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loki-cees-all · 2 months

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Chapter 7 - All the Tiring Time Between {TLTGYA - Post!TVA Loki x OFC Longfic}

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Pairing : Post-TVA!Loki x Oliviette (OFC)

Chapter Summary : Sometimes the sharpest boundaries require the gentlest touch.

Chapter W/c : 8.7k words

Chapter Tags / Content : Angst (as always), brief mentions of blood and injuries. Also there's a bunch of Tesseract lore and Loki's history with Thanos that I really got carried away with while writing this.

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

The silence in the cell was electrifyingly tense, and Loki wished he had something else to focus his attention on.

His jaw ached as he took another bite of the flavorless, perplexing bread that was both stale and damp at the same time. He should have been grateful for it and its distraction, despite the woman having offered it without even so much as looking at him. But it just reminded him of the year he’d spent with the Mad Titan: Wretched. Forsaken. Totally and completely hopeless.

Loki tried desperately not to think about it, but it was getting harder to fight as his exhaustion grew.

The woman sat across from him in the cell, her knees pulled to her chest and her expression blank. She’d said absolutely nothing after dismissing his question about Anathema the night prior, not even when the peculiar guards brought in their cruel attempt at a meal. She didn’t even flinch when they set the tray down in front of her, nor when the duo stared, cold and unmoving, presumably waiting for her to beg for her life like all the others…but she did wait until they were finally gone to pull the tray closer.

She had grabbed the chunk of bread first, and extended it towards him in the shadows like it was second-nature to her. As if it wasn’t ever an option that she wouldn’t share it, and despite the fact that they were in stark disagreement about their respective situations in this place.

He felt guilty for accepting the offering, but unfortunately, he felt like he had no other choice; his eyelids were growing heavier by the minute, his muscles were becoming weaker with each new day of disuse, and his nerves were perpetually fried with wary energy. He was constantly stifling another yawn, and was dangerously close to falling asleep, to having another nightmare again.

Loki didn’t know if he ever talked in his sleep, but he didn’t want to risk revealing any compromising information about himself or his past; the less anyone knew about him here, the better off they all were.

But other than the food she’d shared with him, there wasn’t much else for him to distract himself with. The woman wasn’t talking anymore, and her questions had faded away alongside the hope she may have once had about escaping. That left Loki to alone deal with his questions about her, and their inscrutable answers.

The problem with that, however, was that his mind was nothing but a tangled mess; a rat’s nest, made up of lies and false memories, the betrayals of the life he’d left behind, and all the lives that never were. Before him lay a scattering of dots, all seemingly unrelated and centered around a woman who claimed she didn’t know what they wanted with her, and he couldn’t seem to make heads or tails of any of it.

Loki used to pride himself on his ability to see the bigger picture, especially on a galactic scale. But he had come here to hide and to wallow, to purposely let his mind atrophy into a cobweb of nothingness, because that was easier than continue trying, and failing, to be happy. He felt comfortable doing that, and letting this become his legacy, because he hadn’t ever expected a riddle to fall into his lap again. He hadn’t ever expected her.

As Loki swallowed the last of the bread, he forced himself to look at her again. She was still huddled against the wall, illuminated by the dim lantern light from the hallway and shivering in the cold dungeon like a scared little child. He was flabbergasted that she was still here, that they’d bothered bringing her back after being caught during an escape attempt. And he couldn’t help but hate himself, because the old Loki could have figured out why that was a very long time ago.

Next to her, the bowl of porridge sat on the floor, mostly untouched and definitely not enjoyed. Her expression was sullen as she stared off into the distance, and her limbs were folded around herself as she retreated deeper inward. It almost made him feel…something.

Of what exactly, Loki wasn’t quite sure; the feeling was old and familiar, something that was long lost while never really being understood in the first place. He told himself that the feeling was irrelevant, because it was just the mystery he found equal parts infuriating and intriguing. He just needed a bit more time than usual to settle the question marks, and then he could finally return to the blissful void of apathy.

And maybe she wasn’t lying when she claimed to not know who Anathema was, but he didn’t believe for a moment that she had no idea why the guards were so interested in her. Either she had something of theirs, or she knew some mysterious piece of information they didn’t yet - but they were obviously willing to play the long game in order to acquire it, and that couldn’t have been for nothing.

Perhaps it had something to do with the gem dangling from her necklace. Loki had seen her touching it, frequently and absentmindedly, running her slender fingers over the deep blue stone during stressed and quiet moments like now. Clearly it meant a lot to her; someone who loved her had given it to her. Someone she loved back, someone she probably missed dearly…

As he started to wonder if anyone was out there looking for her, Loki realized he was staring and quickly averted his eyes. They landed once again upon the bowl of uneaten porridge next to her, and a new form of discomfort wove itself between the muscles of his shoulders and neck. It wrapped around his nerve-endings, stinging the open and frayed tendrils that had been worn bare from the pain of still being alive.

He was quite vulnerable existing like this, even though he knew she couldn’t see him hiding in the shadows. That she didn’t know what he was thinking, or where he was looking. That she was unaware of the fleeting relief that poured into his veins when she was brought back to the cell alive, or his shame at feeling anything that had immediately replaced it.

Loki had been flippant when she was initially brought in here. He was angry the first time she tried to share a meal with him. And then he was conflicted, at best, when she was dragged back in the second time. This paltry range of emotions was far more than he was previously used to; he felt like he was drowning in it, like it was slowly collapsing his airways and squeezing out every last ounce of oxygen from his lungs.

Because there was only one person on this planet who knew his name. A single individual, throughout all of space and time, knew where he was. She was the sole witness to his current existence, and he’d never felt more uncomfortable or on display than here and now. She had met him at his worst, in his ultimate moment of triumph when he’d finally been able to remove himself from any and all equations, from every problem that ever needed solving, and he absolutely hated that.

Loki thought he’d finally accounted for everything when he had stepped through the Time Door and into this dungeon. He thought he’d finally fixed the issue, himself, for literally everyone - and then this tiny little variable had shown up so unexpectedly to completely ruin it for him.

He should have been angrier about it. He should have been furious and seething and shaking with rage over this egregious betrayal of the universe. Being alone had been the whole point, keeping everyone safe from him had been his only intention, seeking protection from the pain of both betrayal and being betrayed was all that Loki had left. Why wasn’t he allowed that meager peace of mind?

Damnation clung to Loki like a frightened child clung to his mother’s skirts, trembling in the dark and begging for acknowledgement of its traumatized state. It lurked around every corner and it haunted every shadow, constantly weeping and whimpering and howling out its anguish to cruel and uncaring souls. It was always there, lingering in the corner of his eye, reminding him of just how helpless and useless he was. That he should just give up. That he should just end it already.

But sometimes, the damnation would transform into something far more sinister, into the tall, skulking form of a cerulean demon. Hanging over his shoulder and digging its claws into his neck, the demon would spit cruel maledictions into his ear. Didn’t Loki know that everyone around him was already doomed? Wouldn’t it be kinder to just kill them now, rather than waiting for him to ruin their life and then cruelly and inevitably take it from them?

Hiding in the dungeon was the only reasonable compromise between the frightened child and the viscous demon warring in his mind. If only he had stuck with that plan, if only he hadn’t revealed that someone else was alive in the cell with her, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

Regret, his oldest and only friend, wouldn’t be blaring its horn and sounding the alarm bells and crying out for solace. So why did it bother him so much now that she wasn’t eating?

Loki shifted uncomfortably on the stone floor, weighing the options in his mind. The regret of initially engaging with this woman didn’t mean he couldn’t change tactics; and if she wasn’t eating, then it wouldn’t be too much longer until he was on his own again. That had been his initial plan, and there was no reason he couldn’t return to that now. Wasn’t being alone all he ever wanted?

“You should finish your meal. There’s no telling how long it’ll be before they bring another…” The words felt like acid on Loki’s tongue, dripping down his throat to eat away at his insides. He hoped they had come out as bluntly as he’d intended, but in reality, it just sounded like something his mother would have said.

This time, the woman didn’t shudder when he finally broke the tense silence. She didn’t even react at all, other than to sigh heavily and respond in a low and flattened tone. “What’s the point…?”

“Well, clearly they’d prefer you to be alive, for whatever reason…” Loki’s jaw tensed as he paused, struggling to understand why he was even bothering. “Even if they bring food on an irregular basis, it’s still more than anyone else gets…”

“Maybe the only reason they want me alive is so they can continue mocking and hurting me.”

That was a more difficult point to contend with; perhaps the guards had just grown weary of the simple and mundane murders, and they’d decided to go with something more entertaining this time. What if there wasn’t a more complicated explanation for the guards' motivations? What if he was searching for logic that didn’t even exist?

Loki stifled another yawn as he leaned back against the stone wall, raking his fingers through tangled curls that were just as chaotic as his thoughts. There had to be something he was missing while attempting to put this puzzle together. “So what did the guards say when they caught you escaping?”

The woman let out a heavy exhale, and her tone shifted into a more sarcastic tone. “Oh, normal things like what are you doing out of your cell?, and no one’s coming to rescue you. Typical kidnapper things, you know…”

Loki couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her nonchalant answers, but what else was he expecting? He was beginning to wonder if it was even worth putting this much effort into avoiding sleep. Nothing else in his life prior to meeting her had been easy, so why was he expecting this to go smoothly?

“Actually, the guard did say something strange before knocking me out…” The woman trailed off, pausing as she furrowed her brow.

Loki cleared his throat as he looked towards her again. “Strange how?”

“Maxine - or Nulan, whichever one it was…They caught me upstairs in their private quarters. Just before attacking me, they said what is gone…may never return.” The woman pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she recalled the memory. “I’ve never heard it before, and I have no idea what it means…”

What is gone…may never return. Loki turned the phrase backward and forward in his mind, trying to find its place in this absolutely confounding puzzle. But he’d never heard anyone say anything even remotely close to it, so there was nowhere for it to go. The phrase’s sentiment, however, he understood perfectly well.

“It was probably just a threat, or a taunt…” she continued with a dismissive shake of her head. “They were just mocking me, for losing everything…”

“Or it’s a prayer. A desperate request, for some kind of reprieve…” Loki murmured in reply. He didn’t want to think about whether anyone had ever hoped for the same thing after he’d finally walked away, but he was positive that they had. And he hadn’t meant for his interpretation to sound so melancholy, but as his gaze caught the woman’s matching expression, he could feel her understanding of his meaning. Loki hated that.

She must have sensed that as well, because she quickly forced a false smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No…surely they must have been talking about me losing my boots.”

Her smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared, shifting into a grimace as a violent shiver shuddered over the limbs she struggled to pull close enough. She breathed out a heavy sigh and lowered her forehead to her knees with another tremble, and for once, Loki was grateful for the Jotun physiology keeping him relatively comfortable. But the woman didn’t share the same luxury of such a curse, and she was clearly suffering in these dank and grim conditions.

Loki turned his attention towards his fingers, twitching and fidgeting restlessly in his lap. This particular guilt was both new and unwelcome, like the haunting of fresh ghosts he thought he’d finally manage to not brutally murder for once. It wasn’t directly his fault she was here, that she was suffering. She was a complete stranger, after all, and this couldn’t have been his problem, or his responsibility.

But as Loki lifted his gaze again, carefully moving his eyes to avoid looking upon her once more, he caught a glimpse of the woman’s forgotten boots in the shadows, the ones carelessly stripped away while the guards were searching her the night before.

He recalled one of the first lessons Odin had explained about ruling a kingdom, that sometimes tact and finesse were far more effective than blades or might. Perhaps if Loki was kind instead of harsh, and if he returned the boots to the frozen woman, then she might help alleviate the nagging questions he still had and allow him to fight off sleep for just a little bit longer.

His brow furrowed, and he swallowed hard as he realized this was the least he could do for the both of them. It wasn’t much, but it felt like chopping off a limb when he cleared his throat and forced himself to speak again. “Your, um…boots are in here. They might help you with the…cold.”

The woman’s head popped back up, and her eyes narrowed as she scanned for them in the darkness. “Where are they? I don’t - ” she replied, clumsily attempting to push herself upright, obviously eager to get them back on as soon as possible.

Loki felt an odd sense of duty, one that had been buried deep underneath the many eons of pain, and it compelled him to act before he had the chance to second-guess himself. He moved slowly, shifting his weight onto his hip, and extended his arm out. His fingers were just long enough to barely grasp the black leather pull loops, to drag them closer and then place them within her reach while maintaining a safe distance, and without the need for him to stand.

A faint smile crossed her lips as she stretched to pull them closer. “Thank you so much, Loki.”

He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact anymore; it was hard enough to listen to the bewildered gratitude in her voice. His every movement had stayed within the safe confines of the shadows, and he imagined that she saw her boots reappearing as if from the loving aid of a benevolent god, of someone else who was capable of caring.

“It was nothing,” he told them both.

He had fully intended to return his attention back inward, but he found himself distracted by the woman as she shifted on the floor. Curling and stretching her limbs, gracelessly attempting to pull a boot back on with a single hand, and then reluctantly, with both hands. She let out a gasping whimper as she tried to extend out her left arm, and Loki noticed her fingers trembling as she tried to push through the pain.

Obligation flared along his spine again, but this time, Loki questioned it. A childhood memory surfaced, of when his father would return home from war, bruised and exhausted and weary, and Loki would rush to his side, eager to help with removing his armor and assist in any way he could. He thought maybe if he proved himself useful, eager and determined, like his older brother was, then Odin might finally give him a chance to fight alongside him.

But even though his seidr had been well-advanced for his age, his father had always refused to bring Loki along, despite never leaving home without Thor. Odin had said that Loki wasn’t ready yet, that he wasn’t strong enough, that it was too dangerous for a little boy to be out on the field and surrounded by their mortal enemies.

“Such a young prince falling into the hands of Asgard’s opponents could prove disastrous to the realms,” his father had said, even though that fear had never stopped him from bringing Thor into battle. It wasn’t until much later that Loki realized the truth, that the only real use he had wasn’t needed back then - not until the direst of circumstances forced his father’s ultimate and final hand.

The woman let out a sharp groan, bringing Loki back to the present. She had collapsed back against the wall, sniffling and brushing the messy strands of crimson hair away from her face. “Loki, I’m so sorry…but can you please…?”

His eyes widened, and hers were full of tears. Her cheeks reddened, and her lower lip trembled as she spoke with a cracked voice. “Please help me? I’m so cold, and I can’t…I can’t get these back on…”

It wasn’t like the cold, calculating demands he was previously used to, and Loki realized that it pained her to ask like this. She wasn’t trying to get anything out of him, she wasn’t manipulating her way into something more than she deserved, or trying to get him to commit atrocities in her name.

It wasn’t a game or a trick designed to be laughed at later with her friends; she genuinely just needed his help. But the problem was that this kind of assistance not only required him to vacate the shadows, to come closer and share the same air as her - it necessitated physical touch. Loki was sure he couldn’t handle that.

The muscles in his fingers articulated of their own accord, separating and curling into just the right place to summon and concentrate his seidr, intent on disassembling the atoms that made up the woman’s boots and reassembling them back where they belonged.

A suitable compromise, Loki believed, except that absolutely nothing happened. The warmth that normally accompanied his magic was nowhere to be found, that familiar connection to the past and the present, to his mother, wasn’t opening its loving arms to welcome him back home - and that was when he finally remembered.

Loki’s seidr was dead, because he was supposed to be dead.

He’d forsaken his magic as soon as he’d arrived here. Once he willingly stepped through the Time Door and into this dungeon, once he’d realized that the first thing this newly-freed universe had done was trap him yet again, he decided that this time it was really meant to be.

So he didn’t bother fighting it, and he willingly let go of the tendrils of seidr he had once clung so tightly to. He didn’t deserve the honor of wielding it, not after what he’d done in New York. And what use would that magic have been to the hollowed-out shell of a person he was now? What good could he have possibly done with it anyway?

“Loki?”

Once again, the woman’s quiet voice refocused his attention. Her expression had fallen even further during his silent brooding, and she was staring woefully into the dark, desperately hoping to see him finally coming to her aid. A deep sense of dread rose up within his chest, thick and impenetrable, oozing between his ribs to singe and suffocate his lungs like molten lava.

Loki didn’t know what to do, and yet, he moved anyway. Pressing his palms flat against the stone floor, he bent his knees and carefully pushed himself upright. His joints cracked and popped, his muscles were stiff and sluggish as he slid one foot forward, and the belt around his waist was far looser than when he’d initially put it on.

Taking another step closer, his mind suddenly dizzied, and his body began to sway dangerously from the juxtaposition of pushing himself forward while he’d been wasting away. He quickly grabbed onto the wall with a sharp gasp, trying to steady himself as his legs tingled themselves awake.

“Loki…are you alright?” the woman murmured, her brow furrowing with concern.

“I’m fine, it’s just - ” Loki sighed heavily, his heart pounding and muscles trembling. “I’m just not used to…standing.”

Loki closed his eyes and leaned against the wall for a moment, willing his body back into operating under his own control. But despite his best efforts, weariness and exhaustion were still permanently at the helm, relentlessly steering him back towards collapsing and passing out again.

“It’s alright. Take your time…”

Loki’s eyes snapped back open, painfully aware that she was still watching him closely, and he did everything he could to both avoid her gaze and her reassurance. Nothing about this was alright, and he could hear his father’s chastising voice from beyond the stars, criticizing him for allowing enervation to consume him - even though that was the only way to keep himself out of trouble.

His eyes flitted across the dungeon cell, feverishly taking in the stone walls and steel bars of the door, then out to the flickering lantern light of the hallway. Loki had never even bothered to take a good look at his coffin before committing to staying in it for all eternity, but from this elevation, he could clearly examine the cuts that made up the large slabs of the walls and floor. Meticulous, flawless, precise - too perfect to have been sliced by hand.

His gaze moved to the cream-colored candlestick suspended within the single lantern in the hallway, evenly melted away and without a single speck of soot upon the glass encasing it. From there, he could make out the grooves carved by the steel bars into the doorway’s arch as it swung open and closed, and the streaked and dark stains, smudged against the grayed and leadened floor, leading from the hallway back into their cell.

The woman’s blood, he assumed, and Loki’s hands clenched into fists. His throat tightened, and the slightest hint of outrage began to reluctantly wake from its slumber.

Forcing the feeling away, Loki finally closed the distance and carefully crouched in front of the woman; only then did he let her be the focus of his attention. Loose and uneven strands of crimson had been pulled free from the long, disheveled braid nestled untidily over her shoulder;her skin was wan and pallid, and her lips were tinted with the faintest hint of blue.

Dried blood had smeared on her ear, her neck, the lengths of her hair and along her cheek. It was everywhere, mixed with the dirt and muck from the floor, coating the corners of her cracked lips and the freckles that dotted her cheekbone. The fact that the blood was dried, meaning the original wound was at the very least no longer actively bleeding, did nothing to make him feel better.

Loki lowered one knee down to the floor, precariously settling his weight onto one ankle, and the woman’s attention was now entirely fixed on her boots. She swallowed nervously, and Loki silently agreed with the sentiment. How long had it been since he’d touched another person? Did he even remember how to be gentle? How to not contaminate?

Moving cautiously, he took a boot into his grasp, threading his fingers between the loops and slowly pulling to loosen its laces. While he worked, he focused on the soft leather: its scent was herbal, earthy, and with just the barest suggestion of sweetness. Intricate designs, swirls and constellations and rays of light emanating from an overly-stylized sun were stitched into the leather, extending from the collar and flowing down way past the ankle.

Soft, pliable and shiny, the leather still showed signs of its latest polish, applied with a healthy dose of high-quality wax, from underneath the layers of grim. The boots had been methodically cared for, regularly and recently, and probably not too long before the woman found herself in custody of the mysterious guards. Loki found himself curious about the circumstances of her capture.

Stained in the same shade of night as the leathers covering her legs, they blended seamlessly together with the rest of her clothing, from the thin stockings on her feet to the chipped lacquer on her fingernails. Everything was the exact same color, save for the thin, flowing emerald tunic that had long since come untucked, and the gem that hung from her neck.

And everything she wore was undoubtedly expensive, most likely customized for this particular owner, and she had obviously not dressed for being locked inside a damp and grimy dungeon. At best, she was prepared for a pleasant walk through the woods on a mildly chilly evening; Loki tried not to think about it too much.

Out of his peripheral vision, Loki could see the woman stealing glances up at him. She watched him carefully, her sea green eyes shifting cautiously between his face, his hands, and the boot he was unlacing - obviously examining and judging the hideous monster whose help she had no choice but to accept.

Loki began to feel self-conscious. There was no doubt that his own appearance wasn’t any better than her own at the moment; in fact, he was sure it was much, much worse. Dark and unkempt curls hung way past his shoulders like sinister snakes. The skin on his hands was sullen and pallor, shifting dangerously close to bluish gray, and he had no idea if his eyes had begun to drift back into their original shade of ruby-red or not. He promised himself that this would be the only time she ever saw his face up close.

When he could no longer justify stalling with the laces, he cleared his throat, and forced his fingers to tap the underside of her leg; a featherlight touch that could have been easily missed if one hadn’t been expecting it. But the woman again mercifully sensed his meaning, and she positioned the appropriate foot for him to slide the boot on.

Too well, Loki noticed, as he pulled the collar up to settle around her calf; she was exceptionally practiced at having others put footwear on her - at tensing the right muscles at just the right moment, and extending the leg with just enough force to seat the foot comfortably against the insole.

“Sorry about this…” she mumbled as Loki pulled the laces tight and began looping them back and forth around the hooks. “Although, this is probably the most exciting thing you’ve done in a while, huh?”

She was trying to lighten the mood, to distract from the previous awkwardness of such close quarters. Loki’s response was flat and measured, his attention focused on tying instead of talking. “Like I said - it’s nothing.”

A nervous silence followed, one that was far more uncomfortable than the awkwardness. Loki hadn’t meant to be so dismissive, and perhaps he’d been far too frigid for someone who was supposed to be helping her. When he finished the final loop, he cleared his throat again and forced himself to look up again.

“Is that…too tight for you?” he murmured softly.

The woman managed a weak smile as she flexed her ankle. “No. It feels fine.”

Loki noted that her pupils dilated ever so slightly when she met his gaze, and he took that as a good sign that her head injury wasn’t a completely serious one. He wasn’t sure why he was noting that, but nonetheless, he had, and he didn’t have the energy to start questioning it. Instead, he busied himself with picking up the other boot and threading his fingers underneath its laces like he’d done with the first.

“Is this all I have left? Just waiting in this cell to die?”

Her voice had taken on a somber, more sorrowful tone now; apparently open anguish was much easier for her than polite small-talk, and if she hadn’t been so exhausted, Loki would have guessed there would have been more than a tear or two accompanying her questions. He wasn’t sure how to answer her; bringing up the fact that the other prisoners before her had never lasted more than a day or two, or the fact that they were never returned once removed from their cells, probably wasn’t going to help her mood very much.

“At least they’re leaving you alone for the most part,” Loki answered, lightly tapping his fingers underneath her other leg for the placement of its boot. “Be thankful for relative peace.”

The woman sighed heavily as she cooperated. “Relative peace. That’s all I have to look forward to?”

“For some, that’s all they’ve ever wanted,” Loki said absentmindedly. “They’d kill for it, and others willingly die in its pursuit…”

The woman’s eyebrows raised in troubled concern, and Loki tried to ignore it. He couldn’t understand why he was like this, either speaking too familiarly with the woman, or far too flippantly. He was out of practice when it came to any sort of normal conversation, but he didn’t want to be accustomed to it again. In the end, she was just a temporary distraction, and he wasn’t supposed to even exist at all.

“That’s very enlightened, coming from someone who has nightmares every time he closes his eyes…” the woman replied as he finished tying the laces on the other boot. She flexed that ankle, and then nodded her approval while pulling her knees back against her chest.

Loki’s brow furrowed as he met her gaze once more. Her eyes were wide and open, appearing to be without a single shred of judgment, only empathy. Loki couldn’t help but scrutinize her for that. If she only knew how little he deserved kindness, and he was irritated that she’d noticed how bad his nightmares were at all. He’d rather have not known that his weakness was on complete display, and thus, beyond his complete control.

Slowly pushing himself back up to standing, grateful that the task and its requisite close proximity were finally over, Loki’s fingertips trailed along the cold stone as he backed into the shadows again. But lethargy was creeping back in, along with the ever-present unsettled and restless energy, and when Loki returned to sitting, he wasn’t quite as far into the dark as he had been before.

“You know, it may help your nightmares to talk about them,” the woman suggested cautiously. “Perhaps unburdening yourself a little would be a good thing…”

Loki grimaced. Of all the ways she could have worded it, he wished it hadn’t been in that specific way. As it were, various burdens of all sorts were already going to haunt him until the end of time, it seemed, and he preferred not to be reminded of the purposes initially set upon him by Thanos. And even if he wanted to, where should he begin?

He still didn’t quite understand what exactly had happened to him on Knowhere; that entire year was just a chaotic haze of torture and manipulation, through both physical and psychological means, and it was impossible for him to decipher what was real and what was a lie. Even now, he couldn’t even recall the exact circumstances that led to his descent from the Bifrost and into Thanos’ control.

Sometimes, he could clearly remember the decision to let go of Gungnir and fall into the abyss; other times, he was absolutely convinced that his brother had pushed him in a jealous rage, furious that Loki’s short tenure as King had proved far more successful than any longer one Thor could have ever managed.

Either way, the fall had resulted in him becoming Thanos’ prisoner, and then later, as a member of the Black Order - but only after they’d finally conceded that physical torture was never going to work on the body of a Frost Giant, on an Asgardian prince raised as a warrior, or on a powerful sorcerer who already had extremely complicated feelings about being alive in the first place.

But once they realized that he just wanted somewhere to belong, they finally started to see real progress, and the emotional manipulation that followed was probably more effective than they could have ever hoped for. It was so very easy to muddy the rough waters of Loki’s psyche thanks to the Chitauri Scepter and his tremendous heartbreak - a kind word here, a clever lie there, and nothing but speeches about revenge and betrayals, destinies and purposes, salvation and redemption, and scorned Kings and their disgraced sons.

After Loki had been welcomed into the fold, Thanos explained his need for the Tesseract; if Loki acquired it, then he would be granted an army to help take Midgard by as excessive and violent force as he deemed necessary. The God of Mischief already knew that he wanted to be as destructive as possible - to both completely cripple his brother’s fondness for the pathetic humans, and to show Odin that he would settle for being a terrifying leader if he wasn’t permitted to be a good one.

His idea for retrieving the Tesseract had been a clever one; so clever that Loki wasn’t surprised that Thanos or the Black Order hadn’t ever considered it before. But getting to suggest it meant that his new Master was immediately pleased with his usefulness, something that had rarely happened with his previous keeper, and Loki was so grateful for the opportunity to satisfy.

Out of the six Infinity Stones, the Space Stone was unique in that it could generate massive amounts of self-sustaining energy. Its power signature was incredibly easy to track, and it didn’t take long for Loki to determine the Tesseract’s location inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility. Under Fury’s careful and watchful eye, the mortals were studying its capabilities for power production, no doubt to be used in some kind of advanced weapons manufacture instead of something that could actually be used to help mankind.

A stereotypically short-sighted action, one that would soon be their downfall, because none of those weapons would ever be able to stop him from completing his task. Had they realized the stone’s true potential, as Loki had, then perhaps the humans might have fared better during his invasion.

Because he knew something that apparently no one else did, something he now prayed that no one else would ever be able to figure out. Loki was in the unusual position of understanding exactly how the Bifrost had operated, of how it could easily send and receive anything from across the galaxies with frightening and pinpoint accuracy. As a child, he was fascinated by the Bifrost, and more than once Heimdall had to stop him from attempting to disassemble it while searching for the details of its inner workings.

Once informed of her son’s unyielding curiosities, his mother had patiently redirected that energy towards Asgard’s massive libraries. There, he spent many late nights pouring over the texts and histories of the magnificent Bifrost. Once he’d devoured all he could from words, he then spent his time exploring the Realm and looking for means of travel that didn’t involve going to the Bifrost at all.

And thanks to the Mad Titan’s relentless and universal conquest in search of the stones, Loki had access to incalculable amounts of lore, research and history that had been stolen from countless cultures and societies. He spent months buried in books and manuscripts, performing calculations and practicing his seidr, searching desperately for the perfect combination of science and magic to get him what he needed.

All of that, when combined with his extensive knowledge of the Bifrost, allowed Loki to realize that all he needed was a power-source. It must have been fate and its impeccable sense of humor, because the Space Stone could be the engine, and the Tesseract was going to be the gateway - a terrible, incredible bridge between where you were, and where you desperately wanted to be.

For Loki, the Tesseract was going to deliver him to vengeance, respect, authority and glory - in a way that no one would be able to undo once he finally got it. His brother, his father, the entire Nine Realms and beyond, all of them would be powerless to stop him once he figured out how to open the Tesseract’s portal from the other side.

Returning to his research with a new sense of delirium, he gave up on sleep, and food, and his sanity while he searched for the answer. His cheeks became hollow, his eyes were sunken deep into his skull, and his skin grew weak and frail. His nerves were on the verge of total disintegration, his heart ached and his mind was hazy.

His every waking thought was consumed by the Tesseract, and on the rare occasion that he actually passed out, so were his nightmares. He became too lost to even carry on a conversation; all he could manage were grunts and groans and strange approximations of the word “Tesseract”. Every part of himself, anything that had once been Loki, had all but slipped away.

But occasionally, Loki would come back to himself. He would look down at his hands in horror, and he wouldn’t understand where he was or how he got there. While screaming and lashing out, the one called Ebony Maw would preach about balance, about salvation and judgment and how Loki was destined to assist the Great Titan in saving all of life, by ending half of it. He was instructed to be grateful for being allowed to take part in it.

But it didn’t make any sense, and Loki tried so hard to resist, to fight them off, to scramble to the exit and free himself, to warn someone of the terrible thing that was coming. Then, something would happen, something would touch him, and his mind would cloud back over with rage and madness. The dangerous craving for the Tesseract would return tenfold, and then he would be back on task, more eager than ever to please.

After a quick journey through the minds of the men known as Selvig and Barton, Loki finally had everything he needed to complete his sacred mission. The astrophysicist filled in the last remaining gaps about the Tesseract’s functionalities, and the archer revealed information about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security protocols - how many personnel were on site, what types of weapons they had, where they’d been trained. The details of every file stored on their secret servers, every individual’s personal histories - including that of the beings once considered to join the so-called Avengers, the ones that might be called upon to stop him.

On his first attempt, Loki succeeded in opening the Tesseract’s portal. One moment, he was standing on Thanos’ ship, and the next, he was inside the research facility, shrouded within a haze of smoke and mania. By the third second, he was ferociously attacking, moving and acting without consideration for the stealth or secrecy he’d been trained with as a child. He didn’t even bother dodging the humans’ pathetic projectiles; instead, he focused on murdering the ones he had already deemed useless to his cause, and using the Sceptre to convert the ones that were worthy of it

Nor did he bother mincing words with Fury as the Director stalled for time, not even the ones ripped directly from Ebony Maw’s impassioned and self-important speeches. Loki already knew how unstable the gateway was, and that was by design. During his maniacal studies, he had determined how best to sustain the portal’s opening for safe and easy passage - first, in order to allow entry for the Chitauri forces, and then to facilitate easy travel for Thanos to find the rest of the stones later on.

Loki’s first act of murder had been intentionally not stabilizing the portal as it opened inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility; he had wanted the structure to collapse in a stunning display of destruction. Whether it was to be an ominous warning for what he was about to do, or if it was to serve as a call to action for the only ones who could have prevented him from succeeding, he still wasn’t quite sure.

Either way, he ultimately failed in the only way that had mattered. Loki didn’t achieve vengeance or respect or authority, and there was no victory or glory waiting for him after it was over. The Chitauri Forces were destroyed, the Tesseract was not handed over to Thanos per their agreement, and he’d made a great many vicious and unforgiving enemies that day.

In the end, the only thing waiting for him was a prison cell on Asgard, and all he’d managed to do was to make everything worse.

And presumably, after it was over, Thanos still had access to all of Loki’s research. Losing out on the Tesseract would have infuriated him and the Black Order; a minor inconvenience, sure, but it wouldn’t have hindered their quest in the slightest. Thanos still knew how to use the Tesseract because of him - and more importantly, he understood how to use it in the most destructive way possible. That was completely and entirely Loki’s fault, and he just hoped that Thanos was arrogant enough to keep that information to himself, that no one else would try and fail in the same catastrophic way that Loki had.

Maybe the Tesseract wasn’t meant to be used as a gateway, and in doing so, Loki had ensured that he’d never get what he wanted, and that he’d lose what little he had left. All of that madness and frantic chaos and deliberate carnage had been for absolutely nothing. Maybe the Tesseract was cursed, and maybe, so was he.

Because every single time Loki had come into contact with it, his life had taken a drastic and even more devastating turn for the worse. Attempting to acquire it for Thanos had broken him - mind, body, and soul; fleeing New York with it had landed him in the clutches of the TVA; and apparently, it had been his ultimate destiny to die while trying to keep it from the Mad Titan.

The absolute last thing Loki ever wanted was to be reminded of the Tesseract - more than he wanted silence, or solitude, or to rot. And now this woman wanted to know what his nightmares were about?

Even if he had made it to the prison cell on Asgard, he wasn’t planning to explain himself to anyone. What was he supposed to tell his brother, his mother, his father? That he’d been deceived? Were they going to believe that he’d fallen for someone else’s lies so easily, and without question? That the God of Mischief himself had been tricked, played for a fool and made to be the universe’s largest and most pathetic scapegoat?

No, trying to justify his actions would be a grave disservice to the innocent lives he’d taken, and telling the truth was next to impossible. Even just talking about the betrayal of his family would be too much for him to bear, and that was the only aspect of the entire thing that Loki had never, ever second-guessed.

The woman continued stealing glances in his direction, from just a few feet away now. Still waiting for him to say something, anything, to help keep her mind distracted from her own plights. For the briefest of moments, he actually considered asking if she’d ever heard of the Tesseract, or the Infinity Stones. If she knew who Thanos was, if he’d ever been to this planet before…but as Loki fidgeted with his tie, running his fingers over the frayed and broken seams in the cloth, he knew the answer didn’t matter.

The appropriate time to have asked that question would have been when he’d first arrived, back when the TemPad still had the power to take him some place else if need be. But now the TemPad was dead; he was trapped here, and the longer he could go without hearing about the Tesseract, the better. The longer he could go on in the blissful ignorance of relative peace, and without talking about himself, the easier this would be for everyone.

“How did you wind up here anyway?” He winced as he spoke, hating himself for being more than a little curious about it. “I can’t imagine the guards asking you to come along nicely…”

The woman hesitated for a moment, no doubt replaying the events in her mind and wishing she had done something differently. Her fingers grasped the gem that hung from her neck, and she swallowed hard. “I was…taken from Tessaway, my home, in the middle of the night.”

She paused, her eyes focused on something non-existent in the distance. “I don’t know how they made it past the sentries, but they…managed, somehow. They took me from my bed, while I slept…”

Loki shook his head, trying to appear sympathetic. “You lived in a heavily guarded city. It must be a very dangerous place…”

“Tessaway isn’t a city,” she corrected, furrowing her brow as she looked over at him. “It’s the castle in Fayrest. You know, the capital city…?”

He didn’t know any of that, of course, having never left this cell. The woman looked like she wanted to say more but was afraid to, and he couldn’t help but think about why she had seemed to imply before that no one was going to rescue her. “Wouldn’t someone from the castle have noticed your absence? Surely they have to be looking for you by now…”

“No…” The woman shifted uncomfortably in place, her expression broken and forlorn. “No, I was just a servant. No one important enough to miss…”

Loki had been studying her carefully ever since he’d realized her captors were going to keep her alive for much longer than they had the others. Her movements were elegant and refined, her clothing and jewelry expensive and customized, her speech graceful and enchanting; the kind of charming that could only come from years of practice. He didn’t believe for a second that she was just a servant working in a castle.

But she was also clearly in a tremendous amount of pain, and for whatever reason, was keeping the origins of her birth a secret. Loki wondered what might have happened to him if he had been given that luxury, if he hadn’t been the only one to not know the truth about himself.

“Ah, a servant,” he replied, trying to lighten the mood a little. His unpracticed lips curved into a forced and lazy grin. “That certainly explains why you’re so concerned about my well-being…”

The woman’s eyebrows raised in amusement, and she tilted her head curiously as if taking his comment as a challenge. “What’s the matter? Are you not used to someone worrying about your well-being?”

Loki’s jaw tensed; perhaps he hadn’t been behaving as opaquely as he hoped, and he hated that she could see through him just as well as he could through her. He glanced over, and decided to provoke her right back. “Well, I’m sure they’ll miss you at the castle eventually. Like when there’s pots that need washing, or linens that need changing?”

“Yes, yes, that’s very funny…” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I get it, the thing about servants is that no one knows your name until something you normally do suddenly isn’t being done anymore…”

The woman turned, and she met his gaze with a considering and dissecting one of her own. “Like you - you don’t need anything from me, so why would you ever bother learning my name?”

From just a few feet away, the woman stared deep into his soul, tugging at the strings that still held him upright and all but questioning if they were even necessary. He waited until she looked away to furrow his brow again, because while she was right about him not needing anything from her, she was surely mistaken about the other half of her point.

Because he did actually know her name; it was the first new name he’d learned in such a very long time, and he thought it suited her quite well, all things considered. But he had been trying to avoid acknowledging it, not wanting it to mean something more than what it was.

It was just a name, after all; a series of specific vocalizations designed to get her attention. Saying it out loud didn’t mean that they were friends, or that they were even important to each other. It wouldn’t bind them in any way, or obligate him to care. But if that were true, then why did he have such a problem with saying it?

Loki could feel a nervous energy creeping relentlessly up his spine again. He wished it would stop receding, that it would stay put, because the constant shifting between relaxing and stressing was completely wearing him out. He told himself he just needed to say it out loud and get it over with, before he could start second-guessing and talk himself out of it again - especially now that she had noticed his careful avoidance of her name.

“What kind of servant knows how to fight with a staff anyway?” Loki asked, affecting an innocent and casual tone. “I guess servants named Oliviette do…”

After he answered his own question, Loki looked towards her again, and Oliviette was already smiling back at him; it was a bleary and quiet acknowledgement, but the sentiment was definitely noteworthy. For the first time since they’d met, he could see the dimples in her cheeks, and it was impossible to miss the way her eyes lit up with mirth, or how her lips pursed before she finally responded.

“What? Am I not allowed to have hobbies outside of work?”

Loki struggled to not return her smile. He almost felt a sense of appreciation for her snark and the much-needed diversion from the constant aching in his chest. It was only then that he remembered that this was supposed to be a temporary distraction; he couldn’t afford to spend needless energy that didn’t directly involve finding out why the guards were keeping Oliviette alive for this long.

Keeping a safe distance was paramount, his new glorious purpose. Trust was for children and dogs, wasn’t that how he’d put it to Mobius during their first meeting? As long as he stayed here, keeping himself isolated and protected, then he couldn’t ever be tricked into being someone else’s attack dog ever again. He couldn’t ever hurt anyone again.

Besides, it was highly implausible that her life would end in any way other than tragically. Loki’d already had quite enough of that - and would it be worth getting close to her, even if it didn’t?

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

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sentfromwolves · 3 months

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✧—CARVE THE STARS ⌈ a wip re-intro & march challenge intro ⌋

✧ GENRE: sci-fi fantasy ◈ STATUS: redrafting from scratch ♫ PLAYLIST: here!

Two hundred years ago, humanity expanded to the stars only to find a cosmos filled with graves. But then their children began displaying the strange ability to commune with the alien ruins scattered across the planets, waking ancient, extrasolar mecha from their sleep, and turned the struggling colonies of first generation space explorers into the fledgling galactic nation of Sol Galatea.

Now, anyone with Resonance—the ability to interface with the alien mecha known as Relics—is conscripted by the government to pilot the near-impervious alien tech, and if the psionic overload doesn’t kill them first, the burgeoning rebellions at the edge of Sol Galatea’s controlled space will. Wren Akane knows this well—he’s been on the run from conscription ever since he was old enough to walk.

His luck runs out when he accidentally awakens an ancient Relic in the desert of his planet, only to be embedded with the memories of its last pilot and the revelation that the war that littered the cosmos with graves is far from over. But no one believes Wren when he tells them that continuing to wake the Relics will bring the hostile alien empire that destroyed them back to Sol Galatea’s doorstep. Not his estranged father, who forces him into conscription to avoid the government executing him instead, nor Wren’s ex-childhood friends, who both have Relics of their own.

Only Wren’s rival pilot, Marek Khalid, seems to listen to a word Wren has to say. But Marek isn’t interested in saving Sol Galatea. He has big plans for what to do when the aliens arrive, a rebellion to lead, and if Wren isn’t on his side, he’s in his way. With time running out, Wren must soon decide how far he’s willing to go to save the people that never tried to save him—or if Marek is right, and he should let the stars burn instead.

🌃 SETTING ―

Two hundred years ago, the star system now known as Sol Galatea was a graveyard filled with alien ruins, ancient, crumbling structures, and millenia-old secrets abandoned to the dust.

Now, Sol Galatea thrives. Humanity has moved in, and after the first generation of children born to the star system began showing signs of Resonance—the mysterious ability to commune with and control the ancient alien relics littered across the star system—technological advancement surged, turning the scattered colonies of first generation space explorers into a powerful, isolated nation among the stars.

A number of planets, thriving stellar stations, and moon colonies compose Sol Galatea's controlled space. Territories are composed of rings that spread outward from the heart and capital of Sol Galatea, Tower Meridian. The Hecate Fracture, which encompasses the fringe planets of the system and the furthest reaching colonies, are desolate and often neglected by the interior, despite being mined aggressively for resources, as well as Relic-tech. Tensions have been rising recently between the Tower and the Fracture, and rumors of rebellion are stirring.

But with the Relic pilots on the side of the Tower, the only chance of success for a rebellion would have to come with help from within the capital. Or beyond the stars that humanity now calls home.

💥 THE CAST ―

⌈ WREN AKANE ⌋ ◈ — relic pilot & desert cryptid . trans he/they . twenty-two

Brazen, hungry for adventure, and allergic to commitment, Wren Akane is the son of explorers and a child of the desert. Born and raised in the Hecate Fringe on the backwater planet of Terra-9, Wren's Resonance scores are off the charts—and if they had ever been discovered by the Tower, Wren would have been under their control since the day he learned how to walk. After waking an ancient Relic in the desert with intimate links to Sol Galatea's forgotten past, Wren must contend with whether or not he's willing to save a galaxy that never tried to save him, or let the stars burn.

⌈ MAREK KHALID ⌋ ◈ — relic pilot & rebellion leader . cis he/him . twenty-four

Charismatic, power-hungry, and disgusted by the system that brutalized him from childhood, Marek Khalid wants nothing more than to set Sol Galatea on fire and watch the whole galaxy burn. His Relic is ancient and powerful, and while it has granted him secrets of the past, Marek has kept them close to his chest. The arrival of a wildcard Relic pilot threatens to throw his plans into disarray, particularly when Marek discovers that their Relic might have deeper connections to his than anyone had thought possible. But Wren is devilish, addictive, and a bad fucking idea...unless Marek can convince him that burning Sol Galatea back to ash is better than letting it continue to crush them both beneath the heel of its boot.

⌈ YEONGBI SEO ⌋ ◈ — relic pilot & botanist . cis he/him . twenty-five

Originally an aspiring botanist from the dusty planet of Terra-9, Yeongbi Seo was taken into custody by the Tower shortly after his sixteenth birthday when his Resonance abilities began manifesting after an accident out in the desert. Though he still works in the hydroponics labs on-base at Heartforge as a botanist, more often he is relegated to work as a Relic pilot after unearthing a behemoth mecha from the jungles of Ceridian-12. His on-again-off-again relationship with the infamous pilot, Marek Khalid, is thrown catastrophically into mayhem when his childhood ex-friend arrives at the base in chains with a Relic in tow. After all, Yeongbi might care for Marek, but he has always loved Wren more deeply than anything or anyone else in all the universe, and despite all the bad blood between them, that has not, and will never change.

⌈ KB KAVINSKY ⌋ ◈ — relic pilot & engineer . trans she/her . twenty-two

An explosive, fiery Relic pilot that hits like a battering ram and pulls no punches, KB Kavinsky is one of the most well-liked Relic pilots in active rotation. Infamously known as one of the only people able to take Marek on in close combat and have a chance at winning, KB is loyal to a fault and when she's not training on the mats, she's working in the mech shops with other engineers. After an accident on Terra-9 led to both her and her childhood friend, Yeongbi Seo, being conscripted by the Tower, KB never expects to see the one person that got away that night walk back into her life. But Wren is just as addictive and dangerous as KB remembers. And despite all the anger she still has toward him, she'd still set the world on fire just to protect him from harm.

⌈ MARSDEN NAVARRO-ORTEGA ⌋ ◈ — relic pilot & hacker . cis she/her . nineteen

One of the two Navarro-Ortega siblings, and often the bigger menace between the two, Marsden is one of the youngest Relic pilots in active rotation, and not because she wants to be. Angry at the system and angrier that she's trapped at the Heartforge while her brother is missing somewhere beyond the fringe spaces of the Hecate Fracture, Marsden wants out, and will crush anyone in her way to get it. Too bad she hates Marek Khalid, one of the only other pilots that seems to want to break the system as badly as she does. But the two despise each other after a fraught childhood spent together, and while Marsden is all for dismantling the system, she's not a homicidal maniac like her brother's ex-boyfriend. Wren Akane might just be the help she's been looking for all along to put her plans into action...but a wildcard is never trustworthy, even if Marsden needs Wren's help to finish the job.

☄️AUTHOR'S NOTE / WORDS INTO POTIONS PROMO —

Hey all! Some of you might recognize CARVE THE STARS from a long time ago. It's finally getting a rebrand from how I'd initially envisioned it when I'd first started working on the draft back in 2017. Though the core cast is the same, much of the world is shifting to hold the vision I have for this heart project, and I'm excited to work on a revitalized first draft for this remake. I have no set deadline right now for D1, but I'm aiming for summer 2024! For the month of March, I'll be participating in @moon-and-seraph's Words Into Potions event! Thanks so much for creating such a fun writing event to help motivate everyone set goals and work together to complete them this March, friend! My march goal will be 25K on D1 for CTS, while also revising HIS BODY A BROKEN LAW for first round beta ideally in the April-May time frame. If you're interested in beta reading HBABL, feel free to DM me here or on discord. I'll also be making a beta call post for it soon! I'm remaking CTS's taglist from scratch, so if you're interested in being on it, let me know. Excited to fill this writeblr with the WIP that really started it all and got me into this cool community. And if you're also participating in the march challenge, or just wanna yell, feel free to come talk to me about your wips! >:33 let's GOOO!

#MS: Wip Intro #writeblr #writing community #wip intro #wip: cts #my writing #my graphics #wip directory #super excited to be back in cts land #though also super daunting #but i love these characters so much and it's long overdue for me to return to them and give them the love they deserve #they're where my journey as an aspiring author really started #i'll return to them over and over again #and i'm so excited to meet more people and learn about more wips through this event!!#also if you're like eran arent these graphics from old posts #YES THEY ARE BUT IM TIRED AND I LIKE THEM OK #let me have this #runs away into the sunset!!!!!!!!

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wolven91 · 10 months

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A Heated Bed - Chapter 1

[Trigger Warning; Dubious Consent. References to Depression / Isolation]

Matt sighed through his nose as he turned off his workstation and glanced up and out of the office window, into the transport sector where he worked on board the spinning station. From here, new arrivals and materials would be shuttled off to wherever they were needed aboard the station itself.

Another day done, just like the hundred that came before it and now he was just going to head home. Without a hint of uncertainty, he knew that his evening would follow the same pattern as all the others. He thought getting a job out in the stars would be exciting! He'd be like Kirk or Mal or something!

But no. He was just a clerk.

He was still just 'Matt' and as it turns out, the rest of the alien folk up here, tend to give humans a wide berth. Thanks to everything that had happened, humans were well known now as the 'rare' ones and had a multitude of rules and regulations surrounding them. The aliens couldn't even get a selfie with a human without some serious thought first thanks to the worry that something in the background would tip off 'would-be' kidnappers. Not only that, but thanks to his inherent 'value', the various governments enforced the requirement that humans scattered themselves out. No one station could have too many humans or they'd become too juicy of a target. The station Matt was on was actually, fairly 'near' to the Sol system, at least on a galactic scale. He was on the 'southern' most edge of Galactic Community territory.

So here Matt stood on his own, completely ignored. Oh sure, everyone apparently loved humans, but right now? Nobody wanted to get too close in case they got into trouble by overstepping some hastily thrown together rule with little to no thought behind it. It seemed no-one really knew what to actually do about humans, so ignoring them was the safest choice and the administration would deal with whatever issue popped up.

Matt considered that it had been just short of four months since he'd last stood on a planet as he leant against one of the railings exiting the office in which he worked. He was in no rush, so stopped to watch the 'world' go by. Despite him being high up, it was louder out here, claxons and alarms whooped and alerted staff of moving machinery in the distance. The transport sector of the station was a huge, cavernous and very busy space, it could have fit the statue of liberty and the torch would barely scratch the roof. As it was, most of the walls were dominated by airlocks and maintenance bays, pulling ships in to be disembarked or their payloads removed within the safety of the station, but the centre of the zone was administration and various storage bays for materials.

Far above, tram stations ferried passengers at high speeds around the circular station, disappearing into the massive bulkhead walls that separated the sectors. One such tram silently whizzed past as some of Matt's colleagues exited the office space and headed towards the lift.

"Did you hear?" Matt overheard as they walked past.

"There's a new species joining the station! They just arrived, let's get down there quickly!" Burbled a sluggat, while the young male taurian trotted along beside them.

"They're not new, they just didn't leave their territory very often until now. It's like someone lit a fire under every single one of them or something?" The youngster said. The taurians were an odd bunch, the males seemed to gracefully glide along despite having hooves beneath the flowing silk dress.

What they were discussing however, perked the human's curiosity. The various races that he'd seen so far were all as unique as they could possibly be and aside from sharing the odd trait, most were a sight to behold when they first arrived. It was jarring to the human mind to see an alien; to understand and know that they were conscious behind the eyes and not human at all. Matt wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he tried to take the many eccentricities of the various races in stride.

Walking to the lifts that would take him down to the station foyer, he found that seemingly everyone had the same idea. But at the sight of the walking bad luck charm that was Matt, the being closest to the lift's buttons started 'subtly' hitting it rapidly.

"Oh no, the doors are closing I don't understand what's happ-" The closed doors cut it off. Matt frowned but he wasn't surprised. They were as subtle as a brick through a plate glass window.

By the time Matt made it down to the new arrivals building, he had long since lost his passion for seeing the new race and was wondering why he was even still heading in this direction. He walked over to the main balcony and looked over to the entrance to the station from the docks and saw the usual traffic one expected, not the heaving mass of new arrivals.

He sighed and leaned down to rest his chin on the side of his fist that rested against the rail in dejection. He didn't really feel sad anymore, he just wanted to talk with someone... no... not even that... just to feel physical touch again, that would be enough. He closed his eyes and made a hopeless wish.

"Excuse me." Said a calm, smooth voice from behind and above him.

He flinched, clanking his head off the higher railings that protected the taller races from falling and straightened up to turn around, rubbing his head. He hadn't heard anyone approach; ssypno slither, taurians clop and ursidians shake the ground, who could sneak up on him so well?

Turning around he was left staring at the fluffy midriff of an alien, so he tilted his head back and kept tilting.

Eventually making eye contact with the owner of said midriff, it had heavily lidded, bright green eyes that regarded him in an aloof manner and yet there was a vague interest there, like it had seen him from a favoured seat and couldn't decide whether to get up to come to him or remain seated.

She, he assumed based on her rich voice, was tall, at least eight feet and wider than himself as well. The thick long fur that covered her from the top of her pointed ears to the tips of her large paws reminded him of a snow leopard. She sported greys, blacks and whites, giving her a very unique appearance. The other aspect he saw was that she was muscled; this couldn't be someone who did nothing all day, this was a dangerous person even without the obsidian claws that protruded slightly from the tips of her hands and feet. One of said paws with tapping the claw against her chin as she considered him.

"Er, hello? Are you one of the new arrivals?" Matt asked, aware he'd never seen one of these things before.

"Mm, yes... Hold still please." She said absently, not ignoring him, but like she was thinking about something more important while interacting with him. She stepped forward, closer to him, crowding him, it was a far cry from his usual environment of having an oasis of space in the crowds, he stood his ground. A strong arm reached out and, nearly touched his face, but paused a hair's breadth away, she smelt of something like citrus.

"Are you an ill taurian?" her cool voice asked, hand still somewhat hovering close by. Matt could feel the tiny hairs on his skin sensing her proximity.

"Ah, no. I'm a human, I'm afraid this is normal."

"Good." She decided cryptically before turning and stalking away, a long thick tail trailing behind, briefly brushing under Matt's chin before leaving the human confused, bemused and alone once more.

=== 0 ===

Sometime later it was late, and Matt found himself back in the residential district and on his floor, nearing his room. His quarters were sequestered away from others, practically having an entire habitation block to himself. Once more, it was easier to just isolate the vulnerable human than have him potentially interact with others.

His interaction with the new alien however was replaying in his mind. It was one of the longest conversations he had had in over a month. He was disturbed however, as ever since that interaction, he had a vague sense of being watched or followed. Turning and looking over his shoulders, each time resulted in empty hallways and nothing out of the ordinary. Did he want to see her again? Did he want more than to 'just' see her?

"Yeah.." He vocally admitted glumly with a hint of guilt to himself.

He chalked the 'being followed' feeling up to his mind wanting to see someone, his brain had a brief taste of the 'good life' and now cried out for more. He got to his door and placing his forehead against it, unlocked it. He straightened up, smelt citrus again and opened the door with a confused expression as he wondered the scent.

"This will do." Said a familiar voice both behind and above him. Strong paw-like hands grasped his waist, effortlessly picked him up and, bodily turning him, he was pressed against the strange alien's wide hip as she ducked her head through his front door gracefully and entered his abode with him under her arm.

"W-what are you doing?!" Matt exclaimed, stunned into compliance, not considering that he should maybe flail about or resist in some fashion. He was stunned into limply going along with the strangeness of the situation. Was this a kidnapper!? Is this how it all worked!? Nobody had actually explained it all, they just said 'kidnappers'!

She, again, whilst responding to him, was focused on looking around his modest albeit basic home and stalking further in.

"There are no sunbeams on this station, and it is cold. You will assist, I am adopting you." She said as a matter of fact as she moved into his bedroom, her movements were so graceful that despite him being held horizontally against her hip, he wasn't jostled or shaken with her footsteps as she moved.

Walking up to his bed, rather than move around it, she merely took a step up onto it, walking into the centre before turning in place. The whole thing groaned under her and his weight. Next, she released him without warning, so he fell the short distance and bounced one, then twice onto his back with the fall. He blinked, still utterly shocked into confused stillness.

"Hmm, you're clumsy then. That is fine, I will work with you." She said while staring down at him from her seemingly mile up vantage point. From his perspective, her legs went on forever. Her arctic colourings were emphasized, but it was how she was looking AT him that caught his breath. She wasn't avoiding him, she wasn't ignoring him or even treating him like he was made from thin porcelain. He was the sole subject of her attention, she wanted to give him her attention and he had no clue what to do.

Before he could react further, she folded herself down onto his mattress and duvet. Laying on her side she effortlessly grabbed a hold of his hips and drew him into herself with one solid pull whilst he uttered a single squeak in surprise. Her strength moved him without so much as a grunt of effort by her.

He struggled for a moment, but the arm he was now laying on, curled around, bicep flexing against his cheek and held his opposite shoulder, the other arm draped over him and held against his chest, gently running fingers up and along his jawline, soothingly. A long fluffy leg entwined itself around his own and she curled in on herself, forcing him deeper into her 'hug'. The very thick and fluffy tail made a reappearance and settled, draped across him... almost protectively? He continued to try and half-heartedly pull away, but despite the strangeness; he was secretly... shamefully... enjoying it. Despite his wiggling, none of his actions could have actually broken her hold...

Tiring himself out however, he eventually recognised that he could feel the soft, thick pelt fully covering and pressing into his back and sides with ease, his head was tucked under her chin still resting against her arm while her chest fur framed his world with the ends of her pelt, surrounding his vision. He was warm, for the very first time in a long time, he was deliciously warm. The interloper was right, the station was cold, he'd just gotten used to it.

Laying still, whilst confused, and bewildered, he had to admit it was quite pleasant being held so firmly and protectively as a 'little spoon'. When the rumbling purr started behind his head and chest, it rolled through him like an old-fashioned massage chair. It was soothing and she offered no other words or statements as they settled. Catching his breath, the rhythmic rumbling gently unravelled the tensions that had built up in his back and neck. It was a few minutes later that he flinched awake, realising he was dropping off and he realised that this was completely mental!

She couldn't just 'adopt' him, right!? This was technically his home! It was the other way around, surely!

He took in a breath to start shouting, but the coiling loneliness inside his chest had him pause. It gripped at his heart, inspiring fear. Whilst his mind happily supplied the idea that protesting might ruin a good thing. It was an alien, right? A new one? Maybe they didn't understand this wasn't normal? Sluggats are strictly opposed to physical contact, even offering a handshake is tantamount to threatening one's life, so maybe she was just unaware?

Stifling a yarn, he came to the decision that he would have words with her in the morning. He could share his home for a weary traveller this once. She may be rude, but he'd be polite...

...yeah... that was it...

=== 0 ===

Many hours later, Matt had no desire to wake up.

He felt warm and calm, the bliss of a rare full night's sleep undisturbed was not something he had any desire in leaving any time soon. As his mind came back to the waking world however, he understood that he was laid on his front.

Matt smiled as he realised, he didn't need to go to work, it was the weekend. He couldn't recall any other pressing matters that needed his attention either. He was safe to relax and take things slow today, no need to leave such a comfy bed.

He rolled his shoulders to prepare to stretch when he noticed that his movement was severely limited.

In fact, he could barely move at all; something rather large and heavy was weighing down on him across every inch of his body and limbs. He could breathe, but it was like having several weighted blankets on top of him.

Opening his eyes, the first thing Matt took notice of was that he was pressed deeply into the mattress. He could see a curtain of grey and white fur bordering his vision from whatever was limply placed on his back. He was essentially spread eagle on top of the covers, but every inch of him was covered by something warm and soft. He moved his arm, sliding it across the bed and out from beneath the foreign arm that had been placed on top of his own, the larger of the two thudded against the mattress with the sudden loss of his limb beneath it.

A stirring from above and a low grumble, rumbled through his spine as whatever, or more to the point, whoever it was, woke up apparently due to him moving his arm so suddenly. The other occupant of the bed reached out to his hand, pushed their leather pad clad fingers through the spaces between his own fingers and gripped his hand, holding it still with a strength that prevented any more use of the limb. The worrying part was that the arm and hand weren't tense at all but held a strength that dwarfed the human's. The interloper's hand was nearly double the size of his, he could feel the pads warming the back of his palm. They were soft and almost hot to the touch.

Matt blinked in utter confusion as he tried to remember what was going on. After taking some time to calm himself and figure things out, he realised that the strange dream he had last night, was not a dream after all. The giant cat-like alien that had joined the station yesterday, had followed him home, physically picked him up, barged into his home and declared that she had 'adopted' him. Regardless of how well he had slept after so long buried beneath her, or how soft and warm her fur was, this was beyond what he could accept as proper behaviour. He needed to give her a stern talking to.

"Umph.." He started, catching a mouthful of fur and duvet, forcing him into shaking his head to clear it.

"Er... excuse me? Hello?" He stated in as demanding a tone as he could, bearing in mind he was still buried underneath the one he was trying to address, which undercut his authority somewhat. He didn't get a response, so he cleared his throat and again, he also tried to buck his hips, moving the body above him, but only barely as she was still a dead weight from above, her hips merely fell back down on him from behind.

"Excuse me!"

A groan was spoken directly into his ear.

"Mm. Go back to sleep. It's too early, little one." A drowsy voice spoke out, before the head on top of his lifted and he felt a broad, wet, and rough tongue lick the hair on the back of his head twice, before the weight returned and it pressed him back down into the mattress.

"What.. hey! No! Don't go back to sleep! What's going on here!" He exclaimed, again, trying to wiggle as much as he could with his limited movement, he had to get her awake and moving! In the end it appeared as if he was recreating 'the worm', the now long-lost dance move of the now destroyed Earth.

A deep and dramatic sigh of someone extremely displeased was given in response, before her almost 'noble' voice came back, far less sleepy this time.

"What is it? This is far too early 'human'." She asked from behind his ear.

"Who are you? Why are you in bed? What's going on?!" He asked in a tirade of questions that tumbled out from him.

Another exasperated sigh came from the creature, before her hands released his, she curled her arms around his chest, a leg looped behind his knee and she rolled in one movement, so she was on her back, her head against his pillows and he was dragged along for the ride. He ended up facing upwards, being held against her body with her underneath his back. A clawed hand snagged the duvet and pulled it over both of them, leaving the top of the thick cover, underneath Matt's chin. The hand landed on his head and began to draw a set of claws gently through his hair, ever so slightly scratching at his scalp.

Overall, it felt quite pleasant, the low rumbling purr returned as it rolled over his body. At least she was awake, so far, his attempt to establish dominance over the situation was going well.

"I am Her Highness Varuna; you may call me 'your majesty'. We are here because we were both tired and due sleep, we are still tired I will remind you. As for what's going on, I am being rudely awakened and you are asking questions."

"I meant... highness? No, I meant why are you in my home? What did you mean by 'adopting' me?"

A rumble.

"Ah, you were able to provide appropriate warmth and I am adopting you because you do not currently live with another felinoid. Now my turn my human. What is your name and how many humans are there on this station?"

Matt's eyes briefly rolled up in his head as she continued to run her fingers through his hair, scratching and clawing at his scalp. She would draw her hand through one way, then brush back with the curve of her claws, rather than the points. Goosebumps crawled up and down his arms. He supressed a shiver, but she still gave a single mirthful 'humph' as his body quivered.

"I'm Matt... and none. Just me."

A dissatisfied huff came from above as her hand stopped to grip his head in her oversized paws gently.

"Urgh.. There is not enough. The rumours that you humans were rare has been understated. This is both good and bad it seems. You humans are perfect, and I do not wish to share." She growled to herself, before she relaxed and continued her attention.

"Share? Like with the rest of your kind? I thought you were a queen or highness or something?" Matt asked confused as to why someone of her position would be in his room and would even need to consider 'sharing' whatever that meant.

"A-a-and you can't just 'share' me! What if I don't consent? I-I-I could have you kicked off the station for breaking into my home!"

She sighed, a brushed the back of her furred fingers against his cheek.

"I am sorry if I have offended, if I have distressed or hurt... I apologise..."

"It's fine." Matt parroted automatically before admonishing himself. He was meant to be angry! He was supposed to be angry! As a severe introvert though... even back on Earth he had been adopted by those who were more outgoing than him.

"I have no interest in upsetting you, but my kind are very interested in your kind. You are supremely unique, and we are a race of those who seek out the unique."

"W-what do you mean? Am I being kidnapped?"

A flinch from below.

"No! Bleck! Not at all, freedom is above all things! Freedom of the self, freedom of the choice, freedom is ultimate and the only thing that must be demanded." She stated firmly seemingly repeating a mantra or oath. She pulled away from him for the first time to raise a single digit upwards to emphasise her points.

"If you... choose... not to have us around, then we will not be around. Our people... our... society... is about enjoying oneself, I believe 'hedonistic' might be the correct word, but poorly explains it. We no longer must toil, so why should we? If you want to; go, work and earn. If you don't? Relax and work on yourself. Freedom, above all."

"So.. where do I come in? How am I to be 'shared', this is what I'm confused about."

"Alongside Freedom, is experiences, the truly desired 'unbuyable' thing." To punctuate her next sentence, she started by tapping his nose with a soft leather pad on the end of her finger. "Humanity is new and rare. We sought you out to experience you. I would have settled for sight and smell, but then you spoke with me rather than ignore. You did not stop me when I reached out to touch you. Even last night, your home was easy to find as it smelt of you, so I waited. You did not protest my entry until we were already settled and even then... you did not say 'no'."

A joyful 'hm' came from behind his head.

"Your actions were half-hearted, so I believe you enjoyed last night. Am I wrong?"

"No..." Matt tilted his head in reluctant agreement, but that was pushing it to say the least. He'd need to teach them the do's and don'ts before they got into trouble. Still, he'd rather have a bit more control over his life than being 'told' what he was going to do.

"But! You can't just barge into someone's house and expect to be welcomed in, arms wide! This is weird!"

"You don't like this?" She asked, hurt bleeding into her tone and her hand moved away in hesitation, holding away from him as if to release him. The loneliness returned with a writhing behind his ribs, it felt like a snake retreating backwards, towards her.

"It's not... it's not that it doesn't feel good, but you have to.. to.. introduce yourself or something? Be invited in."

She was quiet for a time, her hand clasped his head again, but didn't move now, but it warmed his exposed flesh pleasantly.

"Strange, no wonder we kept to our own for so long. We expected to be welcomed and praised, but the reception so far has been.. underwhelming. I suppose I could lower my expectations... 'Slum it' if you will? Would you be able to teach me the social graces of your world?"

"Social g like you don't know how to interact like the rest of them? I mean, I'm still learning myself, but I guess I could?"

"Matt, was it? May I start again?"

"..sure?"

"Good morning warm human." She began, a jovial tone now adorning her voice, Matt couldn't help but snort and grin as he remained laying on top of her, chuckling against her.

"Good morning crazy cat lady. How are you?" he responded, playing the part.

"I am well! May we share heat, it is cold, and you are very warm?" She asked, starting her purring once again beneath him.

Matt rolled his eyes and relaxed somewhat. She seemed to mean well, if not a bit ditzy, not to mention she was quite one track minded.

It was going to be an 'interesting' few weeks attempting to educate his new 'student'.

=== 0 ===

"My name is Ruby." The felinoid answered him later on as he cooked.

Matt frowned as he leant over the stove, finishing up at getting the 'bacon' as crispy as he could. How he had ended up on cooking duty after being the 'bed' as well, he wasn't sure; but the large cat creature currently picking through his apartment behind him had wrangled this somehow. Still, he was glad to find that whilst pigs did not survive earth, there was something called a 'squidgit' that if their meat was prepared correctly, tasted very similar. Apparently, you could cook them every which way and they tasted different each time.

He scraped the 'bacon' strips onto a plate, next to the scrambled eggs on both plates. He had no idea where the eggs came from, however.

He looked behind him to see the green eyes with the black slits in the middle staring back at him. She had seated herself in the middle of his sofa with one leg crossed over the other, she rested her hands, fingers interlaced, in her lap.

"I like your eyes by the way..." He blurted out without thinking.

"Mm, thank you. I had them changed a few years ago, I got bored with my natural yellow colour."

"Changed?"

"Freedom, my dear Matt, freedom in everything. We felinoids will often change our appearance. Quite dramatically I will add. Our kind are adept at appearance adjustments."

With a nod and quick, nervous smile, he walked over and offered the plate. It wobbled slightly due to his nerves. He wasn't used to being under such scrutiny after months of being ostracised by the rest of the aliens aboard. Why did he care so much as to what this alien thought of him? He couldn't be smitten or anything, she was an alien. She accepted the plate with one hand, with an ever so slight smirk, tugging at the edge of her lips.

"Cutlery." Matt reminded himself, turning and moving back to the kitchen to retrieve somewhat clean utensils from the sink. He gave them a rapid but thorough wash and dried them in short order. When he moved back to the sofa with a knife and fork in hand, an empty plate was being held out for him to retrieved back.

His mind was confused for a moment; he'd given her a plate of food. Right? Had she'd just tipped the whole damn plate down her gullet?

"I should thank you, shouldn't I?" The artic felinoid stated, blinking slowly. "I'm very grateful, that breakfast was delicious." She finished as he plucked the empty, greasy plate from her hand.

"I-... sure, no worries?" He returned to the small kitchenette and retrieved his own plate. Whilst she claimed not to no what manners to employ, he hadn't actually 'taught' her anything yet, but she was now seemingly acutely aware of what social expectations were placed upon her.

Matt moved to sit down and considered that the last twelve hours had been very strange, he'd gone from pariah to the sole focus of an overbearing, but seemingly harmless 'felinoid'. They had been apparently part of The Galactic Community for hundreds of years like everyone else, but had kept mostly to themselves, until now of course. Ever since Humans appeared Walking back to the sofa, he took note of her white and grey fur; she looked exactly like one of the old snow leopards of earth, all the way down to the spots and thick fluffy tail and oversized paws. Her size was something of note, easily larger than him, her ears brushed the ceiling when she stood up straight.

Her strength was also of note, she was not slim. Her arms, whilst covered in a long thick pelt, that Matt knew was also incredibly soft thanks to last night, barely hid the bulging muscles beneath. She proved she had no issue picking up and carrying him like he weighed nothing.

When he stood next to the sofa, he realised that there simply wasn't any space for him to sit on the cushions of the seat. The size of her hips took up much of the space of his rather crappy, standard issue sofa and to try and sit down would have him perched half on top of her. With a shrug, he chose instead to perch on the sofa's arm.

Ruby, however, had different ideas.

Before he could perch and start on his light breakfast, a grey furred arm and dinner plate sized hand wrapped around his sternum.

"Wait! Wait, wait, wai-" He cried out, trying to prevent his breakfast from spilling as he was dragged from the arm, and into the centre of the sofa onto the larger creature's lap. Thankfully, he hadn't spilt anything.

"That was dangerous, I could have spilled!" He complained as he attempted to disengage, but with an arm locked around his waist, he found the act impossible while holding a plate with both hands, so he reached down with one. When a clawed hand plucked a strip of bacon from his plate, his priority changed immediately.

He lost one piece but defended the others by starting into his breakfast with no further delay. The large feline sat beneath and behind him chewed the stolen bacon slowly as she held onto him carefully. It was only once he started to relax that he noticed she was purring again.

"So, we have a problem that will need to be addressed today." Ruby stated calmly whilst Matt's mouth was full. It didn't stop him from 'mm'ing as a wordless question.

"Not with your mouth full, little one. But yes, my dema- err.. Request? Yes, my request from yesterday remains quite important. My people will begin spreading out amongst the stars. They will want to meet you humans, but... like myself... will not know your... er... protocol?" A hand landed on the top of his head and a set of claws poked through his hair. She started talking again as Matt swallowed the last of his eggs and settled into having the back of his head scratched.

"We wish to make the best first impression and avoid upsetting your kind. We can compensate you and others if you agree to assist us in learning your ways. I wish to 'employ' you as a cultural guide? Would you like to come with me when I leave here?" She asked gently while still steadily scratching at him. He leaned forwards to put the plate down and was gently pulled back onto her whilst she laid back, horizontally across the sofa, taking him with her. She released her claws from his hair and instead hugged him from behind as if he were a cushion or favoured teddy.

The way he sank into her fluff, how he felt it cover his ears from behind and tickle his cheeks. It was incredibly pleasant and relaxing. He considered her words.

Did he want to just end his life here? To leave everything behind? What of his colleagues? Friends on the station? All for some random personal-space ignorant, socially inept space cats?

=== 0 ===

Half an hour later, Matt had his bags packed. Or rather; bag. Singular. He had little he needed to bring aside from a few sets of clothes and some mementos of sentiment. He had no friends on the station, he had a contact which treated him like a house plant rather than a person. His choice was made purely on the fact that his depression and apathy had been lifted all in one evening and he was petrified of it returning.

Was this a good idea? Probably not. Was it healthy? Also no. But he didn't have a good answer and he had nothing else to lose. His planet was dead, his people were scattered, and he was working a crappy job that a computer could do just to save up money to buy things for his domicile.

When Matt stepped out of his bedroom, Ruby was leaning against the front door with a foot raised against it and her arms crossed over her chest. She grinned like the cat that caught the canary.

"You're helping many of my kind, you know? Is noble."

"Let's not pretend I'm saving lives here, I'm a glorified heating mat." Matt said, stopping in front of the alien. She looked genuinely shocked, leaning down and lifting his chin with a finger.

"You are very important Matt; I am not ignorant to how you were when I met you. Alone and distant from the others? I am not blind to the lack of pictures of friends on this station in your home. The only ones you had, were in your bedroom and seem to be of family. Your journey to this apartment was one of an outcast." She pushed off the door and stepped close to him again, looking down at him with a firm expression that left Matt guessing what she might have been thinking.

"You have natural abilities and skills that somewhere else would be valuable. Here, you are out of step with your surroundings and seemingly... Left questioning your value, wrongly." She shook her head with a pitying look to her eye, yet her words were firm. She believed what she was saying.

She reached out, placed her long arms over his shoulders and pulled his back towards her. She gripped him against herself and held him there.

At first, he didn't understand what she was doing, again, her odd actions caused a jarring to his expectations. The outside world, however, was lost to him for a time, the fur of her torso muffled the air circulation humming and was replaced by the sound of her heart beating and her lungs breathing in and out steadily.

The lonely man's arms gingerly reached up and around the felinoid' s body, and he hugged her back for the first time. It was the first time he'd held someone away from Earth. It actually physically hurt his chest to apparently reconnect with someone, to consider reopening himself after protecting himself from isolation. After so long as being held at arm's length by others, he wanted to latch onto her like a lifeline.

He gripped at the fur at her back and breathed into the fluff that pressed into his face. Ruby placed one of her hands at the back of his head and stood there, she would not rush him nor prompt him to move. She was patient, she could wait for him until he was ready. It would be his choice, his freedom to do so. To her and her find, freedom was as vital as air and this human was not 'free' here on this station.

It was only a short hour later when Matt finally boarded the felinoid ship as it prepared to leave in search for more elusive humans.

They had barely been checked, the station administration seemingly rushing through Matt's paperwork. Matt had been pulled aside and been asked if he was being coerced, but in the end the administer let slip that he was glad Matt was leaving. He was too dangerous in the administrator's opinion. Matt had thought that there would be more effort in a supposed long-term resident demanding to leave, but it seemed his request to leave was received with gratitude and relief instead.

He felt like he should be betrayed, but he had to admit that he also felt relief and gratitude right back at them for being able to leave with such ease.

Whether The Galactic Community was informed of his change of location Matt didn't know, the ship was tracked and he would be met at the next station to ensure his safety in the void, but when he put his bag down and looked up, he found himself looking at a team of felinoids who, whilst were wildly different in appearance, each had a rapturous grin, one or two waved at him.

Suddenly his vision was blocked by the furred back of a snow leopard, Ruby.

Her tail flicked rapidly from one side to another, was she agitated?

"We have gained an ally. However, we must; be polite." Ruby stated clearly and definitively. She remained in front of Matt, until the group stalked away. Ruby turned back to Matt and picked up his bag with ease.

"They will need teaching but are harmless. You will need to be a teacher before we arrive at our next destination, I hope you are ready."

Matt watched as the group disappeared around a corner and the last tail trailed behind.

In all honesty, after spending multiple moths just pressing buttons on a computer, the human was ready for a new challenge.

=== 0 ===

Unfortunately, the new challenge began that evening.

The engines were probably several hundred meters away and behind many bulkheads, but the human could hear them, and Matt lay awake in his bed. It wasn't really the humming of the engines that was keeping the human awake, however.

The creeping doubt that plagued every decision in the dead of night had made itself known to him by 'midnight' aboard the felinoid ship. It was a frigate it seemed and just one of a small group of ships that travelled together.

His bedding was tangled around him as he stared up at the distant ceiling. He'd thrown his lot in with this new species while knowing precious little about them. God, why had he been so stupid?!

Was his life aboard the station been so bad that at the first offer from a complete and utter stranger of another possibility, he'd just jumped with both feet?!

He had to admit he wasn't happy aboard the station. His conscious mind agreed that he couldn't have stayed there much longer without him going crazy or doing something stupid. But no number of antidepressants would alleviate the crushing loneliness of being avoided by everyone else. Christ, they didn't even have antidepressants that were designed for humans up in the stars.

Sure, tell someone a drug's name; the materials might not even exist outside of Earth, let along share the same name.

But his subconscious continued to jab and peck at his choices. They didn't care about him. They just wanted to use him.

That's why he was given his own room alone. Alone again. He'd had one night of glorious sleep and now he couldn't pass out on his own.

Matt rubbed his face and let out a growl in frustration. He could argue the toss with himself all night but there was no way to prove that these giant bipedal cats actually had his best intentions in mind.

Till a thought occurred to him, it wasn't completely true, that there was no test.

Ruby, the snow leopard that had 'recruited' him onto the ship full of them. She had made a point to show him around the ship. She finished by introducing both his room and hers, which were near one another, almost directly neighbours.

'If you need me, day or night, my door will open for you. I will only be upset if I find out you didn't seek me out when in need.' It was the last thing she had said to him before disappearing down the corridor and away from his room. He stared after her, focusing on the swishing tail and ample rump beneath the grey and white dotted fur.

'Prove it.' His tired mind demanded now in the darkness. He'll always mistrust them if he didn't test their promises.

Without thinking, he sat up, and in naught but loose knee length nightwear, moved to his front door. It slid open without a noise and revealed low lights highlighting the corridor.

'Am I doing this?' He asked, doubting himself as he lingered in his doorway, torn between truth and familiarity.

He glanced back into his dark room. He wouldn't make any social faux par in there. He looked down the corridor, he could see her front door. He could be shunned horrifically if they didn't stand by their word...

His first step was the hardest. The other steps went by too quickly. He was lightheaded by the time he approached Ruby's door. His mind screamed not to, his subconscious promised to be good, just don't knock on the-

The door opened as if it was his own, he had no need to knock...

He stepped within, mimicking her from the day before. The room structure was no different from his own from what he could see in the gloom, despite different adornments.

"Hello? Ruby?" He whispered into the oppressive darkness barely a whisper. He took a few steps towards the bedroom, before realising what he was doing.

"I'm an idiot." He admonished himself, turning and intending to go back to his room.

A large paw on his shoulder caused him to jump and have his heart attempt to blast out of his chest.

"Don't say that please." Stated a shadow with Ruby's voice. "Are you okay?" She asked, turning him to 'face' her, another large broad paw found his other shoulder. He couldn't actually see anything, merely a silhouette of blocked light.

"Ah.. yeah, yeah, I'm... not sure why I'm here."

A low growl came from the shadow before she spoke again.

"Big changes dear Matt, freedom is imposing to those who haven't tasted it properly. You will doubt yourself, that is normal. But you chose a course and now you should commit until you know better. There is a cure for the voices this evening my Matt." She promised.

He gave a small smile into the dark, whilst he could not see her, to her it was as bright as day.

"What's the cure?"

"Come with me..." she said simply, turning but catching his hand in hers. Her digits with padded, furred, longer and thicker than his. Her hand or paw engulfed his own and marched him silently into the bedroom proper.

"Climb in, be careful." She requested as he felt for the edge of the bed and climbed aboard. Their beds were far larger and more luxurious, squishing significantly beneath him, certainly more than anything he'd enjoyed before. But when he felt Ruby climb in immediately after him, he was confused when a second set of hands from within the bed, grasped him down onto the mattress, rolled him so he was facing Ruby and a large body began to spoon him from behind.

Ruby was in front of him... Who was..?

Looking down at the thick arms that were curled around his chest and stomach, he deduced the fur to be pure black or some other similarly dark colour.

"That is Onyx, my current lover, they will help me keep the doubts away..." Said Ruby as she pressed up to his front and wrapped her own arms over both of the other occupants of the bed.

His back was pressed into devilishly soft fur, while Ruby's longer fur and chest pressed into his front. Her head rested almost touching his forehead, while he could feel warm breath gently washing over the back of his neck in time with the moving chest touching his back.

A rumbling growl and yawn came from behind his ear.

"Doubts?" a male voice asked from behind his ear.

"He has doubts hunting him. True freedom is new for him." Stated Ruby, speaking over his head as she settled.

Matt felt a rough tongue gently run up at the back of his neck once.

"It's okay... we're here. You're not alone... You are safe." rumbled the gravelly voice.

Likewise, Ruby gave a loving lick to his forehead, before rubbing her cheek over his face. First one cheek, then the other as the pair of aliens began to purr loudly, whilst Onyx nuzzled into the back of his neck. If he didn't know better, Matt would have worried about an earthquake, but now, just two larger-than-a-human cats, both purring while whispering sweet nothings and reassurances into the blighted man's ear.

Their limbs intertwined and while there was no blanket on the bed, every inch of his exposed flesh had at least some of the felinoid bodies and fur pressed against it. With the exception of his face, he wasn't exposed to the air.

Slept came surprisingly swiftly shortly after this to Matt. He rested obscenely well and woke the next morning feeling incredibly refreshed.

Getting out of bed however took several hours, not that anyone within that bed cared...

=== 0 ===

Links:

Discord / AO3 / Tip Jar

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #haso #hfy #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #felinoid #cat #potentially triggering #tw: dubious consent #tw depressing thoughts

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painsandconfusion · 1 year

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Hi! Love your writing!!

If it's not too much and you have time and want to, could you do a scene with an intimate whumper who's teasing whumpee for being scared?

Thank you!!!! (NO PRESSURE)

This is gorgeous. Yes. I love this prompt. Rip the other asks in my box, I have spoons for this.

Why Are You Scared?

(tw: intimate whumper, noncon touch, forced massage, forced comfort, implied abuse)

[Drabble Masterpost]

Whumpee flinched as the corner of their vision registered Whumper standing in the doorway.

Just...watching.

Predatory gleam in their eyes.

Whumpee swallowed thickly, grabbing the remote to turn their show to half mute. "...h-i uh...you.....wanna watch too...?"

Whumper's eyes raked down over them as they took a step closer. "I am watching."

Whumpee chewed on their lip, nodding as they turned the volume back up. "...do you...w-anna...sit on the couch...?"

"Mmmno. No, I'm good standing."

Whumpee's skin tingled - hairs on the back of their neck prickling up as Whumper prowled behind the couch to watch over their shoulder. Whumper's hands slid over the back of the couch, still out of view bust rustling against fabric nonetheless.

Whumpee flickered as warm breath brushed behind their ear. "Why are you so jumpy?"

Whumpee's fingers tangled together in their lap. "I...I wasn't trying t-...m'sorry-"

A soft whimper pressed from their throat as warm hands slithered over their shoulders, kneading gently into knotted muscle. It sent a shudder down their spine, pressing their entire body tighter in on itself.

"Just watch your show. You earned it."

Whumpee's lips pressed tight together, but they forced their eyes to stay glued on the screen as they gave Whumper a small nod. "Y-es sir."

Whumper hummed, continuing the slow massage. After a moment, they found a knot and prodded at it, rolling their thumb in hard circles around it until Whumpee was whimpering.

Whumper chuckled. "Did you break a rule, sweetheart?"

White fuzz scattered across Whumpee's mind. They shoved down the spark of panic and the burning of their eyes. "I...I d-onn't think so-??"

Whumper hummed in amusement, leaning in. Whumper's words brushed hot against the shell of their ear. "Then why are you so scared~?"

[Drabble Masterpost]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @a-whumped-tea @whumpsday @sonder35)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

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peppermintquartz · 2 months

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We are all living on a speck of dust circling a spark of burning gas in amongst countless other similar sparks. And beyond that, clusters of galactic dust and gas are scattered, dust bunnies of the universe.

Probability suggests that, somewhere out there, another speck of dust is also teeming with sapient beings.

I hope they're kinder to one another than we are.

#feeling rather small today #my writing

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frc-ambaradan · 1 month

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A long time ago in a... well... galaxy full of ducks and mice

Hello there!

How should we celebrate Star Wars Day? Uhm... what about a ride along some italian Disney "parodies" of Star Wars? And I use quotation marks 'cause, it'll probably surprise you but, as of today, there is no real Disney parody of Star Wars.

There are, though, many stories that draw inspiration from some elements of Lucas' saga, starting from "Topolino e la spada di ghiaccio" (1984) amazing fantasy saga by Massimo de Vita that has nothing to do with Star Wars but gives us the first Disney character whose design's been heavily inspired by Darth Vader: the evil Prince of Mists!

The nefarious Prince of Mists from "Topolino e la spada di ghiaccio".

Scattered throughout the years there are many other stories inspired by Star Wars from Silvia Ziche's Topokolossal (1997):

Mickey Skyrunner weilds his legendary catalytic baguette as he faces off Pietro Galactus.

up to "Paperoga eroe dello spazio" (2013) a splendid, touching story by Roberto Gagnor and Claudio Sciarrone that culminates in one of the best plot twists ever on Topolino's pages (this story is the dream of any Galactic Empire fan ❤️).

Easy, Gorgius "heir" to Behlpost's throne... who do you think you are? Luke Skywalker? (Spoiler: you're not).

You may call it Behlpost, but that's Naboo royal palace for sure... with imperial guards as it seems 😁 (or are they forerunners of Operation Cinder sentinels? 🤔).

The only story (well, saga actually) that comes the most close to a real parody is Giorgio Pezzin's "Topolino e i signori della Galassia" (1991) which draws heavily inspiration from Star Wars expecially in the second episode.

The main character of this story is Goofy, who finds out to have inherited special powers from some old relative. Powers that make him the only one able to help the Galactic Confederation in their struggles against robots named "the Metals" led by general Titanio who seeks to eradicate every biological life form from the galaxy.

Jeez, Titanio's soldiers may be robots but their aim is as bad as Stormtroopers'... 🤣🤣

That's definitely the Battle of Hoth.

I know for sure there are also Star Wars inspired stories starring Josè Carioca out there, and McGreals' "May the farce be with you" (2005), but, unfortunately, I never had the chance to read them 'cause they've never been published in Italy.

But today's biggest obstacle to a Star Wars parody is Disney's auto-censorship. Yes, 'cause there's a strict rule at Disney that forbids authors to write parodies of other Disney franchises... so any parody of Star Wars (and Marvel) it's a very loud no-no. Sad :'(

We do know, though, that there are at least three finished legit parodies that never saw the light of day. One by Francesco Artibani that was supposed to be published on Topolino and two made-in-Egmont drawn by Cavazzano and Freccero.

Of the latter we can appreciate a beautiful illustration and a single page thanks to Freccero sharing them online a few years ago:

Alas, unless Disney change their internal directives (and there's no way it's gonna happen anytime soon) we'll never get the chance to see these or any other Star Wars inspired story in the near future.

But we can sure appreciate the older ones and if you wanna indulge yourself in something different today... these are the stories you're looking for ;)

May the Force be with you!

(And LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!!! 💪)

#may the 4th #star wars day #disney parodies #mickey mouse #donald duck #darth vader #info dumb #star wars #disney comics #italian disney comics #disney ducks #disney mice #giorgio pezzin #massimo de vita #roberto gagnor #claudio sciarrone #silvia ziche #andrea freccero #have a great day!

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tranakin-skywalker · 6 months

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Fuck it, fic rec list time!

I'm bored and can't sleep so here's a non-exhaustive list of some of my favorite Star Wars fics. I'm leaving the really well known ones off, wanna share some of the more obscure gems.

Not Placid Stars But Singularities by iceplanet

He stands before Sidious, head bowed, helmet pinching at the back of his neck where he hasn’t yet gotten the med droid to file down the sharp edges. Sharpness is another fact of life, now: the feel of metal digging into flesh defines his every motion. Given the time and the opportunity, he himself could probably have built prosthetics better than the ones he currently wears. “Your task, Lord Vader,” Sidious is saying, “is to transform this heap of antiquated softness into a palace worthy of our new Empire.” In the weeks after Mustafar, Vader must come to terms with his new body and the remnants of his past. In the process, he has a few conversations that he does not expect.

This one has everything I love: ghosts, mutilation, Vader being the saddest wettest murder meow meow, Sith Lord batshittery. What fun.

Skin Graft by HENST33TH

“ I hurt you.” killed her, Vader's stomach roiled. Bile clawed at his throat as he looked at her. He wasn't making any sense. Her face softened some. “ Dreams…?” she said. Padme thought she understood. It was sick, it was corrosive. He was unfaithful. For twenty years he was unfaithful. He hurt her children. He needed to spit it out. Explain. She deserves it. She needs to know. Vader needed to crack himself open. Padme needed to tear him apart. For her safety. He got out of bed. Twitching with the need. Shaking with the pressure inside of him. Taught like a noose. He stood before her. She placed her hands on his arms. “Then what, Anakin.” Anakin, Anakin, Anakin. Vader sank to his knees. Resting his head against her middle, he breathed. The shame clung to him and coated his throat till he was choking on it. “It’s so much worse than that.” all at once the future loomed over him. Daunting, a beast of its own. How can he explain it? *** Or, Anakin Skywalker gets thrown back in time. He has to learn: 1 how to have a body again 2. To curb his Raging insecure attachment style. 3. That his wife should be the one making the important galactic decisions.

A newer fic that I am quickly becoming obsessed with. The way it's written is perfect. The characterization is perfect. Everything about it is perfect imo. And the ending of this latest chapter. Masterpiece. I want 10 more.

Nameless, On the Edge of Nowhere by Taxonamie

Following the presumed death of the evil Emperor and his hulking henchman Darth Vader, the fledging Alliance stands on the verge of victory! But as they press their advantage against a destabilized Empire and manifest from the seeds of Rebel resistance, can this new government survive their own instability? Among the scattered Imperial forces of the second Death Star, Darth Vader's disapparence is not so final as they would hope. Worse yet, the Rebel Hero Luke Skywalker has gone missing! Alone and disadvantaged, what will Anakin Skywalker do to find his son? Will he walk the razor's edge of tentative alliance with the Rebel Forces, or succumb to the draw of Imperial power? Free from all Masters, can Anakin Skywalker learn who he wants to be, at last? Princess Leia Organa must navigate this minefield of clashing obligations and dripping grudges, all the while attempting to understand a heritage she hates, a brother she loves, and a mysterious mother she cannot understand.

I think this fic is the most successful at bridging the gap between Prequel Anakin and OT Vader that I have ever read. They genuinely feel like a continuation of the same character here rather than a disjointed Before and After.

trust displays by AshToSilver

Rex meets Luke and Leia for the very first time the night they are born.

I love how sweet but also horrifically fucked up this one is. Cannot express how much this fic has influences the way I write the clones.

in morsum ardeo by astarsdarkheart

A fallen Jedi and Lord of the Sith burns in a pyre on the banks of a river of fire. Something else rises from the ashes.

This series rewired my brain. Like, holy shit. Holy shit. I don't think I could ever actually choose a top favorite fic of all time, but honestly? This one makes a strong case for itself. It has haunted me every day since I first read it over a year ago.

Forever War by yujacheong

Vader has trouble distinguishing between the past and the present. Fortunately, it rarely matters in the context of the Empire's forever war.

Love me a good Vader character study.

this place loves what it eats by roadtripexpert

What could be called but isn’t death, or Leia Organa doesn't kill the man formerly known as Anakin Skywalker

I know I've already recommended this one but it is just. So fucking good. The note from my bookmark: Father-daughter roadtrip results in about as much murder and bitching as you would expect.

relieved to live in the wreckage by niniblack

When Obi-wan doesn’t follow Padmé to Mustafar, she’s able to convince Anakin to run away from everything with her. But this doesn't prevent his nightmares from coming true, and he's left alone in a hostile galaxy with the infants she begged him to protect. “Master Anakin,” Threepio says, still hovering in the doorway. “Might I suggest bouncing the children?” Anakin stops pacing around with the twins, head swiveling to look at Threepio. He doesn’t have to ask what the fuck Threepio is talking about; Artoo does it for him. Threepio seems to draw himself up as straight as he can. “I have conducted extensive research on the subject of human childrearing in anticipation of Mistress Padmé giving birth. Holding an infant and gently bouncing them in the parent’s arms is thought to be an excellent calming method.” “Oh,” Anakin says. “I thought you meant… bouncing them on the floor or something.”

The note from my bookmark: Single dad Anakin. Congratulations buddy, no one's ever done it worse.

Send the Whole Damned Thing Down the Drain by handstitchedanarchist

“Are you a conscripted soldier or a battle slave?” General Skywalker asks him one day. Rex thinks about it. And then thinks about it a little longer. And then he has to admit, “I’m not sure what the difference is.” The general looks distant and… sad? “Yeah, me neither,” he says.

This is another one that has greatly influenced the way I write the clones.

Gonna end the list here cuz my meds are starting to kick in and I feel like I'm going to fall over

#fic recs #pretty sure i only picked fics with less than 1k kudos #some of these are criminally underrated #not going to think about what this list implies about me lmao #there is definitely a running theme with the fics i chose

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pistachi0art · 20 days

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Can we plz get a Benrey and Tommy family lore drop/explanation

OH BOY. well here’s the complete rundown to all that I have figured out.

The Benrey Lore:

Benrey Nilabi was born a runt in a place called Cerutina, one of the many places that connects to Xen. (Cerutinans are blue-eyed shapeshifting beings that all hold a sort of deep subconscious hivemind. Bc Benrey is a runt he isn’t connected to this hivemind and is less empathetic/emotionally connected than his family and peers but still tries to through sweet voice. He also lacks the faster healing factor/ extreme shapeshifting that other Cerutinans have.)

He used to live there with his mom, Momma Moola and his abusive older brother, Arden Ardven, and his 16 other younger siblings on a farm until his Arden got a bit too abusive and which resulted in Arden losing his eye in a fight with Ben, which then turned to Ben leaving the farm off to Xen then to Earth.

Momma Moola then died to to a chronic illness not too long after with the rest of his siblings choosing to scatter across the galaxy to pursue their own careers (which is typical for Cerutinans, as most are nomadic and love to integrate themselves into different cultures.) Few stayed on the farm. Arden ended up getting arrested and locked up in a galactic prison bc of his less than savory/ violent preferences on how an alien society should be.

The Tommy Lore:

Thomas “Tommy” Coolatta was adopted into a family of 3, that of his strange yet caring Father (G-Dad), his two-faced eldest sister Evelyn “Evie” Chiller, and his older brother, Graham Chillatta.

Evie was unintentionally raised as a bit of a megalomaniac with a strive for perfection with a hint of businessman savvy. After Tommy was adopted she got extremely bitter of her father’s different methods in raising him, feeling negatively towards the both of them.

Meanwhile Graham was raised in the shadows feeling inadequate about everything, including himself (he’s got a list of medical conditions, one of them causes him to feel he can’t quite emotionally connect to other people. When he isn’t working on projects, he often surrounds himself with paid prostitutes and hype men so he “feels some sort of connection” even if it’s the artificial kind.)

Evie saw this in Graham and as the two got older they distanced themselves from G-Man and Tommy to pursue their own business ventures. Graham sees Evie as the only person he has a real relationship with (the familial kind. Not the gross kind lmao. JUST TO BE CLEAR.) which makes Evie just take advantage of him easily.

Their lore gets wonky from here but just know that Evie and Graham run a business where it seems all hunky dory from the outside but is really just a coverup so Graham can experiment on life forms. (OH and that the trio are reincarnations of a being that was made of light that created the universe but exploded that resulted in the creation of planets and such whaaaat?)

AND THATS AS MUCH AS I LORE I COULD GIVE. COMPRESSED. If there’s any specific character/ thing you want to know more about just ask. I’m tired lol

#small things #ask reply #benrey fam #cmy siblings #ohh the Tommy lore is a different beast to get into #BUT JUST KNOW #that that being of light was the thing that’s remains eventually became the Cerutinans #just a part of it #so like #it’s all connected #it’s all coming together

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radiantresplendence · 1 year

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Can we stop giving the right to rule Mandalore to Bo Katan, please?

This woman’s faction has fumbled leadership of the Mandalorian people no less than 4 times in her lifetime with her being a prominent individual every time. Her reformist sister took the title of Duchess after an ideological conflict on the Mandalorian homeworld and rather than acting as a voice of tradition to her sister, she joined a faction opposing the current government in Death Watch. Death Watch eventually gained control of the planet, ousting Satine Kryze with the support of the Shadow Collective. The Shadow Collective’s leader eventually challenged the leader of Death Watch to solo combat for control of the faction and was successful. Bo Katan abdicated Death Watch. Bo Katan then allied with the Galactic Republic to attempt a coup. This is successful and Bo Katan becomes leader of Mandalore. The Empire at some point purges the planet, destroying the surface with fusion bombs and scattering Mandalorian refugees throughout the galaxy. Somehow Moff Gideon gets The Darksaber come the end of the Galactic Civil War. Din Djarin wins The Darksaber from Gideon by besting him in solo combat. He defends his ownership of the weapon from challenges by Bo Katan and Paz Vizsla. The Mandalorian refugees Bo Katan was running with as de facto leader abandon her leadership as she failed to prove worthy of wielding the ceremonial weapon. I was more than happy to have Din Djarin become leader of the Mandalorians, but honest to god, Bo Katan doesn’t need a fifth chance. If any non-Din character in The Mandalorian deserves to lead Mandalore its the Armorer, not the person who has fumbled the right to do so 4 times in 20 or so years and left Mandalore in the worst position its ever been in continuity.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorion spoilers #din djarin #bo katan kryze

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illuminatedquill · 18 days

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Story Summary: It has been 10 years since Lothal was liberated from the Empire. As the annual memorial ceremony marking this historic event approaches, close friends and associates of the legendary Rebellion hero, Commander Ezra Bridger, are interviewed for a documentary being made to celebrate his life and achievements. Captain Garazeb Orrelios, a close friend and comrade of Ezra Bridger, has volunteered his time for the first interview.

First of a Five-Part Interview Series

The dive I find Captain Garazeb Orrelios, call-sign Specter-Four, is far from the Galactic Core and serves a peculiar type of clientele: current and former Republic fighter pilots, smugglers, Mandalorians, and any who find themselves wandering beyond the usual travelled routes of the galaxy. Sitting on a non-descript barren planet floating in the middle of an otherwise empty sector of space, the establishment has gained a remarkable reputation of being a "neutral place" among the people who live out here beyond the prying eyes of the New Republic. Mandalorians, bounty hunters, and even some of the more reputable smugglers all habit here semi-regularly.

Noting the name of the establishment before stepping inside from the arid heat, I am greeted by the murmur of quiet, friendly talk. The space inside is half-filled, scattered with an eclectic array of different species wearing the colors of their chosen affiliations.

I spot Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios waiting for me by the bar. Next to him is his partner, Aleksandr Kallus, an Imperial defector who once worked for the infamous Imperial Security Bureau. They wave me over to begin the interview.

Captain Orrelios; Agent Kallus. A pleasure and privilege to meet you both.

[Kallus nods in acknowledgement and sips at his drink. I get the sense he is studying me closely.]

Ah, don't mind him. Just old habits from the war. You can just call me 'Zeb', by the way. All my friends do.

If you don't mind, then I'll do just that.

Sounds great. So, you're here to talk about that goober, eh? About time he got a documentary. Deserves one, just like that Skywalker fellow everyone's talking about.

Goober? You mean Commander Ezra Bridger?

Oh, we're using the official title for him are we? He'd have a good laugh about that. 'Goober' is a nickname me and Sabine used for him. Cause he was a goober - it just fits, you know? Oh, he hated it at first but grew into it over time. Especially since Sabine used it so much. Said it made him feel special, when I asked him about why he didn't seem so bothered by it anymore. She didn't have nicknames for anyone else on the crew. That was always used just for Ezra . . .

[Kallus nudges him with an elbow. The Lasat shakes himself and looks embarrassed.]

Uh, you're not here to listen to all that, though. Sorry. Getting lost in old memories. I figure you want to hear the more interesting stuff.

No, this is perfect actually. This is definitely what I would want to hear in a documentary about Ezra Bridger.

Well . . . if, you're sure. Go on, ask me some questions then. You want to know how we first met?

I'd appreciate if you just wanted to talk more about Ezra himself. What kind of person was he?

[Zeb takes a moment to think about this. Then he points up towards the ceiling, where a row of various stormtrooper helmets - all different designs - hang from strings like grim trophies. With a small smile, the Lasat reaches up and taps one of them, a scout trooper variant.]

He was a thief. When we first met him; a street-rat that hit up the occasional unlucky Imperial patrol for food and supplies. Plucky little kid, if you can imagine, stealing from these Imps and bucket-heads. They would have shot him dead if they caught him - or worse, considering what he turned out to be.

I'm sure you've seen Sabine's mural on Lothal. How strong and serious he looks. Ezra was that, sure, but he was so much more also. If he ever comes back, I'm sure his head will swell just seeing how good she made him look.

He had a collection of these helmets when we took him on the Ghost. Sabine painted a few of them, as a gift. They were always his favorite. Over the years, as he grew up and the war continued, the collection stopped growing. Our enemies were multiplying . . . the goober needed to focus. So, I started to collect them for his sake.

[I observe the collection of helmets and note that there must over a dozen different variants hanging from the ceiling. Almost every type of stormtrooper design is present from the Empire's reign. Some of these would go for an astonishing number of credits on the black market.]

It's quite the collection. I'm sure Ezra would love seeing these.

Yeah. Took a bit to get all of these. He was just a kid, you know? I don't have any other input for this documentary, but I really want you to emphasize that Ezra Bridger was just this pipsqueak when he first joined. None of us knew what would happen to him, or what he would do. Not even Kanan.

He was just a kid who needed a home. So, we gave him that. I didn't always do right by him - to be fair, he was kind of annoying at times like most humans his age - but I hope . . . I hope he knows that I wouldn't change a thing about any of it. He was our kid. We loved him.

[Kallus pats the Lasat's shoulder affectionately. Zeb clears his throat, looks away for a moment to compose himself.]

I know you'll probably want to focus on the more heroic aspects of him, but that's how I remember Ezra. He was a goober. He was a kid. He and Sabine shouldn't have been fighting this war; sacrificing so much for it. That's the job for us adults. We're supposed to be making this galaxy a better place for them. Not the other way around.

A thief turned rebel. It's not an uncommon story for those who served in the Rebellion. The Specters were an already diverse group of individuals -

Not individuals. We were a family. Not in the literal or traditional sense, though. Sure, Kanan and Hera took on a more parental/mentor role in the group and, to some extent, you could view Ezra and Sabine as their kids. But it was also more than that. We were more than that.

We bled, suffered, sacrificed, and cared for each other. We cried for each other. And, yeah, we annoyed the kriffing stuffing out of each other. It was . . . in some ways, it was more fulfilling than my time as an honor guard.

How did Ezra fit into your group?

Heh, not easy at first. Hera was the only one who really made an effort at first. Kanan was still reluctant to take him on as a student, despite Ezra being gifted in the Force. Sabine - well, she's Sabine. Also didn't help that the goober had the galaxy's biggest crush on her during those early months.

Poor kid. Looking back on it now, I suppose I could have been nicer. He had to share a room with me, you know. I'm a huge snorer.

[He chuckles at this, sharing a look with Kallus. His partner just rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his drink.]

Yeah, it was rough for that first year. Everyone sort of eased into having him around as a permanent crew member after they had their own special moments with him.

Me and him - we stole a Tie Fighter one time, did you hear? That was a fun joyride. We were sent out to get meilooruns for Hera and . . . things sort of spiralled from there, heh.

When Hera and Kanan found out we were both sentenced to cleaning duties for a solid month. But that wasn't the event that really brought Ezra closer to the crew.

What was it then?

[Zeb takes a long sip of his drink, suddenly looking sad.]

Finding out about his parents. We didn't know . . . none of us know, until we caught up with Ryder - Governor Azadi Ryder, I should say - later on. They were still alive, incarcerated in a max-security Imperial prison somewhere.

After Ezra sent out his message to the sector, they must have heard him somehow. They rallied the other prisoners, started a riot. Ryder was stuck in there too; managed to escape because of their efforts.

Mira and Ephraim Bridger are listed as -

Still missing, I know. But they're dead. Ryder says he saw it happen, and we have no reason to disbelieve him. I know there was no record or recovery of their bodies. Believe me, we tried looking. Once the war ended, Hera and I tried to track down any lead to see if we could find anything - even just a scrap of their clothing for Ezra's memorial.

Nothing. They were lost, just like the countless others the Empire buried.

Just you and General Syndulla? What about Commander Wren?

She was . . . she was dealing with her own personal loss, at the time. We extended the invitation, but she never responded.

I thought the Specters were like a family? But records state that you all went your separate ways after the Battle of Lothal. You led your own squadron of pilots, while Hera Syndulla was promoted to the rank of General. Commander Wren -

Sabine was the only one to stay behind, yeah. We found a holo-recording, stashed away in his old comm-tower. Left there just for her. She changed after watching it. Hera and I never knew what he said to her.

Hera had Jacen not too long after that battle. I took Kallus back with me to La-Liresan, to help fortify their defenses, gather volunteers, and coordinate supplies with the Rebellion. And Sabine . . . well, she had her promise to Ezra to keep.

We lost Kanan and Ezra so quickly, one after the other. It just hurt too much for us to stick together after so much loss. We were all living reminders of what had been sacrificed. And staying on the Ghost - it felt too big, too empty without those two.

[The Lasat takes another big swig of his drink. Kallus glances at him, worried.]

I don't know how Sabine does it. Living there. She never went back home. She could have - but the crazy girl chose to stay. And she lost so much afterwards, too . . .

We all had our own things to focus on after the battle. The war had begun in earnest. The Rebellion had declared itself on a galactic stage after the Battle of Yavin. We were on the run, fighting for our lives, fighting to see another day.

Hera and I . . . we made the choice to move on. She had Jacen, alongside her duties as a Rebellion General. And I found new purpose with protecting my resurrected people on their new planet. We had to move on. Ezra would have wanted us to move on.

Do you remember the last conversation you had with him?

[Zeb seems to shrink within himself.]

I - I don't. I hate that I don't. I can't remember if we spoke before Kanan's death, or after. When Kanan died, everything else after that just turns to a blur.

You'll want to talk with Hera or Sabine, if you're looking for specific details about any of that before his . . . his disappearance.

Official New Republic record states that Ezra Bridger died during the Battle of Lothal. You believe otherwise?

[Kallus' gaze snaps to me, intense. I plow forward with my questions, trying not to show how unnerved I feel from the former ISB's agent scrutiny.]

I don't know. I want to believe, you know? But it's been so long. No one who has disappeared into the Unknown Regions has ever come back. Not even Thrawn came back. Wherever they went . . . there would have been a sign, I know it. Ezra's a smart kid, he would have figured out a way to send a signal or something.

Did he inform you of his plans before he left? Anything about where he planned to take Thrawn?

Ha! That was the whole point. Crazy goober. Part of me thinks he was making it up as he went along. But Ezra was a Jedi. A damn good one, too. Kanan would have been proud to see him at the end, leading the way for everyone.

To answer your question: no. Ezra didn't tell us anything about where he and the purrgils were heading off to. I don't think even he knows. Only the Force knows.

You never went looking for him?

[Zeb is silent, staring into his drink. Kallus watches his partner quietly. After a long moment, he stands up abruptly.]

I tried.

[Zeb turns and leaves through a back door leading into the kitchens. Kallus sees him go and then turns back to me.]

It's a sensitive subject for him, you have to understand. He wanted to look for Ezra.

Why didn't he? Ezra Bridger was his friend.

I forbade him. He was going to get himself killed. Zeb kept volunteering for missions farther and farther from the Galactic Core. Hera and I realized that he was scouting in the Outer Rim, looking for signs - any trace of Ezra Bridger or Grand Admiral Thrawn.

He got too reckless. People on his squadron almost died. After that, he was forced into retirement. Hera's intervention is the only reason he's not rotting away in a New Republic prison right now.

Zeb retired and settled out here? I don't understand. Why didn't he go back home?

[Kallus signs, takes another sip of his drink.]

He's still looking for Ezra, in his own way. Zeb had to get creative, you see. He had been stripped of his license to pilot. So, he found a plot of land on a planet no one was interested in and bought it with his pension. Pitched the idea of a bar for New Republic pilots flying patrol missions way out here as a place to rest and recharge; a chance to stretch their legs, after spending hours in a cramped cockpit.

Pilots who have been flying all over the Outer Rim. Who have probably seen and heard a few interesting things in the course of their duties.

Now you get it. He owns this bar, listens to all the folks who come in. Still looking for leads - anything he thinks could lead to Ezra.

He even named the bar in memory of him. I think he hopes that Ezra might wander through this sector in space someday, see the bar's name, and get curious. A fool's hope . . . but I dare not take it away from him.

But he can't follow up the leads himself, since he no longer can fly.

Correct. So, he sends the information to the one person who is still looking for Ezra Bridger.

Which is . . .

Sabine Wren.

[He pauses, thinking for a moment.]

Are you planning on interviewing her for this documentary?

Yes, of course. It wouldn't be complete without her. Why?

I advise caution. She was the most affected by Ezra Bridger's . . . absence. Time and further tragedies have not made her kind or open to company of any kind. Even from close friends.

[There's a yell from the kitchen. Zeb stumbles out, covered in soot.]

Kallus, the blasted caf maker is malfunctioning again! Help me out here, would you?

[Kallus sighs and rises from the bar. I take this as my cue to leave.]

Oh, by the way. I haven't heard anything regarding this documentary. It seems rather hush-hush for something like this. I've been asking around and no-one seems to know anything.

It's meant to be a surprise for the citizens of Lothal. The anniversary is coming up. My benefactor suggested it as a gift, to help commemorate Ezra Bridger's heroic sacrifice for the planet.

[He narrows his eyes at me.]

A surprise, hmmm? I'm sure. And who is this gracious benefactor supplying the funds for this project?

I'm sorry, I can't disclose that. They are a private person. I hope you understand.

[The former ISB agent stares me down. After a tense second, he relents.]

My apologies. Old habits die hard. If it's alright, could you send a copy to me and Zeb for review once all this is finished? It would be greatly appreciated.

I'll be sure to do that. Convey my sincere thanks to Zeb, if you can.

Of course. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to prevent my partner from burning this establishment down.

Leaving the way I come in, I turn around outside the old bar and take a quick picture, for my own record, of the name now that I know the origin behind it:

EZRA'S ROOST

END OF INTERVIEW 1

NEXT INTERVIEW: GENERAL HERA SYNDULLA

AFTER-REPORT

PRIVATE CONNECTION ESTABLISHED

The Benefactor: Were there any issues?

?????: None. Although the agent accompanying Orrelios seemed suspicious at times. I managed to prevent any further inquiries into my work, however.

The Benefactor: Kallus is intelligent and extremely competent at what he does. Do not underestimate him. It is likely he will continue investigating behind the scenes.

?????: Still unsure what it is you're looking for with these people. Seems like they don't have the information you're seeking. The Benefactor: That is for me to decide. Continue with your work.

?????: Of course. Logging out now.

CONNECTION TERMINATED

#sabezra #garazeb orrelios #aleksandr kallus #sabine wren #ezra bridger #hera syndulla #sabezra fanfiction #star wars rebels #ahsoka #ahsoka show #the interview: part one

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