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wild-karrde · 1 year

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In Command - Part 12

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A/N: HELLO I AM BACK! The Bolts series kind of took over my brain, but I HAVE RETURNED! This chapter took a LONG time because I really wanted to get it (and the next few right) since it contains some of the most significant changes from the original fic. I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT! As always, thank you to the OUTSTANDING @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading for me, knocking ideas around, and reassuring me when I was second-guessing everything. YOU ARE THE BEST TJ!

Chapter Rating: E

Warnings: explicit sexual content (fingering, PiV sex, cum eating), language

Word Count: 9.6k words

“How can this be so kriffing boring?” Senna muttered, rubbing her face. “I really thought this talk would have at least some worthwhile details in it, but the guy giving it has to have been around when they invented the hyperdrive.”

Rex chuckled into his cup of caf. “Oh, come on. I don’t think it’s so bad.”

Senna rolled her eyes at him. “Of course you wouldn’t. You two geezers are kindred spirits.”

“I’m technically younger than you, you know. Accelerated aging and all that.”

She rolled her eyes again, and Rex nudged her with an elbow. It seemed as though she was in higher spirits today, and he couldn’t be certain if it was because the meet with Fisk was set for tomorrow or if there was something else at play. Even her frustration and complaining seemed more light-hearted, and it had made the burden he carried feel slightly more tolerable.

Maybe it was the right call to allow her to do this.

As the speaker wrapped up the session, Senna sighed, powering down the comm node. “Well that was another day wasted.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he countered. “We learned some more of the command structure. That’s important.”

“But we need more. I need to know what that super weapon is. All we know is that it’s a game-changer in the Empire’s eyes, but we’ve hardly learned anything else helpful. No build schedule, no people running the project, not even the mention of where it’s happening.” She was pulling her bun down and massaging her scalp, her hair hanging in front of her face like an auburn curtain. Rex tried to stifle a smile as she huffed, causing some of the hair to flutter before she whipped it back over her shoulders and down her back. She chewed a thumbnail before turning her attention to a parcel that she’d brought home with her earlier in the week. He hadn’t questioned it, but his curiosity was piqued as she grabbed it and headed into the ‘fresher.

Probably going out for her nightly walk, he thought as he reached for the datapad she’d been using to take notes. He also dug his hand in the bag of sweets she’d bought back earlier in the week, popping one of the candies in his cheek as he began reviewing her notes.

There has to be something here worthwhile.

He still shared her frustration, but he felt he needed to remain optimistic, if nothing else other than for her mental state. His eyes flicked to the door of the ‘fresher as he heard the shower turn on.

Maybe she’s just getting ready for bed tonight.

He wondered if her not going out meant something. He sucked on the candy in his cheek.

A short while later, Senna emerged, but when she did, she wasn’t wearing a new set of clothes to sleep in. Rex had to clench his jaw to keep it from falling open.

She’d swept her hair back in a slightly more stylized bun with smaller braids tucked into it, but she’d allowed some wisps to hang free, framing her face. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought she was wearing a bit of makeup, just enough to accentuate her eyes. But the thing that surprised him most was the cerulean sundress she was wearing. The fabric was simple enough, but the cut hung perfectly on her, outlining her curves in ways that somehow made her eyes sparkle even more. Thin straps laid across her shoulders, weaving across her back in a simple pattern, and the skirt swept to halfway down her shins. It was modest compared to some of the garments he’d seen in his time, but somehow alluring in ways that made sweat break out across the back of his neck. She’d pulled her boots back on underneath and was reaching for her jacket when she seemed to finally notice him staring.

“There’s a festival tonight. Kind of wanted to go see what it’s about,” she said quietly. She brushed a piece of hair behind one ear, sheepishly smiling as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

“By yourself?” The question came out more accusing than Rex meant, and Senna ducked her head, rubbing the back of her neck.

“There’s a big dinner tonight for the conference. All of the Imps should be there. Figured it’d be safe enough on my own.”

“Oh.”

“I-I just… I didn’t know if… I didn’t know if you’d want to go.” She paused. “Do… do you want to go?”

Rex’s mind faltered.

Did she not want me to go? She’s been distant the last week, pulling away. I don’t want to intrude if she needs the space. But… when she looks like that… Maker…

“I should probably stay in and go over the notes. And then make sure we’re prepped for the meet tomorrow.” The words were out of his mouth like a reflex, and he found himself second-guessing them immediately. Her expression was unreadable.

“Alright then. Might grab dinner while I’m out too.”

“Right. Bring me something back?” he asked.

She smiled gently. “Of course.” They stared at each other for another beat, Senna rocking nervously back and forth on her heels. It was as if she wanted to say something else, but was unable to find a starting point. Finally, she seemed to give up trying, reaching over and snatching her comm from where it sat on the desk. Quickly, she pulled her jacket on and slipping the comm into her pocket. “I shouldn’t be out long. Probably won’t be too much fun.” Her smile was almost apologetic.

“Yeah. Sure,” he fumbled.

Before any more awkward silence could hang between them, she was out the door, leaving Rex alone as he replayed the moment again and again in his mind.

What the kriff was that?

—

Senna walked quickly through the crowds on the street, keeping her head down as if she could outrun the awkward encounter with Rex by putting more distance between them.

What the kriff was that?

She had thought about asking him to come with her. Tortured herself over it, in fact. Ultimately, she came to the conclusion that was a violation of the invisible and inconsistent boundary she’d set for herself.

Still… maybe it would have been nice for me to ask.

Dammit.

The evening air was cool, but a warm breeze blew some loose tendrils of hair against her cheeks, and she could smell food vendors nearby frying every type of meat and cheese under the sun. The tinkle of laughter and the notes of music carried on the cool night air, and as she got closer to the square, she felt some of her tension melt away as she sank into the festival atmosphere. Children raced past, brushing her skirt as they sprinted carelessly by, laughing and screaming with dust swirling in their wake. Senna smiled to herself as she disappeared into the crowd, enjoying the feeling of being around people, yet alone. She made her way through the throng, the music growing louder as she wove by group after group of people laughing and giggling. Suddenly, everything opened up around her as she reached the square, and she inhaled sharply as she took it in.

The entire area had been completely transformed from what she’d stumbled upon on her first day out. Small lights were strung within and between the trees, twinkling joyously in the night and softly illuminating the various vendor stalls and the large space where people were dancing. The leaves whispered in the breeze, harmonizing with the laughter and shouts of the onlookers that stood around the edge of the dance floor. A live band played a quick-tempoed tune as the dancers whirled, the colorful fabrics of their clothes waving in wide arcs as they spun, hair and tendrils whipping around like grass in the wind. The smell of assorted fried food and warm drinks was stronger now, carried on the wind along with the sounds, and Senna felt her stomach grumble quietly. She let her shoulder lean against a pillar that was wrapped in streamers and greenery as she took the scene in. She’d never really had the opportunity to see festivals like this while she was a Jedi, and moments of joy like this one warmed her heart after so much time spent in a war.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” a familiar voice said softly next to her, and she jumped, whirling to glare at the man next to her. Familiar brown eyes twinkled beneath the brim of a hat that was covering his blonde hair as he leaned closer to her.

Rex.

“Did you follow me?” she whispered with an edge of annoyance.

Too close.

“No. Well, yes. But I kind of wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he said sheepishly, ducking his head. “And I figured… well, we are supposed to be on our honeymoon.”

Senna studied him for another moment.

“I suppose that’s true,” she conceded. She felt him step closer, hesitantly wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Is this alright?” he murmured against her ear.

“Yes,” she breathed, trying to keep her heart from racing as she felt his fingers rest against her hip. Her tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips as she fumbled to change the subject and ignore the heat racing to her cheeks. “You ever see anything like this?”

“We weren’t exactly around a lot of festivals on our campaigns.”

“Yeah, that tracks.” They stood in silence for a few more minutes as the song came to a close and the dancers all applauded along with the crowd. The band struck up a new song, and many of the onlookers took to the dance floor, swaying in time with the music. The beat tugged at Senna, and after a few seconds, she found herself tapping her foot. Rex glanced down at where her boot was keeping tempo, smiling to himself before his eyes caught hers. She couldn’t help but grin back at him.

Maybe he’s right. We are supposed to be out together. What could it hurt?

Senna leaned over and said quietly, “You uh…ever learn how to dance, Captain?”

He turned to look at her, noting her cocked eyebrow and taking it as a challenge. “I may have picked up a few dance steps on Coruscant when I was there on leave. Don’t know that I’m any good at any of them though.”

“Well, why don’t we find out then?” she giggled, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the dancers as she tossed her inhibitions to the wind.

He hesitated, pulling back on her hand. She whirled back around to face him, her eyes sparkling in the lantern light. A sudden giddiness came over her, and for once, she wasn’t going to resist it.

We deserve this much, don’t we?

“Come on, Lon. You owe me a honeymoon.” He still was scanning the crowd nervously, so she stepped closer, whispering in his ear, “We deserve to have some fun.”

Rex chuckled quietly. “I suppose we do.”

The air was warmer as she led him towards the dance area, and she stripped out of her jacket, tossing it on a nearby bench. The breeze tugged at her hair, dragging some of the loose strands across her bare shoulders, and she inhaled deeply.

Have some fun.

She turned back to Rex. His gaze was gentle yet piercing, and she felt herself grow warmer. He followed her lead, tossing his jacket on the same bench before interlacing his fingers with hers as she led him through the dancers, weaving along until they found a spot to stake their claim. Turning to face him, Senna let her left arm drift over his shoulder. “You know the Coruscant Whirl?” she asked.

Rex smirked. “Can a Toydarian fly?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I mean, not always super well, but-“ He interrupted her by pulling her close and whipping her around in a circle, and a loud cackle burst out of her as he twirled her. They separated in time with the tempo, their fingertips grazing as they slid by one another until he stepped forward and firmly gripped her hand, spinning her back into him. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this at ease, this happy. She was out of breath from laughing, she was sweaty from the exertion, and she felt as if an ember in her chest was being blown upon every time she caught Rex’s eye, every time his hands found their place on her waist. She wasn’t certain she’d ever seen him this happy either.

She never wanted it to end.

Aren’t we owed this much? After all of it?

Rex’s grin made her heart flutter as he stepped closer to her, wrapping his fingers around her waist, lifting her easily and spinning her. She whooped in surprise at first before tipping her head back and giggling.

“Didn’t expect that one, huh?” he teased in her ear as he spun her around.

“I must say, I’m pleasantly surprised,” she said, her arms drifting to his shoulders as he replaced her on the ground. They were both laughing and panting as they danced, Senna almost daring Rex to keep pace, and him meeting the challenge at every turn. Whipping her around one more time, he pulled her back in and dipped her low just as the song ended, her hands wrapping around the back of his neck as her hair finally fell from its loose bun and spilled over his arm. Senna tipped her head back and laughed. Gently, Rex pulled her back up, her hair sticking to her face and neck as she tried to regain her breath. “Very well done, sir,” she said approvingly.

“I do what I can,” he replied, a grin cutting across his face from ear to ear.

Maker, he’s handsome.

The barriers were crumbling, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. At least, not for tonight.

We should be allowed to be happy. After everything we’ve been through.

Just playing our parts. Valla and Lon Cardell. Honeymooning together.

The band had moved on to a much slower song, and the couples around them had started to move together, holding each other close. Rex turned to look at Senna, and she could see the hesitation, the question clear in his gaze. She shrugged, stepping closer and placing his hand on her waist.

“It is supposed to be our honeymoon,” she reminded him.

He smiled but said nothing, pulling her closer.

Senna slid her left arm back up over his shoulder and allowed the fingers of her right hand to intertwine with his as she let her face rest against his chest. She could hear his heart beating and smell the sweat on him as they swayed in time with the music. The warmth of his hand on the small of her back was a grounding presence, holding her close, and for the first time since before the war, the entire galaxy seemed to fall away. She felt Rex rest his cheek against the top of her head, and she pressed more into him.

Just pretend. Just for a little while.

As they swayed, Rex pulled their clasped hands to his chest, running his thumb over the back of her hand. He turned to whisper into her ear, “Almost makes you feel normal, huh?”

Something stirred within her, twisting her stomach. She smiled sadly up at him. “You forget, this was never going to be my normal,” she whispered back.

“And… what about now?” he asked.

Her heart stuttered in her chest. She froze, and she felt him tense as she pulled back to look at him. His eyes were searching hers, as if he was trying to gauge her reaction. The problem was she wasn’t sure what her reaction was. The ground suddenly felt unsteady under her feet as her brain rushed to interpret what Rex meant, what he could possibly be implying. Her heart was singing at her to hope, but her brain was in an all-out assault to quash that.

You love him.

You can’t.

But what if he…

The song came to an end, and an announcement about the night’s scheduling was played over the sound system. Senna blinked as the speaker blared, derailing her frantic train of thought.

Just small talk. Just pretend. He’d never… no. You can’t let yourself think that.

You’ll only get hurt. Or you’ll hurt him.

Senna smiled back up at him. “We should get some food,” she said as she tucked her hair back into a bun, bending over to grab her jacket striding off towards a food stand. She could feel Rex’s eyes following her for a few seconds before he apparently decided to let it go, falling into step behind her. Her fingers flexed nervously, her eyes darting among the vendors until they settled on a stall selling roasted meat on sticks.

Does… does he?

She shook her head, quickly paying the vendor for two sticks of meat and a bag of dried fruit to share. Her stomach growled, and she bit into the meat, barely tasting it as her mind raced.

You can’t.

“Hey, are you alright?” Rex asked from right next to her.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I… here,” she said, extending him the other stick. He took it, but his eyes never left her. She ate quickly, discarding the wooden stick and tearing open the fruit bag. The sugar and some other spice tingled on her tongue. Rex was eating more slowly, his eyes seemingly never leaving her.

“Are you sure? Because you seem… distant.”

She tried not to squirm under his gaze.

Haven’t I been all week?

Senna turned to face him. Her heart lurched at the way he was looking at her.

He just wants to understand. And maybe you owe him that much.

“Rex, I-”

Their conversation was interrupted by a commotion on the east end of the festival. Shouts and screams cut through the night air, and suddenly, the sound of modulated voices carried over the crowd. Rex and Senna’s eyes met, alarm permeating both of their gazes as they understood what was happening.

Imperials.

Rex stood on his tiptoes to see above the crowd, and when his eyes settled on the far end where the noise was coming from, his mouth pulled into a thin, tight line, confirming what Senna feared. He leaned close, speaking directly into her ear. “They’ve got a small army, and it seems they’re kettling the crowd. I don’t have my chain code with me. Do you?”

Senna’s hands flew to her pockets, already knowing she hadn’t brought her identification as her fingers futilely felt for the chain code disk.

Kriff. How could I have been so careless?

Rex didn’t need her to confirm his suspicions as he met her eyes. “Guess their dinner’s over. Time to go,” he muttered. His arm slipped protectively around her as he began pressing them back away from the main avenue. Quickly, Senna pulled the hood of her jacket up and tried to shield her face with it. Rex tipped the brim of his hat lower, turning up the collar of his jacket as well. They started moving away from the impending line of stormtroopers at as normal of a pace as possible. An announcement boomed over a loudspeaker somewhere.

“This is an unauthorized gathering that is in direct violation of curfew. Disperse immediately or you will be arrested.” There were shouts of protest from various onlookers, but most people were moving away.

“We hold this festival every year. Why would they do this?” Senna heard one woman ask.

“Because they can,” another grumbled in response.

Senna’s mind was racing, her heart rate spiking with fear.

He’s here because of me. I did this. It’s my fault. I put us in danger.

Rex took Senna’s hand and they wove back through the crowd away from the approaching squadron. Slipping into an alleyway, he led her away from the main street. They could hear more and more loudspeakers and the modulated voices of the stormtroopers demanding people move, followed up with a few indignant shouts.

“This way,” Rex whispered. “It should dump us right in front of the inn.”

My fault. My fault. My fault.

They stepped quickly through the darkness, but no matter how much space they put between themselves and the festival, they still could hear the comm chatter of stormtroopers, too close for comfort. Senna was completely disoriented, clinging to Rex’s hand as he worked his way through the labyrinth of alleys and backstreets. Suddenly, he turned one corner, and then immediately jumped backwards, slamming Senna against the wall. She took in his expression, his eyes flicking back and forth, calculating his next move before his brown irises finally found hers in the dark.

“There’s a squad at the end of the alley coming this way,” he whispered. “Come on.”

Rex doubled back, and despite her long legs, Senna found herself jogging to keep up with his pace. He tried another route, but was met with yet another squad working their way towards them.

“Kriff,” he muttered under his breath. Senna could see the tension in his shoulders as he thought, working over the maps she’d watched him memorize in his head. After a few seconds, he turned the opposite direction of the stormtroopers, heading back the way they’d come before ducking into a sidestreet. Senna followed quickly, keeping her head down as she tried to take in her surroundings.

The sidestreet was largely empty, peppered with rundown storefronts and buzzing neon signs. A stray tooka watched them with mild interest, scratching at an ear with a clawed foot. There was a mild stench of standing water and garbage that permeated the entire street, and Senna fought the urge to wrinkle her nose. Her pulse was pounding in her ears, and she felt her chest begin to clench with nerves.

We can’t get caught. That was the deal. No getting captured. No matter what.

As if he could sense her fear, Rex reached back for her hand, which she gratefully slipped into his. “This connects with a fenced-off courtyard that we should be able to scale and cut through,” he murmured. “Think you can handle that?”

“Are you seriously asking if I can climb a fence, Rex?” she joked, doing a poor job of hiding the desperation in her voice.

He smirked, but before he could retort, they heard the click of boot heels and froze. Rex grabbed her arm, pulling her into the shadows. A few seconds later, a squadron of stormtroopers rounded the corner, making their way down the alley and scanning for any stragglers. They stopped a few passerby, and their demands echoed down the street.

“HAVE YOUR CHAIN CODES OUT FOR INSPECTION.”

Rex’s head was on a swivel, looking up and down the connecting alleys. His grip on her hand was firm, and it felt like the only thing keeping Senna from screaming in frustration. She turned and looked down the street, inhaling sharply as she spotted two officers with the squad. One was a younger woman, laughing at something the other had said, but the gait and posture of her counterpart was unmistakable.

Kriff.

“It’s Fisk,” Senna breathed. “Rex, he’s here.”

Her mind raced with thoughts of what would happen if Fisk saw them, and her breath came out in a shaky exhale.

I’ll be arrested as a spy. There’s no way they won’t figure out Rex is a clone. I don’t even know what would happen to him. Would they just kill him? Or lock him away? Or worse?

“Of course he is,” Rex muttered. He squeezed her hand. “This way.”

Rex led her down the closest stairwell, pulling her inside the door of a club named The Tawny Tooka. Senna’s breath felt caught in her chest as he pressed her up against the wall just inside the door, listening to the outside foot traffic. Her heart was racing, but at the moment, she couldn’t determine if it was due to the danger or how close Rex was standing to her, his hands pressed to her hips as he tried to see through the smudged window in the door.

“Paying customers only,” came a gravelly voice, making Senna jump in the quiet. Turning, she spotted a female Pa’lowick leaning out of a curtained window, watching the two of them. She was wearing a wig that sat crookedly on her elongated head, and her lips were painted a neon shade of purple that matched the glitter smeared on her eyelids.

“We just need to get our bearings. Got a little lost,” Rex said, and the Pa’lowick snorted.

“I’m sure the Imps out there can help you find your way just fine, handsome. So either pay up, or get out.”

Rex glared at her, but Senna stepped past him. “What’s the fee?”

“Twenty credits each.”

Senna counted out forty credits as she glanced past the Pa’lowick. She could make out a sliver of the club through the curtain behind the Pa’lowick, and from what she could see inside, it became very clear that she and Rex had stumbled into a sex club.

“I’m surprised the Imps let you keep this place running,” she commented casually, trying to distract from the way her hands were trembling as she replaced the rest of her credit chips in her pocket.

Get inside and hide. Disappear.

The Pa’lowick shrugged. “Normally, you’ll find a few of their officers back there, but they’ve got some big shindig tonight. As long as their top brass continues to patronize this establishment, the rest of ‘em will look the other way.” The attendant scooped Senna’s credits off the counter. “Can take your coats and hat. There’s toys and other fun supplies for sale along the east wall. Private booths on the south wall. Seems like this one prefers to be a bit more…discrete.” She winked at Rex, and his mouth twisted into what Senna guessed was supposed to be a smile. His discomfort was obvious, and she wasn’t certain she was doing much better at hiding hers.

“Thanks,” Senna mumbled, handing off her jacket before grabbing Rex by the wrist and leading him through the doorway that led into the club. He barely had time to toss his own jacket and hat at the Pa’lowick, who was rolling her eyes at the two of them as they disappeared.

Senna had been to several of these types of establishments after the war had ended, both as a customer looking for someone to take her mind off of things and as an asset looking to gather intel for Gerrerra. Despite her familiarity with this type of place, something about Rex’s presence made her cheeks flush with heat as she led him through the sea of bodies towards the south wall. Every step that buried them deeper into the crowd put her more at ease, and she felt some of the tightness in her shoulders abate as she and Rex put distance between themselves and the front entrance.

The attendant was right. Privacy will be the way to go. Especially if the Imps decide to come looking down here.

The room was stifling with the smell of perfume and sweat. Laughter and shouts echoed over a thrumming bass, and Senna’s head swam from the heat that seemed borderline oppressive. Bodies were pressed together in every nook and cranny of the club, parties of every species and gender coupling on couches or working up to it at tables with drinks in hand, leaned close to be heard over the music. Some more adventurous clientele had taken to the stage, exhibiting their proclivities while others seemed to just prefer taking in the show. When she glanced over her shoulder, Senna found Rex staring hard at her, and she couldn’t help but grin impishly at him.

“What, you can’t bend like that?” she teased, jerking her head toward a pair of Twi’leks that were practically contorted on stage with one another. She hoped the joke would keep him from hearing how hard her heart was pounding in her chest.

Rex’s eyes flicked over to the adventurous couple, and he managed a tight smile as he leaned down to reply. His breath was hot against her cheek. “Not without a good amount of stretching.”

She giggled, some of the tension leaving her body as his hands found their way to her hips. She leaned back into him, interlacing her fingers with his as her eyes scanned the crowd. Standing on her tiptoes, she was able to spot the booths in the back, several of them occupied while others had their curtains hanging open invitingly.

“Think we should find somewhere more private like the attendant suggested?” she asked, leaning back to speak to Rex. Her lips grazed the shell of his ear, and she could have sworn she felt him shudder.

“I think that’s best. Lead the way, love.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

Love.

She shook her head, desperately trying to clear the haze that was inundating her mind.

Ever the professional. Still playing his part.

Despite that thought, heat licked up her spine as she strode forward, keeping one hand linked with his as she wove through the crowd. Her chest felt tight, and an undeniable wetness was forming between her legs. She made a beeline for the first booth that was obviously open, and Rex followed her inside.

The two of them pressed into the small booth, and Rex pulled the curtain closed behind them, plunging them into darkness. With that darkness and the sense of isolation came relief, and Senna found herself releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

We’re safe. For now.

The dark space was barely large enough for two people to stand in with a small, L-shaped seat pushed into the corner that was clearly meant to facilitate one very specific thing. Senna’s head was spinning in the close space, caught between the rush of relief and the tension of having Rex so close. The air felt thick as Rex turned in the dark, leaning down to whisper to her. She struggled to focus on the words rather than how his breath felt against the shell of her ear and the smell of his skin. Some of his stubble scraped her cheek as he spoke, the low husky rumble of his voice making her knees tremble.

“We can lay low here for a bit until the troopers clear out on the street. They’ll stay just long enough to be an inconvenience and leave when the crowd has dispersed. I don’t think Fisk saw us.”

Senna’s hand rested on his forearm, nodding in agreement. “D-do we stay in here until then?” She knew what she hoped for, but she needed him to confirm it. All of her inhibitions were melting away faster than her brain could counteract them. The adrenaline was wearing off, quickly being replaced by a burning need that was enveloping her more with every breath.

Just an act. It has to be enough.

But what if it’s not?

Rex chuckled, and the sound made Senna’s heart flutter as his hand found a place on her hip. “I’m afraid I don’t have a better idea. But it’ll be f-“

The curtain was abruptly pulled open, and Senna blinked at the large Togruta man standing before them. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he had his arm draped around the shoulder of a Twi’lek, who had his hand halfway down the Togruta’s pants. Both of their eyes widened in surprise before the Togruta glared at Rex.

“Occupied,” Rex growled.

“Well at least use it then so the rest of us can have a turn,” the Togruta rumbled.

“The next one’s open, sweetheart,” the Twi’lek giggled, the muscles of his arms flexing, and the Togruta moaned. “Let’s leave them to their play.”

“Fine.” The Togruta managed to shoot Rex one more withering look before he closed the curtain, and Senna heard a thud followed by a loud titter from the connecting wall a few moments later.

“I hope that doesn’t keep happening,” Rex muttered, yanking the curtain closed again. “Don’t want to have to keep fending them off.”

Senna wet her lips, an idea forming in her mind that under normal circumstances, she’d have immediately rejected.

But these were not normal circumstances.

“It probably will keep happening.” She inhaled deeply as her addled brain reached what she considered to be the only possible conclusion. “Sit down on the couch, Rex.” Her voice was breathier than she’d meant for it to be, and he turned to look at her. She wasn’t certain if she was imagining it, but she could have sworn he looked hopeful, almost eager.

“What?” he asked.

She pushed at his shoulders, guiding him backwards. “They’re going to keep coming in, so we’d better look like we’re doing something, or else they’ll get an employee to kick us out. And then we’ll be out in the open and really will be conspicuous.”

Rex fell heavily back onto the seat. “That makes sense,” he agreed slowly. She bent down to bunch her skirt in her hands, hiking the blue fabric up around her thighs. His gaze felt molten as it raked over each newly exposed inch of skin.

“I do that sometimes,” she joked as she climbed onto his lap and straddling him. Her skirt pooled around her hips, exposing her thighs as her knees sunk into the cushions on either side of him, and she could see Rex’s eyes trail along the exposed flesh, his hands hovering over her. She leaned forward, pressing her chest against his and nuzzling against his cheek.

It’s just an act. What we need to sell it.

Rex finally appeared to decide to rest his hands on her hips, digging his fingers into the wadded-up fabric of her skirt. “If anyone comes in, just follow my lead,” she whispered against his ear, and she felt him shiver. This time, she was sure of it, certain that he was reacting that way because of her. Heat bloomed between her legs.

Just an act.

“And what does that entail?” he asked in a husky whisper.

“We’re going to give them a show,” she laughed. “Make them think this is definitely in use.”

His grip on her hips tightened, and Senna became increasingly aware that her core was pressed against his crotch, and that he was absolutely reacting to having her so close. But before she could give it any additional thought, two voices just outside of the booth’s curtain grabbed her attention, and the curtain rattled as though it was being tugged. Senna rolled her hips, grinding against Rex as the curtain opened.

She couldn’t stop the moan that tore from her throat, her fingers digging into the back of Rex’s neck as his grip on her hips tightened. She ground herself against him again, feeling his cock twitch in his trousers. She could feel the length as she ground her cunt against it, and she panted against his neck. Rex leaned into her, making a low sound in his throat that sent electricity shooting through her veins. His hands were gripping her firmly, guiding the motion of her hips as the curtain swung open.

“Oh, sorry!” It flipped shut quickly, and Senna paused, panting against Rex’s neck.

“Yeah… like that,” she whispered with a chuckle.

“Seems we sold it,” Rex rasped. There was a little strain in his voice, and she could feel how tightly he was still holding her. One of his hands moved to trail along her spine, brushing the bare skin between her shoulder blades and drawing a shiver from her. She dug her teeth into her lip to keep herself from gasping.

“Is… is this alright?” he asked after a few moments.

She nuzzled against his throat, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Just an act.

He swallowed hard. “I just… I don’t want… I know that Fisk made you uncomfortable when he touched you like this. And I don’t want to do that.”

“You’re not Fisk, Rex. It’s different when you touch me.”

She could feel a throbbing between her legs, and her head swam as she fought the urge to grind against Rex again. His grip loosened on her skirt.

“Do you like it when I touch you?” he asked, so quietly she almost didn’t catch it.

Senna turned to face him, her nose grazing his in the dim light. His eyes seemed darker, and his breath was warm against her lips as he watched her, searching her gaze. Her brain screamed at her to stop, to push away from him, to not let herself get pulled under.

But for once, she didn’t listen.

“Yes.”

She didn’t know she’d said it out loud at first, but she felt Rex’s breath stutter against her lips. His brows were furrowed as he searched her eyes, almost as if he wanted to be sure he’d heard her correctly.

Slowly, Rex reached up, pushing her hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. His fingers grazed her cheek, tracing along her jaw, and Senna leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and savoring the warmth of his palm. Rex’s eyes flicked down to her mouth, and his thumb gently traced along her lower lip. The pressure was light, and Senna kissed the pad of his thumb. His eyes locked with hers.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered.

Rex traced the lines of her throat until his warm fingers grazed along her collar bone, finally reaching her bare shoulders. His fingertips touched the strap of her dress, toying with the thin strand of material. He hesitated, his eyes finding hers again, and Senna shrugged her shoulder down, letting the strap slip off in invitation. Rex’s eyes locked on her bare shoulder, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

He looked hungry.

And in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be consumed by him.

Senna felt as if she was floating, and before she could consider it further, she reached for his hand. Rex allowed her to take it, and she kissed along his knuckles, placing one against his palm before she guided his hand under her skirt, resting it on her bare thigh. The two of them watched each other as she took his other hand, kissing it as well before she let out a shaky exhale, pulling Rex’s hand to her chest. The hand on her thigh tightened, and she placed her palm over the top of the one that was resting on her chest, adjusting her weight so that her core was pressed against his cock. Every muscle in Rex’s body was tensed, but as she stroked her thumb over the back of his hand, his fingers trailed along the neckline of the dress before his palm dropped down to cup her breast, squeezing it gently.

Senna’s head rolled back, and she gasped, grinding against him. He groaned in response.

The curtain rattled again.

The final barricade between them crumbled as they stared into each other’s eyes.

Rex’s hand slipped from her breast, sliding around the back of her neck to pull her into a heated kiss. They’d kissed before of course, but this one was different, urgent, hungry, all tongues and teeth clashing together with an urgency that they’d both repressed for months. The taste of Rex pulled Senna under, and she was more than happy to drown in him. His tongue traced her lower lip, requesting access and her hands slipped around the back of his head as she granted it eagerly, running her tongue along his, desperate to give him whatever he wanted. Her hips rolled again, and Rex reciprocated, gasping into her mouth. Both of his hands gripped her bare thighs under her skirt, pulling her against him with every roll of their hips, and it didn’t take the two of them long to find a rhythm. Her nails scratched lightly across the back of his neck as she began to grind against him more insistently. Her undergarments were quickly dampening, but she couldn’t stop.

And she didn’t want to.

Rex seemed as lost as she was in the moment, grunting every time she pressed against him. She whined against his mouth.

The curtain was still open, but neither of them seemed to care.

“Touch me,” she gasped.

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Please.”

Rex slipped his hand into her hair, gently tangling his fingers in it. His grip was firm, but so gentle compared to how Fisk had held her head still before.

She wanted more.

Rex’s lips worked their way along her jawline until he reached her throat. She felt his mouth press against the tendons there, sucking a mark before he moved down to her collar bone. His tongue traced her clavicle until he reached the scar left there by the shattered tree branch, and suddenly his kisses were more tender as he focused on the healed mark.

Senna closed her eyes, leaning into his touch as he lavished the mark that haunted her with attention, ensuring she’d never look at it the same in the mirror.

“More?” he whispered.

“More. Please.”

She pressed her core harder against him, and there was no question that this had gone beyond an act for the benefit of those around them.

Senna was chasing her pleasure against Rex’s hardening cock.

And he was helping her.

The hand on her thigh reached further under her skirt, sliding around to grip her ass, guiding her along his length. She felt his fingertips slip under the edge of her panties as his fingers dug into the curve of her ass.

The curtain closed again.

They didn’t stop.

Rex’s grip on her hair tightened, and she gasped before his lips met hers again, his voice a deep rasp.

“Valla.”

The use of her false name spurred her on for some reason.

It has to be enough.

“Don’t stop. Please,” she begged.

Every barrier Senna had thrown up crumbled to dust as she smelled Rex’s skin, tasting his sweat as her tongue traced along the muscles of his throat. Her nose grazed his jaw, and she could feel a day of accumulated scruff scrape against her skin. She had wanted him for weeks, but this was different.

She needed this. Needed him.

It was easy to slip into this role, to justify that she was playing the part of an eager wife on her honeymoon with her husband, but she knew that wasn’t what this was. It was messy, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. Rex was intoxicating, and she wasn’t about to further deprive herself of him.

Don’t we deserve this? her mind whispered to her.

“More,” she begged.

Rex’s fingers dug into her flesh hard enough that she was certain he was going to leave bruises, and the thought made her clench around nothing as her panties became a sopping mess.

Let him mark me. Let him make me his.

She lost herself in him, panting against his mouth as he pulled her forehead against his.

“We…we sh-should…” Rex cut himself off with a moan as she nipped at his jawline.

Senna felt everything in her body tightening as her orgasm built at breakneck speed. She whined against Rex’s lips, and his hand slipped between her legs.

“Are you close?” he gasped.

All she could manage was a nod. She could feel his hesitation, his hand resting against the inside of her thigh.

“P-please. Touch me.”

“Yeah?” he understood what she was asking for. Of course he did. Rex knew her.

“Please. Please. Please…” She felt him nudge her panties to the side with his fingers before he slipped one thick digit along her soaked cunt, tracing her lips and gently rubbing circles around her clit. Senna let out a loud moan.

“Right there. Please. Right there. Don’t stop.”

She’d watched his hands often, how his calloused and scarred fingers moved deftly when he was completing a task. They were strong yet gentle, and while they’d almost been her demise, she’d found comfort in them that outweighed everything. She’d thought about how they felt cradling her face, how they felt when he held her at night, how warm they were when they were wrapped around hers. And she’d quietly mewled at night at the thought of them touching her in more intimate places. Her fantasy was overcome by reality as Rex slipped two fingers inside of her, working his thumb at her clit as she ground down on him.

The sensation was better than she’d ever been able to imagine.

“All this for me, pretty girl?” he rasped, his hand quickly growing wet with her arousal as he plunged his fingers in and out of her.

Senna whined as she frantically rode Rex’s hand. He slipped a third finger into her, finally pressing deep enough to find the spongy place within her, and she gasped.

“Lon. Fuck. Right there. Gods above, right there.”

“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” he whispered.

Her eyes met his, her lips parted as sweat slicked her skin. His gaze was piercing as he watched her with dark eyes.

“Cum for me,” he demanded, nodding in encouragement. “Let me have it.”

And she did.

He pulled her lips to his, swallowing her screams as she came hard, clenching around his fingers. Wave after wave coursed through her, leaving her shuddering in his arms as she came down from her high, the thrumming bass of the music outside of the curtain finally replacing the rushing of blood in her ears.

Senna flopped against Rex, panting and listening to the hammering of his heart in his chest. She could feel his cock, still hard as durasteel in his trousers, pressed against her. He’d removed his hand from between her legs, and she could see his fingers glistening with her release in the dim light. Rex was examining them as though they were coated in liquid gold, and after a moment, he slipped his fingers into his own mouth, groaning at the taste. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him lick her release from his fingers as though it were the finest wine in the galaxy.

After a moment, he leaned down, kissing her. She could taste herself on his tongue. He offered her his fingers, and she finished cleaning them off, her own tang sharp against her taste buds. Rex watched her with interest, his eyes following the way her tongue traced his knuckles before she sucked the tips of his fingers.

“Atta girl,” he praised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His chest was still heaving, and Senna watched another trickle of sweat dribble across his collar before dotting the fabric of his shirt with moisture.

The heat grew again in her belly at his praise, words he’d said to her many times that somehow were different now. Sitting up, she reached between her legs, undoing his pants.

It’s not enough.

“What are you doing?” he rasped.

Just a husband and wife on their honeymoon. Just an act.

It was flimsy and outlandish, but it was the best reasoning she could come up with in her addled brain at the moment. She had kept everyone at arm’s length for the last year, never letting anyone get too close. Not even the others she’d slept with had felt this close, this all-encompassing, and even as she let go, she was trying to keep Rex distant in her mind.

That’s all this is. A job. A release. We both needed it. We’re doing each other a favor. Lon and Valla. Fucking each other as married couples do.

She pulled her hand away, meeting his gaze.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked.

Rex watched her for a moment before he shifted to undo his pants the rest of the way, lifting his hips slightly to slide them down just enough. She could feel the warmth of his skin where his bare hips now pressed against the inside of her thighs. And then she felt the hot, blunt head of his cock run through her slick folds. His lips parted slightly, and he released a sharp exhale at the feel of her. His eyes never left hers as he reached between her legs again, pumping himself, his knuckles grazing her clit with every stroke. He coated himself with her release before notching himself at her entrance.

Fuck. He’s huge.

They panted as they watched one another for a moment, not daring to move.

There was still time to stop, to put all their clothes back on and never go further.

It’s not enough.

Senna crossed the line for both of them, lowering herself down onto Rex’s cock on shaky legs and spearing herself on his length. Her head rolled back and she moaned as his girth split her open. He was so thick, and as the head of his cock pushed into her, she felt her walls stretch to accommodate him. Patience was never something she prided herself in, and it took everything she had to ease herself downwards. She was definitely going to be sore, but worries of tomorrow were completely banished from her mind. Right now, the entire rest of the galaxy had melted away, all except for Rex. Her hair had come loose from her bun again, hanging around his face as she leaned over him, enclosing the two of them even further. She could see he was wound just as tightly as she was, his brows furrowed as he stared at where he was disappearing inside of her, a centimeter at a time. She gave a few rolls of her hips until she was seated fully in his lap, clenching around him in the dimly lit booth. Rex’s fingers were digging into her hips again, but his eyes were locked on hers, chest heaving as he kept himself in check.

Senna sat up, grinding herself against him. Her palms pressed against the wall behind his head, and her mouth fell open. She panted as she rolled her hips again, searching for the place inside her that would send her hurtling over the edge.

Rex hissed between clenched teeth, and she leaned further forward, allowing the top of her dress to slip downwards. He reached up, pulling it down to expose her breasts to him. The cerulean fabric pooled around Senna’s waist as she shrugged out of the straps, and Rex’s eyes took her in with a reverence she’d never seen from him.

“Beautiful,” he breathed.

Senna rolled her hips again, slowly at first until she was building a steady rhythm, fucking herself on Rex’s cock. He was silent aside from the occasional grunt and his labored breathing. It was everything she’d imagined at night with her fingers buried in her cunt, all of it and more. Her mind was screaming that this was a one-time thing, all an act to keep the mission intact, but Senna wasn’t sure how she’d ever be satisfied again, not with how he was looking at her. The air between them had felt charged for weeks, and every stroke of his cock inside of her rippled through her like lightning, finally striking where she needed it most.

But she needed more. More of him. All of him. Anything less wouldn’t be enough.

She gripped the back of the couch to give herself leverage, bringing her breasts closer to his face. He glanced up at her, and she nodded, her eyes silently pleading.

Touch me.

His palm cupped one of her breasts, giving it a gentle squeeze. She arched further into his touch.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

She kissed him again, her tongue slipping along his lower lip, and he groaned into her mouth. His fingers wrapped around her nipple, tugging lightly and she gasped.

“You like that?”

“Yes,” she whined.

He did it again, and her back arched in response. Rex growled, low and deep and throaty, and heat rushed between Senna’s legs as the sound rumbled in her chest. Leaning forward, Rex took a nipple between his lips, suckling at it. Senna cradled the back of his head as he took the tender flesh between his teeth, gripping her other breast in his hand and rolling her nipple between his fingers.

“J-just like that. Fuck. Don’t stop.”

Senna fucked him harder than she’d ever fucked anyone in her life. Sweat rolled down her neck, trickling between her breasts as she ground him against the place inside her that drove her wild. Rex chased the trails of perspiration between her breasts with his tongue, alternating between tasting her skin and marking her. Frantically, she adjusted, and the new angle sent Rex’s head tilting back against the edge of the couch, banging against the wall with a dull thud.

His hand left her breast, and she whined, but his fingers slipped back into her hair, pulling her forehead down to touch his again as he began bucking up to meet her thrusts.

“Yes yes yes yes,” she chanted, beginning to bounce on his cock, and the grip on her hip tightened. Rex redoubled his efforts, guiding her up and down along his length as she desperately tried to ground herself in his eyes.

“Lon. More. Please. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t. I can’t.”

The curtain opened and closed a few times, but neither of them seemed to care or notice. At one point, it remained slightly open, and a sliver of light fell across Rex’s face, illuminating the sheen of sweat that had broken out across his skin.

He’s beautiful.

Senna felt drunk on him. She ground her clit against the patch of hair at the base of his cock before lifting herself off of him just enough to leave the head inside of her. She teased him for a moment, enjoying the feel of his member breaching her and then sliding back out before she dropped herself fully back down on him with a wet smacking sound. He whined in response, spurring her on, and she began riding him harder, willing to do anything to hear him make a sound like that again.

We’re just playing a part. We’re a married couple. That’s what this is. We’re doing our jobs. This is our job. Right?

“Right there. Fuck. Right there, Valla.”

Senna maintained the angle, driving him against her inner walls as though her life depended on it. She was gasping against his ear as he held her close.

“Rex, don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Fill me up. Fuck me. Rex please.”

She didn’t even notice she’d switched to his actual name until he gripped her tighter, pulling her close.

“Say it again,” he snarled. “Say my name like that.”

“Lon. Please.”

He adjusted her so that their foreheads were pressed together again, his eyes burning into hers. “No. Say my real name, Senna.”

Her heart fluttered and her cunt clenched at the way her name fell from her lips. She never wanted him to call her anything else again.

“Senna.”

Fuck.

She ground against him frantically, leaning forward to whine in his ear. “Don’t stop, Rex. Please don’t stop. I’m so close. I want you to fill me.”

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you until I coat your insides, Senna?”

“Yes. Rex. Please. Fuck. I need it. I need you.”

He kissed her, and his hips stuttered. She felt him spurt and twitch within her, and that sent her hurtling over the edge, her head tipped backwards in a silent scream as he grunted, emptying himself into her. Her vision was obscured as it whited out, and for a moment, she wondered if she was about to wake up from a dream again and find herself alone in her bed. The feeling of a hand on her cheek, thumb stroking over the skin, brought her back down to Lothal’s surface, and when she opened her eyes, she found Rex’s brown ones staring up at her.

“Welcome back,” he whispered.

Senna had no response, only managing a dopey grin.

She laid her head on his shoulder as her bliss faded to a buzzing in her ears. She thought she’d want to get up, be able to leave easily, but all she wanted was to feel the heat of his body against hers for a while longer. His cock slipped from her, and she adjusted to let him tuck himself away. His heart was pounding in his chest, and she laid still, listening to it slow until he finally looked down, brushing some hair out of her eyes.

You love him.

“We should get back.”

Everything around Senna shattered.

What did you expect? We played the part. Did what we needed to do. Fooled everyone.

She stood hurriedly, pulling the dress back over her shoulders and finding some wipes to clean herself tucked into the booth. Rex stood, watching her for a moment. Senna tried to keep her face neutral as she offered him the wipes to clean himself off, turning her back as he accepted them. She felt suddenly self-conscious, as if this man hadn’t been buried in her cunt five minutes ago.

Just an act.

“Senna-”

“Let’s go,” she whispered, turning to face him. She gave him a tight smile, trying desperately to keep her emotions at bay. He watched her for another half a beat before pushing the curtain aside for her. She stepped past him, her head still feeling fuzzy.

What just happened?

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @extrahotpixels @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @meekaielmyerhs99 @kaminocasey @echos-girlfriend @lucyysthings @obihiddlenox @merkitty49 @littlemissmanga @clonecyaree @baba-fett @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @samspenandsword @babygirlrex0504 @ladytano420 @fxlsealarm @runforrestr @rennyboo9 @djarrex @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @ladykagewaki @arctrooper69 @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

#karrde writes #in command #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #fanfiction #fan fic #captain rex #captain rex x ofc #captain rex x oc #captain rex x original female character #OC Senna Aven #slow burn #romance #friends to lovers #idiots in love #post order 66

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rollie-rolerson · 5 months

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What I'm going to work on for Dawn

November 6th, 2023 - started writing at 12:47 AM

*text marked with an asterisk indicates an update as of November 19th as I had this draft for some time)

(going to start logging more stuff, kind of practicing writing the dates even if it does that for me already :P)

Some unnecessarily lengthy and probably pointless context, you can just skip to the blue header

I worked on a LOT of my personified spacecraft. They just aren't here because I've been doing this since mid 2021, so they're on my DeviantArt account.

(I have a lot of fun posing. Not so much fun rendering for eons hehe)

But, it's almost 2024! And with the experience I gained since I started on the first ones (Perseverance/Curiosity; they used the same model) and a few other non-spacecraft, why not do it all again?

Honestly, really from scratch. Not only would it be difficult to add onto, change, or reuse previous content, but I also want to preserve the original files as they were + I work using procedural and manual rigging with Cloudrig now.

(There is an exception where I may use Perseverance/Curiosity (just the mesh parts). I updated them in 2022, and they also still share the same model. I archived their older models.)

I have practiced Cloudrig with Scorpius, who I finished not too long before I started working on Dawn.

Continuing on that, I decided to settle on a new land and began chipping away at Dawn. This time I've got a lot more considerations to keep in mind and I'm taking all the time I have.

In fact, she's not actually finished by the time of writing, hehe aren't I a little procrastinator /lh

so, what next?

WELL I'M GLAD YOU DIDNT ASK :D /j

1. Extra facial options for conveying expressions

The older rigs have options for stuff like creases and a sort of "tint". I call it a tint, but it is really just blushing. An important thing is that it functions as a color-changing mood indicator for intense emotions

Dawn, for example, would blush (or tint) yellow in a very happy state, or from platonic feelings

Then there's blue for an intense state of sadness

A new thing I could is stuff like. Agh I don't know what theyre called but yknow how angry characters may have those red lines to represent a vein, or scared/shocked characters have those pale blue/white lines around their heads???? whatever thats called, yeah I might do that lol

2. Closing/opening the eyes

A LOT of the eyes are done within procedural texturing. Her eyelids are not actually masked by any mesh. I currently have a few bones to close the eyes but they kind of crowd the layout and I don't really see a point in using them.

The eyelids are a texture via math nodes, and it is just a parabola. However, I am unable to get a more stylized curve without making things more complex

Before I reuse the rig itself in any way, I want to update the eyes so i can have a slider to toggle a hidden curve that I can use for the closed eyelids.

*UPDATE: THIS HAS BEEN ADDED

3. Possibly making the mouth more versatile.

This is something I am not sure is possible with my knowledge or just really in general? it probably could be but I may have to add in a lot more nodes and stuff.

The mouth is also done through procedural texturing. There are no actual image files used and all the shapes are solely from math nodes.

So my main problem is "curving" teeth so if I have a more curved mouth the teeth can kind of follow along, and it will look better. i may have to play around and experiment with vector stuff

4. making a pose library

As an animator myself, a pose library to add basic expressions and, more importantly, lip sync, is TOTALLLYYYYYYY NEEEDEEEEDDDD I mean I think you can apply poses mid-animation? I have soggy memory

5. Overall, making sure I can reuse the rig

Unlike the new rigs, reusing a rig and adapting it to a new character was a big pain in the antenna dish. With procedural rigging its much easier because the constraints will be aligned with what i tweak in the meta rig.

Because of that, i have to make sure that Dawn's rig is something that will not require too much tweaking when I get to reuse her rig for others. I'm working on Psyche, and by the time i can rig her, Dawn's rig should be good to go.

So again, making sure i have all of the above ready for reusing YEAAAH

November 19th, 2023 - finished writing/posted at 10:33 PM

#blender #spacecraft #logbook #log

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stormclawponyrises · 6 months

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>"Post the first picture/description of your OC and then post the most recent picture/description. What changes did you make? Why were these changes made?"

Cade's first design was for a side character in a comic I never got around to fully making. He and Lou still retain various aspects of their original designs, but are somewhat more alien in appearance as well as more stylized and personalized. You can see where Cade's hairstyle began, and it is where it is now simply because I kept stylizing it more and more. The tufts on his ears came about slowly evolving a similar way. Originally his ears had no tufts, then they had very miniscule ones (which looked more like the tips of his ears were separated, not tufted), and then I realized how cute floppy tufts are so I extended them and made it so they're slightly affected by gravity.

I don't actually have my first drawing of Ash anymore, but the oldest I do have is from that super old shitty cover from the first version of RFTA, where he was a villain and his eye was red from being bloodshot instead of from heterochromia. Otherwise, the colourscheme is mostly the same, but his personality and fluffiness also changed (like Cade, he's also far more stylized and personalized)

I think this is either the first or second time I ever drew Miltei. and its basically just a sheet explaining her species.

She's always had the swirls and spiky frills and purplish palette, but the colours of her hair and tail as well as the swirls has changed a few times. Her tail has also gotten a lot fluffier, as well as her hair.

#comic prompt #tw blood #blood #idk how to spoiler specific images sorry

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benis-chillin · 1 year

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Sonic Wolf 6 Profiles: Cyber the Canary

Welcome back to the Sonic fanfiction blog posts that nobody cares about!

Or maybe I'm wrong, and people DO care about them, and it's just my anxiety talking. Idk.

Anyway, meet Cyber!

Name: Cyber the Canary.

Age: 19

Bio: Originally known as Sarah, she was the love of Jack's life before she died in Infinite's first strike. However, her body was recovered by Eggman and used to test cybernetic enhancements, reviving her with machinery. Her eyes, beak, lower arms, and lower legs are entirely mechanical, while other parts are merely supplemented with cybernetics in order to function. This process(and brain damage from her death)almost entirely erased her memories, and she started going by Cyber once she regained sentience. Eventually, she escaped the research lab she was being kept in and encountered Jack and Raccoon, the former recognizing her in spite of her cybernetics.

After that, she adopted a visor to hide her cybernetic eyes, and a cap to hide a data port on the top of her head, and began fighting in Wolf 6 with a Burst Wispon until the end of the Eggman War, when she retired to the Mystic Ruins with Jack and Raccoon to live in privacy, where Jack tries to help her regain her memories. She is unable to speak anything but a modified version of the Egg Pawn language, due to her beak being replaced, but Jack has learned the language in order to understand her, while she uses sign language to communicate with Raccoon.

Cyber's origins as a character were basically just me screwing around with the Sonic Forces OC maker to create a cyborg character. After some tweaks here and there, I got this design. From there, the character started building in my head. Why did she wear a hat in the design? Because it balanced things out. Why does she wear one in the story? To hide a data port. Think of it like a bald spot, she has some anxiety around other people seeing it. She has a piece where her beak would go, does that mean her beak is gone? Sure, and since just giving her a generic robot voice would be too typical, she'll talk like the Egg Pawns do in Sonic Heroes, producing a "!" as a way of stylizing it(why she doesn't have a proper cyborg voice will be explained at some point).

This is also why I decided that she eats with a feeding tube, btw.

Why does she wear a visor? Because people freak out around her cyborg eyes.

Something I want to make clear is that Cyber is not in any way ashamed of her cybernetics, other than her data port. Due to her memory loss(more on that in a bit), she doesn't remember NOT being a cyborg. She knows that there's a difference between her experiences and the experiences of full organics, but she's not really too fussed about it. This attitude was inspired by my own about my false right eye. Like, yeah, I'd like to know what binocular vision is like, but I'm not gonna spend the day whining about it because it's been absent since I was 2 years old. I don't KNOW what life was like before, and I imagine many other people with similar situations feel the same. The only time you feel anxiety about it is when you feel like others may judge you for it, even indirectly, and that's why she covers her eyes.

And how much of her is cybernetics? Well, here's an external view without her data port.

(Don't mind her being naked. There's no naughty bits to speak of)

An interesting fact about those backplates is that those were gonna be used in Reflections. Basically, she would've saved Shadow from drowning after the water started pouring in at the end, and those backplates would've been used to help force the water out of her lungs since she doesn't have a mouth to properly cough with. I think they still serve that purpose, but the scene was cut because it didn't fit once the Wisps got involved.

Everything else on her torso is life-support related. I imagine a good chunk of her organs are now either fully or partially mechanical, but I don't want to get TOO in-depth with that. She was basically built so Eggman could see how far he could go with these things, so the more, the merrier, I guess.

And just to be clear, she was never weaponized. She was the prototype for all of the ECS Units moving forward, who were. After Eggman was done with her, she was basically used as reference for the other ECS Units until she gained sentience on her own. Her origins are horrific, her actual life? Not so much.

And here's me laying out how the data port looks...To the best of my limited ability.

The less said about that, the better.

So, how about her fashion sense, huh? I don't really see Cyber as a "girly-girl," per se, but she DOES have some specific tastes. In a reference to one of my own tendencies, I decided that Cyber likes herself a good T-shirt. Hero worship, memes, TV shows, anything is fair game to go on there. She wears shorts since they're the easiest to put on when you have to take your legs off to change, but she's not exactly OPPOSED to wearing skirts or dresses for the right occasion.

I like to think that the Chaotix shirt came from a brief attempt by them to have a merch shop for extra scratch, but they made everything a bit too expensive, so she was one of like, 5 people to ever buy anything from it.

And now, for a bit of an elephant in the room, her previous identity of Sarah.

And I need to make one thing clear with this, just so there are no misconceptions: Sarah and Cyber are, as far as the characters and story are concerned, two entirely separate people. They are very similar in many regards, and Cyber still has stuff like the sign language from her, but she is effectively dead. Jack's initial attraction to Cyber was from the fact she used to be Sarah, but he kept off of the romantic stuff until Cyber, as her own person, found herself in love with Jack. He loves her for different reasons than he loved Sarah, there's no ifs, ands, or buts about that fact. She could've gone her own way in life after the war, and he would've accepted that, but thankfully she decided to stick with him.

Overall, I'd say that out of the main 3, Cyber is my favorite in many regards. She has the most tragic past, but she's the brighter one of the group. She does fall into the "perfect girlfriend" character mold a bit, but I plan to iron that out a bit as her and Jack develop both as characters, and as a couple.

If you wish to read her stories:

The full Wolf 6 collection: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2802334

And her feature story made to promote Then and Now: https://www.tumblr.com/benis-chillin/698775785672212480/what-now

And if you wish to read up on Jack: https://www.tumblr.com/benis-chillin/704396379625291776/sonic-wolf-6-profiles-jack-the-wolf?source=share

Anyway, take care, everyone, and stay tuned as next time, we look into our feral bear boy, Raccoon!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fan character #sonic fanfiction #sonic oc #sonic wolf 6 posts

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lady-snow-flower · 2 years

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Letters To: Summer / Letters from Xuemei’s Past

Read here!

Listen along!

A/N: “Letters To” will be my backstory project for Snow, and in theory I should write four parts in total. This is the first part, and I’ve worked on it a long, long time, on and off-- basically since I began conceptualizing Snow back in September. I felt shy about posting what I had for many reasons (like it felt really random to?? shouldn’t i have a reason?? shouldn’t i get even FARTHER into the project??), but figured the musical task was a great opportunity to craft a soundtrack to go along with the first part of this project. This feels especially fitting because, for me, Snow really did start coming together when I put together her playlist.

In fact, for a bit there, I struggled to find her voice! It’s important to me before I get a character to write something with them. With Snow, I had written about 1000 words and it hadn’t exactly...clicked. Despite that, I felt her intensely. I had scenes lined up in my brain, scenes I was so so excited to write, many inspired by music. Why couldn’t I write it!!!

Then it hit me-- Snow’s trauma meant that it was just...very hard for me to access that part of her in my most comfortable writing style (3rd person limited/close). I’ve always loved this writing style because it lets me be more descriptive and figurative in my language than a character might be, while also using stylized language, but it just wasn’t clicking here. I got the idea to try something really UNnatural for me: 1st person.

But not any 1st person lol. Epistolary 1st person. I’ve loved epistolary novels since I was young, and with Snow, I got to know her humor, her relationship with her parents, and the things she wanted to divulge, in HER way of telling it. It still wasn’t the complete story though, so that’s where I took inspiration from the Locked Tomb series I was reading at the same time (for Snow, actually lol), where part of it is told in 2nd person. These 2nd person POVs fill in the gap and cover the traumatic ground Snow wouldn’t let me cover. It gives her distance, but the reader closeness.

You know. In theory!

Sorry for rambling! I wanted to share the process this go around, and sort of explain why I felt like I had to put it on a Google Doc. The line breaks and different fonts (nothing too crazy I promise) are important to the epistolary experience. I really hope y��all read and enjoy it and it isn’t confusing!

Below are the songs with my thinking behind it. I really did try to think of it as a musical! DO NOT READ BELOW before u read the story unless you want spoilers!

eight (DooPiano Cover)

I’ve mentioned in tags, I’ve posted it I think twice...I consider ‘eight’ by IU to be Snow’s theme. It’s a song about grief, nostalgia, and yearning for better yesterdays-- a place you can no longer return to. My favorite line in it is ‘Forever is a sandcastle.’ However, I put on a cover. Why? Because musicals have overtures, of course! I can’t make a true overture so this was as good as I was going to get, but it sets the tone I want. And makes me cry.

The Florist (pekoe)

This song is an introduction to Snow and her character-- what’s going on and where she is now. We start Snow’s story right in the middle of it: post-death, post-affair, so this is giving the audience the backstory we need:

My heavy heart slumbered into a dream And my tears fed the emptiness that silenced me As I grew fond of eternal sleep A lady arose with inflorescent skin Picking daisies to plant on her body And wear on her sleeve

It points to what is coming next-- Snow’s travels away from her home and the life she knew: “I know it’s a big world out there.”

In terms of the story itself, this is the Prologue baby-- a farewell to her parents.

Flyweight love (Vienna Teng)

Ah, the TRAVEL song! Snow is leaving home! Set change! She lands in China! She is meeting new people! I like the upbeat nature of this song and the optimism within it because I think that’s where Snow begins her journey. I considered a lot of diff songs for this but I liked imagining this kind of montage on stage, Snow ‘meeting’ some people on her journey with their own stories and reasons for being Flyweight Loves.

Took a train to the stubborn coast Off-season towns half shuttered Said hello to the rising breeze Made a note of the setting sun

Dear Wormwood (The Oh Hellos)

Ah yes, the waking of Snow’s magic at night. This dramatic lil indie folk number I imagine happens as Snow gets up and finds the skeleton in the watch tower! I don’t have more to say, it’s really quite that simple. (Though I like that it’s sort of like an acknowledgment of her magic... which is the beginning of her arc, aka, learning about necromancy and embracing it.)

In a musical (ok i have more to say) in theory one would like the skeleton to come to life and share its story with the audience dont u think

I know who you are now I know who you are

Revenant (Anais Mitchell)

This is the scene where Ai gives Snow her first real lead-- that thread of hope that what’s happening to her doesn’t have to be a bad thing. She finds hope in a letter correspondence and so I liked that this song mentions letters and other old things and how they beckon the past forward. That’s what Snow is doing in a lot of ways: reviving a ‘lost’ art of necromancy. It’s so soft and delicate as well and I wanted the conversation to be warm and gentle for her.

Read your letters all again Coffee rings and a ballpoint pen Tear stains every now and then I remember what they meant

Traveling Song (Ryn Weaver)

Another traveling song!! I well, needed a transition from China to Ireland and this folksy Ryn Weaver song will do! Again, I just like the storytelling nature of it and it does what Flyweight Love does in capturing the liminal nature of travel. Snow is very much in a traveling state of mind u know-- she doesn’t have a home yet.

Nobody knows where they are going Oh, how we try to wrap our minds Over the edge of all our knowings Be it a bang or the divine Tip of my iceberg blues are showing I've never been one for goodbyes So, 'til I meet you there, I'm singing A traveling song to ease the ride And so you know, everywhere I roam I'll see you on the road

There Beneath (The Oh Hellos)

This song is technically about my favorite letters I got to write-- Snow getting into her necromancy!! She is learning how to “locate memory within an object” as well as “wake a bone up and remind it of its purpose”, two things which, in turn, help Snow grow as a person and rethink her entire outlook on the world, really. These were the scenes I was so excited about when I was conceptualizing Snow, and I’m still very happy with how it turned out. There beneath the willow tree I learned a lot about the way of things I learned that everything (the wind, the leaves) has breath inside They were pointing ever east To see the ever-turning aeon cease Their wills were ever bent on waiting with all their might

I know (I know) I know this There is beauty in the way of things

Secret Garden (IU)

This song is the song of Snow’s healing and most importantly, the introduction of Ottilie, Snow’s new friend. So yes, her getting to know Ottilie and feeling comfortable in her life here!! Ideally this one perhaps be a duet in a musical and I maybe should have gone to find a duet but I love these lyrics, IU’s soft voice, and the idea that friendship is a secret garden.

Forget the things of yesterday Everyone gets things slightly wrong There’s no such thing as a perfect person Look at me, filled with mistakes and loneliness

Feels like I’ve been born again After I met you From the moment you accepted My pitiful heart

Day by day, things will get better Now that you’re watching over me I must have strength, I must be happy Like a flower that bloomed late

Never Look Away (Vienna Teng)

But enough of that nice stuff, let’s get back to conflict!

This occurs during the scene when Snow first makes contact with a distressed soul and decides she should perform a seance. It’s her first seance. It doesn’t go well. This song is also about Snow really pushing the boundaries of her magic and testing her new beliefs. I love how dark and dramatic it is, and I imagine Snow could be singing to the ghost, but it’s also the ghosts singing to Snow to really wake up and face herself

So if you're out there in the cold I'll cover you in moonlight If you're a stranger to your soul I'll bring you to your birthright I want the storm inside you awoken now I want your warm bright eyes To never look away Don't you ever look away

To My Youth (BOL4)

But it isn’t the show stopper. This is the final song before the curtain closes! We are ending the first act, so to speak, in a terrible place, with an aching, soaring ballad. This is one of my favorite songs of all time, I’ve posted it SEVERAL times, I guess I just am desperate for people to listen to it and validate me idk lmfao.

But I like it because 1. it’s a letter to yourself, thus echoing the form of this project. 2. it ends so hopeful, with the singer saying they still want to be a “light in the world” and to find themself. It hurts me actually, as at the end, as the music softens, the singer really sympathizes with the younger version of themselves: “How painful must it have been? How high must my hopes have been?”

So yes I think about this at the end, Snow picking herself up. This probably happens right after the scene with Ottilie. ugh i like her a lot, my character.

#swyntask #music #story #about #mmmmmmmmmmm i wrote too mcuh on this im so sorry but i hope someone out there enjoys this

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h50europe · 3 years

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Why the myth about Steve's PTSD doesn't add up and other inconsistencies

In the last few episodes of H50, PL tried to sell us a mentally broken Steve suffering from PTSD. Only the whole thing came a bit too late. The clip you see is from season 4 and ended up - no, not in the series - but somewhere on the floor of PL's editing room. And why? after Kurtzman and Orci departed, along with their writers, PL took the helm and started turning Steve into a super-soldier. He stylized him into something that wasn't meant to be. Instead of developing the characters, PL began to incorporate more and more hair-raising action sequences into the series and then let Steve fight on the front lines. There was no mention of Steve's mental state, and a lot was explained by PL with: it just happened "offscreen." Yeah, sure. PL can't create a decent character. He can only produce stereotypes and one-dimensional beings. Like Adam. What potential would that character have had had he been turned into Five-0's antagonist? But no. So his role remained diffuse and monotonous. Sometimes even tragicomical.

Back to Steve. When SEAL Team started on CBS, PL also lapsed into SEAL mania. If someone who writes fanfiction were to produce as much garbage as this man did, he would be chased away from every writers' platform in disgrace. PL's Super SEAL also had to rescue his team members from a blazing inferno. Not man by man, no, he flew a helicopter right into the danger zone and lifted a whole cabin out of the burning jungle. If lunacy had a name, it would be PL. While the action became more and more exaggerated and unrealistic, the same happened to the protagonists. After the departure of Daniel Dae Kim and Grace Park, PL completely lost his mind. And please, don't blame the writers for the nonsense that was thrown at you. A series stands and falls with the showrunner. He dictates what he wants and passes it on to his staff.

And so, lovable Steve became a soulless robot who only showed feelings here and there. Danny diminished more and more into a sidekick. McDanno became a ship that drifted anchorless through a stormy sea and threatened to capsize again and again. From season 8, it became a reboot of the reboot. PL tried an ensemble show and failed more than miserably. Often the actors just stood around bored. At least that was the impression. The only highlight was episode 8.10. A feast for all McDanno fans. But even here, the outcome of "who shot Danny" was more than insubstantial.

Wait, there was something about SEALs... Oh, yes. Junior appeared on the scene and became Steve's lapdog. I really wondered when there was going to be an episode where he would fetch sticks for Steve. Luckily we had Eddie for that. And because he thought he was so clever, PL invented the episode speed dating. How many subplots can you squeeze into one episode at the same time? In some episodes, you couldn't even take a look at the bag of potato chips without losing the thread.

The case of the week became the yawn of the week. There were so many loose ends that PL then came up with something called retconning. That's what you do when you're no longer satisfied with what was once established in the series years ago, or it no longer fits. But PL went one step further and did the same with the characters. The more the series was dragged out, the more the characters deteriorated and became OOC. It means, often, they were not recognizable at all. And that's where we come to Steve. Because PL, in his desperation, didn't know what else he could do to Steve, and so he killed Joe White. He did it in such a cheesy way with a fake sunset that it made you sick.

Of course, one episode later, there had to be another gig of PL's favorite Barbie. He stuck a fake beard on poor Steve/Alex, so he couldn't even hug Danny/Scott properly. The episode also raised more questions than it answered any. And Steve? He still didn't suffer from PTSD, even though he had now lost Joe White and a fellow SEAL. Everyone is dropping like flies, except for Steve, who is standing like a rock. No matter what. He doesn't need in-depth talks with Danny, nor psychological care, nor any sleeping pills. No, he's doing great. He also opens a restaurant with Danny because apparently, the carguments are already getting on PL's nerves. Unfortunately, this plot device leads into nirvana. The idea was nice, but nobody thought it through to the end. And the merry-go-round continues. Until we get to season 10, where it gets even more absurd. Now PL is almost bombarding us with McDanno episodes, or at least it should seem that way. Oh well, he's already planning for season 11, so a new character has to come on board quickly. While in the beginning, Steve's mother, Doris, dies.

Alex was allowed to take on the subject. Of course, only under the strict eyes of PL. He then nullifies Alex's idea that Steve kills his mother. Because a good soldier and Super SEAL won't do that. Little does PL know. THAT could have been the opening of a PTSD scenario for Steve. However, apart from that, this episode would have had any potential for a multi-arc. Just imagine Steve chasing his mother across multiple episodes. Again, PL stepped in and butchered Alex's episode. You can really feel sorry for the guy. PL at his best or worse? He just can't help it. And then, on the very last meters of the series, he brings someone new, who is allowed to cruise around with Steve most of the time. Because Danny was kidnapped by Wo Fat's widow, PL also invented quite late to have some villain at his disposal. This wannabe mastermind must really have been living under a rock somewhere if she wasn't even mentioned by her husband or appeared earlier.

Because towards the end, PL obviously ran out not only of steam but also of ideas, everything culminated in a wildly illogical scenario. Steve has to live through a dramatic day with Eddie, who stands as a metaphor for Steve (as I said, PTSD was never a thing for Super SEAL), Danny bangs his brains out in a ladies' room with a complete stranger, who dies shortly after that in an accident with Danny's rental car. Apparently, there was no budget to turn the Camaro into scrap metal. Danny then also goes home alone, ignoring the incoming emergency vehicles. Everything remains open at the end of the episode. While Steve expresses his gratitude to Tani and Quinn and says, he would be just as lost as poor Eddie without the dog and all of them. The strange thing is that you never notice anything until that sentence. A few forced dialogues are supposed to make the drama visible, but they all happen way too late or are so poorly written that you miss them.

PL had decided early on to make Steve a Teflon hero. That also means he didn't need to put much substance into the character. Which you can clearly see if you compare the first three seasons to the rest of the series. But towards the end, PL wanted to turn the tide and forcefully rewrote Steve's past. There is a huge difference if you compare Steve from seasons 1 to 3 with Steve from season 10. It is only a sparse remnant of what made this character so great. This change in Steve's personality also affects his relationship with Danny. The witty, affectionate banter degenerates into a snappy, humorless bitch-fest that takes all the joy out of it.

The final two episodes could have been written for any other crime show. As mentioned, we have Cole, who even gets a book'em Cole from Steve, which can only be described as out of line. And it begs the question, was that what Lenkov originally had in mind? Danny out of the show and Cole in? Was the last episode, which mainly featured McCole, something of a test run? Did all the McDanno moments happen only to tear the two apart eventually? Was the real final scene the one where Steve and Catherine take Danny's coffin back to Jersey? Was Danny not supposed to survive? Was that the real reason Steve wanted to get out of Hawaii because he wanted to pay his respects to Danny? And would he really have returned to Hawaii later? Or would he have turned his back on Hawaii? To me, this ending is more plausible than what PL served us. Then, Steve handed over his credentials to Cole instead of Danny, his second in command. Honestly, you can't make the end of a series any more sloppy and dumber than that. And I won't even lose a word about the last 1:30 minutes because I think everything has already been said.

No PL, mission absolutely not accomplished. You created Teflon-Steve. You never wanted him to show any weakness. You turned him into a superhuman who can survive anything. Only to pull the rug out from under him on the last few meters to the finish line and spit on his legacy. How can you dismantle such a great series and its characters like you did? How much do you have to hate something to do that? In the final interviews, the showrunner didn't exactly cover himself in glory either. Everyone who grew up with the series from day one knows that its end was wrong on all the possible levels and that the showrunner is solely to blame for that. It takes a fair amount of egoism and carelessness to drive 10 years at full throttle against the wall. Not many people can do that. Whether you can be proud of that, however, I doubt.

My respect if you have made it this far. Each of you gets 10 extra brownie points for it.

#McDanno #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #scott caan #alex o'loughlin #H50 the final chapter #H50 series finale #Lenkov #Eddie #Junior #seal team

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mc-lukanette · 3 years

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It had been impossible for Luka to not hear about the party going on at Adrien’s house, especially given the music blaring out of the mansion. He hadn’t had anywhere else to go that day, so he figured he might as well check it out.

He stopped, however, when he noticed Marinette lingering outside the gate to the mansion, looking discouraged. He looked around, seeing that no one was nearby, then slowly approached, concerned.

"Marinette?"

She stiffened, looking up at him in surprise. "L-luka!"

He offered her a gentle smile. "Hey. Something wrong?"

She pursed her lips, brows furrowing with worry. Looking away, her eyes darted around at nothing before she sighed in defeat.

"They—they won’t let me in. I thought the guys were up to something, so I came to check it out, but…"

"They’re not letting you in?" he echoed. Frowning at the gate, he added, "That doesn’t sound like them."

Granted, he supposed he didn’t know them all that well.

He considered the situation, knowing full well that he couldn’t just leave Marinette this way, then asked, "Maybe you can come in with me?"

She glanced back at him, hoping hesitantly. "You think so?"

He didn’t immediately answer, not wanting to promise anything without being certain. He turned towards the mansion, letting his guitar rest on his shoulder to look as casual as possible.

When the camera emerged to stare at him, he didn’t flinch, simply giving it a two-fingered salute and smiling.

After a moment, the camera pulled back, seeming not to acknowledge him at first until the gates actually opened up. Luka smiled, giving Marinette a knowing look to tell her to follow after him.

She looked briefly surprised, then beamed and got up to join him. He couldn’t help feeling a little light as he headed towards the mansion with her, vaguely imagining that she was his plus one.

Together, they wandered up the steps, where Adrien’s bodyguard opened the door to wait for them. Luka was about to head inside with Marinette when the bodyguard shut the door just enough to prevent it.

"Ah—" Luka glanced up at him, thrown off.

The man grunted, tilting his head in Marinette’s direction. Luka glanced at her, watching Marinette stare at their current obstacle with the disappointment he saw earlier.

"Why can’t I come in?" she asked. "Is it just because I’m a girl?"

Another grunt, this time much rougher, was the response.

Luka blinked, thoroughly confused now at the concept of this party. He supposed part of it was because he’d lived with Anarka and Juleka - both female - but he couldn’t understand the desire to shut a friend out of an event due to gender alone.

"Marinette’s with me," Luka insisted, "and I’m saying that it’s okay for her to come in. I wouldn’t go in without her."

"Luka," Marinette uttered. Luka chose not to look at her, intent on staring down the bodyguard until he let them pass.

The man stared back, almost squinting at him, then side-eyed Marinette. Just as it seemed like the bodyguard might change his tune, however, he instead huffed and slammed the door shut, causing Luka to stagger back from the volume.

Luka gaped, shocked that Adrien’s bodyguard would honestly refuse someone who was supposed to be friends with Adrien while still letting grown adults in. He couldn’t tell who was behind all of the decisions being made about the party, but part of him acknowledged that he might need to re-evaluate his impression of Marinette’s friends.

"...It’s okay."

Luka looked over, seeing Marinette staring down at the ground. "What?"

She gave him a sad smile, clasping her hands together in front of her waist. "It’s okay. You should go enjoy the party. I’m sure it must be really fun, so don’t let me stop you." She turned, starting to head back down the stairs. "I should be back with the girls anyway."

Luka frowned. It wasn’t like her to give up, at least not from what he saw of her while she faced off against Bob Roth.

Unless… that was it? Maybe she didn’t care as much because it was only her who was being left out?

No. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

"Wait," he called out, careful not to trip down the steps as he caught up with her and gently grabbed her hand.

She stiffened, surprised, then glanced back at him with furrowed brows. "W-what is it?"

"It's not fair," he replied, his gaze firm. He glanced up at Adrien's room, almost glaring at it. "...We'll find a way to get you in."

—————

"So!" Marinette did a small twirl, then struck a pose for him, leaning casually to one side and sticking her hands into her oversized pockets. "How do I look?"

Luka swallowed, his throat dry as he began to consider that maybe this had been a mistake. After calling Juleka and the other girls to inform them of what was happening, "Operation: Infiltration" had become the next course of action, which meant getting Marinette a disguise that allowed her to blend in with the guys at the party so she could be let inside.

And she looked really good. A little adjustment to her eyelashes made them look more stylized than inherently "girlish," while her hat - spun around backwards for flair - hid all of her excess hair. Even her smile had been turned just lopsided enough to be considered a smirk.

She’d also taken inspiration from his wardrobe, which is to say that she took directly from his wardrobe. His clothes were large on her, but that was the idea, as it helped hide her figure and anything else that might’ve given her away. The hoodie - his hoodie - went down to the center of her thighs, while the length of her pants were cleverly hidden in a pair of boots, which was the only thing of Juleka’s that she sported. She’d also used her hair ties to keep the sleeves of his hoodie from extending past her wrists, and it made Luka loathe the thought that he could’ve seen her with her hair down had she not dealt with it in the privacy beyond the divider.

Realizing that his mouth was open, he placed a hand to cover the lower part of his face, eyeing her up and down for what must've been the twentieth time. He had no idea that her looking so different would have such an effect on him, though it wasn’t as if he was oblivious to the fact that his orientation centered entirely around Marinette.

Once it registered with him that he hadn't answered her, he blushed and met her gaze. Taking in a breath, he began, "Ah—"

Marinette pouted, cutting him off by asking, "It's too cute, isn't it? It's written all over your face!" She leaned further to the side and let out a disappointed huff. "I don't want to be cute! I want to be cool!"

She lightly batted at the tuff of hair that she'd allowed to stick out of the hat, inadvertently showing off the black nail polish she'd used to match Luka. "Is it the way I did my hair? Maybe I should go with something else."

"No—" Luka blurted out, his blush spreading further across his face. "Marinette, you..."

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to calm down to give her a reply she deserved. Of course she was cute, but...

"Marinette, you are cool. You're really cool."

And she always had been.

—————

Luka’s eyes scanned the crowd party as he took a sip of one of the party’s drinks. Really, he was just gazing upon the scenery, but still, his eyes never missed Marinette when she passed by.

Every time, even when it was only the brim of her hat, he recognized her. His eyes would be drifting and he'd just see her, casually. His eyes wouldn't stop moving, but his mind screamed at him every time.

Marinette!

He pretended that he was fine. If anyone asked, he'd chugged his soda too quickly and the choking fit he'd had turned his face red.

They seemed full of gullible people; he was sure enough that they’d buy it.

As he looked across the room once more, Luka's mind screamed again, but this time, his gaze locked onto Marinette instead of continuing on.

Because Marinette was standing next to Adrien, locked in some sort of conversation with him. Luka's heart missed a beat at the sight, forgetting its tempo and having to restart from the beginning.

Of course Luka wanted what Adrien had, and of course he was jealous that someone else had Marinette's affections, but it wasn't something he would call a bitter jealousy. He wasn't mad at Adrien, nor was he upset with Marinette. In fact, he didn't regret how his heart sang. As long as Marinette was happy, he accepted whoever she loved.

And if that was Adrien, then that was just the way it was.

It was why he was surprised when she turned away from Adrien and looked at him instead. She smiled, then glanced back at Adrien to wave at him.

Wait. What? Why? Luka was sure that her and Adrien hadn't been talking for long, and if something had gone wrong, why was she smiling so much?

Marinette then headed in Luka's direction, furthering his confusion. Was she... was she smiling at him and not Adrien?

She took a breath as she reached him, temporarily dropping the roughness in her voice to lean in and whisper, "It's so hard making it around these crowds! I’m glad I was still able to find you."

Luka nodded despite how puzzled he was. He looked back out at the crowd, taking a few seconds to find Adrien, who didn't seem at all put off by the conversation he'd just had.

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, "Did something happen with Adrien?"

Marinette pulled back, then blinked at him, surprised to be asked. Nevertheless, she shook her head and responded, "No, not really." She smiled. "He wanted to chat more, but... I told him that I came here with someone, so..."

She trailed off, staring down at the floor and tapping the toes of her shoes together.

Luka frowned, concerned that she'd done this for his sake. "You could've kept talking to him."

"I know." She blushed as well. "But... it's more comfortable here."

He attempted to drown his emotions with the rest of his drink. "Thanks. I’m glad you can be so relaxed around me," he said, setting his cup aside as casually as he could.

She beamed, though her attention was soon diverted as she stared off toward the other side of the room. "Ah! Luka, look!"

Without warning, she grabbed his hand, being drawn towards a crowd that was gathering. "I think those guys are gonna start dancing!"

He let her lead him, both not minding and honestly being fully distracted by her hand on his. Even though hers was smaller, the warmth made it feel like the opposite.

Then, he remembered where they were, why she was dressed the way she was, and what they were currently doing.

"Net," he urged quietly.

"Hm?" She stopped, then stared at him with a slight tilt of her head.

He directed his gaze down to their hands. "If people see, they might think we're..."

Marinette blinked, apparently needing a few seconds to understand. "...Oh!"

To Luka's surprise, she waved dismissively. "That's okay. I don't think anyone cares about that anyway. I mean, have you seen the vinyl they’re playing?"

That wasn't exactly what Luka had been referring to, but it still surprised him to see Marinette brush the notion off. Surely, even when disguised, she cared if Adrien saw her with someone else, right?

Or... she didn't mind people believing that they could be together?

He blushed. Maybe he should just text Juleka to tell that he won't make it through the night.

The fact that Jagged Stone had apparently been in the room since they got there, yet he only noticed when Marinette pointed him out, did not help that thought.

[continuation]

#lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #episode: Party Crasher #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 3 years

Text

HASO, “Perfect Timing.”

Alright everyone. I am beginning to realize that maybe expecting myself to write a story every week day with a job and trying to get into grad school and writing a second novel might be a bit..... excessive?

So I am going to try for three times a week. I hope you all stick around :)

And I hope you enjoy today’s story as well.

Adam stood with his hands behind his back, feet spread to shoulder width. He would never have noticed by himself, but the men and women around him stood a little straighter and stepped a little faster under his watchful eye. Once upon a time they might have only hastened their work if he directly asked them too, but just his mere presence these days could send his crew scurrying to do their work. He hadn’t really changed anything about the way he commanded his men. He was firm when he needed to be but allowed for brevity when it would suit the situation.

However, a few years and some tough lessons was slowly shaping him into the kind of man who could command thousands, sharp posture, calm confidence, and a keen eye.

But then again anyone who could appear professional while wearing high top heelies was a man to be reckoned with.

Sunny walked up next to him her pearlescent white armor glowing under the light as she leaned on the shade of her matching spear. Her head was held high like his. Where once she had been locked up, and defensive, she now stood with the calm confidence of someone who understood what control meant.

Together they had come a long way.

She tilted her head, “You really think he’s going to let you race this…. It’s a million dollar piece of military hardware, they don’t stand a chance.”

Adam didn’t move, hands still clasped behind his back as he stared up at the F-90 Darkfire he was preparing for the race, “I wouldn’t be so sure…. I’ll be lucky to come in last place.”

Sunny frowned confused, “I saw those shuttles, they were junk shows.”

He lifted his head as the F-90 was rolled across the deck.

“This is a race, it isn’t combat. She was built for dogfights which means she is going to be heavier than the others. Wing tip to wing tip she is also going to be a little longer than the other shuttles and jets making maneuvering around obstacles more difficult. Sure she likely has a more powerful engine, but that can be as much of a detriment as it is a leg up.” He gestured in the vague direction of the race course, “We are going to be racing through the planet’s smaller rocky ring. It has an unusual amount of larger, thick chunks which we are going to have to manuver around: the kind of conditions you might see in science fiction movies when they talk about an asteroid field. Asteroid fields are generally too far apart to cause any real issue, but here the rocks are dense, and my flying is going to have to be on pont, having a more powerful engine is going to make her more touchy, and my fitness on the controls is going to have to be absolute.”

Sunny tilted her head listening as he continued. She liked it when this side of him came out. There was something about the analytical, logical side of Adam she found….. Very appealing.

He walked forward to examine the jet himself, “Furthermore, I don’t know if you noticed, but there were a few jets there that weren’t exactly junk shows. A few of them were pretty top of the line, and most of them were built for racing. Lighter, sleeker, faster, and with more engine control than mine.

A lot of my maneuverability is lost out of the atmosphere. This isn’t about how well you can manipulate wind currents, this is going to be all about the very minute rotation of the rear and and wing engines. Their wings are smaller and closer in meaning they are going to rotate more easily than me.

She walked up with him and put a hand on his shoulder, “You forgot to fact in one thing.”

He frowned and looked up, “Oh, what did I miss.”

She smiled slightly, “The skill of the pilot, and I know for a fact that we have the best pilot this side of Andromeda. You can have the best plane in the world, but if you have a shit pilot, then a good pilot in a flying trash can has a chance of winning.”

He Smiled, “Thanks, I needed that.”

He stepped back, “Still it doesn't pay to be too cocky. I have a feeling these people have raced this before, they are going to know what they are dealing with, and I am going tinto this completely blind. This is a test to see if my instincts are better than their practice…. Who knows it could be a very close run thing.”

He moved forward to do an extra check on the outside of the ship despite having a whole team of people to do it for him. Adam had learned to delegate a lot of his responsibilities onto others to avoid burnout, but this was one thing he never left to other people. He came back after a thorough check of the ship and stopped next to her.

His head was tilted to one side as he looked at the machine sitting before him.

“It is missing something.”

Sunny turned her head to look at him, “What?”

He smiled, “Do we have anyone here who has experience with graffiti?”

***

Donavan Red met him when he entered the hanger, wearing his flight suit and holding his helmet under one arm. He had gone for some of his more simple equipment. Didn’t want to give the guy an excuse to blame his skill on technology.

Red looked him over.

“Nice suit, princess.”

Adam just smiled thinly looking around at the other pilots, “I see I might be under-dressed.”

To be far though, he wasn’t exactly sure what he would have described the dress code, if he had to put it on an invitation.

The most apt description seemed to have been.

Dress for Pissing contest.

The men and women wore their uniforms in the same way NASCAR drivers might, covered in logos and patterns. Some of them were clearly custom ordered with personal designs on the backs or the helmets, some sporting flames, others cartoon animals, one guy was just covered in black and white skulls.

The affect up close was ok, but from a distance he just looked like an over excited dalmatian, or maybe some kind of flamboyant cow.

A few of them went for color themes, neon red on black. Neon green on blue.

Most of them tried to coordinate with the matching colors on their ship, each trying to outdo the next.

Red smirked.

The docking bay light began to blink red as the airlock was engaged, and the all turned to watch as the doors opened, and Adam’s jet rolled into the docking bay. She was simultaneously both very impressive and very not impressive. She was an instrument of war, and he rockets lined up on either side of her wings said as much. Adam had once considered her rather sleek in comparison to other jets of the day, but looking at her now in comparison with the racing planes and he couldn’t help but compare her to a pitbull or a bulldog next to greyhounds or whippets.

She rolled up slowly and Red raised an eyebrow.

“A whose guy huh?”

Adam smirked, “I don’t know, I kind of like it.”

They both looked up as the F-90 stopped in place, and along her side in delicate blue cursive script was the name Cinderella. The man who had done the graffiti had even taken the time to add some stylized pink roses to the front and end of the word giving it a finished look.

Donavan seemed both amused and annoyed at the same time.

The men and women around him turned to look over ridicule dying on their lips as they saw the smirk on his face.

It was made pretty clear.

He was going to beat them, and when he beat them, he was going to have a princess logo on the side of his jet, never mind all of their cool paint jobs.

Donavan frowned but then turned to everyone, “Alright load up!.” Adam did as ordered, switching seats with the young pilot in the cockpit and strapping himself in. he adjusted his controls, did a quick once over, and then pulled some power from his engine. There was going to be an overwhelming desire to go fast, but he knew that speed wasn’t going to win him this race.

The jets began lining up next to each other, and to his surprise, one of the sleek racing models sidled up next to him, and when he looked over, he saw Donovan Red cambering into the cockpit.

That didn’t exactly bode well, but what was there to do about it.

He felt cool oxygen spilling onto his mouth and nose as the orange tinted visor dropped down over his eyes. He opted not to use the heads up display preferring to see everything around him as he was flying.

They were all in a line now, and up ahead a large projection appeared on the docking bay doors.

Red lights began to blink as the docking bay was cleared of everyone except for the jets.

The image of a woman appeared on the screen before them.

It was one of the women he had seen before in her cut off jean shorts and tight tank top.

“Ladies and gentlemen start - your - ENGINES!”

All around him the room was filled with a roar as the group of people pushed their engines to an idle.

He could feel the jet underneath him as it thrummed and whined vibrating into his gloves and down into his skin.

His very bones could feel the trembling.

“The course is simple, one lap around the rocky interior ring of the planet. Rules are only this, no leaving the ring, no weapons, and no teams, every man for himself. If the race moderators see any of this, you will be thrown from the race.”

She smiled and leaned back to reveal two green flags in either hand.

She began to wave them.

“On your mark!”

He took a deep calming breath forcing his hand to relax.

“Get set.”

He felt his heart beating hard against his ribcage, his stomach crawled up into his throat, and he felt the sudden and overwhelming need to pee.

“GO!”

THe airlock doors shot open faster than they should have been able, a clear sign someone had bypassed safety protocols. Caught off guard by this, Adam shot out of the gate slower than he would have liked. Already the racing jets streaked ahead, their quicker sleeker designs looking right at home against the blackness of space.

He had to remind himself that in space, without wind resistance, sleek didn’t mean shit.

If he was good enough he could have piloted a brick to win.

He gave more joice to the engine and shot forward. He cut under one of his other opponents and then cythed up next to a second.

He was there for only a moment when he saw something coming in from his right.

Instincts had him move fast, and he turned horizontal shooting upwards just as another jet tried to push him out. He was flying over the two of them now, and gave another burst shooting forward and past them.

This open stretch was the only time he was going to be able to use the power of his engine to his advantage, so he gave her a little more juice and shot forward catching up quickly with the racing models at the front. Two of them cut sideways attempting to block his path. He cursed, forced to fire his engines backwards so as not to go crashing into them.

The ring was approaching quickly now, and he could see very clearly that they had not been kidding. The belt was dense, less mate out of fine sand, and instead made up of billions of rocks some the size of him, others the size of cars, and even some the size of large houses. It was the strangest sort of formation he had ever seen around a planet, and he wondered idly how they stayed in orbit.

The two jets ahead of him cut right and then left as a rock came barreling towards him.

He shouted and rolled to the side barely avoiding a head on collision, his instincts saving him where his active brain could not.

He snarled.

“Pull it together.”

There was no time to be thinking, there was only time for flying.

WIth a practiced hand he toggled a switch on the side of his thumb, and his helmet was suddenly filled with the sound of music and drums. His brain focused inward and stopped thinking. He shot over and then under rolling between rocks just inches away on either side. Off to his right the planet below was glowing with the light of it’s star, a lightning blue halo around it where the atmosphere glowed.

He cut the left dove down and then rolled up.

He could see the other jets ahead of him cutting in and out through the rocks. His breathing grew even, his body relaxed, his brain heard nothing but the beat of the music and saw nothing but the obstacles ahead of him.

One of the jets pulled up next to him from behind recklessly rolling around one of the rocks. They were racing wing tip to wing tip now.

They cut right and left under and over he rolled left they rolled right. They were shaky just hanging on, but his flying was smooth.

Up ahead one of the other jets lit up with glowing orange as a set of flares broke from it’s back end shatting against the debris behind it. Rocks were thrown off their normal course and went smashing into each other turning the rock field ahead of them into a meat grinder. Adam shot forward and dived downward while rolling tight, behind him the racer was unable to replicate the move and a piece of rock caught their wing sending them spinning off to the side and out of the ring.

Adam dodged a piece of debris coming in from his left, flipped upside down and shot diving upward and then righting himself just under the jet up front.

He could see the leader now, and recognized it as Red himself .

The jet above him attempted to drop down and knock him out of position, but he gave a burst to the engine and shot forward.

The jet behind him punched downward and nearly collided into a rock before pulling back into the palace.

Adam took their place in second.

Red could see him coming.

Another set of flares was released.

He checked his forward momentum and rolled three or four times to his right. G forces tugged at his consciousness forcing blackness to the edge of his vision. He tightened the muscles of his chest and stomach forcing blood back up into his head as he breathed out in short controlled bursts.

A rock flew overhead, he cut low, bumped up and then executed a rolling turn over a massive rock pulling in behind red and just up to the right to avoid another burst of flares.

The two of them were fighting for the front now.

And red was good, he knew how to handle a jet, but so did Adam.

They roared past a field of rocks splitting apart as a massive chunk came between them. Adam roared forward, and panicked for a single moment as he saw an impenetrable wall of rock appear just before him. Then a crack appeared. He fired the forward engine and cut horizontal passing through an opening that left him only feet to spare. Rock rose up to meet him, and he rotated his engine up dropping vertically before cutting sideways and passing under a rock. Teeth gritted, he punched upward passing through a gap just as it closed behind him.

A yell of exertain escaped his lips as he pulled straight up cutting up the side of a massive mansion-sized rock before diving right back down into the thick of it.

Red was gone, he didn’t see him anymore.

Was he up front?

And then the sleek black jet dropped down from above cutting him off.

He cursed and swerved low past another rock forced to cut diagonal back into line.

He pulled up wing to wing with the men again.

They dove, they pulled up and they took a wide turn ac coordinated together as a military formation never more than four feet apart.

They were going faster than they probably should have reacted. second by second he rolled left Red went right. They both met in a dive rolling past each other, wings almost touching before cutting upwards mirroring each other in opposite directions. The sound of the music melded with the path of his flight.

They were racing side by side just as one of the other jets roared over them careening out of control in a desperate attempt t o reach front. They watched him dive pull up cut left, and then a rock rolled right into their path. The two of them barely had time to react as the rock hit their right wing and then sent them slamming into the next boulder. There was an eruption and a brief ball of fire as oxygen was consumed from inside the cockpit. Debris blossomed up around them in a miniature explosion.

Adam greeted his teeth, eyes wide .

What was once a race suddenly turned into a battlezone. He and Red dove together rolling around the debris desperately trying to avoid getting cut in two. At these speeds, one hit would be the death of them. His heart raced in his chest as he pulled forward cutting in the triangle made by three boulders side by side. Red mirrored him below.

A chunk of metal shot towards him, and he toggled his right wing burst just in time, lowering his left side just in time for the chunk to go flying past him. He pulled up with a gasp as a massive chunk of rock cut up before him. Red shot below and he rolled over the top coming into second place.

Up ahead a mining barge ascended through the line of rocks.

Adam roared with exertion as he pulled up and leveled out shooting right under the attached arm of the barge. Red lights erupted over it’s hull in a proximity warning as he went just inches overhead.

The barge driver, clearly spooked twisted to the side and the arm of the barge rolled with it, catching a boulder and sending it flying towards the grouping next to it, there was a sudden explosion of rock and again he was forced to roll to the side. Up down, over and under, cything between lines of rock.

He was almost hit once, then twice.

He toggled the forward engines, slowing himself down and then shooting straight up before continuing forward.

The rocks around him were rolling unpredictably colliding and then exploding into smaller pieces. There was no way he was making it through that alive.

He was rolling diving spinning twisting, and then, he felt it…. Something he had only felt on occasion. The world around him went silent, everything seemed to slow, and he was filled with…. With a feeling. It was like light, bursting out from his chest, rolling up through his skin and into his head.

He entered a moment of perfect execution. He cut into a tight roll his wings cything through the minute gaps between debris with timing so perfect it shouldn't have been humanly possible. Rocks passed by him at hundreds of miles an hour inches away from the glass of his canopy, one wrong move and he’d be dead. He cut through a gap that gave him inches on either side rolld right dove down, turned left, spun once and then twice, and made a completely vertical ascent. Rocks flew past him on his right and on his left.

Up ahead he could see a gap slowly closing before him. He opened up his engine and shot forward so fast everything was a blur.

The rocks collided behind him as they snapped shut, and he flew into the clear firing forward to slow himself, and then red was there too descending from above spinning and wobbling, almost out of control and careening directly towards a house sized boulder.

He panicked firing up and down at the same time and sending him into a spin.

He was heading directly towards the rock .

WIthout thinking Adam locked onto the rock, and fired. A rocket under his wing detached and shot forward exploding violently just in time for Red to pass through unharmed. Red jolted awkwardly and rolled to one side. Adam cut past under from right to left and rolled straight over red to avoid a rock.

There was a moment where the two of them were staring at each other through the clear canopy.

Eyes met for an instant, and Adam could see the wide eyed fear on the man’s face., Then Adam rolled ahead ducking under the last rock and then bursting out into space.

He let the F-90 have her moment, and completely opened the engine shooting forward and cutting through the finish line which flashed bright green. In that moment He was hit with such a sense of exhilaration and joy that he couldn't imagine anything better. Who needed drugs, who needed love, who needed any of that when you could fly.

Hed did a triumphant loop whooping the whole way.

Of course, a feeling like that can never last long and slowly began to fade away. THe reality of what he had just done was both terrifying and amazing to the point he felt his body begging to shake. The tension and fear he had been holding back exploded inside him just like that joy and he found his hands trembling on the joystick.

He let it overtake him. He had been like this since he was young and fighting it would only make things worse. Despite his shaking hands he flew back to the docking bay and landed his jet with the precision of a surgeon. Finally when the engine was off and the flood stable underneath him he slumped back in his seat shaking and racked with rolling tremors. He closed his eyes and breathed long and slow.

Behind him the others came limping in.

None of them were completely unscathed, at least one person was dead. His hands continued to shake as the airlock doors shut, and as soon as the room was pressurized, he opened the cockpit. As soon as it did, Sunny came running into the room and up the ladder. SHeleft her spear on the floor and helped him to climb out. His legs were shaking and he almost fell if it weren’t for her support.

She knew him too well, sitting him down on the lowest step and kneeling next to him.

“Are you ok?”

He grinned at her, “That was…. Holy shit.”

He held up his hand to watch the shaking, “I’m having an earthquake.”

It was just then that Red jumped out of his jet onto the floor. He staggered when he did but pushed away the men who tried to help, “What the ever loving FUCK just happened. The field had NEVER been like that. Jaz DIED out there, what the FUCK.”

The people milled around in confusion.

Red turned to him, eyes narrowing as he stalked over. Adam sighed and looked up as the man stopped to stand over him

“I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”

The man paused confused, “What?”

“I broke the rules. Means I forfeit.”

Red looked almost nonplussed, “What are you on about?”

Adam slowly took to his feet taking a few more deep wreaths to steady himself before drawing to his full height. He was stead now and looked down at Red with an unwavering gaze. He held out a hand, “I used weapons during the race, that was against the rules. These weren’t flares to move the rocks. I used a targeted missile during the race and that means I broke the rules.”

Red stared at him.

Then he snorted, “Damn the rules. You saved my ass.” he turned to look at his people, “I am more than man enough to acknowledge that.” HE turned back to Adam, “You saved my life you crazy bastard. I am not even sure how you are still alive ….. Because that flying…. That was….. Holy fuck.” He grinned and took Adam by the shoulder, “you shaking, man.” He held up his hand to show a tremor, “Me too, now let's go get some drinks and talk this out. I owe you after all.”

The two of them walked off through the forest of shaken pilots, “You are the kind of man I can see myself doing business with.”

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arabian-bloodstream · 3 years

Text

I saw ‘Annette.’ I haz thoughts.

This movie was brilliant. I can't wait to watch again because the brilliance of it didn't really truly hit until the final scene. It was in that final scene when it all came together. Leos Carax didn't waste a single frame, a single line of dialogue, music, etc.

There are MAJOR SPOILERS!!

The performances were brilliant all around. Adam was fantastic. Simon Helberg's stand-out scene with his solo was absolutely stellar, at turns funny and heartbreaking. Marion Cottilard was beautiful and haunting. Devyn McDowell as the (finally) human Annette was wonderful, holding her own against Adam Driver while singing!

Henry McHenry truly is a monster. I mentioned above that Carax didn't waste a line. Henry mentioned in his comedy act early on that he became a comedian to say things he could say without being hated/judged. He says awful things. And there are so many little things that point to that he IS a monster so that...

* When Ann dies it's a little ambiguous. There *is* a storm. He is drunk. He isn't in full control of his facilities. * When Baby Annette begins singing, it's less ambiguous, he *is* using her, but it's still a miraculous thing and Simon Helberg's character, the Conductor, is in on it because sharing the miracle of Baby Annette with the world is amazing. * When Henry finds out that the Conductor could likely be Annette's father and that the knowledge of it could take away his free ride, he murders him. Yeah, no ambiguity there.

So after Henry has been outed and is in prison, Annette comes to visit. Up to this point, Annette has been varying aged up freaky looking puppets (like a female version of Chucky, but less malevolent like). Henry points out she looks different, the puppet-Annette sitting in from of him agrees, but the voice comes from across the room and lo and behold! It's an actual little girl standing there.

The rest of the scene continues between Henry and this real girl and I was astounded. Everything fell into place. Annette told him it was good he was in prison because he couldn't kill anymore. She also told him he couldn't love anymore. He tried to tell her he could love her. But she wouldn't let him love her. They began to sing. She wanted to forget, couldn't forgive both of her parents. He didn't want Ann blamed. It was a back and forth, beautifully done. Young Devyn held her own so well opposite Adam. He again tried to tell her he could love her, but no, no, she would not let him.

What was so incredibly powerful about this scene, how this scene and how it ended once Annette left -- which I will not describe -- is that it brought the entire film into focus. Everything made sense. Prior to this scene, Annette was a puppet because the entire film up until this scene was from HENRY's POINT OF VIEW.

Remember when I said that at the top that "Leos Carax didn't waste a single frame, a single line of dialogue, music, etc. " That's where this really comes into play.

The film begins with the director, Sparks, cast and crew singing "So May We Start," let's break a few things down in there. First of all, Adam is the first actor who sings, and more importantly the first character that is addressed is his character, Henry McHenry... meaning it is HIS story that we're watching unfold. And almost every single scene includes Henry, focuses on Henry, but if you look at the scenes that don't... ah! That's when the latter scenes come into play and show that, yes, it's ALL from Henry's point of view indeed.

The Conductor's solo scenes has information that, again, in retrospect we know that Henry must have known from Ann. Henry knew, Henry absolutely knew...

All of Ann's opera scenes focus on her dying because Henry's jealousy grows and grows until he's ready to take her out, and his love for her becomes twisted into monstrous hatred. And in retrospect, no, her death was not ambiguous, he meant for her to die, absolutely.

Then there is Ann's #MeToo dream, why that? Well, again, Henry's point of view. Take that scene paired with Henry's later scene when he's surrounding himself with all of the different women. Ann's dream was foreshadowing Henry's treatment of her, and paired with his callousness towards women in the latter scene, how he has always used and manipulated people.

Which brings us to who Henry is as a user and a abuser. Someone who used everyone as puppets. He manipulated everyone, using them to do what he wanted, to make him happy, to give him what he wanted, to thrill him, to give him a high. His back-up singers. His audiences. Ann. The Conductor (who didn't even have a name, he was just "my conductor friend"), and then, of course, Annette. Annette was literally a puppet.

Annette was LITERALLY Henry's puppet until the final scene when he was locked away and he could use her no more. That is when she was finally able to be a real girl, when she broke free from him and it was no longer Henry's story. She was no longer his puppet.

Aah, so brilliant. So beautiful.

A few random comments...

- The song "We Love Each Other So Much" that I didn't think much of when I listened to some of the soundtrack, I remember remarking that I hoped it worked better in the context of the film. It does. It DOES SO MUCH. It's absolutely perfect in the context of the film, and then is a sucker-punch when it's true origin is revealed later.

- The courthouse scene was the first (but not the last) time I teared up. Henry desperately searching for, singing to the sweet Ann, but in the end, the vengeful Ann found him. So, so well done.

- Now why was Ann always eating an apple? Because of Eve. Eve ate the apple because she was tempted by the devil. Henry is the devil. Henry is evil, a monster. That's why we saw Ann always eating an apple. And in her solo song, she was describing the sweet, innocent girl--the voice of an angel, a good girl, who was used and abused by men when she came into her beauty. At the end of that scene, then who showed up when she had Annette protectively with her? Henry, looking quite malevolent indeed.

- The mark on Henry's face -- which one critic was like 'wtf? is up with that? random! -- appeared after Henry killed Ann and kept growing. Was it an outward reflection of Henry's guilt over what he had done to Ann? No. Henry always had that mark on his face. We just didn't know that until the final scene because prior to that it, we'd only seen Henry's version of himself, not the REAL Henry. Think of it, Annette was barely older than we'd last seen her before he was jailed when she went to see him in prison, but Henry looked SO different. Why? Because that was the REAL Henry McHenry. Not the stylized, romantic version of himself that we'd seen through his eyes. After he killed Ann we started to see him look more and more like the real Henry. In prison, that was the real Henry.

Again, this film was just absolutely magnificent. I simply can't wait to watch it again. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!

#adam driver #annette #leos carax #marion cotillard #simon helberg #movie review

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

Ink (TMA Fanfic)

For TMA Gerry Week 2021 Day One

Pairings: Jonathan Sims/Gerry Keay/Martin Blackwood

Rating: T

Summary: Art’s how Gerry shows his love- a few snippets where he does exactly that. No powers-au, Gerry and Martin own a bookstore. Takes place in this universe but can be read alone!

He’s getting used to having people who want him around.

Gerry’s had friends, sure. Once he left the institute and began working odd jobs, he realized how much he genuinely enjoyed having company. He still isn’t the most social of creatures, but he does enjoy a night out with old coworkers who enjoy his stories and laugh at his jokes. But now, with Jon and Martin, they want him around all the time. Even after they started dating, even after he moved in, he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It never does, though. And Gerry, in spite of himself, begins to relax. Begins to feel at home.

He’s laying on the couch, scribbling in his notebook when Martin surprises him with a peck to the top of his head. “Whatcha drawing this time?” He was very excited when he heard Gerry liked to draw, immediately asking to see his notebook or anything he’d done. He’d only recently shown him some of his work; he knows Martin would never make him feel embarrassed, but, well. It’s another part of himself no one’s ever been interested in. Until now.

“Jon,” Gerry responds, leaning into the touch. It’s an amateurish attempt in his opinion, just a rough sketch. But he’s got the proportions down and he never forgets a face. Couldn’t forget, in Jon’s case.

“That’s…” Martin trails off, peering closer at the page. “That’s really good. You’ve even got him smiling!” It’s not that Jon never smiles; he smirks and laughs and snarks. But he’s managed to capture that rare, bright grin that makes Gerry’s heart skip a beat.

“Mhm.” Gerry nods slightly, pen tapping against his sketchpad. He turns around, seeing the naked fondness in Martin’s eyes and has a particularly wicked thought. “Y’know, this is how he looks when he’s watching you.”

Martin sputters, turns a lovely shade of red. “W-What? Really?”

“No,” Gerry smirks. “It’s the way he looks at the Admiral.” A groan and a light smack to the shoulder prove his joke is unappreciated. “Sorry, sorry! I’m sure he also looks at you that way-”

“You’re an ass.” Martin rolls his eyes but oh-so-gently picks up his hand, pausing to inspect the ink-stained fingers. “A very talented ass.” His mind blanks as Martin kisses them one by one.

Thoroughly distracted, he never gets around to finishing that sketch.

_______

Painting, as it turns out, is a lot harder than it looks. Still quite fun, though.

They’ve just found the perfect space- a little out of their price range, but Gerry’s got savings and Jon was willing to part with a bit himself. Martin fretted over his ‘meager contribution,’ as his savings were depleted in the final months of his mother’s care. Ridiculous that he would ever think his contribution meager, considering he’s the one who scouted for locations and did all of the paperwork and stayed up late, agonizing over their finances. Some days, Martin’s the only one keeping them sane. Gerry and Jon are due to remind him of that.

Which is why they’re handling the decorating. Jon claims to have no artistic talent, but he does have a knack for making places seem like home. There are boxes filled with knick knacks and rugs and pictures, all waiting to be hung somewhere once Jon’s finally settled on a layout. Gerry’s left with painting the walls, labeling the different sections in whatever way he sees fit. He’s currently at work on the horror section, painting a stylized eye above the tarp-covered bookshelf when he hears the sound of the bell; Martin must be back from the store. They’d run out of appropriately-sized nails and after a minor freak out, he’d been on his way.

“Find what you were looking for?” he calls, listening as Martin’s footsteps grow closer, the crinkle of bags in his hand. “Here to save the day?”

“I wouldn’t call it saving,” Martin snorted, setting them down on the ground with a thump. “But it’ll certainly help. That looks nice.”

Gerry pauses, considering his work. He really needs a darker green for this. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn out great,” he murmurs distractedly, and Gerry turns to look back at him. The lines of his face are more pronounced than usual, as are the shadows under his eyes. A sure sign that the stress is getting to him. Gerry understands, and he’s not much for being particularly sappy but he does what he can to help.

“Hey,” he calls down to him from his ladder. “C’mere. Need your opinion on something.”

Martin sighs, but heeds the call. “What is it? You know I’m rubbish with this art stuff-”

“It’ll only take a second. Come closer.”

“What am I supposed to be looking at-”

“Closer.”

As Martin huffs and leans towards him, Gerry darts his paintbrush out, drawing the quickest of hearts on Martin’s cheek before he can pull away.

“Gerry!” Martin startles and his hand reaches up to wipe at his cheek.

“Don’t smear it, it’s a heart.” He pauses, going for his gravest voice. “Because I love you so much. I’ll be devastated if you ruin it.”

“I don’t appreciate that.” Martin sighs but drops his hand, his face softening already. Exasperation has never been paired with fondness, not when it’s aimed at Gerry. Another thing he’s starting to get used to.

“Shame. It looks good.”

Martin goes home with a heart on his other cheek as well. He looks ridiculous. Gerry loves it.

_________

When Jon’s particularly stressed, Gerry leaves him post-it notes.

Often he leaves before Gerry even wakes, so he’s got to do them the night before. A little cat here, a little caricature of Bouchard there. He leaves a variety, depending on his mood. Jon always gives him a kiss when he gets home, a soft ‘thank you for the note,’ and that’s all he needs, really, to keep doing it. He likes making Jon smile.

Martin’s gone grocery shopping and Jon’s pulling a late night again, so Gerry’s alone in the flat looking for something to do. There’s nothing on Netflix worth watching (or at least, worth watching by himself) and he’s not in the mood for his latest novel, so he decides he’s going to be productive, make a list of all the things he has to do this week. Jon’s always going on about lists, though he leaves them everywhere and never seems to accomplish everything on them. Maybe it’s the act of making them that’s relaxing. It’s worth a try.

He makes his way over to the second bedroom they (mostly Jon) use as an office. He’s sure Jon’s got a little notepad here that he can use, and he wants it to look as official as possible. He opens the left hand drawer but only finds Martin’s receipts, and on the right he finds a plain-looking notebook, a little worn with use. Maybe that’s what he uses-

Gerry opens it. Pauses. Blinks. Feels something heavy and thick form in his throat.

It’s his notes- his stupid little sketches, his ‘have a good day at work’s, his smiley-faces and little hearts. Each carefully placed on page after page with an accompanying date, neat and tidy, like a little scrapbook. Mum used to throw out his ‘doodles,’ as she called them, told him his time was better spent on actual art, but Jon’s kept all of them. Like they mattered. Like they were important. He sets it back down on the desk and just stands there, heart beating hard in his chest.

Gerry’s tearing up like some sort of moron so he’s distracted and doesn’t hear Jon come home, doesn’t hear his usual grumblings and sighs. Doesn’t hear him until Jon’s right behind him, startling him with a hand on his arm. “Sorry, I was just- Gerry, are you alright?”

Alright. Alright. It’s a word that doesn’t encompass everything he’s feeling. Wanted, embarrassed, a little overwhelmed. And so, so happy.

He turns around and grabs Jon in a fierce hug, overcome with affection and eager to hide his stupid tears as he squeezes Jon to his chest. “You’re adorable, you know that?” he says, peppering kisses to the top of his head despite Jon’s weak protestations. “Real fuckin’ cute.”

Jon melts into his embrace, even as he complains. “I’ve got no idea what you’re on about, Gerry,” he says into his chest, the words muffled. “You’re being absurd.” Jon’s just about the only person he knows that uses ‘absurd’ on a daily basis. It’s insufferable. Gerry loves it.

“Just let me hug you, you little ogre.”

_________

Sometimes, Gerry’s the one who’s got to be up early. Doctors appointments are a bitch, and after a brief scare last year, it’s important that he keep up with them. Martin helps him schedule, marking the appointments on the calendar with a bold black marker that can’t be missed.

This morning’s particularly brutal, with an eight o’clock appointment an hour’s commute away. Jon went to sleep at a reasonable hour last night and he needs the rest; Gerry knows if he wakes Martin, he wakes them both. Jon’s never been good at sleeping alone.

He’s stumbling blearily around the kitchen, about to put the kettle on when he notices it. On the table is a post-it note; he doesn’t remember leaving one for Jon last night, but he’d been rather tired, so who knows? Gerry putters around, fixing his tea and nibbling at toast when he finally spares it a glance.

It’s not for Jon. It’s for him.

Good luck at your appointment! It reads in Martin’s familiar, neat script. Accompanying it is a small doodle that has to be Jon’s; it’s not particularly good, but it clearly shows a little Gerry, makeup and all, with a plaster on his cheek and a heart over his head. It looks like Jon spent time on it. Spent time on some stupid little post it note to make Gerry smile.

He puts it in his pocket. Takes it out a few times in the waiting room, stares at it. Everything looks fine, the doctor says at the end of the appointment. He’s so lucky.

He’s so lucky.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635833

#tma #the magnus archives #tmagerryweek2021 #gerry keay #gerard keay #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jongerrymartin #my writing

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beewolfwrites · 3 years

Text

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Three: A New Alliance

Both Chishiya x OC or a Chishiya x Reader depending on how you wish to read it.

You can find this - along with the first and second chapters - on AO3 here. The formatting is a little better on AO3, but it’s here if you prefer Tumblr :)

Thanks for reading!

-----------------------------------

According to the phone I had picked up in the Jack in the Box game, I had an eight-day visa. That could only mean that the card number of each game was equivalent to the number of days you were awarded on your visa. And the suits? Well, I still hadn’t figured that out just yet.

It was eight days of calm… eight days of sleeping away the burnt singe that came with every breath, and the taste of smoke that lingered on my tongue. But it was eight days that I couldn’t have let go to waste. The day after my win, I visited a deserted bookstore and swiped several Japanese language textbooks off the shelves. I hated the idea of stealing them as they were luxuries, but it wasn’t as if I could pay for them either. Money had no value in this strange, gruesome world.

I picked out the textbooks that I hadn’t been able to afford in my previous life and spent eight days cramming my head with as much Japanese as I could. If I was going to survive, I couldn’t keep going into games with a scrambled-up knowledge of the rules.

But naturally, eight days isn’t enough to learn a language, and far too quickly, my visa was due to expire.

This time, when I left the apartment, I walked further from the city centre to see if the games were spread out right across Tokyo or confined to a limited space. Then I stopped in the middle of the street, the cool night air whipping around me.

A light glared bright on the horizon.

Here we go again.

------------------------------------------------------

The apartment complex was around seven storeys in height, each floor glaring under blue strip lights. Following the signs once more, I walked up a set of stairs and through the entrance to find ten other figures stood around waiting. A few of them looked at me curiously, probably trying to suss out whether I was new to this or not. Ignoring them, I took a phone from the table in the centre of the room.

‘FACE REGISTRATION IN PROCESS.

PLEASE WAIT FOR THE GAME TO COMMENCE’

Like always, I snuck my way into a corner and let my eyes drift over the players around me. If our lives were on the line, who could I team up with? Who couldn’t I trust?

Trust nobody.

It was a motley crew. There was girl with bobbed hair doing stretches on the floor, a middle-aged woman still clutching her handbag, two hardened men who looked ready for anything, a peculiar man with a hat, two young women who were clearly best friends, a guy dressed in blue who kept asking what was going on, and –

White Hoodie.

He was staring at me from beneath his hood, with that same arrogant smirk decorating his features.

‘I look forward to seeing you again in another game.’

It was almost as if he had planned this.

His staring stirred something uncomfortable within me, as if I were a creature only just noticing too late the eyes of a predator lurking in the foliage. I nodded at him, hoping he would lose interest. And sure enough, it worked, as his features relaxed and his eyes lowered back to the ground.

I let out a shaky breath. Avoid him. Definitely avoid him.

There were footsteps as two tall young men waltzed through the entrance. They looked a little dishevelled and they glanced around anxiously. But from the way they immediately went to the phones, this wasn’t their first game. The strange man in the hat started talking to them, but I tuned out their voices. I needed to focus on the situation at hand.

‘REGISTRATION CLOSED. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.’

The talking hushed as everyone listened closely and peered at their phones.

‘GAME – TAG

DIFFICULTY – FIVE OF SPADES

TIME LIMIT – 20 MINUTES.’

‘RULES –

RUN AWAY FROM THE TAGGER.

FIND THE SAFEZONE IN ONE OF THE ROOMS WITHIN THE TIME LIMIT.

AFTER THIS, THE TIME BOMB HIDDEN IN THE BUILDING WILL EXPLODE.

THE GAME WILL BEGIN IN TWO MINUTES.’

I was almost proud of myself. I had been able to understand more of the grammar this time rather than relying on the select words I could pick up.

The players around me had started moving toward the stairs. And if the game officially began in two minutes, that meant we were able to choose our starting location.

White Hoodie instantly moved towards the elevator, but he was the only one, and I didn’t want to be stuck in there with him.

Instead, I waited a moment, before hopping into the elevator with the two hardened men. Pressing the button for floor seven, I waited for them to choose their floor, but instead they just glanced down at me silently. When the elevator doors opened, I scanned the area for the best place to observe as the two men stepped out in front of me.

A corner would be bes—you’re kidding me.

White Hoodie was in the very corner that I had set my sights on. He was waving, possibly at the two men, possibly at me.

Nope, I thought. I’m not doing this.

I stepped back into the elevator and jabbed the button for floor six. Irritation. That was all I could feel as I made my way to the same corner, one floor down. He’d only gone and taken the safest seat in the house, leaving me no choice but to opt for second-best instead. It’s true, I could’ve taken the seventh-floor corner on the other side of the block, but I’m not sure the two hardened men would’ve wanted a tag along. Perhaps it was stupid or stubborn of me to do this, but I didn’t have the patience to deal with White Hoodie’s psychotic calmness. He would make a smart ally, that’s for sure, but someone like him wouldn’t hesitate to throw someone like me under the bus.

I propped my elbows up on the edge of the walkway, observing the other players as they scattered throughout the building like chess pieces. Some were using the extra time to test the locked doors while they could.

‘Everyone looks like they’re about to die, as usual.’

I groaned and looked up at the ceiling above me. How can I still hear his snarky commentary from all the way down here?

If it weren’t a life-or-death situation, I’d have gone down yet another floor just so I wouldn’t have to listen in. But there was no time for that.

‘GAME START – THE TAGGER IS NOW ON THE MOVE.’

Everyone was silent. I could see them all poised, terrified, waiting, as trumpets filled the air, echoing through the long walkways and staircases. A racing fanfare? I held my breath, waiting for something to happen. For the tagger to make themselves known.

And then, a chime.

The elevator doors opened up. They opened up on floor six – my floor.

My heart jumped at the sight. He was tall, clearly well-built despite being shrouded in a coat. But what was most striking was his head, or should I say, his mask. He was wearing a large mask stylized as a horse head. The racing fanfare suddenly clicked into place… as did something else.

He was holding a submachine gun.

And he was looking right at me.

‘Shit!’

Fueled by adrenaline, I ran to the far edge of the walkway, hoisting myself up onto the balcony as the tagger calmly made his way closer, getting ready to aim. Clasping onto the drainage pipe, which trembled under my weight, I prayed that it wouldn’t collapse to the ground. The metal groaned as I pulled myself up with strength I didn’t know I had.

I heard the bullets before I felt them, a small, sharp whoosh of air that burst across my skin.

I’m almost there! Almost there. Just a little more.

The tagger was leaning out now, growing closer and closer while firing away and missing me only by a hair’s breadth. Soon he’d be close enough to aim properly. Channeling all my energy, I pushed my feet against the pipe joins, trying to pull my body up just a little further.

A hand reached out.

Clinging to the pipe with one arm, I grasped the hand and felt myself being pulled up against the balcony and onto the seventh floor where I rolled to the ground.

The gunshots stopped.

I couldn’t move from where I lay, staring at the roof as I tried to catch my breath. My muscles quivered, shivering with fight or flight.

‘危なかった,’ a familiar voice said. That was dangerous.

My eyes slid over to my rescuer. White Hoodie was leaning against the balcony.

‘でも,’ he continued. ‘感心した.’

I frowned, confused, trying to think back to the textbook I had poured over. The eight days of studying had almost gone to waste.

‘Sorry,’ I said, still a little breathless. ‘I don’t know what that word means.’

He laughed, a short puff of air. ‘It means you’re an idiot,’ he said. ‘You should’ve stayed up here rather than being stubborn.’

I pushed myself up and sat against the wall, as I wasn’t confident I had it in me to stand just yet.

Then, he added, ‘you’re also completely unprepared for a Spades game.’

Oh? So the suit does have something to do with the nature of the games…

I gave him a questioning look, hoping he’d elaborate, but he simply turned around to observe the game going on around us. I didn’t take his dismissal personally. It was hardly the time or place.

It must’ve been a few minutes I spent sitting there before I eventually decided to stand. Now that the adrenaline had passed, my muscles were beginning to ache. But I couldn’t let that keep me from the game; I needed to be able to run if the tagger came up here. I stood next to White Hoodie, observing the players around us.

From the third floor, gunshots and wet gurgled shrieks resounded. Left, right and centre, players flopped, limp as dolls as floor sprayed across the walls. We watched on as the two young women were slaughtered one by one, the second one wasting a perfect opportunity to escape by instead throwing her shoe at the tagger.

‘He was reloading his gun,’ I said, incredulous. ‘She could’ve gotten away so easily.’

Beside me, he made a noise of agreement, then we fell into silence. Even though we only had 20 minutes in total, it seemed to last a lifetime. Things got interesting very quickly when the two disheveled men started running across their floor, one of them shouting that everyone should call out the tagger’s location and help each other.

‘It’s not a bad idea,’ White Hoodie said, ‘but nobody will respond.’

‘You don’t know that,’ I replied. ‘Somebody might.’

At that moment, the girl with the bobbed haircut yelled out, ‘the tagger’s moving! He’s on the fourth level of the central area! Anyone who’s nearby, run!’

At first, I felt a sense of satisfaction that he had been proven wrong. But then the same girl tried to save the middle-aged woman, before leaping off the side of the balcony and climbing a drainpipe with the agility and grace of an expert. I tried not to feel jealous. I tried.

She makes it look so easy. And she did it while dodging all those bullets too.

‘A climber? How interesting…’ White Hoodie mused. Leaning toward me, he added, ‘you see, that’s how you’re supposed to climb things.’

‘Shut up,’ I snapped. ‘I never asked for your opinion.’

He gave me that same condescending look that he had back in the entrance, and I squirmed inside. After that, we returned to silence. I checked the time on my phone. We only had 12 minutes left. It wasn’t long before we needed to head to the safezone, wherever that may be. Eying the guy next to me, I wondered whether he knew exactly where it was but was waiting until the last minute.

Gunshots sounded once again. However, this time they were coming from a floor just below us. The tagger was firing his gun at a door across the walkway on a floor below. In between gunfire, the scared newbie from the beginning peeked his head over the edge of the balcony, before ducking down again in fright.

Something wasn’t right. It was quite a considerable distance for the tagger to shoot, and so far, he had just been shooting anyone he came across at random rather than targeting those on different floors.

Unless… that door behind him.

‘That’s it, isn’t it?’ I said.

White Hoodie nodded and glanced at his phone. He then pulled off his signature hood, revealing his pale hair once more.

‘Should we begin?’

I didn’t like the idea of tagging along behind him, but he seemed to know what he was doing. I clearly couldn’t trust him, but at the same time, he’d helped me up the balcony. He didn’t have to do it, but he had. But then what if it was so he could later use me as a human shield? There were too many what-ifs, and it was impossible to tell whether to consider him an ally.

Up ahead, he stopped. He turned around to where I was still standing, lost in thoughts.

‘Aren’t you coming?’

I won’t trust you, but I’ll stand by you.

‘What’s your name?’ I asked.

He smirked. ‘Chishiya.’

Somehow, it suited him. And it felt more like an alliance now that I knew his name.

I gave a firm nod. ‘I’m coming, Chishiya.’

Jogging to catch up, I followed behind him as we made our way downstairs. The tagger seemed to be on one of the lower floors, but this didn’t make me any less apprehensive as I stayed a few paces behind Chishiya, unable to stop myself from staring at the white tendrils of his hair that blew back in the breeze.

As we approached the door, another familiar face appeared. It was the disheveled one who’d suggested we all work together. Looking at him up-close, he had a friendly, attractive face, but his hair looked like it’d seen better days.

‘I see you noticed it too,’ Chishiya said.

The man nodded, although he looked unsure. His hand rested on the doorknob, but he didn’t seem willing to go any further.

Chishiya raised a brow. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

The man glanced between the two of us, then said slowly, ‘if I was the tagger, I’d have just stayed here. There’s something missing in this game, something we haven’t thought about.’

He had a point. There was likely more to this ‘safezone’ than the rules had specified, just like how one of the codes in the Jack in the Box game had been a lie. There was probably a trap hidden somewhere behind the apartment door.

‘That’s probably true,’ Chishiya agreed, then pulling out his phone, added, ‘but there’s no time.’

He also had a point. There was only three minutes of the game left before the bomb detonated and it was game over for everyone.

The man nodded, and slowly opened the door.

I hid behind Chishiya as the three of us quietly entered. The place was just an empty room, with nothing particularly safeabout it. But at the far end, there was another door. That was probably the real safezone. The three of us made to inspect it –

Click.

Chishiya was pushed aside, his body thrown onto mine as we fell to the ground. Deafening gunshots rained everywhere, marring the walls and ceiling.

A second tagger!

I felt Chishiya’s weight suddenly leave me as he crawled to his knees. Scrambling out of the way, I saw Chishiya hastily pulled a battered Walkman out of his pocket. To my surprise, he pushed it against the second tagger, and electricity juddered from one end, sparks flying.

No, not a Walkman… a taser!

The moment it touched his skin, the tagger spasmed and jerked before dropping to the ground. Beside me, Chishiya climbed to his feet and offered a hand to pull me up. Together, the three of us stared in amazement between the converted taser and the still body on the floor.

Chishiya inspected his weapon. ‘It’s good to come prepared—’

Bullets burst through the air, the room glowing orange. I barely noticed the hand clamped like a vice around my wrist as my body was dragged outside, the door slamming shut behind us. The metal of the door protruded grotesque as fresh bullets hit, and I glared at Chishiya in disbelief.

‘He’s still in there! We can’t just leave him!’

For the first time, he seemed to be out of breath. ‘Do you want to die?’ he asked dryly.

Then his eyes, suddenly hard and serious, began to drift down further, coming to a stop on my upper arm. I followed his gaze to discover that a large red stain was oozing from my upper arm. Even by the second, the blood was rapidly soaking the fabric of my clothes. Perhaps I should have been panicking. Perhaps the sight should have made me more worried, but it didn’t. If the bomb detonated, we’d be dead, and a gunshot wound wouldn’t matter.

‘I can’t feel it,’ I told Chishiya. It was the truth.

He pursed his lips, staring darkly at the messy red wound. ‘You will soon.’

I sighed. We probably only had about two minutes, if that, to clear the game.

‘Let’s go back inside,’ I suggested. ‘I’ll go in first if you want.’

The scorn on his expression was quite something. Now standing, we both inched the door open, to find the room empty. Or at least, the main room was empty. The door at the back had been forced open, and a series of struggled groans could be heard.

Chishiya went first, creeping towards the doorframe and peering his head around. He whipped back as another wave of bullets scattered across the wall opposite.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked, scanning him over.

‘Of course I am,’ he said. ‘There’s two buttons in there. Two people need to press them to clear the game.’

Should’ve seen this coming. It wouldn’t be so easy.

By now, although I hated to admit it, Chishiya had been right; my arm was just starting to throb. In another few minutes, it would likely become too painful to move freely.

Suddenly there was a crash, and a familiar female voice could be heard inside the room. From what I could remember of her, it was the climber girl. Leaning into the doorway once more, Chishiya hesitated, holding the makeshift taser in his hand.

‘TEN SECONDS REMAINING.’

There’s no time for this!

Snatching the taser from his fingers, I ignored the pulse of pain from my arm and sprinted into the room. Then, ducking low, I shoved the taser into the tagger, feeling the electricity shudder violently through the Walkman and around my fingers.

‘FIVE… FOUR… THREE…’

The tagger slumped against the wall.

‘TWO…’

The man and the climber girl launched themselves across the room.

‘ONE.’

Their palms hit the buttons.

‘GAME CLEAR – CONGRATULATIONS!’

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #kuina #arisu #usagi

74 notes · View notes

flclarchives · 3 years

Text

Amusing Himself to Death, an Akadot.com interview with Kazuya Tsurumaki (director of FLCL and assistant director of Evangelion) from around December 2001. In the article, Tsurumaki explains a few things about Evangelion, his mentality behind FLCL as a whole, and the meaning of the name ‘FLCL’.

Full article text is under the cut, or read the article in its original form [here].

Kazuya Tsurumaki was a relatively little-known animator when Hideki Anno selected him to work as the assistant director on Neon Genesis Evangelion. For the TV series, which became a smash hit in Japan and one of the touchstones of the current surge of interest in anime in the US, Tsuramaki served as the main storyboard artist as well as assistant director, and when Studio Gainax began production on a trio of Evangelion films Tsurumaki got his first directorial assignment.

As he tells the story, Anno came to him after Eva and announced that he was out of ideas and that it was up to Tsurumaki to dream up the next project because, "you are next." Tsurumaki let his imagination run wild, but by the time he had written a script, Anno - despite his declaration that he had no stories left to tell - was already several steps ahead of Tsurumaki and in pre-production for his next series, Kareshi Kanojo no Jijo, leaving Tsurumaki a chance to have complete and unsupervised creative control of his own series FLCL.

FLCL, referred to as "Fooly Cooly" (or "Furikuri" by its American fans), is unlike any anime series to come before it. Wild, maniacally fast-paced physical comedy; exaggerated, exuberant animation alternately pushing towards surrealist- as when mecha exuviate from a bump on young Naota's head - and deconstructionist - as when the animation literally stops and the story is told by a camera bouncing across a page of black and white manga art panels; and obsessively, often irrelevantly, referential to obscure Tokyo-pop bands and anime insider trivia; FLCL was hyperkinetic and disorienting, yet mesmerizing, almost transgressive, and undeniably original. It inspired enthusiastic admiration for Tsurumaki as a creator, even amongst the perhaps 90% of the series' fans who were absolutely baffled by much of it. One is tempted to refer to it as announcing the arrival of full blown post-modernism in animation, or perhaps as the Exploding Plastic Inevitable of the anime industry.

When Tsurumaki visited Baltimore to speak to American fans at the recent Otokon Convention, predictably, many of the questions were along the lines of, "Hi, I really loved FLCL [or Evangelion], but could you please explain this part of it to me?"

Tsurumaki answered all questions genially with a self-deprecating and often mischievous sense of humor. For example:

Why does Haruko hit Naota over the head with her guitar?

Kazuya Tsurumaki: Naota is trying to be a normal adult and she belts him to make him rethink his decision.

Why does Evangelion end violently, and somewhat unhappily?

KT: People are accustomed to sweet, contrived, happy endings. We wanted to broaden the genre, and show people an ugly, unhappy ending.

Why is the character of Shinji portrayed as he is?

KT: Shinji was modeled on director Hideki Anno. Shinji was summoned by his father to ride a robot, Anno was summoned by Gainax to direct an animation. Working on Nadia [Nadia: Secret of the Blue Water, one of Anno and Tsurumaki's earlier projects] he wondered if he still wanted to work like this. He thought that working on Eva could help him to change.

Is there any particular reason why so many Gainax series feature very anxious, unhappy young male protagonists with no parents?

KT: Yes, the directors at Gainax are all basically weak, insecure, bitter, young men. So are many anime fans. Many Japanese families, including my own, have workaholic fathers whose kids never get to see them. That may influence the shows I create.

Could you explain the mecha bursting from Naota's head in FLCL?

KT: I use a giant robot being created from the brain to represent FLCL coming from my brain. The robot ravages the town around him, and the more intensely I worked on FLCL the more I destroyed the peaceful atmosphere of Gainax.

Why doesn't FLCL follow one story?

KT: In the third episode Ninamori was almost a main character, a kid who, like Naota, has to act like an adult. After episode three her problem was solved so we wrote her out. She has many fans in Japan and we got plenty of letters about that decision. For FLCL I wanted to portray the entire history of Gainax, and each episode has symbols of what happened behind the scenes on each of Gainax's shows. Episode one has many elements of Karekano; episode two, a lot of Evangelion references, etc.

Where does the title FLCL come from?

KT: I got the idea from a CD in a music magazine with the title Fooly-Cooly. I like the idea of titles that are shortened long English words. Pokémon for "Pocket-Monsters" for instance, and an old J-pop band called Brilliant Green that was known as "Brilly-Grilly."

Is there any reason why the extra scenes added to Eva for the video release were cut in the first place? Did you think the story would mean something different with them intact?

KT: The scenes that were added to Eva for its video release aren't that important. We added them as an apology for taking so long to get the video out. Maybe they'll help people understand things, because the episodes were done under tough deadlines the first time around.

Can you explain the symbolism of the cross in Evangelion?

KT: There are a lot of giant robot shows in Japan, and we did want our story to have a religious theme to help distinguish us. Because Christianity is an uncommon religion in Japan we thought it would be mysterious. None of the staff who worked on Eva are Christians. There is no actual Christian meaning to the show, we just thought the visual symbols of Christianity look cool. If we had known the show would get distributed in the US and Europe we might have rethought that choice.

After the panel, Mr. Tsurumaki sat down to speak with Akadot.

Do you enjoy confusing people?

KT: I have a twisted sense of humor. I'm an Omanu Jacku, a contrarian. [Writer's note- Omanu Jacku is a folk character a bit like Puck, a mischief maker]

What do you see differently now that you're working as a director rather than only as a visual artist?

KT: As an animator I have only the art; as a director story is really big. I still feel as an animator and I often have trouble putting the needs of the story first.

Did you intend from the start for FLCL to be as bizarre as it wound up?

KT: From the very start I wanted a different flavor. To achieve this I had to re-train the animators to be as stylized as I wanted them to be because I wasn't drawing it. I knew that not everyone would get it. I deliberately selected very obscure J-pop culture and anime sub-culture jokes and references. Because Eva was so somber I always intended to make FLCL outrageous and wacky.

Why the choice to break out of conventional animation and use manga pages? Was it at all a response to how many anime are using computers to achieve smoother and more realistic visuals? Were you trying to go the opposite direction?

KT: I like manga, not only to read, but the visuals. The pen drawings, the frame breakdowns and layouts . . . This is the first time I have used digital animation, and those bouncing manga shots wouldn't have been possible with cel animation. Personally I'm not interested at all in using computers for realistic animation. I'm impressed by it sometimes, but I'm interested in using computers to do what was once impossible, not to do smoother versions of what has already been done. I want to be less realistic.

Has using digital animation techniques changed the way you work, or the way you feel about your work when you see it? Does it still feel like it's yours if a computer did much of it?

KT: Before I got into digital animation I saw other shows that were using it and I felt that there was no feeling, it was empty. As an animator, there's a sense of release when you draw a cel. There's something there. Working on FLCL, though, I learned that computers can do more, and, most of all, that they allow room for trial and error and revising, more freedom to experiment. That is why I now feel that cel art cannot win against computers. For actual animation everything is still drawn on paper. That work hasn't changed. It's the other stuff, the touchups, and coloring. If we didn't use paper, maybe the feeling would change.

Earlier today you said that you were trying to broaden the genre by giving Eva a sad ending. Does the sameness of much of today's anime bore you?

KT: First of all we didn't use a sad ending to annoy fans. When they're upset, that really bothers us. Personally, I think a happy ending is fine, but not if it is achieved too easily. That's no good.

For all the fans that are confused at all, if you had to define in one sentence what FLCL is about, what would you say?

KT: FLCL is the story of boy meets girl. For me it is also about how it's ok to feel stupid. With Evangelion there was this feeling that you had better be smart to understand it, or even just to work on it. With FLCL I want to say that it's okay to feel stupid.

Even though it may be strange to us, do you have in your head a logic behind it? Are you trying to portray a story that follows the logic of dreams, or is it supposed to make sense symbolically?

KT: I'd like you to think of FLCL as imagination being made physical and tangible, just as it is for me when I take whatever is in my head and draw it.

So what are you working on next?

KT: Right now Gainax has told me that they'll support anything I choose to create, but I'm having trouble coming up with any ideas.

Why is that?

KT: Releasing titles for market, I know I have to make something to please fans, but I'm not a mature enough person to accept that fact. If I'm not amusing myself I can't do it. I feel bad that fans have to put up with such behavior from me. I apologize.

#FLCL #Evangelion #archive.org #Kazuya Tsurumaki #also i can upload the text as a PDF if anyone would like it!#things like these articles make me realize the people who say FLCL is too confusing aren't artists. because as an artist this is cathartic-#-to read. i'd kill to be able to make something as high-strung stylized and full of weird references as FLCL.#and with GAINAX too? holy shit #interview #article

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orlafilmblog · 3 years

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“Not Ideal But Doable” – The Master Shot

Last night and early this morning my group took over The Edinburgh Vaults to capture our master shot. In summary, I am extremely pleased with the result. We caught some great shots to work with and I’m proud of our perseverance throughout the night (and the next morning in class).

We arrived at the Vaults around 11.30pm and were greeted by a lovely guide called Anna who took us around for a quick tour. It was only mildly terrifying. She certainly knew how to set the mood with spooky stories and supposed photos of ghosts. I wouldn’t say I’m particularly superstitious… but I was spooked. After deciding on a base room to keep our stuff, we were left on our own to set up and get cracking.

We began in what we named ‘The Devil Circle Room’ by getting some easier, more basic shots of David using his phone as a flashlight. We used Sam’s smaller LED light to replicate the glow of a phone screen. These actually came out well; I like the depth that the candles give to it and the rock in the foreground could be interpreted as any suspicious item. However, it didn’t quite have the ‘wow factor’ that we wanted, so we continued our experimenting.

Our next shot was our final master shot. We used one of the bigger rooms do maximise the space (why get such a cool location if you aren’t going to show it off)? This shot was probably what we spent the most time on – it was worth it. After a lot of switching lenses and angles and lights we eventually had the camera set up on the gimbal perfectly. I was kneeling on the floor (RIP my very dirty jeans) holding the large LED light that acted as the light cast from the fallen candle. This created a massive shadow on the wall which we used for our concept. Ben Mc said action and we were set into motion. Firstly, we captured David reaching for the lamp, then got an empty frame/blank canvas without David in it. Then Ben Mc put David’s jacket on and wielded our prop axe (very menacingly) to create the looming shadow before we switched the fake candle for a real one. These four separate frames were layered together in the edit to create the final shot. I think we all used our full creative potential here as each person added ideas and solved problems for us to make the shot what it is.

After our main shot we decided to keep playing around with what we had. We used an attic-like space with a pull down ladder to create a completely different but equally cool shot of David holding an older camera and a headtorch. A red light is shining on him and you can eve see his breath as he gasps in fear.

We liked using the red light we had with us (small LED plus gel) and mixing it with the green lights that adorned the vault walls. Towards the end of the night we got two shots that used this. One was Eilis’ idea to capture David’s reflection in one of the puddles in the main corridor. We used the large LED as a backlight that meant the reflection was very clear. In the edit we then flipped the image upside down; this gave it a very unsettling feel as it wasn’t quite natural but you can’t put your finger on why. The last shot we got was of David walking down the corridor holding the lantern. The red and green lights created a very stylized look to the shot which I really like.

After leaving the Vaults at 1.30am, we had a long walk back to Arran House. We sat in the common room to edit what we had got. Sam connected his laptop to the large TV so we could all contribute to what he was doing with the images. This was also the point in the night where I busted the snacks out (an essential incentive to staying awake). We were all elated with the final results, having worked so hard to get them and potentially ruined our sleep schedules.

#film genres

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dcnatural · 4 years

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The Knight In Shining Armor

Word Count: 3123

Pairing: Reader x Arkham Knight!Jason Todd

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: When Scarecrow unleashed his terror in Gotham City, you decide to protect the defenseless, but soon find yourself in the hands of the Arkham Knight.

The moment the city wide alert was emitted, you knew it didn't include you. No one would care to evacuate an orphaned girl. So you watched from the window of the abandoned building you called home as the busses were filled with citizens and then disappeared into the horizon, heading towards safety.

As the night fell onto Gotham, you shivered, knowing what was to come. There was no way you would make it out of this alive. A sob escaped your lips as the realization sunk in. You had survived alone in the streets of the most dangerous city in the world, and now it would all be over with a chemical cloud.

But as you listened to the radio, the news anchor announcing with a trembling voice the explosion in Ace's Chemicals, you decided that if you were going down, you would go down fighting. The Batsignal illuminated the sky, a shining symbol of hope, reminding the poor unfortunate souls that hadn't been able to escape the city in time that perhaps it wasn't the end. And that hope inspired you to leave the relative safety that your home offered to venture into the dark streets, sure that you could also make a difference.

You knew you weren't the only upright citizen remaining, it was virtually impossible to empty a city as huge as Gotham in a matter of hours. And so, while Batman fought to stop Scarecrow and whichever other masked freak that decided to terrorize the town, you would protect the innocents from the commun thugs.

Ducking behind trash bins, you waited until the group of soldiers that patrolled the alley walked past before you raced through the smashed display window of a costumes store. You didn't know where the soldiers had come from, but from the look of their equipment and weapons, you could only assume they were being handsomely rewarded by their services.

You tried not to think about what you would be facing as you rummaged the shop's inventory in search of what you had come for. If you were to fight the bad guys, you would need a costume. As a little kid, Batgirl had been your favorite hero. She showed the world that girls were as capable as men. You had cried when she disappeared. You knew that the only reason why someone like her would drop her career as a vigilante was death, and so you mourned her in silence.

But as you pulled a Batgirl outfit from a pile of trashed clothing on the floor, your grief gave way to courage. Even if it was just a cheap Halloween costume, you would don her legacy and make her proud. Whoever she had been, you were certain she would be smiling in heaven, happy that someone kept spreading her message.

The cheap spandex dug into your body, sweat making it stick uncomfortably to your skin. But that was only a minor inconvenience and you wouldn't let it stop you. You smiled at your reflection in the mirror. The yellow cape hung behind you, framing your purple clad figure. Your own black military boots stood out from the rest of the outfit, but since the costume didn't come with footwear, they would have to do.

You didn't have batarangs, only your old and reliable crowbar; nor did you possess a grappling hook, but you had enough experience climbing into places you shouldn't to be positive that you would be fine without one.

The patrolling soldiers entered your line of sight once more, and you hid behind the store's counter while you waited for them to turn the corner and disappear. It wasn't them you planned to fight.

Your small body passed unnoticed by the streets as you headed to the docks, where you knew most low lifes would be. Everything smelled of urine and old beer, and you grimaced as the nauseous scent filled your nostrils. A party of criminals hang around a lit barrel that served as a makeshift fireplace. A gagged police officer was tied up to a streetlamp in the center of the group, and they laughed as they took turns punching the defenceless man.

You forced yourself to relax before you sprung into the scene, kicking down the closest thug before they even noticed your presence. With a swing of your weapon you brought down another, and then jumped out of sight as they opened fire against you.

Throwing a rock at the lit barrel, you caused it to collapse, engulfing the wooden floor in fire and making the three remaining criminals stumble away disoriented, more worried about not burning alive than killing you. A second too late you realized that unless you were quick enough, the cop would perish in the fire you started. You cursed loudly. Perhaps being a hero wasn't that easy after all.

You held your breath to avoid inhaling smoke and rushed past the ablaze inferno separating you from the officer. Taking a knife that had been dropped on the floor, you cut off the restraints, freeing the man. The metal was hot against your palm, but you ignored the pain.

"Thank you, Batgirl", the cop said as you helped him onto his feet. "Go get them", he added, pressing his gun to your hand.

You nodded and took the weapon, trusting him to get to safety on his own. Somewhere close by, the thugs started shooting again, but you dodged every bullet. The heat was uncomfortable, the flames licked against your suit as you raced between hiding spots. The fire now covered the better half of the pier, making it unavoidable.

Before you had a chance to ready your pistol, gunshots filled the air, followed by three damp thuds of limp bodies crashing to the ground. You crooked your neck to see who was your mysterious helper, but you couldn't see anyone in the darkness.

Suddenly, gloved hands wrapped around you, one covered your mouth to silence you and another keeping you close against your assailant's chest. Your grip on the gun faltered and it fell to the floor leaving you unprotected.

"What do we have here?", a modulated voice whispered close to your ear. You felt something hard pressing against the side of your neck and you froze. "Move and I will kill you, do you understand?"

You nodded immediately, terrified of the man holding you hostage. This definitely hadn't gone the way you had expected it to. The hand muzzling you moved away and the man chuckled as pleas that he let you go fell from your lips. Pathetic whines begging for mercy and you knew that he would only make fun of. But your desire to live was bigger than your pride.

He dragged you away from the burning pier and into a waiting car, shoving you inside before holstering back his gun. From outside, the vehicle resembled a military tank but the inside could very well belong to a fancy limousine, another demonstration of the wealth of this militia.

The leather seat was soft beneath your body and you ran your hands over the luxurious fabric, certain that it must have cost more than everything you had ever owned.

Your captor settled in the seat in front of you and you took a good look at him. He didn't wear the same red and black uniform as the others, but rather a glassy gray suit with a stylized "A" on the chest.

"The Arkham logo", you whispered and he hummed in agreement.

His face was hidden by a mirrored helmet and you noticed how badly destroyed your costume was. Red crept into your cheeks as you became self conscious of just how the tear in your cleavage exposed your breasts.

The car began to move, rumbling down the streets and you saw the abandoned streets passing by in a blur though the window.

“So, you are Batgirl ?”, he asked, the name sounding like a curse.

You tilted your chin up, glaring to where you supposed his eyes would be underneath the mask. “That’s right.” Your unsteady voice betrayed the brave facade you were putting forth. “And you are?”

“I don’t think you are in the position to ask questions here.”

You huffed. “What are you going to do? Kill me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. When he didn’t respond you laughed and shook your head. “Fine, I’ll just call you The Knight In Shining Armor, since it appears that’s the look you were going for.”

Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could have sworn he smirked. “Close enough. It’s Arkham Knight, if you must know.”

You stayed quiet for the rest of the trip. He busied himself giving orders and shouting at the communicator in his armor while you fiddled with your cape absently minded. While you had dropped the gun in the pier, you still had the crowbar fastened to your utility belt. If you could smack him with enough strength to leave him disoriented and give you time to escape. The only problem was that you were trapped in a military grade vehicle. You sighed, it was hopeless.

“We arrived”, he announced unceremoniously.

You bit your inner cheek and glanced outside. Instead of the dilapidated warehouses you were used to seeing, tall skyscrapers rose like spirals on the horizon. The mirrored glass windows reflected the moonlight and sniper lasers, creating an infinite amount of sparkling red beams. Your jaw dropped in awe.

“Get out”, he commanded, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the car. Your whole body shook as he led you inside the front entrance of what seemed to be a department store. You sheepishly crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide your exposed skin.

Mannequins littered the floor, expensive clothing draped all over the place like they were nothing, fancy jewelry tossed to the side to make way for the hyper technological equipment that you couldn’t begin to comprehend. Soldiers roamed all over the place, carrying boxes of ammunition or typing on tablets. Whoever these people were, they weren’t amateurs.

The Knight pressed the button and the elevator doors opened, revealing the golden inside of the cab. He nudged you forward and you entered, clutching onto the guardrails for support, since your legs had decided to stop working properly. The doors closed and the cabin jolted before starting to move upwards, causing you to yelp.

“Are you okay?” he asked, an edge of mockery in his tone.

You squinted and sucked in a deep breath. “Just not used to elevators”, you replied as you supressed the urge to throw up.

The doors cracked open and you glanced at the screen on the top of the control panel, where the number 35 shone in green light. You shivered, you had never been in a building so tall.

When you didn’t step outside immediately, the Knight let out another low chuckle. “What? You are afraid of heights?”

“No!”, you quickly replied, hugging yourself tighter. Not wanting to let him think you were scared, you stepped outside.

Panoramic windows covered the circular shaped room, giving you a clear view of Gotham’s skyline. Right in front of you there was a bar counter, a tall shelf filled with liquors standing behind it. To your left, you noticed a large bed, sheets tossed all over the floor along with books and guns cartridges.

“You live here?”, you asked the Knight, who had already moved, reaching the bar and pouring two glasses of a caramel colored liquid.

“Just crashing”, he said. “Pretty nice, thought, isn’t it?”

You nodded along and sat in one of the tall silvery stools that lined the front of the bar. “So, when are you putting that bullet through my brain?”, you asked as you sipped your cup. The liquor burned your throat as it made its way down.

He laughed. His hands reached behind his head and he removed his cowl, revealing a far younger face than you had expected. He couldn’t be much older than you. And he was the most handsome man you had ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes upon.

His jet black hair was messy, wild locks sticking up in different directions and his blue eyes seemed to pierce deep into your soul. His face seemed to have been sculpted into perfection, from the sharp jawline to the curve of his nose. His lips were curved into a crooked smile and you wondered how it would be like to kiss them. His left cheek had a ‘J’ shaped scar in it but the rest of his skin was flawless.

“Wanna take a picture?”, he joked and you blushed, realizing that you had been staring.

You shifted your gaze to the floor. “Sorry.”

“No need to be”, he said as he jumped over the counter. “Make yourself at home. There’s a bathroom, but no shower. I have already asked someone to bring up some clothing. The good thing about setting base in a department store is that there’s no shortage of options to choose from.”

As he walked, you eyed his thick tights and sighed. Maybe a picture wasn’t a bad idea after all. He sat in front of a desk and began to type in the keyboard, analyzing data from the many monitors before shouting out orders.

You finished your drink and walked over to the window. Helicopters patrolled the sky and you could see the distinct forms of two airships. Looking down, the cars weren’t more than pebbles.

“What the hell?”, you screamed and jumped backwards. A large winged creature flew by, it’s screeching sound echoing in the night.

“That again?”, the Knight said right behind you, his hot breath brushing against your neck. You hadn’t heard him getting up. “It’s harmless, although I have no idea of what ‘it’ is.”

“Why-- why are you keeping me here?”, you stuttered, suddenly terrified of what fate waited for you.

“Just thought it would be more comfortable than out in the streets,” he answered. “You were only going to get yourself killed.”

“Oh”, the sound escaped your lips. You pivoted on your heels to face him. “I suppose that does make you my knight in shining armor. Thank you, I guess.”

“Anytime, princess”, he replied with a smirk.

This close, it was impossible to ignore your desire to kiss him, and so, tiptoeing to reach his height, you pressed your lips against his. He went stiff and you pulled away, shame creeping into your face once more.

“Why?”, he asked before you could apologize.

“Why what?”

“Why did you kiss me just now?”

“Because I wanted to?”, you answered, unsure if it’s an acceptable response. “And I thought you want to.”

He snickered. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t. But you don’t know me either. And yet you saved me. Even though it seemed more like a kidnapping than a rescue. Besides, you are really good looking.”

“So are you.”

You weren't used to people giving you compliments, especially not when you were covered in smoke and wearing thorn out clothes. "You really think so?"

"I do."

"Can I kiss you again?", you asked shyly.

"You sure about that?"

You rolled your eyes and kissed him, not bothering with a reply.

He wasted no time shoving you against the glass wall, gloved fingers pushing aside what remained of your outfit, tossing your belt aside. His tongue darted into your mouth and you moaned in response. He broke the kiss only to remove his suit before returning, with even more passion than before. It fell awkwardly to the floor, landing with a crashing sound that reverberated deep in your skull. His briefs went down next, releasing his erection and you almost choked at the sight of his bulging cock. He chuckled at your reaction.

You grabbed his shoulders, pulling him closer, and running your hands over the hard muscles of his chest. You traced his abs while he unhooked your bra, freeing your boobs. Taking a nipple between his fingers, he twisted and pinched it, earning panted cries from you. With the other hand he tugged down your panties, causing them to pool around your ankles.

The cold window at your back was a sharp contrast to the warm body pressed against your front and goosebumps erupted on your skin. You swung your legs around his waist, feeling his hard-on brushing against your slick folds. His fingers dug into your asscheeks, supporting your weight. His lips sucked gently at your collarbone and you craned your neck to give him more room. You wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft and guided it to your entrance. The head was smeared with pre-come, and added with your own wetness, it slid inside with ease.

Obscene moans filled the room as your body stretched to accommodate his enormous length. Your nails carved into his back as he began to move his hips back and forth, pumping into you at a fast but steady pace. With every thrust, your body was shoved against the glass and you feared that it would give in and shatter.

He grunted as your walls tightened around him, burying his face in the crook of your neck and biting hard. You felt the skin break and smelled the faint metallic scent of blood. The thought of the marks he would leave only made you clench harder and he throbbed inside you.

Managing to hold you up with one arm, he used his thumb to draw circles on your clit, flicking his expert fingers on the bundle of nerves and adding to your pleasure. You began to rock your hips to meet his rhythm, eager for more friction. Each stroke of his cock managed to hit the perfect spot and a growing wave of warmth began to take over your body. Lost in pure ecstasy, you reached your peak, your muscles contracting to keep him close. His cock twitched shooting thick spurts of cum into you. You didn’t move until you felt him go soft and pull out with a wet pop .

Your body felt weak and when you untangled your legs from his body you wobbled backwards, slumping against the wall. You threw your head back in laughter and he joined you on the ground, crouching by your side.

“Fuck”, you exclaimaed, running a hand along your hair.

“Yeah, we just did.”

You rolled your eyes and rested your head on his shoulder, eyelids fluttering shut. He picked up your body with ease and carried you to bed, laying you onto the mattress and shielded you from the cold air with a blanket.

“Rest now,” he said softly. “I’ll be back when Batman’s dead.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight #Jason Todd #smut #dc #dc imagine #reader

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clonewarsarchives · 3 years

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Inside 'Star Wars: The Clone Wars'

By: Gerri Miller (original article link on howstuffworks)

Sources

George Lucas interviewed August 4, 2008

Dave Filoni interviewed September 11, 2008

The sci-fi phenomenon that began more than 30 years ago with a movie about a galaxy long ago and far, far away has expanded exponentially ever since with sequels, prequels, books, games and animated spinoffs. Although the animated "Star Wars: The Clone Wars" movie, released this summer, has to date grossed a less than stellar $34 million, it was an offshoot of creator George Lucas' mission to create a TV series, and it served its purpose as a promotional tool for the weekly "Clone Wars" episodes that premiere on Cartoon Network Oct. 3, 2008.

Focused on the conflict briefly referred to in the original "Star Wars," the galactic civil war takes place in the period between "Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones" and "Episode III: Revenge of the Sith." The Clone Wars pit the Grand Army of the Republic led by the Jedi Knights against the Separatists and their Droid Army, led by Count Dooku, a Jedi turned Sith Lord aligned with the evil Darth Sidious. Many of the characters from the "Star Wars" universe are involved, including Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi and young Anakin Skywalker, before he was tempted to the Dark Side and became Darth Vader.

"I was lamenting the fact that in 'Episode II,' I started the Clone Wars, and in 'Episode III,' I ended the Clone Wars, and I never actually got to do anything on the Clone Wars," says Lucas. "It's like skipping over World War II."

To remedy that omission, he tapped Dave Filoni, an animator (Nickelodeon's "Avatar: the Last Airbender" series) and passionate "Star Wars" fan, to bring "The Clone Wars" to TV.

Ensconced at Big Rock Ranch, near Lucas' Skywalker Ranch headquarters in Marin County, Cali., Filoni and his team of artists and computer animators are making 22 episodes in season one and have nearly two more seasons written.

"We're way ahead. We've been doing this ever since I finished 'Revenge of the Sith,'" says Lucas, who hopes to do at least 100 installments.

He and Filoni collaborate on everything from story to design to execution in translating the "Star Wars" universe for television. It's a daunting creative, technical and logistic task, as we'll explain in the following sections.

Building the Universe

How do you scale down an IMAX-size spectacle for television and still have it make an impact, especially on a small screen budget? That's just one of the problems Dave Filoni has to solve.

"'Star Wars' is very famous for the scale of it, and how convincing it looks. So when you're doing a weekly television series, you have to figure out how to do things on that level," he notes. "Sometimes it forces you to be creative and come up with solutions that are better than if you can shoot everything you want," he continues, preferring to consider budgetary constraints a creative incentive rather than a limitation. "The team here is challenged to come up with these giant battles. We haven't shied away from anything."

While he did some of the initial character design, subsequently, Filoni has spent most of his time supervising other artists and animators, who number around 70 in-house and another 80 or so at facilities in Singapore and Taipei.

"Everything is written here, and the story and design and editing are all done here. The animation and lighting are done overseas, and sometimes some modeling as well," he outlines.

"I meet with George to talk about the episodes and he hands out a lot of the storylines and main ideas for the stories. I'll draw while he's talking and show him the sketch," Filoni continues. "That way we communicate right off the bat about what something might look like."

At any given time, the director notes, episodes are in various stages of completion, "from designing to working on a final cut, or adding sound and color-correction. I have four episodic directors to help me, who each have an episode they're managing."

Rather than use computer animation to duplicate the live-action films' characters or continue in the very stylized vein of the 2004-2005 "Clone Wars" micro-series, "We kind of shot for the middle," says Filoni, who endeavored to blend a 2-D esthetic with 3-D technology.

"The 3-D model makers and riggers who worked on the prequels dealt with the height of realism to create convincing digital characters. I knew that we weren't going to be able to do that for the series. And we wanted it to be different than a live-action feature, to get away from photo-realism. It was a choice to simplify something in the character models, the same way we would do things in a 2-D show."

So how did Filoni stay true to the "Star Wars" legacy in this newest installment? Read on to find out.

Clone Style

Taking some inspiration from the earlier cartoon series, Filoni

approached the characters as a 2-D animator would, "but stylized the face a little more. If you look at Anakin, he has certain edges and lines in his face. I would draw an edge or a line that might be unnaturally straight or curved, and that would play into the lighting of it. I tried to sculpt in 3-D the way I would draw or sculpt an image in 2-D, with shadow and light. I wanted it to look like a painting -- you see a textured, hand-painted style on every character. I have texture artists who literally paint every single character right down to their eyeball, because I wanted that human touch on everything."

Advances in computer animation have allowed Filoni to accomplish much more than he would have been able to in traditional 2-D. "For eight years I worked just with a pencil. I never touched a computer. But working with George, we try to look at computers as an incredibly advanced pencil. The technical side helps the creative, artistic side," he says.

Battles filled with huge numbers of soldiers can be rendered faster than ever before, but they still have to be created, along with every other prop and character in an enormous universe. "'Star Wars' is so complex in that you're building a whole galaxy. We go to many different planets," Filoni reminds. "So every rock, tree, blade of grass, native vehicle -- every asset -- needs design. We had to create a whole bunch of assets for each episode, and the budget goes up for each element you have. Once you build it, you have it, but we can't go to a different planet and have the same chair there," he laughs. "On a schedule where we need those things right away, it's difficult to get it all built."

Since "The Clone Wars" is chronologically sandwiched between "Clone Wars" and "Revenge of the Sith," it has been a mandate for the creators to stay consistent with the mythology. "That's probably one of the trickiest things," admits Filoni. "We always have to keep in mind what the characters are thinking and feeling at the beginning of this and at the end. You have a lot of room to play with when you're in the middle, but you have to remember what people say in the third movie. With characters like Obi-Wan or Anakin or Padme, I have to pay very careful attention that it will hook up. And then there's the expanded universe of "Star Wars" novels and video games. I try to be aware of it all and work it in, because fans really appreciate it."

Filoni hopes to attract existing fans and create new ones, especially among the younger generation, but admits doing the latter may be easier. "One thing we have that's different from any movie that came before is we're an animated series. But there's an instant reaction to the word animation that it's for kids. How you get around that is with the stories you tell. We'll have our snow battles and we'll also have our lighter 'Return of the Jedi' moments. Some episodes lean older, some younger. But in the end it has a broad appeal," he believes.

The recent "Clone Wars" movie (out on DVD Nov. 11 ) served as a stand-alone prequel to introduce the characters at this point in time. In contrast, "The series has its small arcs and shows you the war from across a broad spectrum of episodes. It's not just Anakin Skywalker's story," Filoni underlines. "We can go left or right of that plot and deal with characters we have never seen. There's a lot of material. It's a three-year period in the history of the 'Star Wars' Universe, and there are so many stories to tell. The longer it goes, the more chance we get to tell fascinating stories in that galaxy."

Character Study

"The Clone Wars" shows a different side of some of the film franchise's most iconic characters. "In a series, you can do a whole episode about a character and learn more about what they were like, which makes what happens to them a lot more poignant," explains Filoni. "We know Yoda is powerful, but how does that power develop? How does he use it? We get to go into more detail that you just couldn't do in the live action films, because they're mainly focused on Anakin."

While few of the actors from the live action movies agreed to reprise their roles in voice over for "The Clone Wars," Anthony Daniels, the original C-3PO, is the exception. "One of the special moments for me was hearing Anthony on the telephone, discussing C-3PO with me and his experiences. That really helps us round out the characters," says the director, who enjoyed similar input from Rob Coleman, the animation supervisor who worked on Yoda on the prequels.

Of the new characters not seen in the live action series, there's the alluring but venomous Asajj Ventress, a disciple of Count Dooku. "She is, of course, a villain, and fits into the structure of the Sith," Filoni elaborates. "Darth Sidious -- Senator Palpatine -- is the main bad guy, and his apprentice is Count Dooku. Dooku is training Ventress in the Dark Side. She's getting more powerful. I wanted to make her intelligent, deceptive and also kind of sexual. She's kind of a forbidden fruit -- Jedi are not supposed to get involved with the more lustful aspects of life. She adds another dynamic to the series."

On the other side of the good/evil coin is newcomer Ahsoka Tano, Anakin's teenage padawan, or apprentice. "She's Anakin's student and helps us see him as more of a hero," says Filoni. "Once he gets over his initial reaction, he takes pride in her. He's unpredictable and the Jedi know that, but he has compassion and that is used against him and it later brings him to the Dark Side."

Ahsoka was created, says Lucas, "Because I needed to mature Anakin. The best way to get somebody to become responsible and mature is to have them become a parent or a teacher. You have to think about what you're doing and set an example. You look at your behavior and the way you do things much differently. The idea was to use her to make Anakin become more mature. We've made her a more extreme version of what Anakin was- - a little out there, independent, vital and full of life, but even more so. He gets a little dose of his own medicine."

"She's been a really fun character to develop," adds Filoni, who likes Ahsoka but admits that his character tastes tend to run a bit more obscure -- his favorite is Plo Koon, "a bizarre Jedi Master. It's been fun to develop him and show his personality beyond the fact that he's bizarre looking and carries a lightsaber."

Fan Fare

Just three years ago, Filoni dressed up as Plo Koon to see an opening night showing of "Revenge of the Sith," so it's not surprising that the 34-year-old fan is still pinching himself that he has this job. "It's a very creative atmosphere," he says of Big Rock Ranch, where the lakeside setting is "meant to inspire us artistically and definitely does. A lot of the people I work with grew up with 'Star Wars,' so we have a great time. It's hard, intense work, but George is very engaged in what we're doing. What more could you ask for? I have the guy who created the 'Star Wars' universe excited and interested in what we're doing. We couldn't be happier about that."

Asked why he thinks "Star Wars" remains a fan favorite today, three decades later, Lucas says diversification is the key. "We were always able to deal with different aspects of the story in various forms and I think that keeps it alive. It is a lot of fun and it's a universe that has been created to inspire young people to exercise their imagination and inspire them to be creative, and I think that always works."

"The original 'Star Wars' had broad appeal to everybody, and it holds up so well," adds Filoni. "I think there's a timelessness to it, even though Luke looks like a kid from the '70s with that haircut. Luke is a farmer boy and Han is a cowboy. Jedi Knights are like the samurai of Japan or the knights of Europe. Those archetypes work the globe over. It's a world phenomenon that speaks to everyone. There will always be a character you can relate to."

#interview #crew #George Lucas #Dave Filoni #the first part is useless read the stuff about design and characters under cut #highlights bit for own reference

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