the weight of his words, but more importantly to let him know your truths, the alignment of your soul. “I- I never told you how much I appreciated you. Now just today, but especially today.”

He’s trying so hard not to sound rude, or leave you unanswered, but none of them are good enough. Thankfully, you are not expecting one. Your fingers ghost over his knuckles, afraid to hurt him. he’s not even sure you’re doing that, ‘til you hunch over, and press a small kiss over them.

That’s all the acknowledgment he needs, ever. It wasn’t becoming of a gentleman, obviously, but the situation didn’t require gentleman-cy, too. He has no recollection of how his fist ended up in that man’s eye, except for the exact second it happened, feeling his shirt slide from his other hand as the impact sizzled through his bones, and sent the man to the floor. He found himself in the middle of saying God knows what- he still doesn’t have a single clue, and thinks about the possibility of how they’ll resonate, ‘til it reaches his ears once again.

Though, he has no fear regarding that, or the altercation before it. Nor regret.

“I am honored that our names are spoken together, a testament of our likeness.”

The third prop.

It falls, most obviously, but he doesn’t show it. Not under these circumstances. No matter how you try to avoid the subject of love, or a future, he’s burning for it, burning for you. In that moment, it is settled that it’ll always be that way, forever. You’re absolutely crushing his heart, and maybe even crush yours in the process (for which reasons, he’s never sure), regardless of your intentions pointing otherwise, because he knows you’re pushing through your struggles to speak up, select the appropriate expressions, to honor your past. He’s touched by your effort, as well as your words, oh, your words… This is the only compliment he’ll ever accept, and it’s not even meant to be a compliment. Your voice is already etched into his brain, and there will not go a single day he’s not reminiscing about it.

Thus, with such strong emotions, his every muscle twitched with the desire to pull you closer, wrap his arm around your waist, card his fingers through your cool hair as your lips meet. He wants to kiss you slowly, savor your taste and caress your tongue with his, for the sole purpose of being close to you. You, throwing one leg over him… You, falling asleep in his arms as he gets to bathe in your enchanting scent… The feeling of your warm breath against his neck as you take refuge in there… He’s surprised he doesn’t have to chain himself not to act on any of these images.

(Oh, it very much feels like he has done that anyway)

Yet, it is probably the worst night to do so. It has all been too much, and all this on top of that is a recipe for disaster. A disaster he’s been struck with nonetheless, though, perhaps he can spare you from.

When it comes to you, he has always put his heart before his mind, (but never disregarding the latter part. It is the essential element to keep both of you safe, to never compromise your social statuses, to create the optimum atmosphere for your relationship to flourish (by your own unusual standards)). For the first time, he’s not following that code. Even he can’t imagine the consequences if he doesn’t.

You’re glad that nothing has changed. No response from him, no action. His relaxed expression tells you enough; the calmness of his eyes, his slow breaths and the slight curve of his lips… To be honest, you’re relieved to see your words reach their destination but also set with the urge to prove them. To press down your mouth on his, from which you hope for an answer; to hold his hand without causing any discomfort, or simply hug him for a second, eliminating all space between your bodies like your souls.

Alas, the role of the hypocrite is a part you no longer wish to play, and you’re perfectly willing to hurt yourself by not succumbing to your wishes, and refrain him from further confusion.

“Good night, Obi Wan.” You say, fingers grazing over his for the last time, and curl yourself into a ball.

“Good night, my dearest.”

===

The morning is unlike the previous example.

You wake up to him getting up, so there’s no way for you to know if your bodies drifted closer during the night, but considering the position of your arm, extended way beyond the middle, it is quite possible to assume some physical contact was present.

Considering you two are not facing each other, thus acknowledgment of the situation is not a matter, your embarrassment is half of what it should be.

Though, your cheeks burn brighter each second you can’t peel your eyes off of him, filling up the rest of that cup. Watching him walk around, the movement of each chiseled muscle on his back as he puts his shirt and trousers on quickly highlights another impropriety. He is perfection, even in that drowsy state of the human condition, there’s harmony to his every motion, the slow steps he takes, the way the fabric glides against his skin, the subtle fine arrangements of his fingers to make sure it looks decent, even how he breathes causes him to blend into the room, but also bedazzle it in his grace, make him stand out like a crown jewel, a masterpiece of arts that name the place.

You can only stop your ogling once he leans in and stirs the flames, which were already going strong since they were last fed before you went to sleep- wait, that doesn’t seem possible, did he actually sever his sleep to tend to it?

Is there any other explanation you need?

Your heart may flutter out of your chest after this realization, so you skirt out of the blankets. Of course, the sound draws his attention, and you’re caught, forced to react.

Yet, the unstoppable smile forming on his lips inspires a similar response on yours so easily, so naturally that you don’t feel obligated at all. On the quite contrary, that simple mimic banishes any pretense, showering you with reassurance and bravery, the motivation to act on your own true terms, not society’s or the ones you pressured onto yourself.

“Good morning.” The simultaneous greeting pulls a giggle from both of you, and it is all so small, yet so much. You sway away from his direction, casually reaching for your clothes, hoping he doesn’t notice the tremor of your legs when you shed the nightwear and put the chemise on. Because you know, he’s watching you. Divine justice, perhaps.

“Be careful, Obi Wan, I might start to think you enjoy watching me get dressed too much.” The snarky comment, fighting its way out of your mouth further softens the atmosphere, and it is like the first days of spring after a harsh winter, soothing your souls with relief.

“Guilty as charged.”

You shake your head, consumed by his usual forward banter. A scene taken straight out of your past. You shimmy into your dress instead of coming up with a cleverer response.

“You don’t sound sick.” He says, indicating that he’s been paying attention.

Biting your lip, you turn away. “Actually…”

“Is there something wrong?” He ends up right beside you in a blink, as if the world changed by your unfinished sentence.

Your heart picks up a different rhythm, hands raised in position to tie your ribbon but frozen. “It’s nothing, my throat just feels-”

“Do you want me to call a doctor?”

That was the exact reason why you started with it’s nothing. Alas… “No, it’s probably just my overthinking and coming up with strange sensations.” And if not, it depends on how well you spend tonight, so there’s not much room for intervention. Definitely not in medical terms.

“Pity.” His comment makes you scoff. After that, you can’t reward him with your concerns, can you? It is funny, ugh.

“Let me help.”

Your heart can’t get any rest as the tension simply changes garbs, his fingers trailing over yours and leading a 180° turn, leaving a blazing line along your skin, to tie the ends of your ribbon together. Your arms tentatively fall to your sides, not sure what to do with their freedom. His breaths lick your neck while he attentively, slowly smooths his creation, and you’d probably freak out if you weren’t so focused on the sheer range of his skills.

(Also the mystery of how he comes to acquire it, but it’s only the deep, dark parts of your mind speaking. Moreover, you do not pride yourself in a position to be jealous. You absolutely are, on that tiny level, and no, you’ll never admit it.)

Though, you’re not gonna comment on that, not when your heart threatens to fly out of its cage. The sacredness of the action brings back the echoes of your concerns, not a single one strong enough to overtake you, but the cacophony of them loud enough to occupy the entirety of your capacity.

All that talk of past times… Coupled with a little hesitancy, and how the tables turn…

“T- thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Like he just didn’t flip the dynamic, he carries on with his outfit, tying his cravat. His beautiful hands work expertly, effortlessly, and the result is perfect, even without a mirror, eyes on you the entire time.

“Is it looking fine?”

“Yes.” You meekly answer. It is decent, like he always is. Somehow witnessing that feels as sensual as the previous scene, pulling you further down the whirlpool.

Embarrassed enough already, you busy yourself with your hair, accepting the mess that it is, and decide on a simple bun, as much as possible. The practiced moves bring you some sense of calmness and control, even if the result isn’t perfect. The silence helps too, along with his occupancy of tidying up the room.

“Do you want to have some breakfast?” He asks. God, how does he still sound that cheery?

“No, thank you.” You don’t want to keep your father worrying any longer, and it’s not like you’re going to faint. The memory of your last food in the most unpleasant company is still strong enough to expel any thought of hunger.

That answer may be the clearest thought you’ve ever had this morning, yet it is the one that whispers doubt into his heart. You are silent, turned away from him, and far too engrossed in whatever unnecessary thing you’re doing. Because now, he fears that if the two of you leave this room, this building, all your lives in it will be a part of the history, never to be repeated or worse, mentioned again, lost in the torn pages. The joke about residing here for however long- seems awfully bitter, perfectly demonstrating he’d rather hold on to the possibility than put an end to this.

How could that be love?

Perhaps you were right, accusing him of madness.

That’s the only reason he walks out of the room to prepare the carriages, instead of cocooning the both of you in.

===

“Father!” You wrap your arms around him, who’s standing by the main entrance to your estate, waiting anxiously. He does the same, unaffected by the eyes that watch, the staff, and a mere acquaintance, Lord Kenobi.

Now Obi Wan knows who you got your bravery from.

He stands quietly, hands folded in front of him, not sure what to do but damn sure not to leave. He had plenty of time to think about his madness on the road, and decided it was not anything pathological- it was pure love and desperation for you. Isn’t that the nature of most of your meet-ups? Consoling each other in the positively dreadful situations, and utilizing everything to spend a second more together?

He hears you reassuring him of your well-being, and summarize the thing in pretty understated phrases. Even that makes him stutter over his words in a fit of rage. Obi Wan agrees. You distract him by speaking of the help you’ve gotten from a valiant friend, and that’s how he enters the conversation.

“Good morning, Sir.”

How he keeps it all cool, sharing and shaping his anger, silencing any doubt that may arise in him is a surprise, though he’s called a great negotiator for a reason, right? His work in various cases in court has earned him the title. He’s not overtly a fan of flaunting it. Though, it helps him a great deal in this instance.

At least, enough to have a pleasant exchange in these unpleasant circumstances, and secure permission to talk to you again.

Alone.

It is weird enough as it is already, you and him spending the night at some inn, him casually chatting with your father like his clothes haven’t benefitted from the merits of ironing, not to mention his hair being on the wild side after a slight treatment of rain, and now he is requesting your attention? Not only yours, but your father’s too in extent?

His plans have never been so crystal clear.

“No.” You declare your objection so clearly, in one word as the door closes behind him, giving you the privacy of the room. “No, no, no, no.”

“I haven’t even opened my mouth!” He objects, though it is more of a principal thing, than an actual defense. He knows you’ve worked it all out already. God, could he expect anything less from you? Your watery eyes and trembling hands break his heart into a million pieces, reactions so strong even before he has a chance to utter their cause. He caresses his beard, reevaluating if he should continue-

He can’t live with the consequences if he dares not. He can’t live with what-ifs, or not knowing the reason why you are so repulsed by the idea or would you still feel the same, if he told you about his love for you. Of course, that would require some magic, considering the magnitude and intricacy of it. How is he supposed to put the purest feelings he’s ever had to mere words, the origin of the butterflies caged up in his chest, the wires of his brain getting tangled up whenever you’re not around, and the constant intoxication from the strongest liquor he’s ever consumed? He’d rather die than sober up, and a part of him already recognizes that it’s not a possibility. It is his poison and antidote. There’s not a moment that passes without either of them.

And surely, he has no complaints about it. Never will. It is a brave choice, but what’s braver is this moment.

“No.” You repeat, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Your voice is low albeit steady, as much as it can be.

Because you do not lift your eyes to meet him. “You can’t propose to me, because I can’t refuse it. But I will. Then the whole country will wonder what is so wrong with you, and me, and they will talk about it all the time, for years to come. The whispers will be the first thing that you hear in every room you enter, and you’ll see the mischievous glint in the eyes of every person you meet, them scrutinizing whether those rumors are true. Our reputations will be tarnished forever, and we will hate each other for it.” And you can’t stand that.

You don’t sound like this is the first time you’re putting these words together. In all your distressed state, you sound awfully logical in your own way, so focused on one improbable, insane possibility (damn those reputations, he can never hate you), but devising every little detail.

“Why?” He basically hollers, running a hand through his hair. Why does that potential is the one you envision? “Why can’t you marry me?”

One can only dream that someone outside isn’t listening.

“Because- I don’t know!” You take a desperate step closer, showing him your honesty. You truly can’t quite name your aversions, and isn’t that already enough of a reason to stay away, spare the person you’re facing? “I don’t know how to be a wife! And I am scared. All my life I alienated myself from the idea of a marriage, I methodically dismissed every chance claiming it wasn’t the time, all the way ‘til I would say it was too late. I was content with that idea. Because I love- loved my life the way it is; I get more than I need from my father, and that is to remain unchanged when my brother takes over, and I am free as a bird, unbound by society’s expectations, traveling wherever, wherever and trying new things. I was, I am so happy about it that anything that may alter it I shun from immediately. And now I find myself in a place I never imagined, and I am scared. I don’t know what happens now. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what that future looks like for us.”

He moves towards you, his head tilted sideways in understanding, arms reaching for yours. Finally, finally hearing your justifications, the basis of your attitude, fills him with pride and compassion, and most importantly, gives him an opportunity to help you solve those problems, together. But, you hush him, squeezing his wrists in gentle guidance, with tears streaking across your cheeks. “I just know that I love you. I love you so much that my heart will always feel like a weight in my chest when I’m not with you, like a ship sinking, but never reaching the bottom. And I will continue to love you even if you stop loving me back, but I would rather lose you on my terms than by the burdens a marriage brings.”

“Why do you so believe that a mere contract would change my feelings? Do you think my affections for you are that fragile?”

You frantically shake your head, causing the drops to fall faster. “No, I’m not saying that-“

“Then what?” He snaps, though not because he’s angry. He wants to learn every single reason that’s keeping you away.

“You don’t know what that will do to us.”

“No, I don’t! And I don’t care! It will never change my feelings.” This, he can shout freely. This is the simplest truth for all his remaining days on this earth.

You don’t know that, you want to object. “Obi Wan…” Is the response that comes out of your mouth. “I am not a good bride.”

“No.”There’s acceptance in his tone, a punch to your guts. “You’re the love of life, my companion, my everything.” When he pulls you even closer, and cups your cheeks, you let him. “Haven’t we been through all the struggles a couple could share already? Haven’t I seen all of you, and let you see all of me? Haven’t you claimed my entire soul, and occupied my every single thought? You made me break my rules, and painted a picture I never thought was suited for me- and I came to like that picture very much. In fact, it’s all I ever want my future to look like, with you in it. You, exactly in the way you already are, with all your unsusceptibility to the norms and striking habits. I know that can be scary. I am afraid too. But, anything worth doing starts like this, I know it. And we’ll be the biggest idiots in the world if we let our fear rule us.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, the joyful sound making his breath hitch. It is reflected on his face too, and it is something you’ll hold on to, alongside the tears that begin to form on his eyes. Fortunately, they sit there, despite him kneeling in front of you, his fingers never leaving the bend of your arm, only to follow the route they create, and hold onto both of your hands. “Please, marry me.”

You’re convinced, but your tongue is still tied, so you nod. Your entire upper body shakes with the gesture in seconds, making you look like an overexcited child, on the verge of losing their balance with the restlessness of their legs. You barely feel him kissing your knuckles before he stands up and embraces you, stabilizing both of you in both physical and emotional terms. Let’s be real, if he kissed you instead as he desperately wished to, you’d fall on the floor (and continue there- ‘til somebody discovered the two of you in very indecent terms). His chuckles quickly become your favorite song, you feel blessed as they delight your ears, and make your chest vibrate like his. He revels in the newfound proximity, despite the fact that you’ve been much, much closer in the past. This is new. This is raw love, uncombined with other emotions, strengthened by the absolute truth that you two are meant for each other, and with the promise of you’ll do something about it. He holds you ‘til your sense of balance is restored, for he now has urgent matters he has to attend to. He’ll get to hold you forever soon, and that revelation doesn’t change the herculean feat of letting you go now. He can’t help but wipe the streaks of wetness on your face, though it forms again. He solely doesn’t repeat himself because of the widest grin on your lips. You press yourself to his palm, eyelids closing for a moment, then place a small peck on it.

“I- I’m now gonna go and talk to your father, get the papers right- and find a-” oh, that’s not “a”, he is going to require many others even if he keeps everything minimal, “I’ll be back in three, fuck, four hours, okay?”

“What? No!” You exclaim, almost giving him a heart attack.

“What’s wrong?” His fingers tighten, a slight tremble taking over them. You have to smile to get him to relax once again, and raise your eyebrows wittily, as if he is a fool for not imagining it already, reminding him of your nature.

“I’m only doing this once. I want everything to be right.”

He squints his eyes, grasping your chin. There’s a few seconds of silence, the time it takes for his nerves to settle. When it does, you’re struck by the intensity of his blue irises, the condensed calm before the storm. “So you want to stay as my fiance ‘til the next season starts, in eight months, succumbing to waiting as we get no freedom to ourselves, always in the center stage, enjoying the last of our bachelor states, the lonely nights and beds bigger than you can ever occupy.”

His other hand, wandering across your waist tells you exactly what he implies. While you actually weren’t planning on such a thing, it causes a surge of rush to overtake you, burning you from the inside. Pursing your lips as you free your face from his grip, with a contradicting shaky breath, you say. “I was always fond of winter weddings…”

To this, he laughs, echoing in the room, and you join him.

One can only hope whoever outside listens to this too, this moment of pure joy preserved in one more mind.

===

“I couldn’t be happier to be married to you.” Obi Wan whispers, but the sentence is loud and clear to you, etched into where he takes nest in the crook of your neck, hot breaths burning your skin.

“We’re still not- ngh“ Yes, this is supposed to be the rehearsal, the night before the main event. You two should be at the reception downstairs, among your many relatives and friends and other members of the society, all gathered for tomorrow morning, when these words of yours will be invalid.

Of course, you are further making a hypocrite of yourself by the way you hold onto him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms locked around his shoulders as he burrows his cock into you. It was impossible to wait any further, as you were separated by the whole ordeal of preparations and the watchful eyes. The moment you found a clearing, you two slipped away, cue to now, where your back on the wall as he supports you against it. You didn’t even get one meter away from the door, you could basically reach the knob with a simple extension of your elbow, but in the end, who cares? Who cares when he fills you so deliciously, scratching the itch that has been building for some time, peppering you with all the love in his heart?

Still, your sentence is cut abruptly as he drives his hips faster, rougher- very much an act of pedantry, advising not to get lost in the details. It works, the correction dies on your tongue, though a quite loud moan takes its place. His hand flies to cover your mouth, and your eyes pop open, meeting his. The pressure of his palm against your face almost forces another sound out of you. Fuck, you adore those blue storms, even when they are focused elsewhere, turned to the door as if it can see past behind it, scanning for intruders. You do actually whimper when the danger dissolves, the vibrations running among his bones, and he keeps up his pace, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

However, it is getting harder in terms of balance as he now has one hand to stabilize you, and despite your best efforts, it is quite hard not to slide off of the smooth fabric of his clothes. Remorsefully, you push on his shoulders, and he understands, pulling his cock out of you and burying his mouth on your skin. He stifles a sob in there, the frustration getting the best of him.

“Oh, you definitely had too much wine.” Look at who’s talking, you with those wobbly legs and bitten lips…

“No, I just had too little of you.”

Your heart flaps its wings out of your chest, as it does after his every cheesy compliment. You still cannot figure out how he makes you blush harder with those words, even as he ravages you in the meantime.

You reach for a kiss, it is always a good idea. He hums contently at the touch, grateful at the most basic form of contact. Obi Wan rocks against you unintentionally, and that’s how the unsatiated desire wages war, with desperate groans and roaming hands.

Then, his fingers tighten around your waist, and you find yourself supported against the vanity with your open palms, depositing most of your weight there (thank God, because you couldn’t trust your feet much longer). He pulls your hips back to his. Your back arches in a way that is most complementary to his chest, and fuck, it is a vision.

It literally is.

Fluttering your eyes open for only a second (that was your intention at least), you’re struck down with the image of the two of you in the mirror, faces contorted in the prettiest way that is possible in this dirty position, heavy lids and open mouths, fingertips whitened by the strong grasp you have on each other, the matching colors of your outfits…

Yes, even with that detail, you’re still on his side, agreeing you’d be idiots if you weren’t doing this.

Deciding to take the sight from its direct source, you turn your head to the side a little, looking at the adonis of a man you’ll soon call your husband, with his neatly trimmed beard and prominent cheekbones and long eyelashes you are slightly jealous of and so much more…

He meets your gaze, breathless with similar thoughts, that little tug on the corner of his mouth telling you all you need to know, but then he nudges your face to its previous state by a small clasp of your chin, and you’re watching him through the reflection, leaning forward when he starts to fumble with your skirt once again.

The moan that leaves you is totally incapable of being unobscured as he enters you anew. The change in the angle along with the visual stimulation has you teetering on the edge quite easily, like him, but he denies it, maintaining slow movements and choking out any noise that dares to leave him.

Of course, all is impeded when the door is knocked-

“Occupied!”

Your voices are synchronized, high and tight. The clock stops for a moment for your bodies, as if the stationary status makes it any less scandalous, and both of you fixated on the doorknob.

It never turns. Never.

Still, the dilated pupils remain a little longer, joined over the mirror, with big puffs of breath and shaking hands.

“Do you think they-“ There’s not an exact word that you can find to explain what has just occurred, but the sentiment is clear.

“Probably.” And the answer too is just as clear.

Well, the only thing lost is the trivial achievement of never being discovered before the wedding.

A wedding which is hours away.

So, you push back, wiggling your hips. His unrestricted sound is all you need to regain your spirits back, and you do it once more. Just like that, the wheels are turning.

“You realize there’s a bed behind us, right?” He asks as he slowly thrusts into you.

“Yes, but I like the view better here.”

#star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi wan kenobi smut #obi wan kenobi fluff #obi wan kenobi angst

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kivaember · 2 months

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Slides in to say that if you ever do write anything on the scenes that don't' fit, that're about the world around them, would be 10/10 down to read!! The worldbuilding you've put in your fics is super fascinating (still thinking about the eternally moving and rebuilding earth) and being able to see others' visions of what that world is like is \o/\o/\o/!!

I am always down to ramble about the worldbuilding in APV!!! If you have any pressing questions about specific things, just let me know, and I will write an essay about it (I am not joking...) Literally, I had so much fun doing the worldbuilding for APV and how it all ties together... I'm surprised not many people had questions about the UEG and the like yet (I am making a wiki page about them tho bc... complicated earth-centric politics....)

BUT!!! Since you mentioned it and it only really got a passing mention in decoding: let's talk about Earth in APV and how fucked it is!!!!

The tl;dr is this: space colonisation was pushed pretty aggressively before they'd even fully ironed out the kinks in the whole, colonising a whole ass planet that humans didn't evolve to live on. There were lots of failed colonies for a while, but this was deemed a necessary evil as Earth was completely fucked. After numerous wars, a runaway climate, and even suffering from a cataclysmic meteor event, Earth was basically on the verge of total collapse. Essentially it was less imperial expansion and more like humanity fleeing their homeworld in an effort to survive, like, shooting out long-distance colony ships in random directions level of desperate.

(One of these colony ships hit the jackpot that is Rubicon, since that planet was near identical to Earth in terms of atmosphere and compatible ecosystem, so colonisation there was a cakewalk and resulted in Rubicon becoming a very successful colony very rapidly, but that's its whole own essay)

Anyway they had just enough colonies that survived for Earth to progress onto the next stage: RESOURCE EXTRACTION.

The purpose of the colonies wasn't to make new homes, it was to land on planets that had the raw resources they needed, or the capability to become bread baskets. Once they had been set up, the worker bees proceeded to produce the resources they needed to ship it back to Earth. To ensure no one got any smart ideas like "hmm why should we do this... shouldn't we just... abandon earth and start over in this system?" they ensured that these industrial colonies were was uncomfortable as possible. You could survive there, yeah, but you couldn't really live there in any capacity.

This right was reserved for the solar system. Earth gov was pretty adamant in building up a kind of mythological status about the solar colonies, how life there was so amazing and great, and that if you!!! you the worker on this backwater industrial colony!!! produced enough and was obedient enough and was well behaved enough, you could get the chance to promote to a solar system worker, and live on one of the many luxurious colonies there!!!!

(it's all a lie of course)

But Earth is fucked, right? Well, yeah! But not everyone knows this! By this point a few centuries had trundled by, the while the colonies on Mars and Jupiter's moons have been spruced up to be very nice and gentrified and all that jazz, Earth has been busy with their 'Rejuvenated Cities'. Most people's introduction to Earth as well is by progressing through the solar colonies, which get nicer and more lavish the closer you get. So by the time they're at Mars their expectations are high.

However. Earth's biosphere is completely fucked. Most of the landmasses are wastelands, covered in derelict ruins and the air choked with pollution. Destructive supercell storms are common, and majority of flora and fauna are extinct. Any attempts to rebuild cities is more like a race against time, as eventually the pocket of stable climate they'd build in would collapse, and destroy whatever city they had built there. But Earth is their homeworld, and they spent centuries feeding propaganda about how it's the paradisical homeworld of humanity, so they made the most expensive and wasteful con in human history.

Rejuvenated cities are built where they estimate the climate would be stable for like. a good century or so. They've prefabbed the plans for these cities at this point. A good decade or two and they've built the solid core of the city, and encourage people to start moving out of the old ones. As people move in, they continue expanding it out, and the old city is gradually left abandoned. Earth, of course, is very strict about who gets to move.

Earth citizens are ranked by tiers: Platinum, Gold, Silver and Bronze. You then have the workers who aren't actually citizens, but they can work towards citizenships in very certain and rare circumstances (and even then, only achieve a bronze citizenship). When the Big Move happens, Platinum, Gold and Silver are automatically approved. Bronze, however, are picked, and if you weren't lucky, well, you have to stay in the old city and figure something out (which is basically a death sentence, so most become a worker, because then you will be allowed to move into the new city.... underneath it specifically... getting worked to the bone until you earn the "right" to become a bronze level citizen again, but it's better than being abandoned to survive out in the deadly wastes).

It's just a big scam. Everyone wants to win the luxury of living in Earth's Rejuvenated cities, because once you're in there you want for nothing. You're in paradise, so long as you toe the party line and don't make any trouble - and you don't want to make trouble. You don't want your citizenship takenaway and for you to become a worker. Just ignore the big high walls and the odd smell that drifts on the wind from time to time, and how you can never leave the city unless you want to find yourself on a desolate wasteland where the planet is essentially dead but kept on life support, just so that the people in charge can continue to cling to power, demanding endless resources from their extrasolar colonies and ruthlessly crushing any that start wising up and trying to make a new life for themselves away from Earth. The moment people realise that Earth is just a husk and that society was structured for the many to benefit the very few, the whole system would fall apart and the colonies would try to fracture off into their own nations.

(Genuinely, if the Fires never happened, Rubicon would've eventually come into conflict with Earth, because it had broken away, it did make a new home for itself, Earth had to negotiate and simper and grovel at its feet for its lauded Coral technology, shifting the balance of power and making people question why they should go to Earth when it's so much easier to go to Rubicon... makes you wonder how that war would've shaken out: Rubicon with its C-weapons and other advanced technology, or Earth and its zerg-rush style tactics of endless waves of troops, no matter how poorly armed... true quality vs quantity match up, that.)

Uhhh anyway i rambled way too long about that but yes ;;w;; worldbuilding!!!! i love it... if you have any questions about anything else, lmk...!

#armored core ramblings #this is also why rubiconians are very insistent on calling themselves rubiconians #rather than humans which is smth considered very earth-centric #they drew a line in the sand and decided they were a distinctly separate people #and they're half-right really #after centuries of living on rubicon they assimilated pretty well with the ecosystem there #specifically the coral that had a symbiotic relationship with every living thing on that planet...#well before they started using it for fuel but #well

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whovianwatchingstartrek · 7 months

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A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 064 - Return of the Andorians

Star Trek: Enterprise - Season 3 Episode 13 - Proving Ground

This episode opened with a "Previously on" segment which seemed to cover most of the arc so far, so I'm guessing this is supposed to be the culmination of all of the bio-weapon stuff?

After than, however, we go back to our Blue Boys, Shran and Gang! Apparently their looking for The Enterprise in the Expanse, for reasons unknown.

We're then treated to the Xindi council planning their final tests. The weapon can be deployed in approximately a month. Meanwhile, Enterprise has found where it's being constructed, so things really are coming together. As they approach however, the ship is hit with an absolutely huge anomaly, the biggest on we've seen yet. Luckily, we're saved from the ship absolutely being torn apart by Shran. And can I just say, I loved this specific shot. It's such a funny stupid little way to reveal who saved Enterprise. I had rewind to watch it like four times.

Shran brings up a really good point that the Vulcans aren't helping out, the galactic community at wide has more or less ignored the attack on Earth. Shran's been shown to be good so far, so I wasn't expecting any ulterior motives, and it's certainly nice to have a familiar face around the Expanse. T'Pol even gives us a bit of backstory into why the Vulcans and Andorians hate eachother, and yeah, it involves being little scheming shits, but Shran has definitely proven himself before.

With the help of the Andorians, the repairs are going really quickly, but during repairs, The Two ships find one of the weapon's testing site. Running in guns blazing isn't an option, so Archer suggests taking a more stealthy approach, to see what we're dealing with.

We got a really nice scene where Shran and Trip talked about losses to War, Shran who, apparently, lost his older brother in a border skirmish and Trip who, as we know, lost his Sister in the attack on Earth.

Shran pretending to be a mining ship in order to get scans of the weapon was great. He got really into character, it was fun.

From a safe distance, we get to see the weapon in use, and it tears open the crust, but it's not the Death Star the Council wants.

After a brief argument between Archer and Shran, we find out Shran is under orders relating to the weapon, of an Andorian General, but is clearly conflicted about following whatever those orders are.

Ultimately he follows those orders however, and takes the weapon back to Andorian command. Apparently the Andorians are planning to use it as a deterrent against the Vulcans

The final stand off between Archer and Shran was excellent, and with the weapon destroyed, the Xindi wont be able to figure out what went wrong with it.

This episode was alright. Nothing special. It was nice seeing the Andorians again, but I'm definitely enjoying the side episodes this season a lot more than the main plot episodes, they just don't give me much to talk about beyond a plot summary.

#whovian watching star trek #star trek #star trek enterprise #star trek ent #star trek: enterprise #enterprise #ent

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missno-0ne · 2 years

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SEA FOAM Chap. 1~ Steven Grant x F!Demigod!reader.

❥ Masterlist Summary: After being fired from her latest job and nearly being expelled from university, the daughter of Poseidon has recently moved to London to try and live a somewhat normal life. However, things never turn out quite how she expects them to be when she runs into a certain museum gift shop clerk.

Warnings: Language, violence, slight gore, crossover (if that counts? please let me know if I missed anything at all.)

*Sorry, that was so bad I'm the worst when it comes to summaries* *and apologies if this is a bit OOC, I literally haven't written in a year.*

Word Count: 3k+

Rounding the corner, breathing ragged, I reached for the small compact in my pocket. Feeling a hand grasp my arm, “This way!”

I quickly open the compact revealing a bronze shield with the same dancing and swirling patterns circling the front, the leather strap biting into my arm from how tightly I grip it against me. I can hear Steven gasp behind me, just as the creature before us launches forward biting at my shield…

☆:☆

My eyes scanned the airport in sheer boredom as a man scanned my boarding pass and gestured for me to move forward. I walked forward and started looking for baggage check. Moving was a real hassle, although I suppose I should be used to it, seeing as though I moved every year when I was still in school. But moving to another country? That was a real pain. It was a year-long journey to successfully move to the United Kingdom, or should I say England? There were so many precursors to moving; getting a passport, a job, (after being let go), getting a work visa, taking a leave of absence from college, then finding a place to stay, and finally shipping my stuff across the ocean.

To be honest, I was more full of dread than excitement, I never did well on planes. I shuddered thinking of the last time I was forced to board one, and quickly made my way to sit down. Surprisingly, there were only a couple of other people sitting at the gate when I sat down. I felt the chill of air rushing past me as someone ran across the linoleum, their clothes in disarray, carrying nothing but a briefcase. I opened my laptop and checked my email, nothing much other than past assignments and job application follow-ups. My lips pursed as a ‘ding’ reached my ears. I looked down at my phone and felt a chill, and my arms were covered in goosebumps. It was from my mother. I tentatively clicked the notification and read;

Hey just wanted to let you know your things are shipping out today, Aleta dropped by, she left a pamphlet, do you want me to mail it with your stuff?

I frowned and responded,

No, you can just throw it out, gods know she’ll find my new address and send more.

I hit send and decided to stare out the window at the tarmac for the rest of the wait.

☆:☆

I jolted in my seat as someone started announcing the flight boarding order and stood to get in line.

I shifted my bag from shoulder to shoulder and screamed at myself for having packed so much.

My eyes scan the aisle and I find my seat easily enough, although my anxiety is through the roof, just sitting here. I check my seatbelt at least ten times and pray nothing eventful will happen this time around. I lean back in my seat and listen to the pilot and attendants go over safety measures and slide in my earbuds.

And despite my caution, I feel my eyes fall shut and drift to sleep.

☆:☆

When I awake, the world is falling, no, I’m falling! I look around only to find that the cabin is gone and there is nothing but the sea below me. My stomach lurches, I’ve been here before, I think to myself, as my body hurls downward. I am about to hit the surface before my body stops, hovering just above the blue expanse, and a voice rings in my ear, I feel it reverberating through my body,

Do NOT make this attempt again, girl, I have no patience for rule-breakers.

☆:☆

I gasp as I shoot up in my seat, cold sweat on my brow, the other passengers look at me warily. I smile nervously as I sit back, only to notice that the plane has landed. I sheepishly grab my things and exit the plane, my body shaking, bile once again rising in the back of my throat.

I walk as quickly as I can to the exit and hail a cab. A friendly man with a wide smile asks me where I’m headed and I relate to him the address.

☆:☆

I quickly open the door to my new apartment and slam it shut behind me, gasping for air. Who knew it would start raining that quickly? Although I suppose I should have checked the weather before I left.

The room is pitch black as I feel the walls for a light switch. I flick it on and brace my eyes as the lights come on. This seems to be the living room, its hardwood floors, and white walls, although the one at the back is brick I note. There is a small fireplace that looks like it hasn’t seen a flame in over a century, and a small window with a seat next to the door. I smile as I see a small vase with narcissus flowers sitting on the ledge, a gift from the realtor maybe. I wander into the kitchen, which is essentially a part of the living room, the only thing separating the two being wood-to-tile flooring. I set my bag down on the island and walk through a short hallway in which there are three doors. One a bright cherry red, at the end of the hall, the one on the left a bright lilac, and on the right a deep forest green. I open the red door to reveal the bedroom, the lilac is the bathroom and the forest green ends up being a small closet. I smile when I notice the walls are a bright canary yellow. To be honest, I kind of like it, even if it is a bit strange.

My phone beeps and it's my mom, wanting to know if I got here safe, I send back a quick

‘Yep, heading to bed now, goodnight.’

It must be late over there because she doesn’t respond right away. I scroll through my email for a bit before my phone beeps again, this time it's my little brother, asking if I’m here yet. I smile and shoot back a quick ‘yep heading to bed now though, I’ll call tomorrow,’ but before I can hit send, he sends another text,

‘Aleta’s already bugging me about you, so you’ll probably get some more pamphlets in the mail.”

I frown, Aleta is my best friend, however, she could be a bit overbearing. And by a bit overbearing, I mean handing me a pamphlet, or talking nonstop about the group she joined a while ago, I blank on the name even though I’ve heard it a billion times, every time we’re together. It’s starting to get old.

I grab my bag and quickly look through it, hoping the compact I had was still in there somewhere.

“Aha!” I shout, clasping it in my hands, its bronze surface gleaming in the kitchen light. I look at the weaving patterns and figures wrapped around the side and I remember that summer. It wasn’t all bad I guess, I did get this out of it. Placing it in my work bag, I sigh and look out the window of my new bedroom. I’ll have to get curtains later, I think as I make a note on my phone. After grabbing my blanket from my bag I settle down on the floor and try to sleep.

The morning sun bears down on me as my alarm echoes across the room. I sit up and rub my eyes, look at my phone and-

“Oh shit! I’m late!”

I run to the bathroom, quickly brushing my teeth and washing my face, no time for a shower, although my hair could use a wash. I almost kill myself changing, slipping and sliding into my pants, and nearly giving myself a black eye on the bathroom doorknob.

I do a mental checklist before going out the door; keys, check, bag, check, wallet, check, laptop, check, phone check. Check check check, and I’m out the door.

After nearly missing the bus, I slide down into an empty seat and let out a sigh of relief. Great, just great, late on my first day, although, I should have seen it coming. My eyes snap open as the bus comes to a halt, and the doors swing open. The driver waits a few minutes before starting to close the door at the same time a man comes running toward us.

“Wait! Wait!” He cries out as he narrowly misses the closing doors. Panting, he walks through the aisle and stops across from me, "Is this seat taken?"

I shake my head and gestured for him to take the seat. He gives a nervous smile back and sits down, wiping his brow before the bus lurches forward.

☆: ☆

The bus comes to a stop and I start to walk towards the doors, glancing out the window at the building of my new job. I practically sprint to the doors but make sure to hold the door for the person behind me. A security guard greets me and a woman clears her throat.

“Late on your first day, are you?” She says shaking her head.

My face burns as I apologize profusely, “I am so sorry, I missed my alarm this morning, it must be the jetlag!” I say, scratching my head, my eyes burning a hole in the ground, wishing I was anywhere but there. “Well, nothing you can do about it now,” She huffed, turning and walking briskly beckoning me to follow. I walked quickly after her, my face ablaze.

“Now, seeing as you’re a new hire, tour guide right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I said as we walked into what looked like a storage room.

“You can keep your things back here then,” she says gesturing to a set of lockers.

I nod and open a locker, carefully placing my things inside, and taking a deep breath, my heart racing. Please don’t mess up today, please don’t mess up. Don’t set anything on fire, flood the bathroom, or summon a hydra.

“Well, I’ll call over one of our other tour guides and have them show you the ropes, just wait here.”

As the woman left, I stared down at a table with boxes upon boxes, filled with, merchandise? I stepped closer to the table and smiled a bit when I saw a small keychain of a pyramid? I hummed to myself and entertained sending one to Aleta. She’d love it, at least I think, she had been a history major. My thoughts are interrupted as the door swings open, the woman from before, another woman, and a man walk into the room. I smile and back away from the boxes, setting down the keychain.

The doors open again revealing the woman from before, another woman, and a man who looks a bit familiar. I give them a nervous smile and wave, they wave in return.

Donna, I think her name was, introduced the tour guide I'll be shadowing for the day, "This is Kara she’ll be showing you the ropes today,” she paused in thought, “Oh! Don’t forget to clock in, and Stevie,” she gestured to the man at the end of the room, “you’re on inventory again!”

"It’s Steven,” He nodded before starting to move the boxes around on the table.

“And this is the new hire, just so you know,” the woman gestured to me. my lips turned up into a small smile, and he waved back as I turned to Kara.

“Well, shall we get going then?” she said, walking through the door, leaving me to follow.

☆: ☆

After hours of touring the museum with Kara, taking notes while she spoke about each exhibit and answered questions, it was time to clock out and go home. I walked down the stairs and opened the door to the storage room I think it was. I ran my fingers through my hair as I walked toward the lockers. Grabbing my bag and keys I turned on my heel to leave when I noticed the man from before, Steven I think he said his name was? Still scanning the last few boxes left on the table.

"Hey, are you heading out soon?" I blurted out, without thinking, of course, my face heating up.

I must have startled him because he nearly dropped the scanner when he turned to me, "Oh, yeah, after these last few boxes."

And oh would you look at that, my brain's stopped working, I think to myself before more words come tumbling out of my mouth, "Um, I could be totally wrong but, did we take the same bus today? Not the same stop of course! I just thought I'd seen you somewhere and well, I think it was the bus? Sorry, I'm being weird."

I burn another hole into the ground, and I hope, maybe I'll burn it all the way to the Underworld.

"Oh, right, yeah, I thought you looked familiar too, but I didn't want to say anything," he murmured, eyes falling to his shoes.

"Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to catch the last bus with me?" I ask tentatively, wringing my hands behind my back.

"I- that would be alright with me I suppose," he says eyes now on the last two boxes on the table, "I just need to finish these up first."

"Oh, yeah I'll just wait over here then," my lips form into a nervous smile as I take a seat on the steps leading up the basement to the main floor.

☆: ☆

After Steven finished the last few boxes we made our way to the exit, walking and talking a bit about work, which led to discussing various hobbies we had. I learned that he was extremely knowledgeable when it came to Egyptian mythology and the history of ancient Egypt. Along with the gods of course.

"Wow, you know so much," I said boarding the bus after him and then taking a seat across from him. The bus was practically empty, except for a lone elderly woman sitting a few seats down. I turned my attention back to Steven as he rambled on about the gods of ancient Egypt.

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry, I've been rambling on this whole time and you haven't even gotten a chance to speak!"

I shrug my shoulder, "It's alright! I don't mind. And, if I'm being honest, I could listen to you ramble on for hours, you're so," I pause searching for the right words, "interesting."

"Oh, I don't think so," he replied his hair falling in his eyes.

"No, no! I'm serious. I never really thought about it before, but the gods of ancient Egypt are interesting. You're definitely great at explaining everything too," I shrug again, as the bus slows to a stop.

The driver announces the stop and I stand to leave, "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Right, yeah I'll see you tomorrow then," Steven says as I wave goodbye, noticing the older woman walking down the aisle.

I let her pass and then exit the bus with one last wave, and begin the walk back to my apartment. Or I would have, had a claw not ripped into my upper arm. I fall forward dropping my bag, head almost slamming into the concrete before I'm lifted into the air.

I hear a snarl and come face to face with... a lion? With three heads... One of a snake, a goat, and of course a lion. It lunges at me, its large paw swiping across my abdomen as I unclasp my necklace. I can feel it materializing in my hand, the smooth wood cool against my sweaty palms, bronze tip shining dimly in the light of the street lamp. I jump back nearly tripping over my bag. It charges, I stab at it with my spear, connecting with its side, my spear is batted away, and run. I look back and see it chasing after me, I keep running when I see an alleyway. I make a sharp left and hear it clamoring after me, its claws scraping against the brick walls and dumpsters. I make another turn and face a wall, a dead end.

I turn around and find it staring me down, the lion's head growling. It lunges and I dodge just in time, as a column of flame nearly burns me alive.

"Wow, you breathe fire too? I am so not going in tomorrow," if I make it out here alive, I think to myself as I strike at it.

I continue striking, but it keeps batting my spear away as if it's a stick. I swing again and this time connect with the lion's eyes. It howls in pain and the head of the snake lunges at me, but I bring my spear up just in time. It connects with the head and I tear it loose, the creature retreating from the alley. I lunge at it again, and another column of flames comes from its mouth, and this time I'm not lucky enough to dodge it.

☆: ☆

The pain is excruciating. I look at the burns that cover my arms, legs torso, and a bit of my face. I reach into my bag, which I thankfully managed to recover and search through it. I find the unbroken bottles of nectar and ambrosia, I slowly take a drink and smile at the taste, but not for long. Glancing at the clock on my nightstand, it reads 4:30:AM. I could scream, and I do.

I grip my hair and throw myself into my newly acquired mattress face first. Guess I'm not getting any sleep tonight. I sigh and close my eyes listening to the rain falling against the windowpane.

☆: ☆

I groan in frustration as I hear a loud beeping noise interrupt my dreamless sleep. I turn over and try to ignore it, but it won't stop. I sit up and rub my eyes, looking around I see that my alarm clock is the source of the noise. I go to turn it off when I see the time. "Fuck. It's eight-thirty."

Running down the street I stop when I see a bus coming toward the stop. I run to it, throwing myself through the door, handing the driver my change. I grab onto a handle just as the bus lurches forward, almost falling on my face.

☆: ☆

"You're late," a voice rings out as I step past security, "Again."

I look up at Donna and force a smile. "Yeah, the battery in my alarm clock died last night."

She turns, "Well, set one on your phone next time you're an hour late so you can help with inventory tonight."

I let out a deep sigh as she walks off, leaving me with my thoughts., as I go to put away my things. As I push open the doors to inventory and put away my bag, and go to start my first tour of the day.

I like to think it went well, albeit I forgot my flashcards and answered stared out into space a bit too much, lost in my thoughts of what happened last night, trying to remember everything about the creature that attacked me. The second tour, however, did not go well. In the slightest, and it must be written all over my face when I push open the door to inventor because Steven is asking if something is the matter. I sigh before plopping in a chair and hold my head in my hands.

"No, it's nothing," I say grabbing a scanner and a sphynx shaped keychain bringing it up for closer inspection.

I reach across the table for another box and suddenly he's right beside my hand hovering over my arm, where there is a now particularly bloody bandage. "What happened to your arm? Let me go grab the first aid!"

Shit! I pull my arm closer for inspection and start to unravel the bandage. In my rush this morning I forget to take it off. Steven is back now gingerly holding my arm examing it.

"It's healed?" He asked letting my arm drop in confusion.

I sigh, I'm seriously not ready to deal with this again. "It's fine, I burned it a while ago and then it got caught on something last night. It's just a scratch it's fine," I try to reassure, a nervous smile coming over my lips.

"Oh, alright."

I hear him sigh in relief, picking up his scanner again.

----

If anyone is interested in beta reading the next chapter or future chapters, feel free to let me know! Any constructive criticism is welcome. Thank you so much for reading!

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@preciousbabypeter

@lillycore

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cherry-bomb-ships · 1 year

Text

A Happy Ending

Word Count: 2,266

Content Warnings: None

Summary: Ruby tells her daughter, Olivia, a bedtime story that's not entirely a fairy tale.

Author's Note: I just wanted to write something quick and fluffy for the anniversary, so I threw this together in the span of like 5 hours. Also, this is the first time my fankid with Junkrat has been in a fic! Please enjoy! :3

Tag list below the cut. Click here or DM me to be added or removed. Reblogs are all seen and appreciated!

@ava-ships @bee-ships @beetleboyfriend @bonbonships @canongf @cloudyvoid @canonjunto @discountwife @dissonantyote @edencantstopfallininlove @final-catboy @gible-love-nibles @gothamcore @halsdaisy @hoppinkiss @hop-n-bedes-malewife @hyperionshipping @iyamifucker @lex-n-weegie @little-miss-selfships @little-shiny-sharpies @loogi-selfships @lovebugexe @mikaelrealman @mintpecks @mrs-kelly @nameless-self-inserts @nerdstreak @paper-carnation @patches-and-her-selfships @poghorn @radioromantic @red-velvet-ships @rexscanonwife @ship-trek @squips-ship @sunnysideships @toogayforthistoday @void-kissed @winterworlds

There was a full moon that night. It shone brightly over the countryside, piercing the mist among the stems of tall grass and the petals of wildflowers that blanketed the rolling hills, transforming the expanse of nature into a glittering oasis. Nestled deep within the prairie was a humble home, built from the ground up to have and hold an unorthodox but deeply-bonded family of four.

And it was within this sleepy home, hidden away from the world, where young Olivia Fawkes-Ramirez was being tucked into bed for the night.

"There we go," her parent Ruby cooed gently as she tucked the pastel yellow blanket under the mattress, knowing that her daughter slept best feeling a bit compressed under her covers. "You ready for lights out, jellybean?"

Olivia paused for a moment and looked up at Ruby with her wide hazel eyes; Ruby could already tell that that meant no, but she also knew that Olivia had a tendency to be too shy to ask directly for what she wanted.

"You know you have to give me the okay, Livvie," Ruby said. "If you don't say anything, then I can't go, and I'll just be here staring at you all night."

Olivia let out a weak giggle, but still didn't speak up.

Ruby continued, "That's gonna be very awkward for both of us, babygirl. And I don't think you're gonna get a lot of sleep like that."

Clutching her favorite stuffed animal- a piglet covered in polka dots- in her arms, Olivia looked to the side as she mumbled, "I miss Daddy and Uncle Mako."

Ruby's heart nearly cracked in two when she heard those quiet words, but she kept a brave face as she reached out to stroke her soft blonde hair. "Oh, I know, chickadee. I miss them too. But hey," she gently placed a finger under her chin to angle her daughter's face towards her, "when you wake up tomorrow, both Daddy and Uncle Mako will be back home, and I'm sure they'll have a present for you like they always do. So if you fall asleep quick, they’ll be here before you know it."

Olivia smiled a bit, but it was clear to see on her face that she was still a bit upset. Ruby thought for a second, brainstorming how to send her child off to sleep with happier thoughts in her young mind.

“How about this, Livvie,” Ruby proposed. “I can read you another story, but then you have to go right to bed. Does that sound like a deal?”

Olivia looked to the side again, pondering the proposal carefully, before looking back to her parent and nodding her head. At that approving nod, Ruby moved toward the bookshelf, when she heard another small noise of protest and looked back to Olivia.

“Umm, mumma… do you think you could tell me a brand new story? I heard all of those ones on my shelf before,” Olivia asked.

A soft smile spread across Ruby’s lips as she immediately took the request in stride. “A brand new story, huh?” she said as she sat back down on the edge of the bed, already thinking of a concept.

Olivia nodded happily, a smile finally returning to her face. “Yeah, and then I’ll go right to bed, I promise!”

Ruby smiled back endearingly. “Now that sounds like a good deal,” she joked, before looking down thoughtfully. “Okay, a new story… Alright, I think I’ve got something. You ready, jellybean?”

Once more, Olivia shook her head in approval and let out a soft “yep” as she sat up, eagerly awaiting her story.

“Alright, here goes,” Ruby began. “Once upon a time… there was a knight. This knight was sent far away from the kingdom that they called home, to protect a small island out in the middle of the ocean. Now, this island didn’t have any treasure or anything on it that made it special. It was just a simple little island, with palm trees and white sandy beaches. There were times when the knight even questioned why they needed to protect it in the first place. But they were a good knight, who wanted to make their king happy, so they devoted themself to protecting the island with their life.

“Many days and nights passed by, and no one, good or bad, came to the tiny island. The knight was starting to get bored, wondering why they were sent there when it seemed like no one would ever show up. But then, one day, someone finally came to the island.”

Olivia was listening to the story unfold with wide eyes, already captivated. “Who was it, mumma?”

Ruby’s smile grew wider, relieved that her improvised story wasn’t a bore. “It was… a pirate! And this pirate was known around the world for being ruthless, dangerous, and altogether just plain mean. When the knight saw the pirate, they got very excited, because they thought that they could bring the pirate back to their king and be called a hero! So, right as the pirate was getting off their little boat they brought to the island, the knight stepped forward.

Ruby put on a theatrical voice, imitating an old-timey English accent. “‘Stop right there!’ the knight said. ‘You’re under arrest, pirate, for stealing treasure from across the seven seas!’

“The pirate was caught off guard. He hadn’t expected anyone else to be on that tiny island. But even more than that, he thought that the knight in front of him was more beautiful than any of the glittering gems he’d ever stolen. ‘Pardon me, good knight,’ the pirate said back politely. ‘I’m just tired from traveling, and would like to rest here on your island. In the morning, I’ll be gone again.’

“Now the knight was shocked too. After all of the stories they had heard about this pirate being so awful, they couldn’t believe how friendly he was acting to them. Still, they didn’t let that distract them. The knight told the pirate, ‘you may rest here for the night. But in the morning, you must come with me back to my kingdom.’ And to the knight’s surprise, the pirate agreed. The two of them would set off across the ocean when the sun rose over the horizon.

“That night, the knight and the pirate laid on the beach together. The knight didn’t want the pirate to leave their sight, just in case he tried to escape. But for the entire night, the two of them just talked. The knight got to hear about all of the pirate’s exciting adventures all around the world, and the pirate heard about the knight’s life alone on the island, and for the first time in a long time, the knight was talking, and laughing, and smiling. They felt like they finally had a friend. But that was silly, because pirates are bad guys. And knights are good guys. They couldn’t be friends… could they?”

Ruby paused for a moment, seeing if Olivia would answer. To her delight, the young girl did speak up. “I think that, they should still be friends if they want to. Because the knight’s happy now.”

“Well, you’ll have to wait to hear how it ends,” Ruby chuckled, glad that Olivia was still on board with the story. “Now where was I… Oh, yes. So, the next morning, the two left the tiny island and sailed off for the kingdom far away. It was a long journey, and there were times when the seas would get rough. But no matter what happened, the two would look out for each other. During the mornings, the pirate would teach the knight about sailing his ship, and during the evenings, the knight would make the pirate a delicious meal. And every night, the two would sit under the stars and talk for hours. They would talk and talk and talk, and some nights they talked for so long that they would be too tired to go to their beds! So they would just fall asleep right there on the deck of the ship, lying next to each other.

“The two got to know each other very well during their long voyage, and once again the knight began to wonder why they had heard that the pirate was so mean and vicious. Sure, the pirate didn’t have the best manners, and he refused to bathe unless the knight begged him to, but he was always so kind and so cheerful, that he made the knight very happy when they were together. The knight wondered if anyone else had ever actually stopped to talk to the pirate, to hear his stories of adventure, to get to know him as a person like they had come to know him.

“But at last, after many days and nights of their long, long voyage together had passed, the two had reached the knight’s kingdom. But now, there was a problem. The knight knew that if they arrested the pirate and brought him to the king, they would never see the pirate again. This pirate, who was now their closest friend, would be lost to them forever. As the two pulled the ship into the dock on the shores of the kingdom, the knight came to the pirate, and they asked him a question.

“They said, ‘Pirate. We have been journeying for a long time now. We have braved the seas together during the days, and talked for long hours during the nights. Over this time, I have come to know you as a friend, a friend that I would be very sad to lose. I need to know, pirate. Do you feel the same way?’”

There was a brief moment of silence, leaving young Olivia in suspense. “What did the pirate say, mumma?”

Ruby smiled, “The pirate said, ‘Yes. I felt the same about you since the moment I saw you, dear knight. I sailed across the ocean to this kingdom with you, knowing what would happen when we made it here, because all of those days and nights spent together were all worth giving up my life of stealing. I want to stay with you no matter what, because I love you.’

“The knight was stunned. They had never heard anyone say that they loved them before, but here was this pirate, confessing his love for them just as they were about to hand him over to the king! The knight was nearly moved to tears as they replied, ‘Pirate, I want you to know that it means everything to me to hear you say those words. And over the days we’ve spent together, I have come to realize something of my own. I love you, too. And I don’t want this to be goodbye, but I don’t know what other choice I have.’

“There was a moment of silence between the two, before the pirate came up with an idea. He said to the knight, ‘Come with me, knight. Leave your kingdom behind, leave the island you were trapped on behind. Stay with me, on my ship, and we will sail the world together. Every day will be a new adventure, and every night, we can lie together under the stars. We can stay together, and most of all, you’ll be free.’ The pirate grabbed the knight’s hand tightly as he finished his proposal. ‘Please, dearest knight. Stay with me.’

“Well, the pirate didn’t need to wait long for an answer. The knight wrapped his arms around the pirate, and they said, ‘yes. Yes, of course I’ll stay with you! I’ll sail away with you no matter where you go. I’ll stay by your side, pirate.’ So, the two of them pushed the boat out from the dock, before anyone else knew who they were or why they were there.

“The knight knew that staying with the pirate would make them an outlaw too. It meant that they probably wouldn’t see anyone from their old kingdom ever again. But they didn’t care. It was worth giving up everything they had known to stay with the man they loved. So, the knight and the pirate sailed away, far away from the kingdom, far away from the island, to have countless adventures, and spend every night under the stars, together.”

Olivia rubbed her eyes, hardly able to keep them open, as she sleepily asked, “And did they live happily ever after?”

As Ruby reached forward to pull the covers back over Olivia, she caught sight of the golden band wrapped around her left hand’s ring finger, and for a moment she fought back the water welling in her eyes as she smiled and answered, “You know what, Livvie? I think that they did.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead gently. “I love you, chickadee. Sweet dreams.”

The young girl’s eyes were already closed, all of her worries now long forgotten as she contently mumbled, “I love you too, mumma.”

Ruby stepped away from the bed on her tiptoes, dimming the lights in the room before pulling the door shut, leaving it cracked just enough for a sliver of light to trickle in. She turned from the door and walked quietly into the living room, picking up a book from the coffee table before resting on the couch. She gave a glance to the clock; it was still early in the evening, and she had a long night ahead of her. After all, her pirate was sailing home to her that night. She wanted to be awake to welcome him back into her arms when he finally arrived.

#ruby's writing #💜: love burning like the sun #🌟💣: the little spark in our lives #self shipping #oc x canon #self ship writing #ok to rb

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sinisterexaggerator · 2 years

Text

Stars Above! | Cad Bane

Chapter 13

Explicit: Slow Burn, Gratuitous Smut, Porn with Plot, Canon-Typical Violence, Mildly Dubious Consent, Angst, Tatooine Slave Culture

This chapter: Mention of blood, injury, allusions to previous sex acts.

Notes: I think Hondo Ohnaka has a black tongue. I also think Weequay blood is black and thick like oil. Plus, I'm pretty sure Cad has med supplies and some kind of facility on his ship. In his profession he needs a way to heal. Makes sense to me Todo 360 is also used to helping.

Word count: 6.2+

[ Ao3 ] - [ Masterpost ]

《 Previous chapter || Next chapter 》

Zulara had shut the door on the man outside; she rushed around her paltry quarters in an expeditious bustle. She grabbed the first thing she could find to wear as she called to Hondo. At the unexpected knock she had forced him to hide. He stepped out of the refresher feeling rather undignified that she should keep him a secret, and from who?

The thought of Cad Bane crossed his mind.

“There’s a man here,” she said between brisk, urgent movements. Zulara had pulled her gown right off, tossing it down upon the floor. She didn’t notice the pirate staring as he had never seen her completely nude before – almost. But in her haste it did not matter, as hours earlier Ohnaka’s tongue had been buried in her mound, Zulara more concerned with the fact the sentient she desired was rapping on death’s door, or so said this brown-eyed soldier.

“A– a man? What sort of man?” Hondo inquired of her, trying to play off his interest in the tempting vision that was Zulara in the buff. His eyes had widened to their full expanse beneath his goggles, a hint of black flickering across his bottom lip. He approached the girl as she made to adorn a pair of leggings, circling her with arms folded and hands clasped behind his back. He studied her, as if acquainting himself to a work of art, or appraising an object that held untold worth and merit.

“You have many a suitor, et appears.” The Weequay primped; preened, just to give himself something to do it seemed. His ego had suffered a mighty blow, but he tried to mask it by picking a mote of dust off his crimson coat.

“He’s wearing armor. He said- ” The tears welling in her eyes were obvious, Zulara unable to obscure her emotions as she fitted the tights about her waist. She snatched up her top; it was short-sleeved and black, though Hondo clasped her by the hand before she could slip on the garment; he wasn’t in a rush for her to cover her exquisite assets.

“He said what, dear? What sort of armor?” Hondo made to kiss her open palm, but Zulara pulled away. He was left deserted, curling his fingers inward to close off the empty space she had created with her abrupt removal of herself. Oh, that one had hurt even worse.

“Green. Green and red. He had a breastplate… and a jetpack,” Zulara stated as she shimmied her blouse up and over her dark hair. She stuck her arms through, then pulled her raven strands out across her back. She went for her boots next, teetering as she tried to stay her balance. She was doing her best to hurry despite Hondo trying to postpone her imminent departure from him.

“Bane’s hurt! I have to go!” she finished.

“Green and - Ded he say his name? Why, es et little Boba Fett? Bane’s hurt? Boba es with Bane?! Was Boba de one who hurt him?” Not again, he thought; the questions poured right out of him, like cheap red wine, the Weequay venturing towards the single viewport of her small abode. “Why, I have not seen dat boy en years."

There was a pause. "Ettttt es probably for de best," he guessed.

Zulara nearly shouted at him, tugging him back by the sleeve of his stolen raiment. “No, please! Stay hidden! I don’t want anyone to know you’re here,” she implored, wrapping her other arm about the pirate’s waist as she coerced him into a feeble hug meant to bar him from the outside world.

Hondo turned on her affronted, one hand rising to implicate that he was wounded, his palm being brandished over where his heart would be if he were a human being. “Sweet girl, I daresay, I have never been so offended en my life,” he scoffed indignantly.

“I’m sorry, Hondo.” Zulara whined his name, embracing him more tightly. “I didn’t mean anything by it, only that-”

“Yes, yes. I understand. We both know you favor dat damned Duros for whatever reason." He himself would not admit to worrying, though he had known Cad for countless years. Still, they were not on the best of terms. Hondo would hold his tongue.

Zulara’s arm rose; she cupped his cheek. Her fingers found their way between his frills. She caressed him gently as she gazed deeply into his steely eyes. “Don’t be cross with me,” she pleaded, liquid beads tumbling down to leave remnants on her clothing.

Hondo gasped, grasping her by the wrist. He shuddered straight away, a tremble rocking him to his very nerve-endings. “Du not start what you cannot finish,” he scolded rapaciously. “Next ting I know, you will be asking me tu cover for you.” He was quite aware this whole affair would have implications, and that Kayson was sure to come knocking down her door.

Zulara bit her lip, realizing in that moment his frills were sensitive, though his line of thinking had been accurate, as she begged him not to tell her master. “Please, Hondo. He forbade me from seeing Bane. Don’t tell him where I’ve gone … just-” she pulled her hand back to gesture broadly. “Lie!”

“I’ll see what I can du,” he sighed. “Though after being so insulted, tu tell you de truth, all I really want tu du es visit de nearest cantina for a drink tu lift my spirits.”

Zulara kissed the pirate’s cheek to perk him up. That sealed the deal, her fate, and his role in this game she played. It was only fair after all, as she was the prize to be won in another sort of deception that veered further and further in Bane’s favor, much to the Weequay’s continuous, ubiquitous dismay.

“Thank you,” she said, turning from him, her focus now on the man who waited and the bounty hunter who had stolen her heart away as she bolted out the door.

Hondo remained. He sat in silence upon her bed. He shook his head quietly to himself, noting he could just hitch a ride and leave this forsaken place. The only thing that kept him here was his lack of funds. That, and this cunning girl. He still wanted to best the hunter if he didn’t wind up dead.

Call it payback for all the grief Cad Bane had caused him throughout the years.

---

Boba Fett turned his head in the direction of the girl’s scant dwelling, having heard the activation of her automated door. He made a motion towards her meant to coax her forward, but he didn’t need to. She had already ran past him and peered into the backseat of the speeder.

Fett had kept an eye out. Cad Bane was still breathing, though he was weak. He hadn’t woken up, and he preferred it to what might happen should he rouse. He caught the unknown woman’s eyes as she whipped around, hands gripping the non-ferrous metal frame as she wept outright.

“What’s wrong with him?” she inquired fretfully.

He had taken a moment to study her - her figure - those attributes that deemed her a woman. She was shapely, tone, and pretty – her eyes were dissimilar and lovely - she had a heart shaped face that matched the one worn on her sleeve, lips of ruby, and skin of mauve or amethyst.

“Jabba the Hutt is to blame,” he stated plainly. Even though he was Boba Fett’s employer, he felt no need to hide the truth. “We need to get him to a bacta pod. There is one aboard his ship.”

Zulara had heard of him. Everybody had. She had even seen him once at an event in town. A blob of flesh with a tail, surrounded by slaves and servants. He had been carried by some ten or fifteen men upon a palanquin; he was a crime lord who considered himself royalty.

She frowned, then turned back around. She lifted one leg daintily, knee first, then climbed right in the back, situating herself on the edge of the bench seat Bane lay sprawled upon. Zulara gingerly tilted up his head while being mindful of his hat; she adjusted and placed him upon her lap, “Poor thing…” she whispered, knowing she had also made him suffer, following up with a demand of Fett. She didn’t once think about how he had left her, or about herself.

“Chini, wachamio!”

Boba did not need to know what she had meant, or its significance. It was comprehended quite easily from her take charge tone. A girl who had seemed so shy, so demure, was now giving orders in what he recognized as Twi’leki, most likely the language of her species, though she lacked Lekku; he surmised the other half of her was human.

“Right,” he shot back, having somewhat disassociated. He took to the driver’s seat and headed towards the docking bay where the Justifier had been residing amongst a slew of other starships. He had seen it while snooping, prowling the nooks and crannies of Mos Eisley on his lookout for the Duros at the request of Jabba, something he may have wished he had never done.

Boba considered her from the rear-view mirror, Zulara’s fingers roaming almost lovingly across Bane’s cheek, his lips, his sharp planes and angles. She kissed him once maybe hoping that he would stir. When he didn’t she only began to cry again, though softly. Her hand idled above his largest injury, Cad’s green blood having already been smeared across her skin and clothing.

“These are claw marks,” she announced as if it were not obvious, though it perhaps confused her as Jabba’s ilk had hardly anything at all in the way of arms or hands.

“It was the rancor,” Boba informed her simply, keeping his eyes ahead.

“R-rancor?” She sounded faint, her body bending forward as she enveloped the unconscious man in a shield of warm and supple flesh. She murmured something to him, not markedly clear on his end, but he caught three words:

“Please, don’t die.”

Bane stirred; his eyelids flickered open to stare at her. He made a face close to a scowl, catching her by the hand. He said nothing. His breathing was still labored. He roughly exhaled, then seemed to gradually pass out cold again, his arm having dropped limply at his side.

“The stun’s worn off – the old fool was planning to walk back through the desert like that - he’s too weak. Something’s wrong. He’s pretty beat to snot, injured internally.”

The girl was still recovering from a glimpse of those searing, scarlet jewels. She was beside herself, stuck motionless, wondering if he would open them once more. Maybe it was stupid or naïve to feel something when she barely knew him, but he had shown sympathy to her situation despite their recent, somewhat jarring interlude. Perhaps he hated slavery, perhaps he only wanted the girl carnally. Still, it did not change her present sentiments.

“What is your name?” Boba thought to interrupt her, distract her from the reality that was Cad Bane torn to shreds across her thighs.

“Zulara,” she said coolly, despite her knuckles brushing lightly across his ex-mentor’s mandible as if he were a household pet, or her genteel partner, not a murderer or a bounty hunter.

“A beautiful name,” he said, adding his own after the fact. “Mine is Boba Fett.”

The girl’s eyes lifted to stare at his within the mirror as he regarded her. Ohnaka had been right about him; she wondered how he had known; what his history was; how they all three connected; how their fates might be bound together. And here she was. Stuck in the middle, somehow.

“How much farther?” she beseeched him, the woman cradling the broken man as if she loved him.

“Almost there.” Boba redirected his attention, focusing instead on the path laid out before them, the pedestrians, and the buildings that flew by on either side. Ultimately, he gave them privacy, thinking it was not his place to observe her in such a despondent state of mind.

---

“Hello? Who’s there?” Todo 360 questioned over the external comm. His nervousness was apparent in the vibration of his vocabulator. Boba had banged on the hatch three times rather forcefully in succession, and the droid knew it could not be Bane – he would never have a need to knock.

“Todo,” Boba’s voice rang out. “Open up!” He paused, waiting, then tacked on the reason for his visit in addition, hoping to appease the service droid enough to let them in. “Bane’s bad off. He needs the bacta pod.”

“Why, I’d know that voice anywhere! Bane made his instructions very clear regarding you,” Todo remarked.

In his mind, he would be doing a disservice by letting a double-crosser like Boba Fett aboard the Justifier. However, on the off chance he was being honest, the little droid felt anxious – what if something really was wrong with Bane?

“I – I don’t believe you! This is some kind of trick, and I won’t fall for it. Besides…” Todo 360 tapped his tiny fingers together behind the shut tight divide. “Why should I believe you? You were the one who nearly murdered Bane in cold blood all those years ago! If it weren’t for me, he surely would have-”

“Damn it, Todo! Shut up and check the surveillance-cam!” Boba Fett insisted.

Zulara struggled to stay upright as the droid and this strange youth argued over things that were quite curious. One of Cad Bane’s arms was draped about her neck as she tried her best to give him his dignity. The other arm was thrown across Fett’s shoulder, the man taking the brunt of it as well he should. Bane was tall, at least six feet five inches, not accounting for his weight, which Zulara was petite compared to him. She shifted her stance but kept her mouth shut.

This was the same droid she had seen on two separate occasions - Bane’s personal automaton - one with an attitude to match his owner’s and that gave her pause. He had nearly caught her.

Would he be able to recognize her despite her eventual escape? The loss of her black cape? Suppose he didn’t let them in? Suppose Bane bled out before then? The poor girl’s heart rate increased as she started to partially cry again, though she tried to hold it in.

Fett glanced to her. He had left his helmet in the speeder. His full expression was visible to everyone, as there were many passers-by. “Relax, he’ll do the right thing. Just give him time. Todo’s a bit neurotic, for a droid.”

It was his attempt to try and comfort her the best way he knew how. She was hardly an acquaintance, and even though he had threatened Bane with getting to know her - to visit her - he had never imagined it to be under these circumstances, if at all. It was more so a bluff to get under the Duros’ azure skin. He never liked the idea of using innocents as bait, and he wouldn’t start now either, despite this woman having some sort of bond to his purported enemy.

Zulara only nodded. She might have said something, but about that time the hatch began to open, the finicky droid visibly shaken on the other side.

“Oh, no! Why didn’t you say so! Oh, dear… Mister Bane? Sir? Is he … has he ceased functioning?” Todo’s hands rose, two little fists clasped in front of his metallic chest. His photoreceptors peered up at them, yet he could not display the totality of his true concerns upon his faceplate.

“Quick! Hurry! You must take him to the med room! I am afraid this kind of thing has happened many times before…” he said as his head shook sadly.

The service droid’s neck swiveled to the right soon after. He stared Zulara down with two wide yellow eyes. He gazed at her as Fett began to lead the way, dragging Bane’s dead weight along behind as the woman tried to help. “Who are you? Boba, why is she here? Who is this woman!? How do you know Bane?!”

His frantic interrogation continued without relent the further they went inside the ship.

“Calm down, Todo. She’s a friend,” Boba Fett responded. Zulara did not care how she was labeled if only Cad would be all right. “Let’s get him to the lift. Med room is on the upper deck. Stupid place, if you ask me. Should be down here next to the main entrance for situations like this.” Boba failed to mention that was where he used to sleep.

“Well, I’ve never seen her before in all my days,” Todo chirped. “Oh, like you are a friend I suppose?! A traitor is what you are! After Mister Bane took you in, after everything he did for you … you had to go and put a bolt in his head! Thank goodness for his hat!”

The droid stomped after them the best he could, a deep-seated annoyance coloring his tone. ”He has to wear a durasteel plate because of you! Terrible headaches, worse mood! Even crankier nowadays! Can you imagine what I have to go through?! Why-”

“Enough!” Fett snapped at him, though Zulara had been listening to every word, every shady detail Todo had let slip. Perhaps her countenance exuded her true feelings, her increasingly sour mood, but with a face like hers it was liable to come off as a sultry pout.

She would not linger on it as the turbolift’s doors parted. She assisted the best she could and did not once complain or say a thing, even as Todo examined her. Despite Boba telling him to hush, he only dropped his volume, prodding Zulara in the knee as she wavered somewhat unsteadily.

“I don’t trust you, person,” he whispered callously. “Not if you’re friends with him. For all I know, this is all your fault. Yours and his,” Todo muttered to her.

“Please, I-” she began to whisper back, bicolored eyes canting down to meet his, though the short ride came to a halt. A small hallway was revealed, lined with two-to-three extra sets of doors. The cockpit must have been ahead, as the largest of them was forward facing and closed off like all the rest.

“This way.” Fett guided them onward and to the left. Todo skirted them, igniting his rocket boosters. He propelled himself a few feet off the ground; he hovered up to the access panel. He opened the room for them, Zulara met with a wide array of varied things, but the one that was the most important was the bacta pod that sat amidst the center, though it looked to be out of use for quite some time.

“It’s not even hooked up,” Boba growled, helping Zulara to lay Bane on the ground.

“Mister Bane hates using it,” Todo informed them. “The bacta – he doesn’t like the way it feels, or smells, or-”

“I get it,” Boba sighed.

Zulara sat upon the floor and curled her legs up beneath her bottom. She replaced Bane’s head right into her lap as Boba meandered throughout the near to barebones space. Todo accelerated in her direction to close the gap between them, coming to a stop at her shoulder’s edge. He poked her again, one finger digging into the meat of her slight bicep.

“What do you think you’re doing?! Bane doesn’t like being touched unnecessarily, much less by strangers!”

“But I’m– I’m not a stranger, I-” she girl tried to explain, though thinking hard on it. He had never mentioned her; perhaps she was unimportant. It was more than likely she meant nothing and that he wouldn’t even want her here. “I just want to make sure he’s all right,” she murmured. “Then I’ll leave.”

Todo watched in fascination as water formed in the organic’s eyes. His neck craned forward to peer at Bane, then jerked back up to stare at her again. He floated; he ambulated to her other side, the one that was nearest to Bane’s head and hat. He leaned above his master, looking for signs of life perhaps, as this woman began to lament, her chest heaving in ragged breaths.

Todo drifted backward on his thrusters, finally alighting on the ground. He began to wring his hands, the service droid perplexed; he was distressed. He looked to Boba who was busy, perhaps for solace, though that was absurd. He huffed and shook his head, though his timbre was more somber.

“I see. It is good to know Mister Bane still has… friends.” He did not comment on her tears directly, instead admonishing himself for his behavior. No one he had ever met had been this upset over the aging Duros except himself. “Maybe I have been too hasty. Bane always says to be suspicious of strangers, but you are not a stranger, so it should be all right that you are here.”

Boba Fett snickered from his place by the bacta pod; he was setting calibrations and affixing wires where they belonged. “Sounds like something you would tell a kid. ‘Don’t talk to strangers,’” he uttered flatly.

“Yes, well, we all know you aren’t one to take Mister Bane’s advice,” Todo retorted testily.

“You’re right. It must be because his advice was always terrible,” Fett quipped back. He attached another cable, this one meant to pump the gelatinous healing substance from an external tank; it would be fed into the coffin-like contrivance one gallon at a time. The control panel was now activated, the machine making a low humming sound. “Zulara,” he said sternly, “start undressing him.”

Zulara hesitated; the droid gave his two credits once again. “His advice is not terrible! You’re the one who’s terrible! And ungrateful. Mister Bane-”

“Todo, I will temporarily deactivate you if you don’t stop making such a fuss. You’re getting on my nerves,” Fett admitted readily.

The droid turned his back on the beskar armored man; he placed his hands akimbo with an incensed chuff. He faced Zulara as she timidly removed Bane’s hat from off his head. “I’ll take that!” he declared.

Zulara handed it off to him; she carefully resituated the Duros upon the ground. She gazed at him, the blood that had coagulated. A prayer faintly left her lips, something in her mother tongue. She started at the bottom, finding the hidden seam that would allow her to unzip his unique footwear first.

Her fingers graced the leather, vacillating, shaking. She tugged upon the stop, taking her time, not wanting to move too suddenly. It may have been that she was fearful he would be displeased by it as Todo said, should she be caught red-handed.

“The tank is filling quickly. Do you need help?” Fett asked more softly.

Zulara did not answer, but placed one boot off to the side. She had lightly fingered the length of a Mitrinomon thruster, fascinated by those things that had sent them flying away from Kayson in the alley. Finally, she spoke, “not yet.”

She made it a mediation. She let her instincts guide her for the gadgets that were complicated as Todo made sure to watch her like an edgehawk, criticizing nearly her every move. Zulara mostly ignored him, or blocked him out, finding the magnetic clasp that would allow her to remove his gauntlets. One sparked, prickling her with stray electricity; she thought maybe she would fix it for him could she find the time - no harder than blaster repair, she theorized.

The girl disengaged the breathing tubes like she had watched him do earlier that evening, followed by the cracked canister of depleted oxygen. His armor had served its purpose for the most part though it was split, and his leather tunic had been ripped into ribbons, exposing bits of the black insulated suit and his cobalt skin.

Zulara realized she had barely gotten to touch him, only his face, his growling mouth. He had remained clothed while she had been naked, vulnerable, and susceptible to anything he deemed appropriate.

“Todo, come make yourself useful and figure out if I put this thing together right,” Fett demanded, forcing the service droid to interrupt his vigil and close observation of the girl with another round of criticisms, though he did as he was told – more so for the sake of Bane than Boba.

“I am a techo-service droid, not a nurse droid! But yes, I will make sure that you haven’t made any grievous errors that might cost Mister Bane his life. I don’t put it past you to do that on purpose.”

While the droid made a full inspection of the bacta pod, Zulara unbuckled Bane’s now useless armored vest. She pushed the two halves apart, gently pulling both his arms out and through to find the crease that housed yet another hidden clasp.

She peeled the tight-fitting garment from him - his upper bodysuit - seeing the full extent of his detriment. Two deep gashes had slit him from his pectorals down towards his abdomen. She stared a moment. She watched him breathing shallowly. She paused her movements to bend, pressing one ear to the uninjured side of the Duros’ lean chest.

Cad Bane’s heart still beat strong; the girl was thankful for that alone. She sighed her relief just as she felt something move, fingers twisting amongst her silky tendrils.

She gasped, though she did not budge. The hunter grumbled something to her though she couldn’t make it out. She lifted herself up just an inch or two to try and catch his eyes before they closed. Her own hand rose to cradle his gaunt cheek as his had drifted down to rest beside himself.

“Bane?” she whispered shyly. There was no response. She wondered what it was he had said to her. She hurried then, peeling off his chaps, his pants, everything but his insulated blacks. She removed the skull cap with extra care; she removed the metal plate, then glanced to Boba and the droid. They were bickering again, though Zulara interrupted them.

“Do I leave these on?” She was feeling bashful, despite him having been inside her.

“Leave the bottom part of the suit, remove the rest.”

Zulara was somewhat happy for that answer and she complied. The last thing left to strip were his leather gloves, exposing his fingers to her.

His hands were large, lithe, and beautiful though worn. His scales were dry. She thumbed its roughness. She lifted that appendage to her mouth and kissed it, unable to help herself. She would remain transfixed, waiting on what should happen next, hoping Bane might rise to consciousness again from the touch of her downy lips.

“How long have you known Bane?” Fett jarred her from her thoughts. She felt embarrassed, thinking perhaps she was acting too familiar.

“A week or two,” she stated with a blush, still lightly caressing the back of the hunter’s hand with the underside of her lilac thumb.

“Then why are you so fond of him?” Boba had come to hover, folding his arms across his armor. His brow was arched; she felt judged, though tried to hide her feelings. “You barely know the man.”

“He tried to set me free,” she whispered faintly, toying with the collar around her neck as she reminisced. He had failed in his enterprise, but she appreciated it, nonetheless. It was more than any other man had ever done for her.

“Interesting,” Fett said, seemingly satisfied, but his eyes spoke volumes. He appeared untrusting or confused, perhaps unwilling to believe, though he bent down to her level and took Bane beneath the arms. “The pod is ready, help me get him in.”

Zulara nodded, more than ready to aid him in this task. Todo tip-toed backward as they approached, his little fingers once more tapping against each other. The girl had supported him as much as possible, watching as the mystery teen used all his strength to lift the catatonic man. He held him beneath his legs and his upper back, setting him within the viscous substance.

Finally, Boba motioned for her to grab the nearby apparatus, the girl setting it around Cad’s cranium with a rubber strap, then inserting the mouthpiece where it rightfully belonged.

There was a faint sound as if he were breathing peacefully, Boba Fett settling his old nemesis down within the pod. He repositioned him the best he could, made sure he was submerged, then took one last look; he studied every detail, then he pressed a button to activate the transparisteel domed lid.

Zulara watched it descend, closing the hunter off to her. Her fingers brushed the glass, her neck turning for her gaze to fall on Boba as he stood by idly.

“And how do you know Bane?” she asked with an accusatory lilt, head tilting.

“That’s a loaded question,” Fett said dismissively, rounding on her and heading towards the door to leave.

“We have the time!” Zulara turned with him, trailing along behind. “Where are you going? You’re leaving me here alone?”

“You’re not alone, Todo is here with you,” Boba said, marching out into the spacious corridor.

Zulara moved to face the droid who felt inclined to wait, yellow lens glowing, reflecting back at him through the surface of the lid as he watched his master sleep. He seemed agitated. She thought to ask him what was wrong as he paced beside the pod, muttering to himself his seemingly endless woes and troubles.

“But what if something goes wrong?” she asked sheepishly.

“He’ll know what to do,” Boba assured her. Even though Todo was a nuisance and a bother more times than not, he was programmed for many tasks by Bane himself, medical care being among one of the many skills allocated to his memory banks.

Cad Bane was a loner, he rarely entertained guests of any sort, though to be entirely by himself was a risk in and of itself. That’s where his little confidant came in, his trusted partner of a kind, one without a restraining bolt and one he favored, despite all Bane’s complaints and his ill-natured disposition.

Zulara frowned and Boba faltered. He withdrew a small device, a handheld comm. “Here, take this,” he said against his better judgement as he passed it off to her. “In case of an emergency. It will connect directly to my personal frequency, just don’t abuse it.” The girl’s eyes glistened, and he thought to add something. “Perhaps I’ll check on you.”

The half Twi’lek nodded slowly, cradling the tiny electronic mechanism within her palm. She sighed, then rejoined Todo as Boba left the room. He walked the familiar path back to the main entry point of Cad Bane’s starship, opening the hatch to exit into the chilly, desert night. He stared down at the platform lost in his own thoughts, forcing himself to carry his suddenly low spirits across the ramp to quit the docks. He hopped into the land speeder but merely sat there, spying the green blood stains on the upholstery through the rearview mirror.

Even if deep inside he disliked the man, hate was too strong a word. Though the Duros may have never done the same for him, in that moment he had repaid his debt for any training, any life lessons or things taught, passed down, or relayed. Boba Fett may have taken up his father’s mantle - his family trade - but he would be damned if he would follow in the footsteps of his mentor, the notorious bounty hunter aptly named Cad Bane.

---

Back at Jabba’s Palace, Aurra Sing had entertained herself with a drink. The band was boring; she had heard this number a dozen times before. She perked up at the appearance of little Boba Fett – that’s how she saw him, though the clone had blossomed into a young man.

He approached her table; he removed his beskar helmet. She smiled at his long face; it amused her when he felt conflicted; she thrived when he was in a state of mental anguish. He was easier to manipulate.

It wasn’t always so – she had cared for him - but he was weak. He had trouble performing the jobs she had given him, namely the ones to maim and kill.

Even now, he had forgiven her. He hadn’t held a grudge though she left him back on Florrum. He said he had time to think in prison about his life, his future, and he would not remain so unforgiving for all the good she had brought to him, though her brand of it was twisted and self-serving.

It could be said his experience with Sing was traumatizing, but he once had a home with her; a place to sleep; to lay his head; food to eat.

In fact, Aurra had trained him alongside Cad for a time, among others - Bossk and Castas. He was thankful, yet he had no family. No one to call his own. He was grateful that she had been around, despite being a poor influence and an even poorer role-model.

But could he blame her? Aurra’s life had been no better. She had never even known her father; her mother was too poor to raise her. She had favored his father, Jango. Maybe she even loved him – why else had she so diligently helped him all those years ago? She was just as eager; searching; seeking a path towards retribution on the Master Jedi who had cut him down on Geonosis before his time.

The only person he had cared about claiming his revenge upon was already dead – Mace Windu – he had heard the news straight out of Coruscant. He had raged and torn apart his quarters that very night. It was his job to take his life!

He supposed it should have made him happy, but it only made him suffer. His life was meaningless; he had no one to guide him. Maybe that’s why he had initially reaccepted Aurra back into his life; she was a steadying force among his restless thoughts.

If anything, he had learned one lesson from all of this; it was something he tried his best to get the hang of, yet his heart often said otherwise. It was a theme; it kept repeating. Every bounty hunter from here to the Western Reaches seemed to live by it: look out for yourself. Credits are your only friend.

“Is he dead?” she asked casually, her tone uncaring and disenchanted, seemingly dissatisfied with her own life overall, no matter what Boba’s answer was.

“No. He shouldn’t have to die like that.”

Aurra rolled her eyes; she flipped her long ponytail across her shoulders. Her gaze narrowed as she questioned him. “What do you care about Cad Bane? You almost killed him once. He would just as soon leave you for dead than repay the favor.”

“You mean like how you left me for dead?” Boba’s voice was stern. He was not in the mood for any of her bantha spew.

Aurra scoffed, feigning shocked. They had been through this before. “Boba, honey, you know I wouldn’t have tried to escape alone if I thought I could save us both. It was poor luck.”

“I know my father showed you charity, but do not think I am so tolerant. I know you only stick around in hopes that you can ride my coattails into glory for yourself.”

“Is that what you think of me? Just some charity case?!” Aurra snapped, knocking her glass off with a crash, her spindly fingers barely reaching to carry out the act.

Boba Fett sat in silence, staring at the threadbare surface of the table while Aurra glared at him with jewels of emerald green, full of malevolence. He sighed, speaking softly, hating that the woman was so hotheaded, perhaps more so than Bane.

“I don’t know what to think. I only know that we have a job to do, and if you wish to accompany me I only ask that you try to keep your temper in check and your attitude to a minimum. It would be wise of us to make our move while Bane is incapacitated. It will give us a head start.”

Aurra threw her chair back and stood up to her feet. She turned her back on him, long arms folding to brush against her micro-vest. She scowled at nothing in particular, but managed to hold her tongue. She remained a few more seconds, then sauntered out the door.

Fett simply shook his head. Sometimes, he wondered if he was cut out for all of this, or that maybe he should search for employment with another, some sentient who lived or reigned on a far-off planet, or closer to the Core. Anywhere but here, this stifling place that reeked of Hutt and sweat, yet he remained.

It was time to formulate a plan of action, with or without her. He was considered Jabba’s favorite for a reason, regardless of the blood that flowed within his veins, though he wanted more than anything to live up to his father’s name.

But in that moment he felt like an imposter, just a boy who had been scolded, and not the infamous bounty hunter everyone made him out to be.

His mind wandered briefly to what Bane had said. There was something deep inside himself; he was not impervious to doubt, yet he refused to think his sense of right and wrong was something to be remedied, no matter the riffraff or the scoundrels he surrounded himself with.

It was times like these he missed Jango the most; his wisdom. He would have known the answer, even if Boba didn’t know the question. It was a dog-eat-dog galaxy out there and Fett would be damned if he was fodder for the hound. He rose and followed Aurra out.

“A wise man gets more use from his enemies than a fool from his friends, right father?” he mumbled to himself.

#Cad Bane #Hondo Ohnaka #Todo 360 #Boba Fett #Aurra Sing #Bounty Hunters #Star Wars #Cad Bane x OC #Hondo Ohnaka x OC #fanfiction #My writing

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pibiiiii · 9 months

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Splatoon questions!! (by @weedceI8bit on twt)

Took this from here. Template is here if you wanna do it too! Tag me in pls :)

u know the drill qrt ur answers ok lets go -> feel free to skip any questions or skip around

whats your in game name/splashtag ? Pibi#1929! My Splashtag currently looks like this, soon to be upgraded with the 4★ Nautilus and Big Man badge!

do you play as an inkling or octoling ? Octoling, because of the lore and Surfcurl hairstyle :) Inklings will always have a special place in my heart from the earlier games though.

whats your multiplayer lvl ? + whats your favorite game mode ? Don't bully mee... 34. Favourite game mode has to be Anarchy Battles (Open only with my friends), with Salmon Run being a close second!

whats your anarchy rank ? do you play competitively if so what division are you in ? S+ rn. I tried to play comp, but it wasn't for me. Turns out what I actually wanted wasn't to play competitively, but to have a team!

whats your main/favorite weapon ? The Nautilus 47! I hope we get a new kit, because Point Sensor is NOT it.

what weapon class do you play ? Not actually Splatlings lmao, Naut is special to me because of its charge hold. The other classes I like are Wipers, Dualies and some Shooters!

do you dress for gear abilities or style ? Both!! I worked very hard on grinding viable abilities onto my favourite fit haha

favorite ranked mode ? This is difficult. Clam Blitz has gotten kind of fun, even in soloq which is crazy! Rainmaker is also pretty neat.

favorite hero mode ? Obviously RotM. It might be a little too by-the-book of Octo Expansion (which isn't a hero mode), but it's still the best by quite a bit.

favorite ink color/ink color combos ? Here they are!!

what splatoon game did you start on ? and or when did you start playing ? Splatoon 2, but quite late unfortunately. I picked it up just before the Final Fest!

favorite piece of gear ? Can't say. I just love how there's so many good ones to choose from lmao

what was your most memorable splatfest ? Final Fest, because it was my first (lmao 😅) and because of its awesome stage and dialogue!

any kits you want to come back to splatoon 3 ? Nautilus 79, duh. I have no other strong opinions! xD

what is your favorite weapon/kit in all of splatoon ? I want to say Nautilus 79 but I enjoyed a lot more kits so I really can't say. Gonna skip this question.

how many hours do you have on splatoon 3 or 2 ? Not that much xD. 125 hrs in 2, 155 hrs right now in 3. I don't spend that much time playing the game, but I spend way more obsessing over it haha

any buffs/nerfs you think are needed ? Splash's pinpoint accuracy. It's kinda screwed up the meta 😅. Not sure if it counts as a buff/nerf, but the stages HAVE to be improved. No more corridors! More flanks! More cover! More dynamic terrain! It would solve the issue with chargers without nerfing them and make the game 100x more fun.

have you read coroika aka the splatoon manga ? Yes! I haven't read the latest Splatoon 3 installment, but I'll get to it soon! Coroika fans hmu ;)

rank the splatoon games + oe best to worst Not sure how to compare an entire Splatoon game with just the Octo Expansion, but I went in terms of ✨general experience ✨: 1. Splatoon 3 - Current pinnacle of the franchise. Can't wait for Side Order, if it tops OE then it'll be the true best Splatoon game! 2. Octo Expansion - Best single player experience. Off the Hook are AMAZING. 3. Splatoon 2 - Without OE, this is still a solid game that I enjoyed a lot :) 3 definitely improves on it, though, in small ways and big ways. 4. Splatoon 1 - I haven't played it, so I'm not saying it's the worst, this is just for me. Obviously set up the foundation of an awesome series!

favorite splatoon ship ? Not really a shipper but anyone who DOESN'T ship Pearl and Marina is silly.

favorite idol group ? As above, Off the Hook :) Literally screaming for Side Order I can not stop the inner turmoil I will only be released when it comes out haha.

any splat tubers you watch ? do you have a favorite ? There are some pretty niche ones I like, but my all-time favourite is Jaymoji! Super fun to watch and his content is always interesting.

favorite splatband ? ABXY/Chirpy Chirps, but I absolutely love all the new ones that are being added!

favorite splatoon song ? Blitz It by ABXY :) Also 3MIX, Hide and Sleek, and most of the Salmon Run music!

any 4 or 5 star weapons ? Splatana Wiper, Stamper and Nautilus 47!

favorite stage ? aesthetically or to play on I have no idea, but Inkblot is good on any mode! Brinewater Springs might be my favourite aesthetically.

whats your signature piece of gear or fit ? The fit from before! I also love the Takoroka Nylon Vintage though.

do you own any splatoon amiibos ? Just the Green Squid one officially. I'm gonna get Big Man though!! (And I have bin files for Pearl and the Splatoon 3 Octoling Boy, but shhh.)

favorite splatoon game ? 3, silly!

are you autistic and or adhdtism ? Not diagnosed with either, but I love how accepting the Splatoon 3 community is of neurodivergent peeps :)

favorite agent ? Agent 8!! I hope Side Order is about them :) They have amazing lore that the other agents just don't, unfortunately.

#splatoon questions #splatoon #splatoon 3 #this took so long #but it was fun to do :)

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warsamongstthestar-keen · 3 months

Text

Chapter Forty-Eight

A frown fills Ari'abel's face as Chopper's voice filters through the comm. Ezra rolls his eyes, muttering, "Oh, we might fall through the surface? Thanks for the warning, Chop."

"Any fix on the ship yet?" Kanan asks, pulling out his own comm. The astromech grunts. "He's picked up the trail. This way."

"I bet whatever we're looking for is inside that Temple," Leia states, pointing at the pyramid.

"Seems likely," Ezra agrees.

"Just remember," Keen starts. "We're not alone down here. Be on your guard."

"Ahsoka, you said we're here to find knowledge. What kind of knowledge?"

The Togruta sighs, looking at the Temple herself as they make their way for the other ship. "The forbidden kind. To defeat your enemy you have to understand them."

"No better place to learn about the Sith, I guess" Kanan shrugs.

The group works their way forward, wandering into a large open expanse. The ground is covered in what seem to be statues of people, but Keen knows better. Having grown up with stories about this battle, being on the sight is in one way incredible, and another incredibly painful. Her eyes scan the ground, seeing lightsaber, upon lightsaber, Jedi and Sith alike littering the ground around the scorched figures. Ari'abel closes her eyes, letting the pain that was felt here thousands of years ago wash over her. She can hear Ezra and Leia marvelling at the sheer amount of lightsabers scattered.

"This was a battlefield," Kanan states with certainty.

Leia looks up from where she's kneeling, her eyes meeting her Master's, "What happened here?"

Keen sighs. "A long time ago there was a war between the Jedi and the Sith. And there was a battle, here, on Malachor. It ended poorly, for both sides, obviously. Malachor was then banned for any Jedi to visit, ever. We're the first Light Side Force-sensitives to set foot on this planet in over a thousand years.

"I hate to break up this history lesson," Kanan says, leaning over Keen's shoulder, "but we should keep moving."

"Well, if you ask me this whole planet is a riddle," Ezra states.

"So if it's a riddle," Kanan replies, "what's the question?"

"Why is Kanan such a..." He cuts himself off, spying someone hiding in the rocks overhead. "Get down!" the boy shouts, launching himself over Kanan's head. He ignites his saber, blocking the red blade from hitting his Master.

Keen grabs her blades, igniting them as Kanan and Ahsoka ignite theirs as well. Leia looks around, seeing the blaster in the holster on Kanan's hip. She launches forward, grasping it, aiming at the Inquisitor's head.

"Five Jedi?" the newcomer asks, sounding genuinely confused.

"An Inquisitor!" Ezra announces.

Ari'abel rolls her eyes, tackling her Padawan to the ground, shouting, "No kriff, Ez!"

Leaping back into the air, she rushes headfirst at the Inquisitor, her sabers aloft in front of her face. From behind the Inquisitor's back, he releases a large group of bombs. "Kanan!" Ezra shouts, blocking the bombs with his lightsaber.

The floor beneath him collapses, Ezra falling even deeper into the catacombs of the planet. "Ezra!" Kanan shouts, leaning over the hole. "Ezra, can you hear me?"

The Padawan groans, sitting up to look at the group, "I'm okay."

Leia rushes forward, trying to look over into the hole below. Keen reaches out, snagging her back by the top of her helmet. "Kanan, you and Leia get Ezra. Ahsoka, we'll go after the Inquisitor."

The Togruta nods, looking over at where the being was, seeing him racing across the planet. "He's getting away, let's go!"

The Inquisitor, Eighth Brother, Keen assumes, jumps up on top of one of the stalagmites, pulling his lightsaber off of his belt. Her eyes follow the Inquisitor, as she senses Leia and Kanan approach them from behind. Without taking her eyes from the Imperial, she asks, "Where's Ez?"

"He said he'd catch up."

"For Force's sake! I told you to stick together!"

"It's too late for that now, Keen," Ahsoka says, nodding at the Inquisitor as he ignites his dual sided lightsaber. It begins to spin rapidly over his head, picking him up off the ground.

"Hey, look," Keen starts, choosing to believe that Ezra is strong enough to resist the Dark Side, "it's an Inquisicopter!" Kanan, Leia, and Ahsoka turn to look at her incredulously. Spying their faces out of the corner of her eye, she adds, "Okay, I know it's not funny, I'm old. Cut me some slack."

"It's just a weird time for humour," Kanan mutters, running after the Inquisitor.

"I've never had an Inquisitor run from me before," Leia states, letting off a few blasts from Kanan's blaster.

"Maybe it's because he's outnumbered," Ahsoka comments.

"He did seem surprised. I don't think he was looking for us."

"But if he's not here for us, who is he here for?" Keen says as she stops running.

"Hmm..." Chopper's voice filters through the comm, filling the cave with droid grumblings. "You found the ship? Where?" The astromech grumblings filter through once again. "No, no. Forget it, no time! Get over there and find that ship. Do not let him take off! We'll follow your signal."

Ahsoka jumps up to stand next to the Knight, igniting her lightsabers. Keen glances at Leia, checking to make sure that she's okay, and still with them. Once the Princess nods at her Master, Ari'abel ignites her blades as well.

Chopper sasses Kanan, and the Jedi Master tunes out his response, choosing instead to speak to her Padawan. "Are you doing okay? I know that the Dark Side energy can harm even the strongest Force-user."

"It's there. I can feel it, hear it whispering to me to follow my desires, but, that's all they are, whispers."

"Good. I was worried for you. Your training definitely hasn't prepared you for all of this. At least not yet. I wasn't prepared for you to be coming somewhere like this, so I didn't prepare you."

"It's not your fault, Ari. No one was planning on coming here. It seems to me you really didn't want to."

"Well, we can't always have our way. It seems as if I was wrong, nothing too terrible has happened."

"Not yet anyway."

Up ahead the Jedi Master can see Chopper sitting inside a TIE Fighter, the Inquisitor standing just in front of his ship. Eighth Brother, upon hearing the incoming Jedi, turns his attention from the TIE, falling into a battle ready stance. Ari'abel smirks, his TIE raising up behind him, Chopper firing at him from his cannons. One of the cannon blasts slam him from behind, knocking the Inquisitor off his feet, face first into the stony ground.

Keen quickly drops down, snatching his saber from the ground just moments before he grasps at it. Kanan hauls Eighth Brother to his feet, smiling at the droid in the TIE. "Chopper, sometimes you do it right."

The astromech cheers, dropping the Fighter back down to the rocky terrain. He pops open the top of the TIE, flying out to land beside the crew. Leia immediately moves over, patting his dome, "Good job, Chop."

"If you keep praising him, he'll get a bigger ego than he already has," Kanan chuckles, as Ahsoka fastens a set of binders around the Inquisitor's wrists. "You're the fourth Inquisitor we've seen. How many are there?"

"More than enough for the four of you."

'At least eight." The Inquisitor and Keen say at the exact same time.

The Inquisitor pauses for a moment, turning his head in the Jedi Master's direction. He can't see her face from under the mask, but she knows he can definitely see her shrug. Eighth Brother scoffs, adding, "Nothing can save you."

"Why are you on Malachor?" Leia asks from behind him.

"Hunting."

"But you were not expecting us. Who are you after?" Ahsoka wonders.

The Inquisitor chuckles, "A shadow."

"I feel like it may be my turn to ask a question, but I realize I'm just going to get vaguely cryptic answers. Wow, I never realized how annoying that can be." She turns her head, her mask facing Kanan, "Is it this annoying when I do it?"

"Yep."

#wars amongst the stars #ari'abel quinara #wats #star wars rebels #au fix it fic

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crab-instruments · 3 years

Text

Dust in the Wind Part 9 (tbb)

Master <Part 8 Part 10>

Pairing: Hunter x Secret Jedi! Reader (GN)

Rating and warning: General audience

Words: 1.4k

a/n: certainly not me sleeping all day and then only watching Ink Master and writing out another part. I am intentionally not naming planets because I just want to describe places and not be told I'm wrong, not that anyone has yet.

Red. Maybe red brown. If you squinted hard enough, you could see a little orange in the mix. That is all this planet was. You’d guess it was Dathomir if it was a lot warmer. Everything was a dry, stale, and covered in a red-brown-maybe-orange dirt. It crunched under your boots and seemed to cling to your skin, covering you. If it hit sweat, it turned to clay paste-like substance that clung like putty. It seemed being here meant staying here; you’d never really leave if the planet left with you. Otherwise, it would just absorb those who couldn’t escape. You wondered how many had been left here to become this red dirt, as you broke up a bigger chunk with the heel of your foot.

What little plant life that grew there had to be more stubborn than the Omega wanting to fly the Marauder, even though Tech had said no countless times. It was a sign of perseverance, or maybe it was more toxic than the red dust of this world. Not to be trifled with, either way.

The sky seemed innocent in all of this, the atmosphere a soft light blue contrasting all the kriffing red. A nice breeze would brush by, keeping you cool but also kicking up loose dirt. Looking at the expansive landscape, it seemed like it would be excruciatingly hot, but the Batch arrived during the off season for this mission. The temperature was comfortable, but that didn’t stop the nearby stars lighting the planet up, creating mirages in the distance. Even if it was nice, it certainly wasn’t a vacation destination. You wrote down what the planet’s name was in your notebook, but you didn’t want to pull it out, for fear that the only notes you’d have after checking would just be ‘red’. You just went with calling it ‘Dathomir’s cousin’. Yeah, wasn’t super creative, but your patience was running short.

The squad had left a bit ago to complete a mission for Cid. It was to a refinery or a mine, which could be seen in the canyon below. Up here, you and the Marauder were hidden, especially when the dirt covered the Marauder oh so nicely. This was partially the reason for your pissed off mood. Before leaving, you had done a solid cleaning of the air filtration system, vents, you name it, and now it was all KRIFFING RED.

You sighed, knowing that this was the life you signed up for when you joined a bunch a mercenaries. Doing any sort of clean up work would be easily undone in a matter of minutes. This was discovered after a few attempts, another part of the growing irritation. So now, you stood outside to stare at the horizon, telling yourself it’s better to have this ‘fresh air’ than the circulated air in the ship, although you’d end up taking half this planet with you when you made your way back onto the ship to leave.

Hunter told you that this would be an involved mission, they had taken a while to plan it out, looking at maps and schematics of the place. You were almost sure you were going to be asked to do something, but no task was given to you. It wasn’t your job, anyway. Your job was to stay here, become one with the red planet.

Bored. You were bored.

You spent a while studying the materials they left and listening in on the comms, tracking their progress. Still quiet a bit to go based on the last check in. You made your way to the edge of the cliff you were staying on and sat down. The refinery wasn’t too far away, it would take just a little bit of sliding down the sides of the canyon to get there and then a bit of walking. The whole area was surrounded by a fence, though it was probably more for show. The area surrounding the structure was open, so anyone coming could be seen, but owners of the refinery were known gangsters (the Pykes maybe?) and they were not too friendly to those who interfered with their work. The closest area of the refinery to your location was where they kept their supply of speeder bikes and other machinery.

For a moment, you found peace here, sitting with your legs dangling over the edge. You could appreciate the unforgiving scenery, parts still unrelenting to the Empire or anyone, really.

You chuckled to yourself as wind kicked up some dirt below you, creating new patterns on the ground. Everything really is just dust in the wind.

Hunter’s voice cut into your musings, coming from your comm. “Echo, where is the diversion? Tech and I are stuck until—”

“We ran into a small problem and aren’t able to get to secondary system room to make it happen. We might be able to make it, but it would take at least 40 minutes.”

“We don’t have 40 minutes!”

You blinked and slowly looked from your comm to the lot of speeder bikes. It wasn’t that much further from the place Echo was supposed to place the charges. If all they needed was the distraction—

“I can make a distraction,” was all you said before sliding down the first part of the cliff. In hindsight, you should have done literally anything else, like make sure you had a weapon, tools, something, or tell Hunter your idea. Or better yet, wait for Hunter’s approval, but you knew Hunter wouldn’t. Better to ask forgiveness and do what needs to be done.

“What? Was that Maxis? No! Maxis, we can handle this. Crosshair do you have a vis—”

“Too late, Sarg, Maxis is on their way to the refinery. I have them in my sights. Might as well let it play out.”

The comm went silent as you made your way to the lot. You didn’t have to hear or see Hunter to know he was angry that you were getting involved. But you had a plan. And it was a brilliant plan. The best one. Probably.

When you got close to the fence, you scaled it quickly and kept low as you approached the speeder bikes. Your plan was simple; hot-wire one of the speeders, cut the fuel lines of a few others, and use the dirt to irrigate the fuel and spread it out. With the hot-wired bike, you could make an escape after lighting a line of fuel to the bikes. This would cause a big explosion, a diversion if you will, and you’d already have your get away plan in action. See? Totally fine, nothing to worry about. Nothing will go wrong. It’s the perfect plan.

You moved one of the bikes away from the others and got to work. Luckily, with this type of speeder bike, it was not only straightforward to hot-wire, but the fuel line was also easily accessible. You were starting to believe in your own confident words. After getting that one ready, you made quick work, digging a trench in the dirt below the bikes and using your knife to cut the lines.

“Can you see what Maxis is doing, Crosshair?”

“If I had to guess, they are making a mess by destroying the speeder bikes.”

You took a moment to look at your work, estimating that it would do plenty of damage and have enough explosive impact to cause collateral damage. You spoke into the comm, “Taking a play out of Wrecker’s book.”

You went to back to the first bike you cut the line of and dug a trench leading to your hot-wired bike. Digging into your pockets, you looked for something to start a fire with. Before you could, a few men in gear made their way outside and spotted you. Oh kriff.

Crosshair must have put together what you were doing and shot the dirt, starting the fire. You would have thanked him after making sure the plan was going to work, but you were sure he would understand your lack of manners.

Alarms filled the air as you sat properly on your bike, letting you know you were spotted and that your getaway might be a bit harder than initially planned. When you settled in and started the bike, you realized just how lucky you really were. Another force echo. Whoever the owner of this bike was, they were one to be reckless with it and race, slipping through traffic and running away from guards as they escaped. You stuck in the echo as long as you could, absorbing all the information before running out of time.

You took one more look back before bursting full speed ahead, feeling the full force of the explosion behind you.

Part 10

________________________________________________________________

Tag List:@rintheemolion @xxspqcebunsxx @salamidraws @lokigirlszendaya @jinxedleo

If you want to be added to the tag list, just ask in the most convenient way for you or by faxing me a picture of a crab

#dust in the wind #hunter x you #hunter x reader #tbb x reader #tbb x you #the bad batch x reader #bad batch x reader #crab fics

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mytastessuck · 3 years

Text

Gorillaz: Plastic Beach

mAh, nostalgia. This album was my high school years. I got a digital copy for my birthday from my mom and became obsessed with this album well into college. The dominance of electronica, the use of people with great voices, the expansion of the lore, Lou Reed...this album was all of music when I got it. It's my favorite Gorillaz album and it looks like it's gonna stay that way for a while. But how is it on a not even approaching semi-objective level? Let's find out.

1. Orchestral Intro

You can probably guess it by my awful taste but I'm not really into orchestra. This opening though, with the sound of waves and the mourning instruments, really tipped me off that I was in for something different. This album wasn't going to start off with something chill or even a zombie movie clip. No, at this point, Gorillaz were officially done fucking around.

10/10

2. Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach

Then we get the brass leading us into a good beat and then HOLY SHIT, SNOOP DOGG?! He leads us in like a bandleader while a chorus of women back him up Just Like That while he goes with his usual flow. He adds the needed touch of instant cool to an album that's practically frozen with the artists already on it and with this song, it feels like you're walking past the gate into Disneyland.

9/10

3. White Flag

Some nice Arabian sounding instruments on this one. Pretty cool for Gorillaz to keep engaging in world music. Anyway, this was a really cool instrumental but it's time to move on to the other son---

Huh?

Suddenly, we get beeps and mixes backing up Bashy and Kano as they kick so much ass talking about pacifism for the sake of survival. This song kicks an undisputed amount of ass and it barely even tries.

9/10

4. Rhinestone Eyes

What I like about this song is that I keep finding new things to like about it as the years go back. First, I liked the weirdly-threatening nature of the song along with the woman moaning in time with the verses. Then I liked the video (even though it was insanely shady of EMI to release that without Damon's and Jamie's permission and it ended up being the thing that led to Phase 3's premature ending and Gorillaz going on hiatus). Then I liked the continuation of the moaning that I first noticed in live performances then finally heard in the song itself. This song is like Rolexes falling from the sky.

10/10

5. Stylo

Ah, the first single from the album. I remember telling my dad about this when I first saw the video for it. I was about to write off Gorillaz as a relic of my past before I saw Murdoc and 2D get run off the road by Bruce Willis. This song has an awesome bridge by Yasiin Bey, nice crooning by Damon Albarn and incredible back-up by Bobby Womack, who manages to lift the entire song over his head using just his voice. Damn, wish he had another song that put his voice on full display. Maybe later in the album...

10/10

6. Superfast Jellyfish

Yeah, De La Soul is back! And they're singing about TV dinners! Seriously, these guys can make guessing crossword actually fun instead of a dredging experience and have Shiny Toy Guns frontman Chad Petree singing about radioactive seas brings the whole thing home. It makes you want to really go out and eat a random jellyfish but don't do that. It'll hurt.

11/10

7. Empire Ants

Okay, before I give this song its totally fair score, it should be noted this is my third favorite song of all time. I love Damon's reassuring lyrics in the beginning but the switch in the middle to a more upbeat electronic pop tune pushes this song past perfect.

Then there's Little Dragon...

This song introduced to me to Yukimi Nagano's voice and wow...I didn't think humans could sound like that, let alone an Asian woman singing soul. If you think the instruments are carrying her here, obviously there are clearly no other songs on the album that showcase her talents so I have to recommend After The Rain, Twice and Constant Surprises by Little Dragon. Seriously, this woman's voice will water your fucking crops.

500/10

8. Glitter Freeze

Where is north from here? Don't ask me, I'm not a compass. Anyway, this song has Mark E. Smith from The Fall and they use him to his fullest extent...by which I mean letting him make an absolutely evil fucking laugh somewhere near the end. The instrumentation makes it feel like you're in a storm on a shaky ship and you're definitely going to feel like you need some pills after you're finished. This stuff will put hair on your chest.

11/10

9. Some Kind of Nature

This song introduced me to Lou Reed and I'm grateful to it for that. Lou was a shitty dude but damn his voice really made things better than they should have been. Fuck, I was one of the eight defenders of Lulu for this reason. But Damon doesn't sit with his thumbs up his ass on this song. He holds his own and makes the chorus sound legitimately dreamlike. All we are is stars, indeed.

100/10

10. On Melancholy Hill

This song is awesome to chill to...unless you're escaping a cruise ship while being gunned down by fighter jets. But other than that particular example, I recommend this song for anyone trying to relax while thinking of someone special. But be careful with the last note of this song. That gong can be a real eye opener.

9/10

11. Broken

Bummer of a song but if there's one song you absolutely NEED to learn on melodica, it's this one. Aren't we all broken? Well I am. And this song speaks to me.

10/10

12. Sweepstakes

Yasiin's back and there's gonna be trouble. He plays a carny in this track and you know that no matter how many times you listen to this song, you'll always gonna fall for his schemes. He's gone on to say that this is one of his finest achievements as a MC and I can see why.

10/10

13. Plastic Beach

Holy shit, they got the 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover guy on this track. Makes since because this, outside of Empire Ants, is my favorite song on the album. The harmony, the little imp they got for the bridge, the triangle...everything makes this song better than it has any right to be on an already awesome album. Damn, plastico indeed.

200/10

14. To Binge

Shock of all shocks, Yukimi's back! And it's a duet with Damon! And it's a song about a relationship torn apart by addiction! It's not my birthday so it must be Christmas. These two manage to drown the listen in waves of audio goodness that leaves them feeling like they spent 3 minutes and 56 seconds standing under a waterfall.

20/10

15. Cloud of Unknowing

Okay, I cried to this song. And now, with Bobby Womack's passing, I cry even harder. This song should be an anime ending with how solemn it is but you need to listen to the end to hear, "It may bring sunshine on its wings." Also, Damon covered this song live after Womack's passing. I suggest you look it up because it is tear-ripping.

50/10

16. Pirate Jet

Eh. Pretty average song compared to the others on the album but I appreciate the message. Sweet Lord, people. Turn off your shit when you're not using it. We only got one planet and I don't trust Elon Musk.

8/10

Album Score: 60.1/10

Whoo! No biases! Anyway, next week is The Fall, otherwise known as the album Albarn did on his Ipad. Otherotherwise known as the album a significant portion of the fandom has a hate-on for. Does it deserve the hate? We'll find out!

#gorillaz #plastic beach #music #review

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throwaway3844893 · 4 years

Text

Prompt: Newt and Tina pillow talk? I am in the mood for some uber fluff!

Newt lay his head on Tina's collarbone, her fingers playing with his hair as she began to catch her breath, her chest rising high as she did so. His breath came in short pants, and they stayed like that for a few moments before Tina nudged him, and he rolled off at her. She winced at the sudden emptiness she felt, but stayed in her position, too exhausted to move. Tina took a moment to gather her surroundings and memorize every last thing she could see,m. The wooden interior of his bedroom, the dozens of pieces of parchment he had pinned to his wall, the picture of her that lay on his desk that he had tried to conceal before she climbed down the ladder into his case and followed through a second door in his shed that led to a bedroom. She drank up everything she could, finally resting her eyes on Newt. His eyes were closed, though he was facing her with the trace of a smile plastered on his face. She vowed to herself that she would never forget this moment for as long as she lived, and that when she left for the war she would always have the memory of this one night spent with Newt. She would remember the words he had said to her, the way he had looked into her eyes, his expression filled with love and adoration. How his freckles stood out on his face, the curve of his lips, the feel of their hands intertwining. Tina's breathing had slowed, and she reached out a hand to cup Newt's cheek, kissing him gently.

Newt smiled. "That was..." He trailed off, fluttering his eyes open to stare back at Tina.

She nodded slowly and mumbled a tired "Mhm." Tina shifted her body, rolling to the side to face him. She drew the cream colored sheet up to her chest, tucking the side under her arm so that it would stay in place. Newt reached across the bed, gently pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear, watching her face with admiration.

"Was it... Was I..."

"It was everything I wanted it to be and more, Newt. It was perfect," Tina said, biting her bottom lip and smiling at him. She had been unable to sleep that night, knowing that in the morning she was to board a ship back to New York before reporting to MACUSA and being sent off to war in... well, she didn't know where. Tina had originally planned just to visit Newt's bedroom at his parent's estate, but when she opened the door she saw a warm light streaming out of the top of his case and gone down, only to find Newt pacing around his bedroom, too anxious to sleep. She had entered his room, and they locked eyes, and suddenly they were in each other's arms, their lips meeting just as their hearts did. They made love that night, and Tina knew in her heart that is was real- for her. "Newt," she said softly, tracing the freckles that were scattered along his his face and neck. She plucked up courage, and exhaled. "When you told me you loved me... did you mean it?"

There. That was the question, the question she needed answered before she left. He'd told her that earlier, but Tina couldn't tell if he meant it or if it was in the heat of the moment. She had to know before she left, because she didn't know when she would see him again, or if she would ever.

Newt blinked rapidly, his mouth open in shock. "Of course, Tina," he said quietly. "I love you. And- and I vow that the moment you come back home I shall prove it to you in every way possible." He put his left arm over her, his calloused fingers stretching over the smooth expanse of Tina's back, sending shivers down her spine. Tina couldn't help the shy smile that spread across her face at his words. "And, Tina... I promise I will wait for you. My entire life, if I have to. It's the least I could do to repay what you've done for me. Please, just... come back for me."

Suddenly, Tina found herself very teary-eyed. "I'm sorry," Tina said, beginning to turn away from Newt before he stopped her. She sighed shakily and turned back over to face him, impossibly closer than she was before. "I love you, so much," Tina whispered as Newt presses his thumb to a tear that trailed down her cheek to the junction that connected her ear and head. "And it just pains me to know that we could've told each other sooner than tonight. But... it was perfect the way we did it," Tina said, and Newt chuckled at her double meaning. "Queenie says I ought to live a life without regrets," she started again, her eyes following the trail of scars that moved from Newt's collarbone to under his chin. Her eyes met his. "And my one regret is not meeting you sooner."

Newt met her eyes, his face tinged with love, joy, and just a hint of sadness before kissing her deeply. After a moment, Tina broke away and rolled over, muttering about how she should get to bed. Before she could stand up and retrieve her clothes, Newt's voice cut her off. "Tina... we've one night left together..." Tina closed her eyes, ducking her head down and staring at the floor beneath her feet. "I wish to spend it with you. We don't have to be intimate... again, but... I need you, Tina. Will you stay with me?"

Tina turned around to face him, her face a mixture of emotions she couldn't comprehend. Her mind raced, and she remembered what she said about regrets. Spending her final night of safety with the man she loved was something she would regret NOT doing. "Always," she said, slipping back under the crimson and cream duvet cover, magicking off the lamp on her side of the bed. Newt opened his arms to her, and Tina welcomed them without a second thought, rejoicing in the warmth he provided, trying to memorize the feeling of her head nestled into the crook of his neck, how completely protected she felt in his embrace. Newt kissed Tina's head before mumbling a spell that turned off the only source of light in the room. After a moment, Tina began to speak. "I promise to come back for you," she whispered, her eyes adjusting to the darkness and making out the silhouette of his face. Her hand tentatively reached out, and her fingers moved from Newt's lips to his hair, tangling her fingers into his messy hair. She wished the night would never end, that she could lay in eternal darkness with Newt holding her close.

After a few moments Newt shifted, taking a shaky breath. "I love you, Tina," he whispered, intertwining his hand with hers. "If I had my way, I would live in this moment for the rest of my life." Tina nodded in agreement, smiling against his collarbone. "So, you'll allow it?"

"I'll allow it."

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sydneymckay · 4 years

Conversation

Invasion on Genii

Sydney:

*I slept early to get woken up very very early before morning to meet the preferred time to leave for the guard shift change, as well as hoping people will also still be asleep as well, so less prying eyes.

*I inform the Tully ship to be ready when needed.

*Ket drove us to a different random planet to use it's gate. (I was reluctant to use a secure zone gate and lead them right back to us if things did go wrong.)

*I took off my lab coat and put on a back pack with the heating devices and also contained an air tank with a mask.

We both wore belts with the grenades and cans if needed.

*I also made sure we both had a stunner strapped to our leg just in case.

*ket was super used to the chemical and it's effects after so many years of constant exposure that she could actually function while under the influence and as such she decided not to wear a mask. It also helped keep her cover as she would look weird and draw unwanted attention of her carrying an air tank on her back.

*Ket dialed the gate and I readied some powder grenades. Once the gate opened I quickly tossed them in.

*Ket unleashes her blades and stepped in at the ready.

*I await for a moment to give her time to handle it if need be, then lower my breathing mask and stepped in myself.

*I look around and see two Trydein guard girls sitting on the ground dazed out of it and kissing. They were so entranced in making out they didn't even seem to care that I was looking at them warily to make sure they didn't report us.

*I looked away when they went all out for it and then looked away from Ket when she stole one set of clothes from them and stripped down to put on the Genii uniform.

*Ket grabs my attention when she's done and hides her original clothes behind a bush near the gate..

(Ketamine): "Alright. Let's go."

*She has us crouch down and touches my shoulder, teleporting us into the vents. I use night vision to see through the dark enclosed space.

*She then glances at me briefly, then teleports away to track down Koyla, while I start setting up the heat gas containers. I place and activate one.

*I fight down a bit of panic, as I realize the size of the vents. They're big enough to easily crawl through and there's paths both ways, but I guess I assumed they'd be bigger for a huge underground colony, so it feels suffocating and scary to my claustrophobia.

*I squeeze my eyes shut and chant wide open spaces in my head and just keep telling myself there's exists. There's places to go. I'm not trapped. I'm okay.

*I keep up this mental reassurance, trying to fight my panic, as I then crawl through the vent further down away before placing another device.

*I try to distract myself and think, I should make up a name for the device. Maybe HLG? Short for heating liquid gas?

*Shrugs to self.

*I continue to do this, moving a distance before placing and activating a device every so often, and soon behind me a cloudy gas fog begins to build as well as the temperature.

*I wipe at me forehead as I start to sweat.

*I loose tract of time, as I continue the simple task.

*Soon the place is literally 'boiling hot' to keep the liquid in it's gas state.

*I feel hot, sweaty and exhausted as my clothes and hair stick to me. It's a good thing I'm not wearing my lab coat or I'd be even further dying in this heat.

*The place gets cloudy and obscures my vision and I only feel more claustrophobic. I start hyperventilating on the air in my mask freaking out.

*I pull up my knees and hug them as I wait panicked for Ket to come back and teleport me out once she's done with her task.

*I fight off the impending darkening around the edges of my vision from the hyperventilating and the coloured spots starting to appear in my vision.

*Eventually, Ket arrives and teleports us out back to the gate.

*I gasp, taking in deep breaths now that I'm free from the constricting vents and outside. I look around the vast expanse around me.

*The guard girls were resting in a peaceful doze.

*Ket also had brought over a stunned Koyla, who looked to be in causal bed attire. She must have stunned him while he was sleeping... That's weird to think about...

*I feel a little faint from the rapid breathing and extreme dehydration. I stumble and nearly fall over.

*Ketamine gives me a look that shows she's not at all impressed with me and is growing impatient. She waves her hand at me.

(Ketamine): "Well?! Send the signal!" She orders.

"Oh.. Right!" *I pant, fogging up my breathing mask and rub at my sweaty neck.

*I reach into my backpack and send a beacon to initiate conquest and too bring the Tully ship here to take prisoners.

*I also dialed the gate and called for the hazmat hybrids to show up and secure the gate.

*I run a hand through my sweaty clingy hair from both the scorching heat from the vents and from my panicked sweating. I really, REALLY need a shower and A LOT of water. I'm dying of thirst. I flop onto the grass and watch the sky above dizzily as I continue to breath hard.

(Ketamine): *She frowns and narrows her eyes at me* "Are you high?" *She bends down and checks my air tank to make sure I'm not breathing in carbon dioxide.

"No... I'm dying of THIRST and HEAT STROKE."

(Ketamine): "Oh." *She snorts and smacks my chest making me jump and wince. "Stop being a whiney b*tch and help secure the tranquil ones I'm going to teleport out here."

"Secure?.. *pants* They're already high and too calm to *pants function... And I don't *pants* have any powers that counters teleporting. *Pants* Just wait for the Tully ship to get here and help them handle it."

*She rolls her eyes.

(Ketamine): "I have to do all the work." *She mutters harshly and teleports away.

*I watch the Tully ship get here and the hazmat hybrids arrive through the gate. I push myself up and slowly make my way to a standing position, stumbling and dizzy as my vision gets darker. Then dials the gate back to mall planet and stumbles in practically collapsing as soon as I step through.

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 4 years

Text

Overgrown Metal

Chapter 1: A Distant Roar

Summary of Fic:

Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the value with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after lating waste to nearly everything in their wake. Virgil and Roman, Society escapees and hunters run into an uncertain future while fleeing from their pasts. Remy and Remus stare their only chance straight in the face as they teeter on the edge of reluctant adventure. Emile is left his cousins engineering palace and is given the tools to change the world. Logan, a lone researcher and outcast is found by an old friend who offers him a chance of the century. Hyden (deciet), can shift into anything he so chooses, but staying true to his form as his heritage slaps him sideways proves harder than he thought. Patton mourns the loss of his son as he slowly uncovers secrets he wishes aren't related.

Or less wordy:

Eight idiots with trust issues fumble around each other and try to save the world from killer mechanical beasts and fairies that will snap your neck without taking their hands from their wine glasses.

Warnings: Violence, fight scenes, dark fantasy, apocalypse setting, some gore, blood

TW for this chapter: None? Though if you see any let me know

Ships: Remy (sleep) x Remus. Brotherly Roman and Virgil. Platonic Logan and Hyden (Deciet)

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"Long ago, humans existed as a thriving race, full of hope and promise. Their faith was strong, the resulting bond stronger and technology was accelerating towards a prosperous future.

It was a time when the tales of fae were still passed down as children's stories, and warnings were scoffed off as superstitions. Humans as a race believed the shadows of the night hid nothing and when dawn painted the sky whatever evil that may have lurked in the darkness was wiped away as cleanly as the shores by the waves of the ocean.

With that mindset adopted, when the calamity fell we thought only that the autonomous monstrosities were an advanced technology from an enemy country, meant to start another world war to wipe out whatever they could. When reports poured in from around the world, tin hats began screaming of aliens, and the churches filled with the cries of righteous damnation. No matter which reason you picked, it was almost a guarantee you would be wiped off the map given enough time. The creatures were gleaming gold and silver, blinding those who dared look too closely, deafening those who listened too carefully. Heavy as they seemed in their armor of metal they stayed light on their feet, crawling their way up from the earth, bounding through cities from the deep forest growth and swooping down from the unassuming sky.

It was over in mere days, cities laid to waste by the metallic creatures of an unknown origin, plains made unsafe from their territorial prowl; even the sky offered no escape as planes were clawed from the sky and set reeling into the maws of the swiftly growing forests. Trees unnaturally twisted to form barriers of wooden steel, the ruined cities overtaken by growth that should have grown in centuries rather than weeks, wide expanses of fields left unwalkable by twisting vines meant to trap and muffle. And over all of that the protective beasts walked their territories urged on my a master unnamed; following the bidding of a race none knew existed until the foolish humans decided it was safe to venture out again.

The fae, fairies, demons, creatures of another realm; this race went by many names bug the fact remained they were here to take back what was theirs. Too long, their leader said, have we cowered in the cover of your industrial hell. No more shall we hide in fear of your smoke smeared air that kills the very people who make it. We have been here long before your kind, and so shall we remain long after. Group your people however you like. Send any weapon of your choice to try and turn the tides to your favor. We will reign over the ashes you crumble to.

What this race of unnatural being didnt count on was a Hero of Ages to rise in a cliche of a fairytale epic. He stood tall over the bones they crushed his brethren too, sword dripping with vengeance and arms splattered with the fruits of his bloodlust. The day had come, for he, Remus, Harkened Duke of the Unseelie War, had clawed his ways from the depths of hell to face-"

"Babes. I love you...so very much. But you've been monologuing for twenty minutes now and I'd hate to waste my coffee by dumping it on your head."

Shoulders dropping in a pout, Remus turned towards his husband, leaning against the counter as he watched Remy reach for his still-hot-somehow coffee while nudging a can over into a growing pile, the plastic recyclables already having been sorted and bagged some time ago. His dark hair hung low over his tired eyes but Remus could still see the spark of amusement in them even as an annoyed huff left his lips. Smiling, he walked over to sit beside Remy, stretching out his legs and sweeping an entire pile of cans to the bigger pile scattering the displaed aluminum across the floor in the process. Ignoring another annoyed sigh he simply leaned his head on the others shoulder and smiled sadly.

"You never wish for something more than this?" He gestured vaguely around their small apartment they were quite lucky to have as Remy say back on his heels carefully so as not to knock his head of his shoulder.

"We're safe here." Punctuating safe with a flick to the back of the other mans head he continued. "Something more...that would mean going outside. And theres no Original Remus' Specialty coffee brew outside now is there?"

"It wouldn't take much to take the French press with us."

"It's starting to worry me how much you're bringing this up lately. I'm pretty useless," he waved his left hand around as emphasis, metal plating refracting the rooms dip lighting. "And you...are very loud. So very loud babes. We'd last a day, maybe two."

"If we had more people-"

"Which we don't. Unless we get a hunter or two stumbling in here wanting to drag a couple of inexperienced fighters along with them I don't see it happening." Putting the empty coffee mug in the sink, he turned back around to find Remus standing just behind him.

"I could fight for us."

"Very brave, but imaginary blades does not a dead beast make."

Remus swiped at the finger attempting to boop his nose, smirking lightly. "I have real blades!"

"Surgical scalpels don't count hun." Remy ducked under the strong arms attempting to pull him closer and bounded back over to his carefully sorted piles. "Now, either help me these or-"

A faint roar cut his words off suddenly, leaving him trembling from more than just the vibrations running through the floor. Remus was quick to be by his side, pulling him down and looping a protective arm around his shoulders. Squeezing his eyes shut behind the dark shades he wore even though he hadn't seen unfiltered sunlight in months he ducked his head down and moved closer into the protective embrace, tensing as another tremor reverberated through his bones. Minutes passed like hours as the couple stayed tense and alert on the floor, the beast eventually quieting, seeming to move off much to their intense relief. Dragging in a deep breath, Remy sagged against Remus, subconsciously rubbing at his left wrist and sinking further into the comfortable lap.

Gasping as he was lifted quickly, a deep blush colored his cheeks as he found himself being scooped up bridal style and twirled around before being carried through the short hall to the bedroom.

"My responsibility!" He cried out in mock desperation as he reached towards his sorted plastics and aluminum, ready to be traded later that week.

"Your plastic castles can wait until morning. It's late and we need sleep." So saying, Remus dumped his load unceremoniously onto the creaky bed and swiftly hopped in after, rolling to trap the barely struggling man under his body with a laugh.

Remy pushed at his shoulder playfully. "Who died and made you the responsible one?"

The mood sobered slightly, a look of pain flashing in the others eyes before quickly being replaced by mirth once more. Before he could offer an apology it was being swallowed effortlessly with a kiss that left him without a breath to spare one.

"Either sleep or I'm experimenting with bean strength again and make you taste test espressos until you faze into next week."

Laughing lightly, he bucked his hips just hard enough to push the other to the side so he could curl into Remus' arms for the night. "I'd rather not repeat that experiment again. I stay for your coffe, not for my stomach issues."

Remus smiled and threw his leg over his husband's hip to pull him even closer, pulling off his shades before resting his chin on the soft brown locks in contentment, swirling thoughts winding down to a rare dull roar as their breaths matched and evened out for the night.

The mechanical beast roared in anger as its tail lashed out to the side, hoping to catch the annoying pest that had lured it out into the feild. As beats went it was fairly small, resembling a feline with its lithe frame and small sharp teeth, only coming up to about 10 feet at its shoulder. Crouching down and twisting its head around it caught fleeting movement from the corner of its eye and whipped around to face it, only for the past to dart out of its sight again somewhere below it field of vision. Roaring in frustration it leaped straight into the air, turning and flexing its impressive claws hoping to smash down on whatever it was that eluded its attacks. Landing heavily, the beast took a second to recover from the rocky landing, flexing its spring loaded joints as it started to straighten.

A second was all the past needed to run up the length of its tail, impressive gait taking them to the beasts neck in no time at all to bring their weapon down and through the mechanical monstrosities neck, severing vital components and falling it before it got half of it last roar to rise from its throat.

The pest leaped from the beast as it fell to the side, stilling in the grassy plain with nary a twitch to make a passerby believe it was ever alive in the first place. Straightening from where they had landed, the pest sheathed the spear properly on their back and walked calmly over to the enemy, taking out a faded gray notebook as they did so.

Pushing a thick pair of glasses back up his nose, Logan looked over the creature with a passive interest before sighing and putting the notebook back in his pack. There was no use taking down data of a creature identical to one he had already slain a month prior. He knew he needed to start traveling more if he wanted more diverse data but he was loathe to leave his impromptu lab that lay hidden within woods no one dared enter. Looking around and seeing nothing more in the immediate vicinity he sighed again before adjusting the pack on his back and turning to walk back home.

There was always tomorrow.

This is also available on AO3 if you're interested. I can't promise regular updates but I really like this story so I'll be picking at it for a while.

I'm not really sure how to do fanfic layouts on tumblr so if this can be improved please let me know how. Please do not repost, reblogs however, are appreciated.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman and remus #remy sleep #patton sanders #logan sanders #deciet sanders #dark fantasy au #apocolypse au

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