Tumgik
#dumps some clones onto your dash
moonstrider9904 · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
The Water Balloon Conundrum
This is my gift to @coconutmaul for @starwarsfandomfests for this summer!! I hope you find this lil fic as fun as I do and that it gives you all those happy summer vibes!!
Rating: Gen. No pairings.
Characters: the 501st (Rex, Fives, Echo, Hardcase), Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker
Summary: A water balloon fight will determine a risky fate for its losing side: to dump a giant water balloon on a napping General Skywalker.
Tags: humor and chaotic sibling energy with a dash of ✨drama✨
Word count: 1.8k
Tumblr media
“I dare you!”
“No, I dare you!”
“I dared you first, di’kut!”
“Oh, oh! You’re scared of me, admit it!”
They’d been at that for a solid three minutes. Ahsoka’s gaze rocked from side to side trying to keep track of their little argument, and at times, she’d forget which of the twins was which.
When in doubt, look for the goatee, she told herself.
The blazing sun did little to dampen the moods of the clones and the Padawan, but then again, few of them would be unhappy when in Naboo with a pool in front of them and some delicious mocktail refreshments. Still watching Fives and Echo argue, Ahsoka gave them a playful eye roll as she took a sip from her freezing pineapple-berry slush, and it was just then that she felt Rex take a seat next to her.
The captain lowered his sunglasses to look at the bickering twins. “Ten credits says they’ll get tired within the minute.”
“Rex, old boy, you have too much faith in those two,” Ahsoka chortled. “But it’s ten free credits for me, so I’ll take you up on it.”
“Do we even know what they’re daring each other to do?” Asked Rex.
“Not a clue,” she shook her head, taking another sip from her beverage. 
At that moment, the poolside would be blessed with the presence of another one of the troopers of the 501st, who beckoned all attention onto himself when he set down a large box on the ground with a loud thud. When all eyes were on him, Hardcase stood proudly with his arms extended far above him, the posture of a true harbinger of chaos.
And the box was filled with water balloons.
“I’ve done it!” Hardcase proclaimed. “I have rounded up the largest supply of water balloons known to us! But you know what, that isn’t even the best part.”
Hardcase then began to fumble through the box of water balloons with everyone watching him in silence, and as he did, a few small balloons flopped onto the ground, thankfully without breaking. At last, Hardcase grinned when he—gently—pulled out a large water balloon, twice the size of his own head, from the box before giving a triumphant look to his audience.
Ahsoka could swear his brown irises had little flames in them.
“What is that?” Echo broke the silence.
“I call this my son,” Hardcase grinned. “And I challenge all of you to a fight.”
“A water balloon fight?” Fives laughed. “We’re not five years old.”
“Right, you’re younger than that,” Ahsoka said.
“Ababababa, before you hit me with your theory,” Fives said, “yes, growth acceleration is a thing, but just work with me here, okay?”
“I didn’t mean your growth acceleration,” Ahsoka replied, a mischievous grin on her features. “I meant mentally you’re younger than five years old.”
“You think you’re smart?” Fives said as he walked over to Hardcase. “Well, now I’m thinking I want to accept Hardcase’s challenge so long as I get to see your face getting slammed with some water balloons.”
“Somehow, I’m not quite motivated,” she teased. “Fighting you and Hardcase is hardly a challenge.”
“Well…” Rex intervened, sarcasm flooding his voice. “Forgive me, commander, but I cannot allow you to talk to my soldiers in this manner.”
“Of course,” Ahsoka followed. “Why don’t they attempt to prove themselves as such?”
In front of her, the troopers exchanged looks and nods until finally Rex and Echo joined Fives and Hardcase’s flank, crossing their arms as Ahsoka delicately set her drink safely on one of the little tables by the pool chairs.
“One versus four does sound like more fun,” She said.
“Alright, alright,” Hardcase stepped up to the middle ground. “Here’s how we’ll do this. We’ll divide the ammo half and half, the whole pool and poolside is legal ground except for the chairs because that’s where our snacks are—”
“Agreed,” Fives said.
“-and whoever loses,” Hardcase paused for effect as he went to point to his son, the water balloon, “will dump this baby on General Skywalker.”
Everyone stared blankly at him.
“Hardcase, you’ve lost your mind,” Echo spoke with a shaky voice.
“Relax,” Hardcase whispered to him. “It’s not like we’re gonna lose.”
“I accept the terms,” Ahsoka said.
“Three water balloon impacts to the head of each member in the team marks the winner,” Hardcase concluded. “Commander Tano, please grab your half of the ammunition.”
Ahsoka went over to the box and, whichever way she could, she grabbed half of the water balloons and carried them back to her side of the pool, sticking her tongue out at Fives and Echo on the way, and she took her position.
“Ready,” she said.
“And three… two… one…” Hardcase raised his arms again. “GO!”
Fives and Echo dove into the pool while Rex and Hardcase started throwing balloons at Ahsoka. Unsurprisingly, she was able to dodge them all, and she kept an accurate measure of the time it would take the twins to reach her side of the pool, for which she threw two quick balloons at Rex and Hardcase to keep them distracted long enough for her to throw two more at the twins when they surfaced, hitting them square in the face.
That’s one each, she thought to herself.
Echo was still wiping water off his eyes, giving Ahsoka a chance to launch another balloon at him before diving into the pool herself. Pushing herself off the walls, she was able to make it side to side underwater while the troopers on the surface tried to keep track of her trail, hearing their voices muffled by the water. Finally, she reached the bottom of the pool and pushed herself upwards, admittedly using the Force to aid her, allowing her to jump a good meter above the surface.
With balloons ready in their hands, the clones all aimed and threw at the same time, but Ahsoka rolled mid air and dodged, making their balloons ultimately hit each other.
“Echo’s out!” Fives yelled, giving Ahsoka the perfect window to get out of the pool.
She stood almost completely still as the three troopers fired balloons at her, and Ahsoka either dodged or deflected them, depending on how much she wanted to show off. It bought her just enough time for the three of them to launch everything they had at her, until the three of them stopped and exchanged worried looks.
They had launched everything they had at her.
Ahsoka giggled. “My turn.”
Realization hit the clones as panic slowly entered their eyes, all while Echo watched safely from the sidelines sipping on his mocktail.
“Pull back!” Hardcase yelled.
Ahsoka grabbed a water balloon and chose Hardcase as her first victim, throwing one of the larger balloons straight to his face with all the speed she could muster. Next was Fives, who was still in the pool. In worthy ARC trooper fashion, he put up more of a fight and dodged decently, but even he couldn’t escape Ahsoka’s mighty skill.
It was down to Ahsoka and Rex.
He’d watched legions of droids approach him, brothers fall in the glory of battle, and yet, nothing could be as terrifying. Nothing could fill him with the boiling steam of battle, a fire that coursed through his veins when he did that which he was meant to do, that which he was bred and trained for all his life. In his mind, each of his brothers crying “Captain!” echoed, back and forth…
He could not let them down, even if it was with one final gesture of honor with which he went down to be one with his men.
Ahsoka stopped when she was right in front of him, aiming a bright-orange water balloon. “I will give you the chance to accept defeat, captain.”
Against the railings of the pool, Rex stood straight, a proud captain of the Grand Army of the Republic, and he breathed deep.
“I will not grant you the pleasure, commander, for as a soldier I rose, and as a soldier I shall fall,” Rex spoke.
“Any last words?” She tilted her head.
“Only that…” Rex began. “My one regret in life is letting Hardcase take charge of the rations for our mission on Christophsis.”
“And why is that?” Ahsoka prompted before claiming victory.
“Because he ate all the chips,” Rex closed his eyes solemnly as he accepted his fate.
And thus, Ahsoka mercilessly launched the bright-orange water balloon at Rex’s face, claiming the last victim of that gruesome, fateful water-balloon fight.
As the four troopers groaned in defeat, Ahsoka reclaimed her pineapple beverage and smirked proudly.
“So, which of you will dump Hardcase’s son on Skyguy?”
Wordlessly, the three younger troopers looked over at Rex.
“Dank farrik,” said the captain.
*
Skywalker rested peacefully, unbothered, his eyes closed, asleep and oblivious to war and destruction. The sunshine of Naboo didn’t even begin to remind him of the merciless rays he would endure on Tatooine. 
No, Naboo was the birthplace of his beloved, it was a place he’d learned to long to return, where he’d kissed her for the first time.
It was a place he could call home, dare he say, so long as he was with her.
And quietly, Rex loomed above him holding the massive water balloon, hesitating to drop it, looking over his shoulder full of regret as if buying himself time would somehow prevent the worst from happening.
It didn’t help that his three fellow brothers and Ahsoka giggled smugly at him, anxious to see Anakin lose it.
“Rex…”
Rex thought he’d gone mad when he heard his general whispering to him, and it wasn’t until Anakin barely opened one of his eyes and looked up at his captain.
“They put you up to this, didn’t you?” Anakin continued.
“Yes,” Rex made sure to be as quiet as possible, and it seemed it had all gone unnoticed by the others.
Then, Anakin closed his eyes again and rested back. “Do it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll put Hardcase on cleanup duty,” Anakin smirked.
The amount of relief Rex felt could not be put to words.
“It’s an honor to serve alongside you, General Skywalker,” Rex said as his grip on the massive water balloon loosened, letting it drop on Anakin’s head for it to splatter, leaving water all over the place.
The other four bolted away, their laughter echoing even when they were gone, and Anakin stood up gracefully next to Rex.
“Honestly, sir, they are like children sometimes,” Rex chuckled.
“And like a good brother, you played along,” Anakin said. “I’m impressed.”
“Thank you, sir,” Rex said with a little smile.
He liked being the older brother more than he’d ever admit out loud.
Tumblr media
Tags: @wild-karrde @misogirl828
138 notes · View notes
highsviolets · 4 years
Text
of hyperdrives & hands: engineer!reader x obi-wan
summary: you’re fixing the hyperdrive on the Negotiator when a mysterious being pays you a visit.
word count: I honestly have no idea bc i wrote this whole thing on my notes app in the car lmao. (sorry if the formatting is weird/there are typos!!)
rating: G. but also, this is basically a love letter to Ewan McGregor’s gorgeous hands.
A/N: fulfilling a request for the lovely @aty-cgca7! ily, chasity! I hope it’s everything you were looking for 💖 also I know nothing about engineering or computers or hyperdrives so don’t come for me y’all 😂
of hyperdrives & hands, a fic by corellians-only
Tumblr media
Brow furrowed in concentration, you squint in the hazy light. Reaching up to your forehead with your left hand, you slide your fingers across the surface of your skin, batting away renegade wisps of hair that had fallen away from your bun.
Maker, but it was warm down here, in the maw of this behemoth ship. You curse softly to yourself as a bead of sweat hovered perilously close to your eyelash, threatening to obscure your vision as you strain to locate the loose wire that had sent you onto the Negotiator in the first place. Hadn’t your father always warned your that space was cold? When you told him you had joined the Civilian Engineer Corps to help with the war effort, he had even cracked a joke about adding extra layers to your uniform.
You frown. Clearly, accomplished pilot though he was, you father had never been in the hyperdrive control center of a Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer.
Catching your distraction, you shake your head. No. You needed to focus. Now was not the time to question your father’s supposed space travel wisdom. There’s a job to be done. Hyperdrives did not fix themselves.
There she is. Rather than simply becoming disconnected, the wire had split in two, snapping under the pressure from the processing core directly above the unit. This was going to be more complicated than you thought.
For a few hours, the only sounds that filled the room were soft snip of wirecutters and the gentle thrum of the engines. As you start re-routing the stray wire, your mind begins to wander.
You had heard stories about Star Destroyers with entire hangers of processing cores for the shields alone. That their nav computers were the most accurate in the galaxy. That their holo encryption system was unbreakable (it wasn’t. You had written and sliced a viral code into their data key a few standard months back, just to see if you could). This was your first time on such a warship when it was in space, and while it was impressive, at the end of the day, it ran like any other ship.
Tali had been even aboard General Secura’s flagship, the Liberty, for a supply dump once and she swore that their weapons systems were the most flawless thing she had ever seen - barring General Kenobi, of course, she had added with an impish grin tossed your way.
Your not-so-subtle crush on the dashing General was an open secret among your platoon of female engineers. Most of them assumed it was because he was pretty and famous — he was on nearly every holomag cover, after all — but you knew better. You knew he was a good man. His hands told you so.
The first time you had seen General Kenobi, you had been playing in the undercity of Coruscant when a boy a little older than yourself had stopped to ask what you were building with the rubble left behind from an explosion caused by the nascent Black Sun cartel a few days earlier.
“I don’t know,” you had responded belligerently, upset at your endeavors having been interrupted - and by a boy, no less. “Why do you have a braid in your hair?” you continued. “I thought only girls had braids.”
The boy had adjusted his stance to stand up taller. “I’m going to be a Jedi,” he proclaimed. “I’m Obi-Wan,” he offered with a smile. His eyes flashed suddenly, and with a quick thrust, his hand extended into the dusty air. A sheet of durasteel that had been hovering precariously at the tip of the heap was now suspended in midair, mere centimeters from crashing down on your head. Even in the grim half-light of the slums, you could see sapphire eyes earnestly fixed on the hunk of metal. Strong, lithe fingers gestured gracefully. The object fell with a great crash a few meters away.
You could only stare in awe.
The faint sound a male voice calling had caused him to twist his head and listen. “I have to go.” He frowned. “Master Qui-Gon is calling me. I hope I see you again some day.”
He bowed slightly, then turned and trotted back toward his Master.
You had never been quite able to forget the teenager with pretty hands who had saved your life.
Nearly two decades later, you had seen him again. You and Tali had been sipping cups of caf before your shifts in the makeshift mess hall of a personnel loading area when you sensed his presence. Not in a Jedi way - you didn’t have a lick of Force sensitivity, you knew - but in the way you noticed that everyone seemed to speak a little softer and trail their eyes after the passing figure in white armor.
He had strode past the the two of you, hardly sparing a glance at two female civilian engineers and pointedly ignoring the sheer weight of the gazes trained on him. Later, over a pint of lomin ale, Tali has raved about his hair, and how “he had a shoulder to hip ratio that was sharper than a vibroblade, didn’t you notice?”
You had taken a sip of your drink and laughed good-naturedly at Tali’s antics. You had noticed him, to be sure, but you had been transfixed by his hands, not his muscles.
Back in the days before the war, when you were still a little girl, your father Aves had always told you to take note of a being’s hands. In the present moment, you smile as you refit the access panel on the hyper drive’s core reactor as a the memory comes to mind.
Even though he was a good father, Aves had been a man of mystery. Whatever it was he did for a living, it had blessed him with an intimate knowledge of guns, starships, and computers, and he had passed everything he knew on to his “blazing sun,” he used to call you affectionately.
“Blazing sun,” he would instruct you, “you can tell a lot about a being by their hands.” When he was satisfied he had captured your attention, the impression of a smile glowed across his face. He resumed cleaning his carbine rifle as he spoke, his voice low and smooth. “You can tell a lot about a being by their hands,” he intoned again. “Their trade. Their social class. How they hold a weapon. What kind of weapons they use. If they can pilot a ship. If their mind is focused or skittish.” The tall man had shrugged gently, an action that seemed counterintuitive to the grade A contraband blaster now resting comfortably in his expert grip. A new power pack slapped into place with a precise snap. “If you ever want to know someone” — he tucked a stray hair behind your ear tenderly, the other hand still clutching the blaster — “look at their hands.”
You begin tapping out routine codes on the core reactor to test the replacement wire. The various combinations of letters and numbers in basic and binary were muscle memory, and you stared in awe as your own fingers punch in the digits seemingly of their own volition.
Yes, it was General Kenobi’s hands that most enraptured you, you decided. Slender, calloused (you supposed - not that you had ever had the pleasure of testing that theory for yourself), extensions of strong, well muscled arms that indicated a strong degree over his motions. He had held them so softly at his sides that day in the mess hall. They had gestured animatedly as he walked alongside a clone commander, a graceful arc to his movements that made you think he would be a good dancer — or a formidable fighter.
The klaxon of an alarm drives you from your reverie. “Oh, kriff.” The latest code you had entered seemed to have caused the wires to short circuit, tripping an internal safety alarm.
“Kriff, kriff, kriff.” You continue to swear violently as you all but run over to the central computer console and entering a code to kick-start a program to halt the shrieking din. Within the minutes, the alarm bells stop, and you sag against the console in relief.
“Is something the matter?” a rich tenor voice asks from behind you.
Immediately you tense. In a singular, practiced motion, you pivot on your left heel and whip your blaster into your right hand simultaneously, turning to face the voice in a fighting stance.
“Freeze!” you call into the shadows. Your eyes scan the cavernous room methodically before settling on a spot a few meters in from the doorway where the light seems distorted. You take aim with your blaster.
“Justice, freedom, faith,” the disembodied voice replies calmly from the same spot.
Your eyes narrow. Whoever the being was, they had given the correct password. But the upper-class Coruscanti accent didn’t belong to anyone in your platoon, and who else would be prowling around the underbelly of General Kenobi’s flagship? There had been faint rumors of a lightsaber wielding Separatist operative. Maybe they were coming to sabotage the ship? Well, not on your watch.
“Step into the light,” you order, durasteel edging into your voice. “Keep your hands above your head.” The contours of the blaster are cool, comforting in your grip, soothing the blood rushing just beneath the surface.
A tall auburn-haired man steps into the light, arms raised. “Will this suffice?” he asked wryly, amusement playing across his features as you feel shock and embarrassment creep up your neck and onto your cheeks.
Stars above. I almost shot General Kenobi. A thousand thoughts race through your mind faster than light speed - some witty, some pragmatic.
But of course, what slips out is neither of those.
“Fierfek, you startled me,” you manage to spit out instead. It’s only your steel will that prevents you from collapsing from embarrassment on the spot. Feigning nonchalance you decidedly do not feel about almost murdering a war hero and childhood crush, you holster your weapon and turn back to the console.
“I gathered as much,” he returns, amusement still coloring his tone.
The room fell silent for a few moments as you run system diagnostics.
“What is it you’re working on?” This time, he’s so near you can feel the heat of his breath on the back of your neck. Well honed reflexes are faster than your brain, though, and it isn’t until you feel a gentle pressure on your elbow that you realize it’s raised to jab him in the throat.
General Kenobi’s chuckle seems to fill the room. “Are you sure you aren’t trying to kill me?” he murmurs. A shiver runs up your spine despite yourself and you feel your stomach start to coil.
You stare at the data steaming on the console until your eyesight begins to blur. “That depends. Are you trying to kill me, sir?” Maker, but you were mouthy today. What was wrong with you?
Kenobi releases your arm dropping his to his side. Immediately, you feel bereft somehow with the loss of his touch.
Peering over your shoulder, he asks, “hyperdrive problems?”
Kriff, does that man not realize what he is doing to you, muttering in your ear like that? Of course he doesn’t, you dolt, you tell yourself; he’s a Jedi. Not his fault you’ve had a crush on him since you were nearly eight years old.
“A replacement wire short-circuited the system and triggered an emergency code,” you respond as evenly as you can manage. A fresh sweat breaks out across your forehead as another complex code dances across the screen.
“What code is that?” He reaches out as though he could absorb the masses of data contained in the system through osmosis. Maybe he can. You’re not a Jedi.
The movement serves a different purpose for you. Something wet and bright glistens as his hand moves into the blue light of the console.
“You’re bleeding.”
He glances down and grimaces. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”
You arch an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” Blood is starting to gather around an incision slashed across his right hand.
He opens his mouth to retort no doubt, but you beat him to it. “Don’t give me that bantha dung about Jedi business.” A grease stained finger jabs in the direction of his chest.
Kenobi’s face remains impassive. When he doesn’t respond, you roll your eyes, and, tugging at his elbow, drag him over to the glow lamp near your workstation.
He continues to scrutinize you, and you look down at yourself, wondering what he’s staring at. Your coverall sleeves are rolled up, there’s sweat gathering at your collarbone, and you feel the grimy mixture of dust and stale perspiration coating your face. You’re a hot mess if there ever was one.
Resolutely, you ignore the flush on your cheeks and the steel of his gaze and rummage for a bandage in the care pack attached to your hip. Several excruciating seconds later you find one and tear it open.
It’s when you’re grasping his hand in one of yours the he finally speaks. “I’ve seen you before.”
His cool composure inspires a sudden flash of irritation. “You seem rather certain sir,” you say as you apply a bacta salve.
“Because I am,” he responds mildly. His hand grips yours tightly when you apply the bandage, and you almost asphyxiate on the spot. You were right — his hands are calloused.
“Well, consider this your repayment from saving a girl from durasteel in the Coruscant under-levels about twenty years ago,” you answer with a quick smile. It’s hard to be angry when Obi-Wan Kenobi is in effect, holding your hand.
Reluctantly you release him from your grasp, letting your hand drift down to your side.
The General inclines his head in thanks, then glances back at the computer. “Is the hyperdrive fixed, then?”
You nod, stuffing supplies back into your pack. “I modified the code and replaced the wire so it should be okay.” You meet his eyes. “I’ll be with the ship until it returns to Coruscant, so if there any problems I’ll be available to assist, sir.”
You turn to leave, but he reaches out and catches your hand. “And who do I have to thank for such diligent caretaking of both my ship and my hand?” he inquires. His touch is like satin against your dirty hands and you grin in spite of it.
You consider for a moment. “A blazing sun,” you tell him.
You smile as you make your back to your quarters. Yes, you could tell a lot about a person by their hands.
120 notes · View notes
pinkalexlive · 4 years
Text
I swung, aiming for surprise, directing the iron at the skull.
It caught the iron mid-swing.  I tried to wrench the weapon free and failed.
Another hand emerged from beneath the hides.  I had to let go of the weapon and back away before it could claw at me.
It took a half-step forward to follow.  It dropped the tire iron onto the road, where the snow muffled the sound.
Blake you can’t fight this with a stick so please run before you die and also get Rose more hurt maybe. Is this what got Molly?
“How does this end, then?” I asked.  “We wait out here by the side of the road until I freeze to death?”
I paced, watching how it followed.  The knobby, long-fingered hand came out as I drew too close.
There was a hint of hysteria in my voice as I spoke, “Can’t go forward, can’t go back.  I won’t go left.   Will you let me go right?”
I like that he’s talking in the middle of this. Makes no sense, I’d be breathing hard at least, but I like it.
The hop hadn’t inspired a sudden attack.  Briefly turning my back, too, seemed like it was fairly safe.
That in mind, when I found flat ground under my feet again, I ran.
SMART BLAKE YES
“Rose,” I gasped out the name.  I fumbled for the mirror, but my hands were frozen.  I got a grip on the bar that was supposed to fix the mirror to the ceiling and pulled it out.
“-here.”
Her voice was faint, tiny, and muffled, cutting off as though someone had reached out to muffle her.
ROSE IS ALIVE YES
I could feel a sick feeling in my gut, a combination of fear, despair, and the exhaustion of running.
I saw a figure up ahead, through the tree cover.
A quick glance back showed me the other one was still following.  Closing the gap.
“Hello!” I called out, and I was surprised at how hoarse my voice was, my throat made raw by the heavy breathing of frozen, dry air.  “Help me!”
The figure pushed through the cover of branches.
A bird skull, a covering of overlapping hides, bleached white and stained, and a heavy wreath of branches around the neck and shoulders, like a nest.
And there goes my good mood. Oooh no.
There, in the distance, in a gap between neat rows of trees.  A third, with the hides forming a hood over the bird skull.  Shorter than the others.
Bad bad bad
“Rose,” I said.
I heard only a whisper of a noise.  I wiped the mirror against the side of my leg, mid-run.
Bad bad bad bad bad
I came face to face with another of the bird-skulls, not looking carefully enough for the white skull and white hides against the snowy background.  It clawed at me, backhanded, and dashed the mirror out of my hands.  I fell, a result of the combined impact, pain and surprise, landing just beside the flecks of blood he’d clawed from my hand.  My glove was cut, the skin around it exposed, and a line of blood was nestled in the center.  Bewildered, I watched as the skin parted and joined together, as I opened and closed my hand.
Okay Blake I know that you are amazing but now is not the time to admire yourself
No mirror, no Rose.
WAIT WHAT
It clawed at me, backhanded, and dashed the mirror out of my hands.
NO
Were they wanting me to try to cross?  Was that the plan?
I sat by the bank instead.
I looked at the bird masks that had gathered formed a loose three-quarter circle around me.
“This okay with you bastards?” I asked.  “Can I sit?  You like this?”
The hides flapped in the wind.
“Motherfuckers,” I said.  I moved my hands up to my armpits, squishing them beneath my arms.  I could feel the pain in my wounded hand.  My cheek felt tight where I’d been scratched.
Blake: I want to run
Deerbirds: Run that way
Blake: Okay now I will not do that
“Please tell me reflections in water work too.”
“Yeah,” she responded.
Alright, so not everything’s fucked! That’s good!
“Does it matter?  I think those orders are why they’re behaving this way.  Barring my path to keep me from certain areas.  Driving me away from shelter, wearing me out.”
“They want plausible deaths.”
That means we have a smart antagonist for a smart protagonist... I’m ready for sassy Sherlock and also sassy Sherlock vs Deerbird Moriarty!
“Not sure how I’m supposed to do that,” I said.  I sighed, and my teeth chattered as the air passed through my lips.  “All I can figure is they don’t want to claw me to death.”
“Molly was clawed to death,” Rose said.
I closed my eyes.
Blake: Okay that’s neat Rose but could you please keep those thoughts to yourself thanks
Alternatively,
Blake: *inhale* boi.
I forced myself to my feet.  I was shaking, now.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I’m not,” I said.  “I just hate sitting still.”
“You need a plan.”
“Any fucking ideas?” I asked.
Man, it’s only been two chapters but I’m so invested in Blake. I know he won’t die here but I am really scared it will happen anyway.
Maybe that’s the blogging’s fault?
The three-masked one slowly removed one mask from its shoulder.
It dawned on me.
That mask was going to be mine.
One of those is Molly. Calling it.
“I’ll take a guess, if you have to give me one, Rose.  Just lie convincingly.  I’ll lose heart if I don’t buy it.”
“Your three o’clock,” she said.
Nothing more.  No details.  No explanation on why it was the right direction.
Right.
I always love the chemistry between clones. It’s always unique but similar, and this is no different.
Each step was a careful one as I made my way towards the middle of the pond.  I transferred my weight with care, doing my best to avoid putting too much weight on one point at once.  The three-masked one moved to cut me off, keeping me on the ice.
I heard the faintest cracking sounds.  Around me, not them.
I made a beeline straight for three-masks.
Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh-
Woman’s hands, oddly enough, with flecks of nail polish still on one.  Wizened, worn, abused, with bits of nail splintered off where they had maybe scraped violently against something.
Grandma Rose?
The ice didn’t break beneath them.  My heart sank.
I collided head-on with three-masks, and felt her stab at my shoulders through my coat, clawing through fabric with no heed for her own well being.  Frenzied, violent and noisy after the almost tranquil quiet.
Are they ghosts? Wendigos? Some other horrible creature? Either way, they don’t ‘properly’ exist physically.
In one motion, full-body, I managed to heave it about three feet.  I watched it bounce off the ice and slide, uselessly, towards the middle of the spread out bird-masks.
It lay there for a good ten seconds before the ice broke.  I watched as the things plunged into the water.
Yay! Something worked!
Leaving me with only two to deal with.
I ran, fueled by desperation.
I ran, fueled by the adrenaline that pain was dumping into my body.  Through shock and fear.  Nothing conserved, nothing saved.
Thick trees tore at me, costing me my toque.  My frozen hand and foot were throbbing, now, and my injured hand was so cold I couldn’t open my fist.
NOT THE TOQUE! Saddest death so far. Rip toque, enjoy clothes heaven with scarf.
I found the end of the trees.  A strip of snow.  A line of road.
Squat, short buildings, and a sign reading ‘truck inspection area’.
Headlights flared in my field of vision, blindingly bright.
I staggered forward, collapsing onto my hands and knees.  I could hear a vehicle’s door open.
I’d say Blake is safe but I’m feeling more paranoid than he is.
“Good god, man,” a deep voice said.  “What the hell did you get yourself into?”
I thought about explaining, about the others.  I’d sound crazy.
I thought about making an excuse, saying I was chased by some delinquent kids.  It would get the police involved, and it would delay me.
“Car broke down,” I said, a little numb.  “I thought I’d take a shortcut, got turned around.  I- I- panicked.  I started running and got hurt.”
“We’ll get you an ambulance, not to worry.”
Why do nice people in this make me nervous?
“If I don’t get you to a hospital, and you die-”
“I’m not going to die,” I said, not sure if I was lying.  “Drop me off at the rest stop, I’ll warm up and get food.  I’ll hitch a ride to where I need to be.”
“If you’re positive,” he said.  “I don’t want you haunting me or anything, and I don’t want lawsuits either.  I don’t make that much money.”
He nodded.  “Sure, then.  You need help getting up?”
I like this guy but still don’t trust him. Also, did Whatbomb miss a line there?
Was that a rule, here?  No monsters after sunrise, or no monsters when others could see?
I made eye contact with Rose, in the side-view mirror.
She looked drained, haggard.  Almost worse than I did.
Day is typically good in stories, so I’d say yes. Also, Rose is okay! Yay! Kinda okay. Maybe a little worn down.
As the truck driver talked to some employees, negotiating a way to get me to my stop, I saw a man in the corner with an oddly crooked stance, leaning against the wall as if his limbs wouldn’t hold him up, the whites of his eyes too white as he tracked us with his gaze.  Staying out of the way, almost out of sight.
SUSPICIOUS! STAY AWAY BLAKE, THAT’S A BADDIE
Wow. The chapter’s already done. Not much calling it in this chapter, so I’m gonna hold off on analysis until after a few more ‘calling it’s.
I’m really nervous and I love that!
3 notes · View notes
konstantya · 5 years
Text
Places to find me:
Heyo!  In light of tumblr’s recent fuckery (and now that I actually have time to address it), I figured it would be good to put this info out there.  (I mean it’s already readily available in my little blog profile, but if you only see me on your dash, it’s easy to miss.)  So:
DW: https://konstantya.dreamwidth.org/ AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konstantya FF.net (yes, I’m still there XP): https://www.fanfiction.net/u/486109/Konstantya
As you can see, I’m available multiple places, all with the same username.
Now.  For some personal ramblings:
As I’ve mentioned a little in my recent tags, basically, if this recent turn of events means tumblr is going to die, I am honestly ready to let it die.  I was never the biggest fan of the platform in general, and in the past year or so especially I’ve really cut down on my usage of the site, because I realized I just didn’t need the...mental clutter, you might say?  Like, yeah, this is a neat picture, but do I really need to reblog it?  I can probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve actually gone back and taken a look at my “architecture” tag, for instance.  I originally came here for “fic rambles” (well, and because fandom in general--and especially the fandom I was really into at the time--moved here)--so I could have some place to (essentially) shitpost about characters and stories I was writing.  Due to the nature of the platform, though (and my own progressive lack of writing time), my blog has become more of a general fandom/aesthetic blog.  Which is fun in its way, and I’ve met some great people here, but it’s just a lot of STUFF.  And with every reblog, it’s just MORE STUFF, piling up, and it’s just gotten to the point where--even before this all went down--I seriously considered doing some digital housecleaning.  But I’ve been here since 2011 (literally, almost exactly seven years, as I signed up in early December), I have 777 pages worth of posts, and that is daunting to sort through.  Daunting enough that I considered not even backing up my blog, reasoning that if I haven’t looked back through these posts in however-many months, they probably aren’t worth hanging onto.
Alas, there are some posts I go back to (the ones in my “music” tag, for instance), so I have set about backing up my blog.  (My main one, at least.  I do have that secondary Texts From Escaflowne blog, which I may or may not back up, but even if I don’t, I still have all the image files on my hard drive, and wouldn’t be opposed to dumping them on some other site in the future.)  But anyway, yeah, I’m backing it up, and we’ll see if I ever get the motivation to actually sort through all the shit I’ve collected and posted over the years, pfft.
For now, though, I’m hanging around, if only to see how this all goes down and where people all move to.  Personally, I would LOVE it if fandom moved to DW.  I really came into fandom during the LJ era, and DW is basically all the good parts of LJ--what LJ used to be, with a staff that actually listens and responds to users.  I’ve had an account there since 2011, and while it’s mostly a back-up fic archive these days (because as other posts have mentioned, it isn’t good to keep all your eggs in one basket), I would LOVE an excuse to hang out there more often.  And while there was uncertainty about the platform back then (“will it stick around???”), it’s no longer the new kid in town; it’s stuck around and it’s survived, whereas other LJ clones have perished.
tl;dr:  I have a DW, have had it for years, and would highly recommend it.  (And yes, it will take some getting used to if tumblr is what you know and are comfortable with, but any platform is going to be different; I don’t like change any more than you, but sometimes you gotta put on your big-person pants and just deal with it.)  Furthermore, if you do make a DW account and we’re friends here, friend me over there!  My biggest concern regarding tumblr’s recent bullshit is that I’ll lose contact with the people I’ve met here.  (I mean, true, I know where I can find most of my mutuals if I somehow get deleted or the site in general suddenly goes belly-up, but still.  Easier to find someone because they knocked on your door, rather than having to hire a private investigator to track them down or whatever.  :/ )
5 notes · View notes
Ch.01.02
“What a dump!” Rajan though to himself as he walked through the streets of Toboga city, the capital of the southern administrative region of Desevero.
The planet, and indeed most of the Tion sector had made a bid at independence during the Clone Wars, fielding its own army in addition to siding with the Confederacy. And the region had been among the last to fall to imperial forces after the new order rose to power.
The scars of that war were still plainly seen. With much of Toboga still scarred from the final battles of the empires conquest. As the man responsible for so much of the destruction wrought on the world he had to say it felt very odd standing upon it. At least not without a stormtrooper escort and close air support.
Walking past a town square which still held the wreckage of a half destroyed AT-TE he turned the corner and almost slammed into a squad of the local garrison forces.
“Freeze!” The squad sergeant shouted in alarm, raising his blaster just a fraction before the rest of his five man unit. “Hands up!”
“Morning sir,” Rajan answered calmly, leveling a polite smile at the sergeant even as one of the troopers peeled away and began searching him.
“Stay where you are,” the sergeant added, though his helmet dipped as he took in Rajan’s rather nonthreatening appearance. A simple tunic, cloak and knee length boots made him look like a respectable member of society.
“In my left breast pocket you will find my identification,” Rajan said still in a positive tone. “I also have a blaster in a holster in the small of my back and a knife in my boot,” he added thinking it a good thing to declare.
The trooper confiscated his blaster, the knife, and his ID in short order and returned to the protection of the rest of the squad. Handing the ID to the sergeant.
“Off worlder?” He asked after a moment looking at Rajan’s credentials.
Rajan nodded, “from Coshtii just made planetfall today.” Keeping his hands raised he gestured towards the spaceport at the edge of town.
The sergeant plugged the ID card into a reader he pulled from his belt. Waiting for it to process for a few seconds and giving Rajan another once over. A small click sounded as the card was read and displayed its results.
“Sorry for the rough handling,” the sergeant said as he straightened and lowered his blaster. “Cant be to sure here with the locals.” He handed Rajan back his ID card, and the trooper walked over with his weapons. The three other members of the squad remained on alert, though their weapons were no longer pointed at Rajan.
Leaning in close to him the sergeant confided a few words of advice. “I would stay in the city center if I were you. Gangs love to attack offworlders, they will take you for anything you have and then leave your body in a gutter.”
“I have some business to attend to here, but wont be long.” Rajan assured the sergeant.
Taking a moment to consider Rajan again the sergeant offered to send one of his mend to escort him on whatever business he had in the city outskirts.
“That wont be necessary I assure you,” Rajan held up a hand. “I will be just a few minutes more and then plan to leave the planet in a few hours.”
“Well be careful,” the sergeant cautioned. “Things aren’t as safe as they are on Coshtii.”
Rajan moved on, wishing the troopers well as he did so. He passed through more of the city, navigating past piles of rubble and blasted apart buildings. Arriving in a few minutes more at his destination. An only mildly blasted town house nestled against the city walls in a formerly upper class neighborhood.
Rajan took a moment to look around the neighborhood. Seeing only a few locals milling around staring back at him nervously. He also took a closer look at the house. Noting the mismatched trim, multi-colored bricks and different window shutters. It was clear that the house had been repaired at some point after the invasion using components from the surrounding homes.
He rapped on the door, a strange feeling forming as he did so. Inside he could hear shuffling feet and a slamming door. Taking a step back Rajan could feel the odd sensation growing in his mind.
“What do you want?” The small and squat Twilek male who apparently owned the house asked after flinging the door open. Rajan noted that his left hand was concealed behind the wall, likely clutching a blaster.
He looked Rajan up and down, not relaxing in the slightest, but also apparently deciding he was not a threat. The feeling something was wrong grew stronger.
“Orrik Negosha?” Rajan asked, putting some mild surprise into his voice.
“Yes?” Orrik answered suspiciously.
Rajan smiled, “I saw your add,” he gestured to no place in particular. “The one where you were wanting transport off world.”
“Oh,” Orrik said. His face suddenly turned ashen, no small feat given his brilliant green complexion, and the sense of wrongness exploded into a wailing alarm.
Rajan flew into Orrik, gripping the blaster he held in his left hand and hitting the ground on top of the panicked Twilek. Behind him an explosion of blaster fire ripped through the doorway and slamming into the air just above him.
Adjusting the blaster and thumbing the safety off Rajan rolled off Orrik, blasting two beings who had entered the house through a back door. He shot another as he stood up, ducking through the kitchen as the blaster fire coming from the street increased massively in scale.
Rajan dropped the borrowed blaster and grabbed his own, thumbing it onto full auto and blindly returning fire through the kitchen window. “Do you have a speeder?” He shouted, uncertain if Orrik was still alive but knowing if he was he would likely be just as desperate to get away.
“Not here,” came a reply that made Rajan’s spirits sink.
“Stay low,” Rajan advised, ducking return fire and switching position to the back of the building where he had heard foot steps. Keeping below the line of the windows he crept back. Passing a small reading room, and a bedroom.
Two humans with awkwardly large blasters, and a scarred Merkravi met him. Eachothers weapons getting in the way as they tried to bring them to bear on Rajan. They were dead before any of them could get off a shot.
“I think I have a way out,” he called, getting a soft grunt in response.
Rajan fired a few random shots out the back door, getting no return fire in response. Tentatively he chanced a quick look out at the alley. Nothing.
He returned to find Orrik in the same heap he had been in from the start. Apparently the twilek was not inclined to move much during a firefight. Rajan fired at two Rodians who were getting to close to the front door, hitting one in the chest.
“Do you want out of here or not?” Rajan asked, startling Orrik and eliciting a small yipe of surprise.
He turned to look Rajan in the eye and blinked, “a way out?” He asked somewhat dazed.
Rajan fired at the surviving Rodian, he was done asking, but he could not bring himself quite to leave the man either. Switching his blaster to full auto he fired furiously out the door one handed, using his free hand to yank the Twilek off the ground and back on his feet.
“Move!” He shouted in his ear.
The violence of being brough rapidly upright and then yelled at seemed to have jogged Orrik back to his senses and he moved forward willingly.
Rajan kept his distance some ways back. Curious to see if he had shot everyone guarding the backdoor. Orrik did not even pause at the entrance, but he was not shot instantly either. Rajan made sure to check before he left the safety of the house. Not seeing anything he stopped firing, and dashed towards a speeder Orrik seemed to also be heading to. As he ran he replaced the blasters gas cartridge.
He looked up as a sense of danger grew in his mind. He looked for potential sources for the feeling, his eyes focusing on the speeder. “No!” He shouted.
Orrik turned around as he ran. Skidding to the floor as his feet fell out from under him. He was just beginning to formulate a question asking why when the speeder blew up behind him, showering him and Rajan in debris. Sirens erupted all around the city and Rajan knew that the attackers would not take long to figure out that they had run.
“Follow me,” he said. Not bothering to ask if Orrik was alright. He looked around, finding a manhole cover nearby. “Open that and climb down.”
Keeping a watchful eye out for the gang Rajan listened as Orrik struggled to open the manhole catch. “Got it!” The Twilek called out. Chancing a glance down Rajan just caught his head disappearing down the hole. Rajan followed down and carefully closed the hatche behind him.
“Which way does the this lead at the bottom?” Rajen asked rather than apologize after stepping on Orrik’s Lekku.
“I am not at the bottom yet so I don’t know.” Came the reply. Rajan said nothing, though he did at least attempt to avoid stepping on the Lekku again.
“Hang on!” Orrik called a few moments later, Rajan wished he would speak quieter, though it was likely the sound of his voice would be largely muffled by the manhole cover. “I found the bottom,” Rajan heard a splash and grunt.
His foot found the end of the ladder and soon Rajan dropped down into knee deep standing water. Water that smelled remarkably like sewage.
Looking around in the dark Rajan’s fake eye took a moment to adapt to the low light conditions. Finding that he was indeed in a sewage system underneath the city. The tunnel they were in extended far away in two directions, running through a mental map of the city Rajan guessed at the direction of the spaceport.
“This way,” he said grabbing Orrik to make sure that he knew which direction he was meaning. “Once we get to the spaceport you are on your own.”
“You aren’t taking me off world?” Orrik demanded, his voice suddenly high pitched and desperate.
“Your add did not mention anything about a hit squad coming for you, nor did you say you would need protection during your travels.”
“But I don’t!” Orrik said.
“Our current surroundings would tend to suggest otherwise,” Rajan countered.
“But I can pay you.”
“And if I am killed? Is my life worth the risk of death?” Rajan demanded. Orrik did not respond immediately.
“Who is trying to kill you anyway?” Rajan asked, out of only mild curiosity. But he was not at all prepared for the response.
“Black sun,” Orrik answered miserably.
“What!” Rajan thundered, finding his hands suddenly around Orriks neck.
“Now you see why I need to get off this planet?” Orrik asked through choked breaths. Chuckling softly.
“What did you do?” Not releasing his grip Rajan shoved Orrik hard into the wall, knowing any remaining breath out of him. “Answer me or I assure you that black sun will be the least of your worries.”
Orrik struggled for a moment, gasping for air, and Rajan allowed him a breath. If only to get an answer before he died. But his grip remained iron tight and unrelenting otherwise.
“I sold secrets!” The Twilek said eventually.
Not liking where this was going Rajan found himself with a follow on question, “to who?”
“Crimson dawn!”
Rajan tossed Orrik aside in disgust. “You betrayed black sun to crimson dawn?” He asked incredulously. “Do you have a death wish?”
“Seemed like the thing to do at the time,” Orrik argued in a small voice. He clutched his throat, still regaining his full breath.
“Well I hope that you didn’t save what they gave you because where you are going you cant take it with you.” Rajan moved past Orrik and kept going, anxious to get as far away from him as possible and run before the gang found him.
“Please you have to help me!” Orrik pleaded still on the ground. Curled up into a ball he called out, “I will pay whatever you ask, just don’t leave me here to die!”
Rajan stopped but did not turn around, “as I said once we get to the spaceport you are on your own.” Over his shoulder he called, “I am sure you can find some poor being to get you off world.”
“Everyone has a price!” Orrik called, seeming regaining some semblance of confidence.
“I agree, but you cant afford mine!” Rajan retorted still walking away.
“I can pay you enough credits to buy a destroyer!” Orrik offered. Rajan did not give him a response, though he could hear sloshing footsteps behind him telling him that Orrik had not given up.
“I would try someone else at the spaceport but I know that you can handle yourself.” Orrik now seemed to have regained his confidence, business being something he was apparently much more familiar with then gunfights.
“I don’t want your credits,” Rajan said.
“Then what do you want?” Orrik was quick one the uptake, and seemed determined. “I have more than credits to offer you.”
Something in the aliens tone caught Rajan. An odd, conspiratorial tone which told him that whatever it was Orrik was offering it was likely rare and highly illegal.
“I don’t want spice either,” Rajan said determined to kill any such offer in its tracks.
“What if I told you that I had an entire collection of old republic era artifacts?” Orrik asked, his teeth shining in the dim light of the sewer as he smiled. “I can take you to them and let you look around, then you can decide if the price is right.”
Sensing that his hook had caught Orrik widened his smile. “The best part is that its on the way to the spaceport.”
0 notes