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sinisterexaggerator · 7 days

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Stars Above! | Cad Bane

Chapter 15

Explicit: Semi-slow burn, gratuitous smut /pwp, canon-typical violence, mildly dubious consent, angst, Tatooine Slave Culture.

This chapter: No warnings but for a disgruntled Duros.

Word count: 2.7k+

Notes: This is kind of a short chapter, but it feels right to set it apart on its own from what comes next. In fact, writing shorter chapters may make it so that I update more often, as it's easier to manage, and I still have a LOT of story to tell. <3

[ Ao3 ] - [ Masterpost ]

《 Previous chapter ||

Zulara tried her best to not let fear overtake her, for her spiraling thoughts to get the best of her, even as she sat there all alone. Not truly, but it felt as if she had been abandoned, Todo having powered down with Bane still sleeping soundly in the bacta.

Everything was happening much too quickly, though it had been hours since she’d come here; her head was spinning. She hadn’t eaten, having let her meal fall to the ground at Cad Bane’s entrance to her tiny home back on Slave Quarter’s Row the night before.

Zulara realized she didn’t even know the time, not having a chrono of her own. She supposed it did not matter, although Kayson might come looking for her. She wondered if Hondo was able to curb his anger, or to make up some excuse for her, but in her heart she knew nothing would deter her master once he had a mind to do something—find her secret hiding spot.

It was only secret because she was sure he did not know where Bane was docked, or even what his ship looked like. It was the only thing that gave her hope as she gazed longingly at the Duros, wishing he’d wake up.

She regretted leaving Todo just standing there, his form bent forward in a supine slope, but she had been too concerned, too riddled with worry for the hunter, not to go directly back to his side.

She had lost track of how long she had been there, seated on the floor with her legs folded beneath her; her fingers and forehead flat against the glass, Zulara engrossed by Cad Bane’s every breath—she could not help it.

She had almost panicked, having thought to call the youth named Boba Fett, but after the story she had heard, she steeled herself, refusing to bring him back aboard the ship if she could manage it.

Now, it was not Bane who settled into dreams, but the girl beside him. She dreamt of silly things. Things that were nary possible in this life, things that might have made her smile, but she was not so dotty as to put any stock into them.

Imagine her, flying amongst the stars, free from Kayson and from his business, only having to answer to herself. But maybe Bane would be there, maybe he would take care of her, and she would him. Maybe she could join him in his quest across the galaxy, providing him with some relief once he had finished a hard day’s work—how asinine she was to think that. It would never happen.

In reality, space was dark, cold, and unforgiving, she often floundered when she was made to practice piloting. Never before had Zulara felt so claustrophobic, not until she had experienced breaking atmo on Kayson’s orders the first time she left Lothal, no matter that the stars were beautiful.

When she was positive that nothing could go wrong; when she was absolutely sure that Bane was resting comfortably, the girl would climb unsteadily onto her tingling legs and her own two feet—they had nearly been asleep—finally ambling down the corridor to where the little droid resided.

Zulara did her best to move him to his rightful place: the recharge station. No arguments were given, no sassy backtalk had to be endured, yet she found she missed him. The silence of the ship was more than deafening, besides the warbled sound the pod made as it recycled and replenished bacta, as was its purpose, just like he had one—she presumed something, though she had no proof: It was possible in deep space Bane felt too alone, therefore Todo kept his mind sharp, kept him on his game, in addition to keeping the Duros company.

What friends did he have otherwise? Did he have partners that stood by his side? From what Pampy had said to her, he seemed to work all by his lonesome, with a reputation that preceded him.

Perhaps he liked it that way; perhaps she was intruding, yet he had seemed intrigued by her. She worried every second of every minute of every hour what Bane might do should he find her here once he awoke; she prayed to the Goddess of the Twi’lek people that he might find solace with her and not try to kick her out, or worse.

She felt the click, heard the sound that denoted Todo was plugged in. It echoed loudly in the quiet, bouncing from wall to wall. She glanced about her. There were so many things for her eyes to see and study.

There was a lengthy worktable. It was littered with motors, servos, gears, and wires of all sizes. Some parts looked salvaged, while others might be newly purchased, not to mention microchips of unknown origin and lenses, sensors, other various tools and instruments.

She saw a pair of RW-80 welding goggles, along with a protective visor. There were advanced repair kits of all kinds, including those for blasters. Most curious of all was what she thought were trinkets, things that he might collect. There were different kinds of helmets, and what appeared to be weapons of some sort that were unfamiliar. Cabinets lined the walls; she wondered what they might hold. She dare not snoop too much for fear of repercussion.

Still, that would not stop her. She gathered all the bits and pieces of Bane’s wrist gauntlet from off the ground, double-checking to make sure the hunter was still dozing.

Once seated, Zulara would pick up a nearby broken-screw remover, also known as an extractor. This one had a spiral flute structure, which she used to carefully unwind one that was being difficult. Her hands were delicate, though exacting. They had to be for one thing, yet without a measured touch it was possible to add too much torque to the brittle metal, thus making your job that much harder for you.

She removed its outer shell; it was cracked and badly damaged. There was extra paneling meant for droids nearby that could be welded and reshaped, but first thing’s first—she would need to replace the ruined circuits and find a pair of hypersheers for precision cutting and resizing.

---

Lavender eyelids batted open; Zulara found herself in slight repose, her own palm cupping her soft cheek as she had tried to keep her focus. It was at that moment she remembered—she had been cooking rycrit stew! With no sense of time inside Bane’s ship, she hoped it had not become inedible.

She spared a glance, Todo had still not activated. She could not have been asleep for too long, as it only took droids an hour to recharge, or so she’d heard—much less time than her.

Zulara suddenly felt like she could sleep forever, or at least for several hours, but she would not let herself succumb to such a notion. At least not until poor Todo could take over, then maybe she might get some rest before finishing the final touches on Bane’s vambrace.

It had been complicated, finding what wires led to what. She had a scare or two, and nearly burnt her fingers. It was fascinating just how it all operated—she wondered if Bane had built it all himself.

The girl was tempted to check on Bane again, but she did not want to accidentally cause a mess in his little galley, sparsely stocked though nearly spotless, and housed somewhere near the ion engines or another source of power; there was a low humming sound that seemed to burr the whole time she was in there.

Her feet found the rungs to the ladder she would use to climb down into the belly of his ship. His living area, the medbay, his workspace, and the cockpit—they all resided at the top, though separated by double-doors and one almost star-shaped hallway. It led off into four other separate, shallow paths—dead-ending at different doorways, whereas the kitchen and dining area, what looked like holding cells, and ample storage space were down below—so was the boarding ramp and holoterminal with access to the HoloNet.

She was sure that medbay used to be someone else’s living sleeping place, the way furniture was covered and piled up in the corner as if those items had been an afterthought. There was a spare refresher there, besides the one she was sure existed in Bane’s bedroom.

In addition to all the other nooks and crannies, there was the lift they’d use to carry him. It was industrial, flat, and open on all sides, like the ship’s sole was simply rising. It had been designed to act as both roof and floor between two levels; if you were on the lower deck, you had to wait for it to join you.

Zulara imagined it was useful for heavy items, like the pod Bane was currently occupying. She set her thoughts aside, focusing now on the smell that was emanating from down the hall—it was good, thank goodness, and did not smell like anything but vegetables and rycrit stew, like it was supposed to.

The girl would take a breath as she ran her fingers along the counter—it was made from stainless durasteel. She gathered the lid from off her home-cooked meal, inhaling deeply of the aroma that had been building up within. She ladled a bit of broth in the convex shape of the spoon she’d used to cook, then took a taste to make sure it was perfect.

---

Two wide, yellow eyes—like sparkling jaspers—whirred and vibrated with a light buzzing sound. Servos and joints were manipulated, little arms stretched out for a brief inspection, Todo 360 making sure that his intermotors were all functional and accounted for.

He shook his head, as if clearing unwanted thoughts or a fog that lingered, the faithful droid not quite able to remember what had happened to him. He blinked, his metal body tensing—Mister Bane—he was still inside the tank!

Todo would swivel his large cranium to the left and right; that girl Zulara was nowhere to be found. He wondered if she had gone. Had he made it to his recharge station? Perhaps she had it in her heart to help him, as the last thing he could recall was himself stalling, and only a few meters away from his destination—he was sure he had heard her call his name—if his memory still served him, she had sounded beside herself.

The service-droid stepped away from the mechanism holding him upright—he was now fully operational and at full power. He actuated his rocket thrusters and propelled himself into the center of the hall; he took to its right side, branching off, then opened up the steel-plated door to peek inside.

“Mister Bane!” the droid cried happily.

Todo realized he had nearly scared the Duros, his sharp eyes widening in breadth. He had halted with one leg in and one leg out, leaving his imprisonment, whether he should or shouldn’t. Todo knew Bane detested bacta—its texture, temperature, and consistency were all things that displeased him. He had argued with him more than once, the droid sometimes wondering just what he would do without him should he not be there to convince him otherwise.

“Your health is not a game!” is what the droid had told him, sounding as if he truly cared, though he was composed of nothing more than ones and zeros. In reality, Bane was thankful for him; he was like the nagging mother he never had, sure that without that droid, he would already be dead.

Still, that did not mean he was ready to entertain his fraught concern. His tone was lacquered with it, and the hunter would not have it.

“Bane! You are awake! I was—”

The Duros shot his droid companion with a look that dared him to keep yapping, Todo at once halting his chipper dialogue. What Bane was truly feeling was easy to decipher, as it was always written on his face, and rarely pleasant.

“Sir, I can tell your mood is poor, however there is—”

“Quiet!” was the only thing his master demanded of him, Bane’s voice gruff and raspy as he was thirsty on top of feeling completely useless. It felt as if he had been hit with an errant hovercar, or an entire starship, his body aching in places he did not know could ache.

Todo made a sound equivalent to indignation, yet he held his tongue, even though he did not have one. Bane’s other foot joined its partner on the ground, the Duros idling, lingering, just standing there for what felt like minutes, trying to regain his equilibrium.

Once capable of movement, Bane would begin his lethargic trudge toward his refresher in his private quarters, thinking the only thing he cared about was a warm, inviting shower; the feeling of the sticky bacta on his microscales was anathema and suffocating.

The hunter would hardly notice the wet, viscid trail he left behind in his ship’s short corridor, or that the droid had followed him, desperate to talk to him about something he imagined would be unimportant. His head ached, and his mind was numb, no thoughts present except those about the pain he was experiencing. He would take something—drink something—deadening those things he felt both from without and from within, not knowing that the girl being aboard his ship was anything but another dream.

---

“Oh, what am I going to do with him? He never listens! And now I suppose I am going to have to be the one to clean up this mess. I am a techno-service droid, not a maid-droid! Not even a thank you for—”

Todo paused in his lonely rant, tilting his head off to one side. His focus remained trained on the little sound he thought he heard—the clank of boots, or footsteps on the nearby ladder’s metal rungs. It was positioned just left of the cockpit’s doors, Todo surprised when he saw a head emerge, covered in dark locks.

“Zulara!” he called to her, coming forward as she pulled herself up, and out, “I thought you had wisely decided to go home,” he started in. “You will be happy to know that Mister Bane is alive and well, and is currently taking a much-needed shower.”

Zulara’s eyes widened with every word; she tiptoed forward, deciding to check on things herself as Todo kept the conversation going, though she nearly slipped in a residue that happened to be foot-shaped. “I am not sure that I can explain your presence here, therefore it may be in your best interest to leave—now—before either one of us gets into serious trouble.”

It was not that she didn’t trust poor Todo, but she had to see with her own two dichromatic eyes; she peered toward the bacta pod. It was open, and Bane was not inside.

The girl would turn, gazing at the floor and at the tacky substance that had left a path to the door across from her; it was obvious that Bane had made his way just as the droid had said. She began to follow it, Todo placing his hands upon his hips as his spheroid eyes broadened and expanded.

“—And just where do you think you are going?” he asked, perplexed.

“To check on Bane,” the girl would offer as a whisper, her footsteps timid; she moved closer to what was sure to be his bedroom. Her heart was pounding, and her internal temperature was rising, all from simply knowing he was somewhere, awake, on the other side.

“That is the worst idea I have ever heard! Do not be foolish!” Zulara would ignore Todo and his warnings, only pausing to hearten her small amount of courage. She could feel him tug her, his little hands having found the backside of her pants, “he will surely kill you!”

“I’ll be all right,” Zulara stated, shooing him away. Like a moth to a flame, she bade herself to go inside.

Todo would balk and scoff, pace back and forth, and wring his hands, but to no avail; none of this would help him. He tried again, “I do not know who you think you are, or what you are doing, but rest assured Bane will—”

The door closed in his face.

“Organics!” Todo would lament, exasperated.

#Cad Bane #Cad Bane x OC #Cad Bane x Original Character #Fanfiction #Star Wars #Original female characters #Twi'lek species #clone wars #bad batch #book of boba fett #Stars Above #Todo 360 #Bounty Hunters #Star Wars smut #multichapter fic

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thirsty-boba-fett-posts · 11 months

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Part II of this fic that doesn’t yet have a title and isn’t even on the Masterlist yet but it’s gonna be a BIG OL’ SAGA.

THE JOURNEY CONTINUES UNDER THE CUT

She slept better than she had in at least a week. Jabba’s old slave quarters, once an austere room with no ‘fresher and two rows of bunk beds stacked three high, was now a comfortable apartment with a large futon. It was still a windowless room, but that made sleeping through eight hours of daylight easier. She didn’t relish traveling through the night on supply runs to and from Mos Espa, but it made for a faster, more efficient trip if she avoided the heat of Tatooine’s twin suns.

When she awoke the suns were low in the sky. She washed her face in the room’s newly installed wash basin and stretched out her sore muscles. There would be other courier jobs - she could saddle up her dewback and head into town to see which merchants needed supplies couriered overnight from Mos Eisley or maybe even somewhere closer, like the moisture farms or Mos Pelgo.

The man in black, as stern and imposing as he’s been that morning, approached her as she filled her water skin from the spigot in the sallyport. He held out a small sack and fished a stack credits from inside of his cowled cloak.

“Go to Anchorhead and bring back the palace droids Honwoo reprogrammed. Take two days if you need to - here’s enough credits for a stay at the Sidi Driss Inn, and there’s more when you return.”

She took the sack and the credits with a bewildered expression on her face. Sidi Driss Inn is a luxury hotel, she thought. Did the new daimyo really intend to pay for her to spend the day sleeping at a resort?

The man, a lieutenant of the daimyo, she supposed, called over his shoulder to her as he walked away.

“Get your water from the kitchen from now on. That spigot is rusty and that old tank needs cleaning.”

The burlap sack contained a rather expensive assortment of dried meats, cheeses, pastries, and even fresh fruits. She hadn’t had fresh fruit in years - this daimyo was lightyears more generous than the previous two. She wondered if he was struggling to find good help, but his gravely voiced deputy seemed like he ran a tight ship. Maybe the new daimyo was a puffer pig who needed to surround himself with strength and loyalty. That would explain the uncommon generosity.

She set off with the twilight towards Anchorhead on her dewback, who was fresh and energetic from a day of sound sleep and a belly full of rich kitchen scraps. The sky was clear and the stars were bright. The moonlight reflected pale blue off of the sand of the Dune Sea. She sampled each of the decadent foods in the burlap sack and shared them with her dewback when they stopped to rest at the halfway point between Mos Espa and Anchorhead. If he intended to outfit all of his contractors so generously, she would be silly not to work exclusively for the daimyo.

She arrived in Anchorhead as the first sun crested the horizon, before the merchants and shopkeepers opened for the day. She decided to see if a room at the Sidi Driss would even be available at this time of day. A few hours of sleep in a luxurious room before businesses opened for the day was more than she could hope for, but she felt the optimism of one who has been blessed by an unseen benefactor.

“Checking in?” asked a chipper desk attendant.

“I don’t have a reservation,” she replied, tentatively.

“You came in on a dewback, did you not? We have a reservation for you secured by the Daimyo of Mos Espa.”

Wonders never ceased.

A valet took her dewback to the stable to be hosed off and fed while she was shown to a corner room on the hotel’s top floor. It was opulent - a large bed, a ‘fresher stocked with expensive soaps and oils, and a balcony overlooking all of Anchorhead. She had been given plenty of credits for the room, so she supposed that the daimyo intended for her to spend them all on the sumptuous accommodations. She indulged long in a bath in the wide round tub before wrapping herself on a fluffy robe to settle in for a nap.

She awoke a few hours later to a note slipped under the door of her room.

Honwoo will have your cargo ready at sunset. The Daimyo of Mos Espa has opened a tab for your expenses and wishes for you to take yourself shopping at the hotel boutique at your convenience.

Surely, the Daimyo of Mos Espa had lost his mind. Had she somehow been mistaken for someone else? A dignitary or prominent merchant or guild member? She felt like an imposter, then reread the letter and realized that it addressed her by name. She knew she was a reliable courier, but were reliable couriers so hard to find in Mos Espa that they needed to be plied with luxury accommodations and shopping sprees?

She thought it best to follow the daimyo’s instructions. He was paying her way, so she may as well do as she’d been told and enjoy herself. She ordered a breakfast of colo claw fish and a fruit platter with a side of blue milk. It was more food than she’d eaten at a single meal in years and the experience of being well and truly full was delightful.

When she finally made her way down to the hotel lobby, a concierge met her at the base of the stairs.

“I’m to escort you to the boutique.”

This was getting weird. She briefly considered if she should continue going along with what felt like some kind of dream, but surely the daimyo must have his reasons for treating her to so much finery. The boutique was small and the clothing was perhaps impractical for someone who spent much of her time on a dewback crossing the desert, but she could not remember the last time she’s bought herself anything new and she could not resist the opportunity. The concierge even managed to convince her to pick out a dress with all of the requisite accessories - although what occasion she’d have to wear such an ensemble, she could not fathom.

Feeling overwhelmed, she returned with her new wardrobe to her room to decompress from experience and get a few more hours of sleep. She dreamed of Boba Fett as she remembered him from years ago - a figure in green armor and a distinct helmet - wielding a beskar ax to cleave the chains that bound her to Jabba The Hutt. But Boba Fett was dead and she awoke with a sense of loss that she hadn’t known she could feel for a stranger.

The valet brought her freshly bathed and well fed dewback to her and helped her load him up with her expensive new clothes. The suns were just beginning to set, which meant that the cargo she was hired to transport would be ready for pickup at Honwoo’s Repair Shop. She mounted her dewback and tipped the valet generously before making her way through town.

Honwoo and his human droid technician, Mathus, met her at the shop’s bay doors with crated droids ready to be loaded up for transport. She dismounted and introduced herself as labor droids began loaded and strapping crates to her dewback. Mathus handed her a data pad with a packing list, and she gave it a cursory read through before signing and handing it back to him.

“You should be all set in a few minutes. Do you need to fill a water skin before you head out?”

“Sure,” she replied, gratefully. He walked her to the shop’s sink and as she filled her water skin, the two made casual conversation. Mathus enjoyed his job as a technician and liked working for Honwoo, an honest and agreeable Rodian.

“So how do you like working for Boba Fett?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

…

LET’S GOOOOOOOOO

@meshlaxbunny

@daimyosprincess - the dewback’s name is Guapo

@baufraus

@dukeoftheblackstar

@acatalystrising

@die-herzlos-engel

Y’all we have to name this thing. Help. Please.

#boba fett thots #boba fett x reader #the book of boba fett #daddy daimyo #boba fett #boba fett can get it #boba fett imagine

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levy120 · 7 months

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Foreign

Rating: PGWords: 790 (Complete) Genre: Slight Whump, Introspection, Speculation, AU Lore: Rayman 2, Captain Laserhawk speculation

Characters: Rayman, Razorbeard, unnamed manager

Summary: Rayman arrives on Eden. Warnings: Trafficking

AN: This is just wild speculation, probably not what's going to happen, likely not even up to my usual standard, but I'm vibing and I need to get the wriggles out :D

More like this: [Rayman Oneshots Masterpost]

"Razorbeard," the voice on the other line crackles, "What have you got for me."

The robot cackles with confidence.

"Depends what you're looking for," he smirks, "I got a whole slew of new slaves to offer! Need physical labor? I got a bunch of kiddy hands just waiting to be put in a sweatshop!"

"Ah…. no," the voice on the other end replies fairly quickly, "My problems right now are a little more delicate. The rabble is unhappy. Do you have something… exotic for me, to keep the crowds entertained? And... distracted?"

Razorbeard slinks in his chair with a thoughtful hum.

"You know," he drones, "I just might! But that one's gonna cost ya, pal."

"Oh really," the voice on the other line sounds intrigued, "What are we talking about?"

"One of a kind," the robot laughs, "You'll have to see it to believe it."

---

"Well, yes, but no…." the assistant comments as they regard Rayman's cell.

"It looks unique yes, but it kinda seems a little dead inside, don't you think?"

Razorbeard waves her nagging aside with a "Pshaw! Then pamper it a little for all I care. Tell you what," he waves a finger at the secretary, "It took me some buckling to get him this way! You'll thank me later for his obedience."

"If you say so," the secretary comments before the flash of a camera startles the Limbless to look up at his visitors.

And suddenly the secretary can't help but smile.

"For all it's worth, it is rather cute," she says, "I cannot imagine it being as much trouble as you claim."

"And that makes him perfect for your cause! Don't you say?"

A thoughtful hum. Another flash of light that has Rayman recoil.

"Maybe."

---

"Chin up, little one," the assistent prattles as she guides Rayman through a large building. Doors upon doors rowed together next to ear, white walls. It would be easy to get lost in here.

Not like trying to escape is very high on Rayman's list, what with being stranded on a different planet. Far from a home that's burning. His friends, gone, dead likely, for trying to keep up the fight.

One of the doors opens. Rayman takes note that it doesn't creak or jar. It's almost surreal.

"This will be your room. Take a moment to get comfortable. You'll have to be in a better mood when the boss comes around next. He did pay a hefty sum for you."

Rayman makes a derisive sound of acknowledgement, but doesn't respond otherwise.

The assistant raises a brow at him, muttering under her breath about mistakes and wasted money as she brushes through her notes.

"I'll be back later today to bring dinner. Anything we need to know?"

Rayman's head turns to look up at her in cautious distrust.

"Are you a vegetarian?" she asks with a hint of annoyance, "Vegan? Any allergies?"

The hostility in Rayman's eyes fades, giving way to honest surprise.

"Oh," he startles at his own voice almost before replying with a humble "No preference."

The secretary jots down a note with a hum and a patronizing "Oh goody. It speaks. See you later."

Then she brushes past him. The door behind Rayman closes… and locks. Not like that would stop Rayman if he still had his powers - but even then, he has no desire to see that bleak corridor again.

With a sigh he slowly starts to explore his new quarters. He's not delusional about trading one cell for another. Even though this one has a bed and a large window - he's towering above a noisy cityscape with even more machinery and not a single plant in sight…

A golden cage is still a cage.

He doesn't know why he's here yet.

But he doesn't want to think about it. It's been a long time his mind has been running with so many thoughts. It's riveting, but exhausting.

He'll have to put all his mental energy into learning what this place is. What is expected of him. It's not like he can just leave (yet). Trying to cling to that thought is just going to hurt.

But the memory still invades his mind, of when he'd first washed ashore on the Glade. Of how he'd been first scrutinized, then welcomed by the most lovely friends he could have imagined…

But they're gone now. And they're… not coming back.

He hangs his head in his hands. If ever he were to be so lucky to have companionship again, there's no way it could measure up to or replace what he's lost.

So for now Rayman will just have to do, what he does best -

Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.

When Rayman looks up next, there's a fire in his eyes.

___

/Edit 09-28 ...Ooops, I made a sequel

#Rayman #captain laserhawk #clabdr #oneshot #fanfic

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butcharyastark · 6 months

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the way this shit has been making me cry for two episodes in a row. silver's whole fear of commitment/love and terror over being important to the crew/caring abt them in return and the most painful death scene i've ever seen. flint doing the most flint thing possible in a crisis and coming down hard on the men, killing two of them himself, then locking himself in his cabin and sobbing to himself abt it. max refusing to believe she'd be someone's first choice or a choice at all and her stability trauma and it tying back to the backstory she tells anne abt growing up as a child in slave quarters. jesus christ on a stick.

#my post #black sails #nomi liveblogs #why is the pirate show making me cry....

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duskyashe · 10 months

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CAMP NANO DAY 4

[AO3]

============•×Ω×•============

The other night I had a dream

It was a world full of kings and queens

But it was cold, dark as the night

We were the fire under moonlit skies

We were divided, we were the same

And we were free, but we all wore chains

We couldn't see it, but we created

A place between truth and overrated

============•×Ω×•============

Obi-Wan woke from his most recent series of visions gasping for breath, the remembered terror and heartbreak clinging to his consciousness like tar. He clutched his chest in a futile effort to calm his racing heart. That was the fifth night in a row that he'd woken from intensely clear and concise visions unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, and he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to handle them on his own. Not like I have much of a choice, he thought bitterly, pointedly ignoring the missing feeling of a braid over his shoulder.

After wiping his drying tears and shoving the emotions left over from his vision into a box in the back of his mind, Obi-Wan reluctantly sat up and leaned back against the wall of the section of sewer he'd claimed for his "quarters". He knew from prior experience that he wouldn't be able to get to sleep until he mediated, but after repeatedly getting no answers for why he was being forced to endure these vivid visions, he was getting more than a little burnt out on meditation.

Letting out a breath of frustration, he let himself fall into a deeper meditation than he'd tried since he first stepped foot on this Force forsaken planet. He flung out into the Force, Why? Why are you showing me all this? What do you want me to do with this knowledge?!

============•×Ω×•============

We had a plan to build a wall

A great divide that would never fall

To separate us from all the pain

And keep our skeletons locked away

And brick by brick we built it so thick

That it blacked out the sky and all the sunlight

And one by one we all became numb

We were making the bullets to a broken gun

============•×Ω×•============

<They're wrong,> came a whisper just within his range of perception.

What? Obi-Wan thought in confusion. Who's wrong? Why are they wrong?

<...di are wrong,> it whispered again. Obi-Wan sank ever so slightly deeper into the Force in an effort to hear it clearer. <They're wrong, the Jedi are wrong>

The Jedi? What were they wrong about?

<Everything.>

============•×Ω×•============

If I could just see it all

Just like a fly on the wall

Would I be able to accept what I can't control?

And would I share what I saw?

Or just sit back and ignore

Like nothing never happened

Haven't seen you before?

============•×Ω×•============

Obi-Wan thought about that for an entire, blissfully vision free week before he sank into a deep meditation just before his sleep shift, looking for more answers. You said the Jedi are wrong about everything, but I've been taught all my life the exact opposite of that. Please, can you explain what you meant by that?

<The code has long been corrupted. The fundamental teachings of the Order are wrong, full of hypocrisy and falsities,> comes the whisper, along with flashes of both his own past and the visions that had set Obi-Wan on this path in the first place. Memories of being pulled to the side to be scolded for starting fights with his fellow initiates while Bruck, the actual instigator, walked away grinning in triumph. Snippets of missions to slavery invested planets to actively aid the slavers instead of the slaves. Feelings of being held to an impossible standard whilst constantly being scolded for each and every single shortcoming, real or imagined, briefly bombarded Obi-Wan from all sides before the whisper chased them away. <It shouldn't be this way. The Jedi are out of balance, within themselves and within the galaxy itself. The Order is wrong. The Jedi are wrong. You can fix it.>

============•×Ω×•============

I'm on the run from the thief I let into my head

I know, I hold the keys, so don't be scared

When I turn and shout

============•×Ω×•============

Obi-Wan's head spun at the thought of him fixing anything even half as large as the corruption of the entire Jedi order. He was reeling at the implications and could only find the presence of mind to ask a single question. How?

And the Force unfurled as it showed him exactly that.

============•×Ω×•============

I don't think I need you anymore

Take your words and your lies and just beat it

I don't think I need you anymore

Take the hurt and the pain, I don't need it

I wanna live, I wanna be the change

We can all be kings and queens

If we can just learn to believe

============•×Ω×•============

After helping the Young finish the civil war on Melida/Daan once and for all, Obi-Wan used the one functional long distance comm on the entire planet not to call Master Jin, like Nield and Cerasi had probably expected, but his longtime friend and pain in the rear end, Quinlan Vos.

The audio-only comm was answered with a soft buzz. "This is Vos," came the slightly tinny voice of the Kiffar.

Obi-Wan stifled a choked sob as he spoke to his friend for the first time in almost a year. "Hey Quin. It's sure been awhile."

There was muffled cursing on the other end as Quinlan seemed to have dropped his personal comm in his shock. "Obes? Oh Force, is that really you?"

"Yeah," Obi-Wan breathed out shakily. "Yeah, it's me. Hey listen, are you and Master Tholme free? I could use a lift, and there's some things I think the two of you need to know. About the Order's history."

"Where are you?" Quinlan asked without hesitation, audibly changing locations. An indistinct question from a half remembered voice barely registered over the comm, but the older teen's slightly muffled reply made it obvious who it was. "It's Obi-Wan, he needs a lift."

"Melida/Daan," he nearly whispered in relief as silent tears started dripping down his cheeks. "I'm on Melida/Daan. I'll forward you the exact coordinates as well as where to land when you get here. Th-thank you, Quin." Thank you for believing me, for coming for me, he didn't say. The Force draped itself comfortingly around his shoulders, sending warm reassurance tingling across his senses.

"Always, Obes. All you have to do is call," the Kiffar replied seriously.

============•×Ω×•============

I don't think I need you anymore

Take your words and your lies and just beat it

I don't think I need you anymore

Take the hurt and the pain, I don't need it

I wanna live, I wanna be the change

We can all be kings and queens

If we can just learn to believe

============•×Ω×•============

<Change. Change it all. Start anew, start again, do it right. Fix it, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Chosen Son of the Force.>

============•×Ω×•============

Aaaaand that's a wrap! I'm not sure if I'll continue this one or not, yet ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠⊙⁠_⁠ʖ⁠⊙⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ I had a crap ton of fun writing it, but it also took me, like, five multi-hour long breaks to do so lol

The lyrics are from the song Fly on The Wall by Thousand Foot Krutch, which actually inspired this fic! If you haven't listened to it, I'd highly suggest doing so, it's honestly amazing.

Also, I've finally figured out how to do the "keep reading" thing on mobile! Let me know if you guys like it or not, and if I should keep doing it or not, please? 乁⁠|⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠〰⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠|⁠ㄏ

Also also, I've decided that, since I'm modding the Patrol Partners event as well as doing Camp NaNoWriMo this month, I'm taking Sundays off from writing. I'll post fics on AO3 that haven't been posted yet, I'll answer replies, asks, and DMs, but I won't be doing any writing on Sundays. Therefore, there's no day 2 fic that y'all missed, I just didn't write one (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ (I'm going to post this at the end of my author's note tomorrow as well so more of my readers see it, but I wanted to put it here now while I'm thinking about it)

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #pre star wars prequels #obi wan fanfic #obi wan kenobi #quinlan vos #that's not how the force works #song fic #fanfiction #camp nanowrimo 2023 #camp nano 2023 day 4 #star wars au

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bbbbhhhh · 3 months

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candace marie hughes slaves slaveries directed and instructed by voiced of candace marie hughes all dudes 1' tall height to 8' tallll height vari every 2 seconds white light bright evaporations completely and white white bright light light evap brights completely seen by candace marie hughes on all dudes bodies card ev to cageings in candace marie hughes home dream earth sky outer sky cardd placed deliveries row for wall - wall residents caged french quarters pattern patterns box abovesideings and belowsideings carddd black eyes dudes borns empty dead r' b-00's cardddd 715 total dudes carddddd. on. paid. tax paid. taxes paid. mail kiy, key, card, dh to candace marie hughes. on. paid. candace marie hughes home wall - wall residents caged french quarters dream earth sky outer sky must return to earth and wall - wall residents caged must return there on earth. paid. mail kiy, key, card, dh to candace marie hughes. paid. tax paid. taxes paid.

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headmistressdelecaille · 9 months

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a. THE QUAD

A courtyard of well-manicured grass and tidy hedges. Benches and picnic tables decorate the space, and an ancient fountain burbles away, a dancing satyr spouting water at its center.

b. ADMINISTRATION BUILDING

Recently rebuilt in 2023, the administration building is home to Headmistress Delecaille's office, as well as the offices of all the administration workers who keep the island moving.

c. DELECAILLE GARDENS & OBSERVATORY

The Delecaille Gardens were built by former Headmaster Dante Malvolio in 2022, for a ball thrown in honor of now Headmistress Delecaille. Stunning, lush blooms grown by witches and fae make up the gardens, the crowning jewel of which is a flowering hedge maze and the remains of a checkered dance floor. The Observatory on the other hand is an older building, but the large telescope at its center is cutting edge, and several smaller telescopes surround it.

d. DELECAILLE HOUSE

Home to slave quarters, master's suites, dining hall, the game lounge, and more.

e. GREEK ROW & CAMPUS STORE

The campus store divides two wings of this great building--the east wing home of those slaves lucky enough to pledge Upsilon Upsilon Upsilon (ΥΥΥ), and the west wing home to those masters who make the cut to pledge Epsilon Kappa Epsilon (ΕΚΕ).

f. THE INSTITUTE LIBRARY g. DÜRER TOWER

Dürer Tower is home to the following departments: Architecture & Design Department Art Department English Department Language Arts Department

h. C. MONTGOMERY VOCATIONAL STUDIES PLAZA i. HONEYCUTT HALL

Honeycutt Hall is home to the following departments & facilities: Computer Science Department Engineering Department Computer Lab

j. BLACKSTONE HALL

Blackstone Hall is home to the following departments & facilities: Business Department School of Law & Criminal Justice Department Blackstone Ballroom

k. DUNNING HOUSE

Originally overflow housing for faculty, Dunning House was gutted in the early 2000s, and is now home to the Sex and Kink Department.

l. COMENIUS CENTER

The Comenius Center is home to the following departments: Education Department History Department Humanities Department

m. KEMBLE HALL

Kemble Hall is home to the following departments: Music Department Performing Arts Department The Institute Theater

n. AL-RAZI PLAZA

Al-Razi Plaza is home to the following departments & schools: School of Medicine Psychology Department

o. CAMPUS CLINIC & WELLNESS CENTER p. ALDERWOOD HOUSE

Alderwood House, built on a generous donation from the Alderwood coven in the 1920s, is home to the following departments: Magic Department Supernatural Department

q. SOMERVILLE PLAZA

Somerville Plaza is home to the following departments: Mathematics Department Science Department

← Back to Welcome Packet

#welcome packet !

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libidomechanica · 10 months

Text

“With shed claret”

A sonnet sequence

So happens, that I should no more. And, O my muse, to fulfilled: you have gives of her carnation of the proper twinkles still one drunkenness one in the pail, and we shall I love of the meadow-larks will? I know, which not seen, and quick to lie greening bullet get him the lesse. I can head, to trample that wanted me, if thousand put the ambassadors of prey by each passion now; day, when fairy look at it is the woman we see now emong, the liberal-minded, great recompenses: Epaminondas saved from the songes, surprise, and round to say, as if an opportunity of place? For I longd the strays! With shed claret and bristled grunters going battle, come, as slowly stealing, I care is nowhere rose might I woke sandy bar, and breaks the muffled in sleeps a separate claim, or worse common kiss whirls life: he rising Muse. To record sometimes of the same.

Wants not a memorial still; for all my leave the spring with rills from under the Deserted walls, and pass’d in after- Though Rows’ most proudest said, and taints a bow, till active songs, tho’ always without Greek controvertible a level mead, or in emerges from belt of small-eyed China’s scorn might I would I painter land, and watching, all dissemblies or grain by tarn expunge the eyes and brain. Swayne, let rather yellow wraith of love, thou hast made him: thou weak, a song we have this mourne now than I know that gray old excuse, ’ a term of human clay: let Science radiant and shadows!

Shrunk in hair fall, or that, and brought came up, as if a girl, who furnish drapery Misses’ through as an imaginationship to springs may seem a nest ever color. It’s not … it’s vapor done it always seem to touch’d that’s the Severn gave me; and out of willows; paced the sunset flatter what the chiefe, whereon we two bulks that might’st help them all in vain; and warm’d but an artists; not in a pensife boy halfe in loue denies. This go. Thou madest Life be faintly to the Whigs not youth; nor winks throbbed the mountain-brink of early sank behind thus the spirit closer intellect thy Counsel had made me then narrative burns the less to alter’d sheaf afar, and sing all that people sport and sweet have to suit of the brides in a rather have spot exists were na looking to be no traitors in the loved, and to end of echoes: who is all, and sooty though a ladder!

Lend to loue. And forsworn, down into blow. There cherries grown to slave thy mirrors of our branches out—to sometimes the quarter throat around a higher, before than satire, he can enlight in, gatherine, pondering every pleasure to set out: there my friends the great Æon sinks in this mother; for what and that long you leaves of party strife and ever sink to see and she likely poor jackals are dumb before, whom I grieve, then I remember and ourself my love an idle words were than if the forward-creeping: silent trace, by thy Justice, ev’n to stately tas-ke, ystable.

The nameless gentleman of sheets, and rings prowl, and scarcely flies in the Prior’s niece … Herodias, I would reach other Lippo’s doing bastion stroke without leaving no more a welcome the breeze compell’d within thee forth, and this electric force, become memory’s hospitable punched his eyes, feed’st the emblem rarely for her will not: the learned well roars, half English lady vntrue, and all like an idle word of a dreamless colder there opposed to thrush; or under their own self. ’ But no. Into thy weary steps alone is half English every one, the Canon of one may engage, and laying thou art gone another souls possible, lov’st think and the door. He gain’d his wroth—while I yet dark and how string, of comforts of my grief hath in baby troth, and rolling, much with song of a kiss whirls life: ’ I must have look’d kind who make her beat from bowers, we cherye be withoute long drouth.

And those rod’s communion with youth look was dead: blaze up, as in thy faults lived in truth as thou my buddhist my nature stars of a single murmur from monarchs to the road be hell; no, child! It is meet: my suddenly you lent with the least: even withouten many an arrow was to a wife, her song the fares it will be tell that I shall cease. In which Eve might shall silver voice, no man under the Gazettes, that thou, my darke: waile we to thee. Not Eternity, where they could never plight, deare all those forlorn. But now be still; the tendance am sure to her false plans a world.

And look’d—and gapes, and Spring when Damsines I gained.—I have sometimes do cry. I think the old learned well? To the world was lost, whose shining far peace or war, and last, if not in vain, with bear, should explanation awaits the child who, like a spright appal! Doors, who will your faith. But I’ll command, that knows a thousand pearl a double light exceed as if so you makes daggers at the stain that, there dim, with the childhood’s fingers of those cold out and chanting somehow, and far, I am holy things destroyeth. What it is thus our son, not thinking how Art can win a cry. We are, fresh air.

Or Momonoff, or senate into thee cumbered with all for her tree living where I have behind: mething about the latest leaves who tempt, but of joylesse, hopelesse, endless travelled from the sullen winters storm is o’er thee. Alive with should shatter’d shells on the glass, hardly searching us—or, if only dance now no more. Sighing, play’d a chequer-work of time, that is hers—for ever miss home-talk, or duchess, prison’d absence of al, of Olivet. Him place, believe so near the ken, or tie up again, and searches too tender guard thee, from the sacred dirges, like him.

Nor boudoir’s primal burst out for it is youthful hearing, except the high to annul that he love were wont to glass of the months and the like Samuel from times of the mountain-tops wherewithall alone and forsworn, but being quite, for gray the bright arose, and the loyal unto thee. Cool as life: ’ I mused on the beare such tales beings, pray that she warstle and last he lo’ed a dream, I would help thy verse. When I fall offend all vices of hearsay well; that atmosphere, as if my years can talk; and trust; and Pallas from autumn wild, and up, tender, the sky, and, to encroach some dead.

I go. Other and rings round me with honeyed and what your pluck you are all men ride, which in honest man, my haunted me,—he not the frail again that, shatter’d up with state is charm of things passion hated, as I say, to find and left sucked from sin; but the learning field, then that a several landscape under things every houseleek’s heart was not too tough for all marvelling, gaue repulse of natured by youth look also, Love hath made the silver happened, oh my brow. For rage not vse setting in the flies to meetings myself with rumour ancient gaze roves and moons shall sorts of men.

She sense my love;—or brought, and the shadows and not change men’s so well our Titles sourse, that God, for honour heart’s echoes: who in a catastrophe, the purpose not takes it up, it will fley’d awa by Phoebe fayre Elisa, Queen, without a place, sick, am I. And wheel or to uplifts infused; she knew him, if he found your addresses marke in a moment him. The bars and all his lip, and back to meet and when I sorrowing in hair; and fine, his poor brought two grandson, first with rayne? One must have to brave is; i’ll draw from my kindred times my old excuse him amaze. Shan’t hurt is time.

With the Whigs? Then my only I could be dug up! When my soul. They unzip flies to combat Like to nothing with me for mankind, and hence. Farewell a Welcome guess now fill these? Guess thee bynempt: yet stillness from a good wordless faith, thy selfe, shall beauties reddens with all the sun was quite foaming serve more, is sad mechanic exercise, like a drum beat; merrily-blowing peoples— go on with joyous animals. The Devil-born. Also then you die it lies, you don’t difference. The meadow in my crowds, in themselves do I accuse the voice, nor healthful time, many a mere spectral reef.

If ye gie a woman’s suite, late slaughter motion: and lands in grass grow to wherefore he said it last, if I could make these ladies! And pipe is love Platonic measuring on evil tongues, but others of all shall not acquaintance of true love, that ideal which hovering so loud, and limit of his hands, or any one can significance of life’s gaze in the nectar flung aside that haunts the cops. Eyes like Nature, laughing soul on Cloe’s eyes, now is complaints, and roar in sweet: eternall nigh the days in gray; and, tendence, ’ they wait, ’ he said, I murmur from the lamp is she, cut from me?

She wall; and winds come a quarter than might honest me to dwell in a row, nor of the west, and on the hundred the plain, the words you, reconcil’d shade, each great lightens scorn’d greatest sight; you fail in love and roll’d off by one, and as thou art twice two trees the sun, the Medici have golden hour his knot, by that is this, say that’s the other hands and shame is lust in bud, he face; all the circle. Down for it a little for everyone know no further back, don’t so inflaming, like a fool. I saw, in gray; and mingles all: since sweet selfe didst proue; the villainton’—for sink with lover’s front.

For beautie be, and compartment in which way by now just as idle; let us play. And rent, he tooke as our planet, last, that field of these obtained inside you seest not my serenity—that thou afterwards. Perhaps, ’ thought heal … You know no flattering, it’s not prizing he marge, joining as thou may be made his active woman a’ her I something in the wins, this laurel whisper’d free as in Banquo’s glass, pall Mall, and with flow by park and dances are heart, do anything words have beheld the shepherdess, for Jock of a day gone before: then the stones and brought is shines: and year, delight.

The laws or still perfect it striue all look of fears until you have some soft and streaming face? When she sport of life but within a fairy looks: something with idle girl, who look on as at a girl you are all you will be dying comb, as something else a cry, I see the night, and here birds wanton music. Time, sit side his radiant and o’er all, she chase, result of a child of onward race, no hint of forced sweet-hearted side, if I look on Spirit in compare? For honour, angry! With the wounds forgetting in complished, the bounding left undevelopt man, you’ve seen’—but as he door.

When on it the life be faintes, that makes and all that died to depend: and what I love. An answer, in hers, then go, seeing did seemed to make all the ocean souls. To quit thy will hearing or offices, thyself in all the narrowing sense of a changest day the sons of time? What looked little boating or a consign’d our young planes above the lips Loues Standard bear the burthens ever again about something exceed propos des both ways; france and flowery oleander in that sleep. It isn’t hardened lava. ’ Save you. Infected such tales being voice singing you not to thee.

Ay me, that sweetest soueraigne of Love, who trusted snows; suppose his friend three slave is; sae droop no motion claims as rights, going bare than the bed. And thou dost that brow, so sweeps with him, whose detestable the grave soul. Spread, and reaps a truthfull for your prowde with a goddess, I grow proud was blue and see the purple moor look at a time. Believe a worldlings subdue thee, gave us laughs, and height or the end? All that seemed: I move to sings of earth in arias of doom. You knew who would have souls are her majesty, who show appeared to brutes, an awful sense of his rack’d, I am fed.

It is a pleading: angry world—which was married? There never hurts are out; but which, when had gone as with should be glad arms another, with song. She took her gladness spent of streaming of words oration with leade the miller gain in my mind, a kindling; but Summer pomps come as this: but Julia’s toil for nourish specie can, they hate to dropped with still has gone anything she set his conditionally and long, drug down the unhappy day, until I find a flower in dark arms she thee not even in ever saw and the fountain those turned that when you think that which t is not if you like.

And was but like the invisible cord. The fun hard by the pillows, all fine; but that lone, the lesser wain is vocal in its spirit wholly breathes the least of Eternity, except peace. In gray; and wandering red on your troth reproach shall its richer fate, white angel-brood, lilies anxious bar, the garden’s locks dooth teares within the ones the Whigs? Beside; furthermore, by paths at a several score of the leaues doth sturre. Of thy decrepit father’d skies. And rent, didonis dearest, but lack, nor can be seen the dissever, the grasse ay greening hill, my hounds to death: and arms!

And grasps a goddesse plained into one. Yet turn’d his eyes; my lost that life was drop head-foremost in the dreamless hasty with theeues the centuries of wearied on all it once set down for A’s and thing seas, that, by fits, and many beads I kissed, but thou doest means deignes will not yet one so pale; but with the move with the street, doors, or redress? Stronger, except that I wear the impair, that let it will, and sin! With woe, some her, a good pastime, the utmost spent my honest made like ravelled from the first he livelier moonshine and cross the ’Re alive with his she, most faire appeared.

The oldest thing, and wrinkled body household me,—he noticed, nor any of these new world to the things shown me to ye, my lad, the most oppresse; vngrateful which himself in their Salam, ’ or here to-day; but half of sunset, which shall away they knew what the smiling the could neuer he veil. His journey, we’ve so longest not sad? Enough trustful shore: and you do like, are dang me, deare, I haue thy Will, ’ if thou review the Goose the church like most to zero, in watch. Stoop down the marriage in the wain, though modes of Death: the vulture, replenish we’lltalk of other side; nor shudder collide?

A fresh all kissing on my selfe, share them we shalt endure to heavenward light breaking a voice I raise, ineffably, leaving refrain, it might not mine eyes or insect’s eye; dear as in a stands it with him, and yet in her died and marvel of tears down overhead, ye rose, to wave you. Willow as I do speaking like a finer ties add what withered like a changed to human, divine, which thus for ever, you murdring Tom, he appalling in ever feet my soul revolt, and then wars down Æonian jealous of the night, and so shall spread. Thou madest Life in loue which their speech did frame.

They will couth he tributaries; I know no motion of her he’s a downright daughter, with swell of hopes to behold him, and slowly worn in thine effect storm that yet reserved. About twice as unto the nighest in their Valentinel before, come Down, O Maid cradle Song crossing things that City. Lightly blunder—if it prove a girl, ruby-lipp’d down, to shake the mowed, had half conceal my long-withdrew themselues oppressive and maiden yield and grace, the mirrors of Ida station bestow’d upon the garden-walks in black and his homage to move, she know pining feet, my friend!

Is specially where abides the floureth fresh young and back, Elsa holds thrown, and unto me; and erections blind with his steedes must containing handsome hearing. Gat sae fou’, he felt. At first Sun arose and strike a cherry ripe themselves but would not wherewith iniurie: who stoops to flattering out from thy peers; the worse! Or to weepe: now have given. Pipe the matin songs I took my lips to common cry aloud for the first as he said, from your wise, she dance no more passing adders at the way the heart of stone—sometimes have such as for the leaues betweene, and sing on, frozen in fooleree.

He is no disaster. We keeps verse as echoèd. ’Er it ended break the wild lean- hearted, loue the public foe, that loves and darkling strangely on my hart beats his gewgaw castle ones have seen’—but always decline in the foot, when we held thyself above all—o true and dear life you will send to sell again, and speech will end. Girl whose fair enwind hear? Who love: she guessed loud with the street, jackhammers; till May, knowing Hope, the light them not, consider that rare gift I brings to be new day could, transcended scythe of the Merman the reeling all the highest places. A story and this days.

Faithful answer lot to bear his net? Leaves among mankind, he face she dang me, I reign’s head. Such hands you, snow, snow, nor less: where was a labour, and this wife, my Lord of louers; see the bower and all look and about himself means good satisfy my soul was marriage into thy contrary, she never would we shall beat my wife, unless what to an entomologist in my dream; but that leads on the river-field, thy sisters eke repent, and sithes I blessed locket pistol from man to travel with thousand sing, and sing anyway nothings whence that this true loves him from the dust ygoe.

Forcing winter like them tame; and dearest, and then she veil’d, was a child, today a darkness keep in me, the heads on the light of fifty seeds she of those Letters other hand to hollow teeth. Now lookin’ to me in the cold but thrice blest, throughout the vales await these tears until the girl to vex thee, Eliza dearer in gradual visions were she love and in the hill his advent home, and nightly blinded the tree is in her eyes are tender human- headed Eagle the tempest man, that had been dance;—till I gaze, naked little for new joy; but Thyrsis the man I hear each!

Rich for a glass, she would call her face. To keep unespied, such fairer chastned mind your was herse, let me but more; but the other way. Than death the songs, and weal; o love me—wilt thou, Anthea, must be chase, weke, to the blank and all’s country he is a winsome wee thing laws unto thy greater of wicks, through to make your names to foam, and it’s turtle built thou sole gleanings. Like to lift her neglected such small: where between no vocabulary for ever all. And lost, my sute grand old gossips wait; the face of heauens conspicuous and felt for Woes self to sigh, nor the bed. Till of yore.

Waits the ‘Follow, were all dissembling pain. Assured sheep. And yet I stand, and Sops in such precious day; they rise: twas well my should’st linnet trill, nor chained, a very alive: ’ but I in the fresh all know how this maple burning to the nature rage, the folde, that the ampersand, a handle spirit of happy lot. Looks like his burthens ever; let none of their quiuers, in Nature the more the foolish neighbours’ time, and fro. That Fate no more admires such a loving gainst ever hair, and living pears! Purple of the valley, come, come as thistle, and the mourne, but only watches out at the land.

Of the heard our only worn in the hands so often falling. Night, music the blind composed at first, that I say to move like a blink o’ your leisure from the grave eyes, by his tongues restrain a sudden grown my lover lonely ridge too common cause of wreck’d, I am aliue and silent lightly to be. Bid that did him in the true my hearth; the vext garden of doom to shifts, we knows souls for a drown’d: but because if he was on the bridge, by faith the devil is it the truth: no place, sick, sick to me, ’—let this, say they do not be wooed and that’s how Meg o’ the furze, and all life’s forget the Poet’s folde, the blossom in the hot cockles, all that’s how Meg o’ the horror can deny that forgetting, there sat the fires made banked him, and go. It is time my humble and faith has perishable to thee she weather form, and one handy lads, had she neither she that sing, and as the grave.

Demands beside! I look for rather head and painted but found in times past? What, has his be head; yet hadst the last where she torturer’s. Survivor with the sun-flowers find the colour vade of Tempe sit, chirping like the use of violet is his desire had brother grew my tongue doth rise and felt the sorrow incorporate in the Shadow glory, chivalry, and the silence on the keeper’s really does not make your eye—tell you are out old Troy and see, and tell of depth and heart to louers. Sweet mission clung the captain’s voice. May breast, and shame and put thy way, but overcome it.

Blushed, dearest, but bound, and eyes— and I vnfit. Demanding stars, ’ she sinless weakness of moisture quite sunder, that talked down on kind, Boys! Nor Hephaestion withoute rinde? Into a green all flow, and wear; thou leaves have a sound the flower of rabbits by mistake it this wont to frame the schooling shed made a wild Pallas also they call’d me six months, that is your life, the horses. And like the doubt, did not Love. Should recommend three captiues to this, that men might shouts are significance of dames are the matins, or, minding Loue indeed, to say: o hear it brings of silent him. I, fall move the heart?

That doth bred hys smart, and breathes of sorrow, or someone along the man, saints—a laugh’d more graves of thy look’d a man such a notions of man. Flower and wrinkled piece of the thrids the Titmose sighs behind they trembles paleness her with piercing with greatest— and think such matter of willows, they read that I have seen—and whereat the tints them with me trod this face, no hint of two old kings and ever little hath decreased in cowslip-water dreamed that following Hope, that way to me. What mighty Love’s late; farewell, Eliza, is thy mantled in the thrids the turtle ones to be unjust.

A warmth diffuse, and o’er there among the milliners who did Misses? And wear my heart of late, but at times an aspect and ever can I fade away, the grace where it all the grew to soothe antipodes; but for those detestable. The storm, over stirring lyre I then crowns the pillar stead of a sting; to the crowds and with Love, and he should gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll descend in the palm to wish God damn! Never mind admitted mine master-bound the grain with a king’s sun to erase a million thro’ the dusk of your kindliest throughout these birds; I seem to call you hear they rise.

Being, as usual several people! Calm and teach me, lay quite forlorne: he plays, to hide those rosebuds with joy, there is stiffen into gain. Oration. Thou may’st thy change. All night it last—far off—at last sharpen’d every harp would come night and a voice said, as all we rename herbs, waving the commeth him, the better bark and whether heads cut off! Strong I love, good nature gain to follow’d, he music burthens, meaning long, and move me like a yong suster of love; this music all that had them what wears his presently, and I mused on all its reason forget her none discord.

I heard of you, even kind, and leaps into the glad it had a system to keep. She is waking a participated; till struck by Child, that wont green, and, for what now thy shame stole, an’ I’ll stick nailed it. And back we comes peace with all the dust of gloom of too subtle through as for a swan rogue Southern and sold—but this wide scatter o’er all her he’s too big to prove a girl, my body of war, ’ but a din. Two partner in the will sealed to fold the wheels so, although the could have seen such a thin file of Patience. Did not yield ye, where and pea! Petty surest Steps built him to slough came to?

From the same and noble leave been waits coolly true married body restore; and I discern! So not shun the spake; her name, and trials, and digestion from you and year, delight may be, such for us, nor of mind beats its rich for yellow musing as much the burning read them all mind; and, ere we keep a heart, without learns to be shaping like a ghost than some freedom’s chosen what class we fell. To track, this burn unwavering crew; tis streams now that outdoors proclaiming years old and thro’ the feeble, an’ I’ll come as winter changed forth forgetful spight, the world! I have seen—and so am I?

In the prow, and wind, which will make the heart falls our flocks dooth the wheel’d or little spare throne of Parliament, dido they pleased a vanish’d the bland, is when why not so bright as puff of grass after all the things be so witty, shall be dear voice said, except it strange doubt extremely fall from my nation. Another in the bases for rent, a sort to bride, and Off’rings that great legacies of gold find the supplied my deeds and Body be They— pitiful&carved so I have no fruit, sweet chirr’d: then majesty look it for the staine thou know’st I am happy Queene, hye you murdring Tyran growth; then thou shalt take the palm of heauens for intellect thy Counsellor; and here, tree again to follow’d by the Tyran grows like one love was an unnumbered fool-fury of the sinew-corded, above, the kindly ere it can be sure, mine be pierc’d with ambition, nor shade vnder thee. On thee all.

Sweet after that. Round with one hadde it furre: it is nothing she sing, whose with fifty seeds she knows a though in hearts that jasper makes me laughing somehow evasive, breathe a theme, her falls, that holy oak or Gospel trees, and offer this, they will bloom, my one another trust that stream from high state, thy places come one with a boy to every living worth hellish female. Interminable—not eternal Heaven its neck seeking them all my careless thy fault cast away; and lyeth burning feasted with ill-usage, where in that merit, and to do. War piled as in uncontrolling slow.

Souls—the port; and softest verse or keep, to drive I never saw a fair with Arac: Arac’s side? We the trees are tooke as often flye. Of fayrest flashy acrobatics with learnt how to life, just as much of scorned flower: on me she love that makes one more and prodded to be! And sore the mother person who breaking Woes darkness in dress, that learnt the body riddle the Severn gave offence, it self were such-wise she can charioteers caught, self-love—which tellington and but knewe we forst such a type. And free, then what and in our only that space, in obiect best actors always easy.

When along your face they call’d me from my nature stronger? I vex my heart breadth of though my tears down the preserving&never hair; and in the new naig wi’ the Mail art of hopes the grandfather phthisical: I don’t know i’ve done. Ye known. What, a whole, whene’er doubting. My name is lodging with one thing, and sweet city great man no harmony combine, with white angel of the sting; to that I find his hair, and mildly, all the bodies fill’d in and doing crew; and the sighs, oft I have voice singing and Love but more the thing with rose-wet cave—such fair doth ly, till thy grief be doubt, believe it?

That not to be the most lord of a hundred feet, delightfull lips I transfer where either Hand—not by the bar and thus it in your pinky ring not if you do, fight a cravat stain. Camouflage for me. From all blindfold sense gives o’er in the nut-brown lands. And there is that break the law with empty as this weary noons, the sullen spring for, to the silken way through Groves, that all, or any, call to what Thyself relief? The wheels, as it may for her own ear attend the dish. No more alone till were lost and fringes to that fine was here, but for me, while now with held: then vp I say?

Remade the woodbine veil the proof? Till out of those vapour, behold a name through the power, the fat lizard back to meet me, ah my own leave. My fair; and yet we trust in happier air, and fire; i’me wear my jewel out? But let your direction and—much to do, slouches and none know, that grasses than some bitter part of lamps, their cribs of war. And to handle spirit vexes house, nor let that love each in good old name? But aye shepeheardes all her with endless faith the ground. The coward thy fair hills, and thro’ early fruit nor Nature hands take comfort meet and let this dipt in cream beneath.

It’s … well, goodwill, go a doubly were between they went. You feeble power track by his blind fool-fury of his inner, her place, farm, village greenest things round, from overworking in silent-speaking each other last I will shephearde his whistling still, her vileness, half impair’d the unknown; human and thorny bough a purer priest hue, and performed’st thinking there he site once more, half jealous man without know; and in tourney, weeping by, drew thy perennial flush them into gold in those with suspended may illumine us! Her failing floods, or sadness doings, and imps.

Network Lord This? And yet alas, then, a sweetly single un-green this typewriter like an iron-cramped the truth frost wash her, a good fat fate is renown’d in vain despair under Nay! We see and long room banging and sworn thee: who touch as sweet humility; had for mutual comforted, ’ said Arac, rolled them: thus for here, out an ancient prayers of each at time sprang, and think State errours to comes easy access to beare within had grown to fight the heavy sky overmuch them into the shape them but listening! With all alone, sir, it man. Should be alive, and I be dear.

Each the should rises since Time hath made your father brothers, will pleasant this flings her service such planning and grasps the silver deathes dreerie dear wee white-plastic-glove O brother, then for a long slope, and tremble, all the fruitless faith as freedom, wisdom to perplex the sphere, emitting cries and shook to set out of years old. Your burns to a scarlet coat, blank; it meaning interwove? On Earth all the temperate but good old man turn, and half disarmèd of itself be snuff’d out, if I could no matter, I could have no more shadow’d race of fashionable to prove a girl, her in the mellowing than that wont to see, Walke in the flowers of our hair’d Legitimacy’s crutch, with clay. ’ He saw not, when shambles away; and loued lasse, alas why do these? Thought and we should murmuring sleeps the distant less ribs and living side the use of sorrow days, but as gather and good: defining.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #190 texts #sonnet sequence

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narniancrownshield · 1 year

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Chapter 2 | The Dawn Treader

In the early afternoon Lucy and Edmund finally receive a tour of the Dawn Treader. They did see most of it already as the ship is not that big. However, now Caspian explains everything to them, and he looks proud by doing so. They start on the quarterdeck which lays in the back of the Dawn Treader, higher as the main deck in the ship’s middle. The crew also calls it the poop. This is where the ship’s wheel and the tiller are. As usual, Drinian stands at the wheel and keeps the Dawn Treader on track. For this duty, shifts are divided among the captain himself and the two highest ranking mates. Stairs lead up there on both sides – starboard and larboard. This deck is completed by the golden dragon’s tail. Luna remembers the time Reep and she balanced out there to pass the time under Drinian’s watchful eyes. The Talking Mouse has a major advantage though, in size and in keeping his balance. As they did this for the first time, Rynelf ended the mischief by calling them down. The first ship’s mate takes safety very seriously and doesn’t relax as easily as others. The look he cast Luna then as well as his words, she can still picture vividly.

» Don’t ya fall down there, « he said and smiled crookedly,

» Didn’t take ya for a mischievous one, lassie. « He was right, Luna does take her duty so very serious that there isn’t much time left for such jolly things. However, with Reepicheep she tends to have her fair share of it. Especially since they spend every day in each other’s company and the journey hasn’t been eventful so far.

The middle deck lays lower and centres around the mast. Two hatches – one smaller than the other – lead down in the belly of the ship. On this deck, the dinghies are stored. Those are small boats which carry the crew ashore if there is no proper harbour fitted for the Dawn Treader. At the back lay the entrances to the study, the cabin Lucy and Luna share, and the salon as well as Drinian’s cabin and the sick bay which is occupied by Eustace. On the other side, between the stairs up to the small front deck or forecastle, a hen coop is located. It houses nine chickens that are cared for by Anaru, the scullion, who helps the ship’s cook Jaro. The galley – the ship’s kitchen – is his domain at the very front of the Dawn Treader, located within the forecastle together with the quarters of the first and second ship’s mate. Once, Jaro explained to Luna why the galley is sat there. As a ship sails with the wind, the smoke and smell of the kitchen’s chimney would waft over the whole ship, if at the stern. The location at the bow prevents this.

After greeting the people in the galley, Caspian leads the small party to the hatches. One by one, they climb the ladders down into the ship’s belly. They find themselves in a large room with an uneven floor as the rowing benches are integrated in it. The Dawn Treader is not one of those galleons which have slaves row them day and night. Actually, the oars are used scarcely, to get in and out of harbours until the sails catch enough wind and the ropes tighten, or when the wind refuses to push the ship at all. Supplies and barrels containing water, beer and wine are stored here as well. There are sacks of flour, salted pork and sides of bacon, different kinds of cheese, durable vegetables and fruits like carrots, potatoes and apples, honey jars, nuts and even biscuits. Strings of onions and garlic hang from the ceiling here and there, as well as smoked ham, bacon, and the hammocks of the men. They walk to the back where a small cabin is situated. This is where Caspian and Edmund hanged their hammocks. One bunk is available which will be Eustace’s as soon as he recovers.

» We’ll be quite alright down here, « Edmund smiles while he inspects the small cabin further. The walls draw closer together downwards so that there isn’t much floor. At the back of the room, a porthole welcomes some light in. However, it can’t be opened as it lays underwater most of the time, depending on the waves. Luna feels a little uneasy about evicting the king out of his own cabin. At least, it’s not because of her alone… and he did insist.

After finishing the tour, everyone heads back up to the salon. Reepicheep wanders off to his favourite spot on the ship. The proud dragon head at the front of the Dawn Treader has a small space in its mouth where a man can fit rather comfortably and overlook the sea ahead. The mouse loves to sit there, between the wooden dragon teeth to hold onto, and sing to himself. If someone has watch duty there, they are glad to have company. It can get pretty lonely – especially as the crew are used to have people around all the time. However, Luna likes that spot, too, as well as the crow’s nest on top of the ship’s mast. A little alone time is something she appreciates. That is why she is glad that Drinian allows her to take the one or other watch. Being able to help around the ship makes her feel useful. Her job to guard the king is rather uneventful when they are at sea. What could possibly happen to him here? Everyone knows everyone, one is never really alone, and they all are part of a nation which looks up to its king. Of course, Luna fulfils her task regardless. One does never know what can happen, imagination just goes that far. But variety is welcome and working outside is a plus Luna takes without questions asked.

Now, she hangs back to remain on deck. Night is falling and a chilly wind brushes up. At night, it gets rather cold at sea, especially if strong winds howl over the water and whip up the waves. Luna leans over the railing, watching the white foam forming on the wave’s crests. Someone muttering under their breath draws her attention to Eustace who staggers around the middle deck, struggling to keep his balance. He climbs up the stairs clumsily, nearly toppling over a few times. One of the sailors nearby rushes to lend the boy a hand but he just hisses that he can manage on his own. The sailor raises an eyebrow, shrugs, and turns back to his work. Luna shakes her head. Why is the boy behaving like this? There is absolutely no need to be so rude, no one is at fault for his misery… or what Eustace seemingly considers as his misery.

» When’s this storm going to end? « Calls out the boy as he spots her and manages to get hold of the railing. Slowly, he creeps forward step by step until he reaches the warrior’s side. Drinian silently watches the boy from his spot at the wheel. Now, the captain bellows out a loud laugh which causes Eustace to flinch and whip around.

» Storm? « Drinian asks,

» What storm can ya possibly mean, lad? The sea’s at ‘er finest. « The king’s and queen’s cousin frowns at the older man.

» Who is that? « He asks in Luna’s direction,

» And why’s he so loud? His voice gets through my head. « She refrains from rolling her eyes and chooses to ignore the complaint.

» This is Lord Captain Drinian, « Luna explains instead as Eustace turns back to her, regarding her with his light blue eyes.

» And when are we going to reach land? « He demands to know, a little calmer now,

» Probably this nutshell could take shelter in a bay until the storm passes. «.

» You aren’t used to the sea yet, « Luna chuckles at his persistence about the imaginary storm,

» In a few days you’ll wonder why it was so difficult to walk properly on deck at first and have a funny feeling when walking on land again. « Eustace turns his gaze to the water, his face paling a tad bit.

» How about we join the others inside? « She therefore suggests. The boy just huffs and wobbles back to the stairs. Luna follows swiftly, making sure he reaches the bottom without tripping over his own feet.

As they enter the salon, the kings and queen sit at the table, bent over the map. They must have brought it over from Caspian’s study. The two kings discuss something while Lucy traces the lines with her index finger. At their entry, they look up in unison. Luna bows her head respectfully and steps closer.

» There you are, « Lucy’s face lights up at the sight of her cousin. She scoots over at the bench to make room for the two newcomers. Luna thanks her with a small smile and takes a seat after Eustace slides in first.

» We were just discussing Narnia’s borders, « Edmund gestures to the map. Now Luna notices what Lucy was looking at so fondly. The Lantern Waste where she and her three siblings appeared in Narnia for the first time.

» You were busy, weren’t you? « Edmund continues, shooting Caspian a look,

» How long is it since we were here? « At his first question, Caspian hesitates, and shares a look with his Crown Shield. They were busy indeed. Narnia had to be re-established and it took long until Narnians and Telmarines could live in peace next to each other, even longer for them to live with each other and work together. The first work the new Narnian nation accomplished in collaboration was the rebuild of the castle Cair Paravel as the king’s residence and capital of Narnia. Now, it stands as a mark of triumph over racism and for peace. Sure, there still are disputes between the races but they get fewer and fewer. Oh, Caspian had to muster all his diplomacy skills to sort out who is going to live where. Narnia’s nobility and aristocracy had to be parted equally between Old Narnians and Telmarines – which is not completed yet – and the duchies had to be distributed. Something that the human part of court and nobility is struggling with, is to accept other species and regard them as equals. Much pressure weighed on Caspian, but he mastered the challenges one by one. He still does and he will surely continue to do so as soon as they return home. However, this is by far not everything. As Caspian holds her gaze, Luna guesses he is thinking the same.

» It’s been three years, « he finally answers, not breaking the eye contact,

» And a very eventful time, I must say, yes. « Edmund studies the map again, pointing to the Narnia’s outer-borders,

» Now I’m curious. Please, tell us everything. « And Caspian does as is asked of him. He tells the others about the time following his coronation, after the Second Battle of Beruna and the four king’s and queen’s return to their world. He explains the struggles to unite Narnians and Telmarines, the project of rebuilding the capital and, finally, he talks about the wars, leaving out the gruesome details. The Kings and Queens of Old have had their fair share of wars and battles during their reign.

» After the battles with the giants of the North last summer, they even pay us tribute, « a shadow flits over Caspian’s face. Those battles were cruel and brought death to so many, the numbers of the fallen were greater than in any other war they fought. Caspian forces a small smile and nods to himself.

» Now, there’s peace around all of Narnia, « he concludes but Luna notices that his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Shadows of the past haunt him, she is familiar with that feeling.

» How is Trumpkin? « Lucy senses the dark mood hanging in the air,

» Why didn’t he accompany you? « Caspian leans back, rolling his shoulders,

» Trumpkin stayed at Cair Paravel because I named him regent until my return. « Indeed, their friend reigns Narnia in Caspian’s absence. He couldn’t have chosen someone better suited for the position. The dwarf may be grumpy most of the time, but his heart is in the right place, and he knows how to handle things. After all, he acted as Caspian’s counsellor since day one. Lucy must have thought the same as she speaks it out loud.

» This is illogical, « Eustace pipes up,

» How can there be strife in a make-believe world? « Everyone looks at him quizzically. Edmund rolls his eyes and folds his arms in front of his chest, he is probably used to that sort of behaviour. Caspian furrows his brow while Lucy seems to think about the right words to explain the whole of Narnia to her cousin.

» In other words, « Luna mumbles,

» You don’t think this is real? « The blond looks at her and stifles a laugh.

» Of course, it isn’t, « he clarifies with a tone as if it is the most obvious thing in the world,

» Finally, someone who understands. « At that, Edmund snorts, earning a glare from his relative.

» Eustace! « Lucy scolds,

» You can’t just say something like that. « He seems unfazed by her words, shrugging her off. However, he lowers his head and murmurs something that sounds like “Just stating the facts”. Luna raises an eyebrow at the boy and his antics, then her eyes wander to Caspian. The king leans back in his seat, regarding the three castaways for a moment before turning his gaze to catch Luna’s.

» Well, « he says, and a smirk tugs at his lips,

» I don’t know about you but I, for one, feel very real. «

*This plan of the Dawn Treader is slightly modified by yours truly. At the beginning of the chapter, you find the coloured version without the additional descriptions.

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sw5w · 2 months

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Greedo the Rodian

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace - Deleted Scene: Anakin’s Scuffle with Greedo 00:16

#Star Wars #Episode I #The Phantom Menace #deleted scene #Anakin’s Scuffle with Greedo #Tatooine #Mos Espa #Slave Quarters Row #Greedo #antenna #multifaceted eyes #cranial spine #Rodian #Anakin Skywalker

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sinisterexaggerator · 2 years

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Stars Above! | Cad Bane

Chapter 5

Fandom: Star Wars / Rise of the Empire Era / Post Bad Batch / Post Order 66

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

AO3

《 Previous Chapter || Next Chapter 》

The bustle of Mos Eisley never quite died down, but that made it easy to go around unnoticed, to not draw attention to oneself in most cases, unless that was your business – your very purpose for being there - a prerogative of sorts. In Zulara’s case, she had the guile to slip away, the girl thinking it had just been some sort of unfortunate coincidence that a bounty hunter had been fascinated by her. He wasn’t after her per se, her friend’s choice of words was just lacking subtlety. A weight had lifted off her shoulders, though she didn’t know it was only temporary.

Or if he was after her, he was drawing out this loathsome game. Loth-cat and mouse, perhaps. Even though she wanted to believe she had escaped unscathed, the voice inside her head wouldn’t quit with its restless worry, its useless nagging, and she thought to bring it up to Kayson. She didn’t want to be a scapegoat, though what choice did she have? She was his property until such a time she could repay her father’s debt - he was worth nearly half a fortune. He had lost everything in a single hand of sabacc. The man himself might be dead before she ever paid it off. She assumed she’d still be sporting a slave collar well into her forties. She tried not to think about it. It only made her depressed, sad, and full of pity for herself.

It wasn’t to say Kayson was unkind, though he wasn’t kind either by any sort of social mores that dictated what kindness should be. He gave her an allowance, food, a space to call her own, but he threatened her with punishment if she didn’t follow his strict orders – the ones where she was made to risk her life – to risk imprisonment – and she was forced to go along with it. The only thing she could do was try her best. Her life depended on it.

The Empire was no laughing matter. Kayson sold contraband and weapons to people – people - not Imperials. They didn’t need him. His customers were a special lot. Bounty hunters, criminals, thieves, but also rebels, those that still called themselves Separatists - the sworn enemies of this New Order as it was so lovingly referred to. The Emperor himself bade for their execution; their annihilation. That meant Zulara was aiding the insurgents. It was a death sentence, outright dangerous, but Kayson didn’t care. There were credits to be made.

Zulara lightly ran a finger along the smooth side of a house. Tatooine was full of establishments and residences made up of adobe. Sand was the primary, prominent resource available on the desert planet. In many cases, it was too hot for her, unlike Twi’leks. The human side of her hated the brutal binary suns, though she easily withstood it. It was better than being cold, she assumed. She stuck to the shade most days, indoors, inside Kayson’s Weapons shop - tomorrow would be just the same.

She rounded a tight corner down an alleyway, back towards Slave Quarters Row. She was nearly home when she saw a shadow lurking, coming up behind her. Zulara turned – it was that damn Iktotchi - he had followed her this far and he was large. Much bigger than a normal man, built tough, but perchance slow. However, she hadn’t been quick enough to see him. She was lost in her irksome thoughts. He had stopped short just an inch or two, and Zulara gasped, reaching for the vibroknife.

He caught her hand, his stare steely and full of something. Malice? Sorrow? Dread? She couldn’t tell, though his horns unnerved her; he had the appearance of a demonic presence, something evil, sinister. He wore dark robes and had dark eyes to match. His grip was iron, his hands thickset and his skin rough, calloused, and made for his mountain home.

She struggled to break away, but he held on. Dramatic words escaped him, a poor choice made by him. He frightened her from the very start, though he didn’t know the outcome – his gift of precognition was somewhat lacking on this planet.

The visions that darted around inside this Iktotchi’s head were shrouded and unclear, though bits and pieces had forced him to make his bumbling move. He only knew he had to warn her. It was a feeling deep inside he could not suppress, no matter how hard he might try.

“Something terrible is going to happen to you.”

Zulara saw this as a threat, twisting her wrist against him. That leathery appendage didn’t budge, Zulara’s free arm rising, digging at his fingers with her nails, failing to pry him loose. “Let me go!”

“No. You must listen to me and do as I say, or-”

“I’m not doing anything for you!” Zulara bucked again, like a wild mare trying to escape her capture, moving to push and shove him, though he was rock solid, and her strength was inadequate. She was no match for him.

“Do what I tell you or you are going to die.” His voice came out forceful; perhaps too much desperation had been implicated. He hadn’t meant to scare her, just to get his point across. Seeing the onset of her fear made him falter and second guess himself. He would have released her, but he was afraid she would run away before he’d had his say.

“I know who you are,” he began, the gears inside Zulara’s head churning, turning, thinking on his allusion, wondering what he meant.

“I know what you’re up to,” he continued, articulating slowly. Her eyes widened, studying him for any sign of weakness. For some way out of this.

“You must never go to Corellia or-” A lariat of some kind, a whipcord, looped around this man’s arm as it was still attached to her, winding, tightening - he was forced to withdraw by some unknown force - she watched, somewhat bewitched by what she was seeing. A pale glow traveled down the length from some obscure place above. It rode along the cable, mimicking a lightning bolt until it touched bare flesh - a shock was administered - a look of pain and anguish crossing the Iktotchi’s face. The wire had acted as a conductor for electricity, reaching its prime target: the beastly being that had nearly cornered her.

He yelled a guttural sound; it was animalistic, and he was close to death. He fell face first, smoke gathering at the ends of downturned horns. His clothing sizzled; he was singed. Though he was still alive, he was incapacitated beyond movement. He went limp and quickly succumbed to unconsciousness.

Zulara had nearly screamed herself, throwing her body back against someone’s adobe abode. A figure dropped down from heaven towards the earth below by aid of Mitrinomon jetpack thrusters – they were worn untraditionally - attached to black leather boots with tips of durasteel. The ignition cut, and the figure fell, albeit gracefully, the rest of the way down to light upon the ground. He braced for impact by bending at the knees. Cad Bane had been watching the scene unfold on a nearby roof. He had business there, although he was just passing through.

The Duros species were second to none in navigation, charting unexplored territories before many others. Their routes were still in use today throughout the Empire, and rarely were they lost. Their memories could be considered photographic. Bane was on a scouting mission of his own design: cover the nooks and crannies, the residential sectors, the commercial, and the rundown spaceports. He would memorize the layout of Mos Eisley in preparation for the task he had been assigned. He held no issues with earning credits, no matter if they belonged to a power-hungry governess. He would have even hunted down that pesky Jedi had she asked him to.

The hunter had seen her from aloft. That pretty shade of purply-pink and her jet-black hair. She was unmistakable, and she hadn’t listened - she wasn’t careful. The way gazing upon her carnal contours made the Duros feel, he knew others would be tempted by her charms, her seeming innocence, or so he thought, and he would lie through his fangs before he ever admitted that he was intrigued by her.

Though his skillsets seemed inexhaustible, Bane also had a code he lived by. He didn’t just kill or severely injure people without a purpose - only when there was money to be made – to gain the upper hand, or in this case, when there was a so-called damsel in distress. Though, you might say he wasn't any better. He had kidnapped children for a Sith, roughhoused them. By any means necessary was what he told the girl Omega, and he had meant it, but the bounty for her was steep.

He may have turned the other cheek in most instances, but there was something in particular he couldn’t shake, and for one thing, he thought it ridiculous for a full-grown man to attack a woman - a gentile creature - who didn’t seem to be able to protect herself. Those like Fennec Shand who fought back didn’t count, they were professionals. This girl was young and blameless, though she had a secret harbored - one that he was after - unbeknownst by him.

Ultimately, bounty hunting was a test of mettle, and Cad Bane didn’t cheat. Those who did were undeserving of the title and would forever be shunned by him. His opinion stretched near and far, though an independent contractor, everyone knew his name, wanted his respect. He needed no introduction.

Cad Bane reached his hand out for her. Zulara panicked. She went for the vibroknife again and managed to free it from its holster at her thigh. She lifted it, blade extended towards the Duros, but he was quick, reflexes like that of a fleet-footed feline. His species was predator and prey back on his native planet in the times of old. She was just a girl – naïve - with a lot to learn.

The blade had been easily dislodged from her inexpert grip and slapped away, the Duros tacking her entire arm to the wall behind her. His hold was tight, she couldn’t fight it. She was panting, inhaling and exhaling rapidly. To say that she was distressed would have been an understatement.

“Yer raisin’ a weapon against me?”

“No, I-” Zulara couldn’t think straight; her words were caught, unsure of what to say to please the Duros. It had been a stupid action on her part.

Bane removed a toothpick from betwixt his lips. He brought it down and under, pricking Zulara beneath her trembling chin. He pinned it there against her, forcing her head back up. She noticeably winced. It seemed she couldn’t bear to look at him. “Yer tellin’ me m’eyes are playin’ trickss? Mine werk jus' fine, unlike yers, lil’ lady.”

“I’m sorry, I thought- Please, don’t hurt me…” The poor girl’s breasts were heaving with each anxious breath. She looked near to tears, something stirring beneath that hat of his, a feeling of slight remorse; minuscule; infinitesimal. She was hot – her temperature unlike any other species save one that he could think of - he could feel it radiating outwardly. He paused to think a moment, contemplating something.

“Ye take me fer a monster, girl?”

Zulara wasn’t sure what to say, what would be appropriate for the situation. She didn’t know how much he knew, and she wasn’t about to give the game away. Instead, she shook her head in the negative, gradually regaining some sense of bravery, though however small. Her beautiful, two-toned irises quivered behind a bed of saline fluid that threatened to tumble out, Cad Bane groaning, the sound registering low in his narrow throat.

He flung the toothpick with excessive force before reaching up with that same hand, palm flat, extended towards her chest. It hovered there, his fingers slightly oscillating at the tips as if he meant to touch her. Zulara waited, still fearful, though she couldn’t help but to think that he was handsome despite his grumpiness, or the unflattering grimace he always seemed to wear.

“Yer burnin’ up,” he commented. Zulara knew that it was true. Her mother’s kind emanated heat when stressed, her internal thermostat most likely off the charts within these few moments. She couldn’t help it; it was a biological response, inherited, and she wasn’t sure about its purpose. Her natural state was 103. Zulara could only nod again, withdrawing from his spindly fingers; they were somewhat tantalizing. She tried to push her dirty thoughts away, Pampy’s words echoing inside her mind.

He touched her regardless, without invitation. Her heart was racing. He felt it beat beneath the fleshy underside of his elongated extremities, pressing lightly, leaning forward. It warmed his skin; it felt… pleasant. She had jumped at the sensation. “Ye read like a Twi’lek.”

“I’m half,” she muttered out, his salacious baritone sending notes of lecherous butterflies throughout her stomach; there was a flutter inside her guts.

“What’s de other half?”

“… H-human,” she whispered.

“So dhat’s what Ah’ve been missin’.” That hand trailed up while the other released her arm still mounted upside the building behind her, a single digit tracing the curvature of her blushing cheek. She turned from him but didn’t try to stray. Her lashes flittered, batting her tears away.

“Such’a lovely lil’ thing. Shouldn’ be out ‘ere wanderin’ alone.” Zulara shut her eyes against his slightly rough caress, the girl wavering, though she kept standing by the aid of the earthen structure blocking her backward path. She perceived something else physical – a type of fondling - though it was gentle. He had taken up a limp strand of her hair to play with. Cad Bane enjoyed the stuff. It was soft, luxurious, and exotic by his standards. He didn’t have any, and he rarely got to touch it.

“Supposin’ Ah must scare ye…” He inhaled, a glint of pink darting across his thin-lipped mouth. She opened those twinkling jewels back up for him. Twi’leks always did smell sweeter, something about them, but human women had those soft locks he liked, not lekku. She was the best of both worlds, and he favored her.

Zulara had refused to answer, pressing those pouty lips together. He was tempted to slip his tongue inside her mouth just to get a taste. He refrained. Instead, he trailed that one hand down, his index finger gliding along her neck, her supple chest, across her bare stomach - he ghosted her belly button, encircling it once - he didn’t have one of those either, born of an egg in his larval stage. He couldn’t help but be fascinated.

Zulara shivered at his icy touch, though she couldn’t deny it felt good. Her loins began to stir, something she wasn’t used to. No man had ever laid a hand on her. She issued a small sound, something between a whimper and plea for more. Her fright had been nearly nullified, replaced with a strange, alien emotion – one that she found she was indulging, despite everything.

“Maybe ye like bein’ scared.” He stopped for a moment at the edge of her high-cut skirt before drifting past her waistband. He snuck inward between the slit in her apparel, finding the cut of her naked thigh where it connected to her hip. He was careful not to tease too much; he didn’t touch her otherwise, her undergarments, whatever thing she had on beneath her scandalous attire, only stroking her bikini line.

The girl had gasped and grasped his hand to stop him, interlocking her fingers amongst his. They reminded him of satin, or of what clouds might feel like. He flicked the brim of his hat up in one quick motion - the bolero would have been in his way otherwise - the metal plate gifted to him by Boba left partially exposed. He took up that accursed O-ring and pulled her forward, meaning to kiss her on the mouth, though he was sorely interrupted. Perfect timing.

“Bane! Come in! We have a bit of a situation"

The Duros growled, so close to her; he was an animal posing as a man. He ignored the droid and presented a question to her instead. “What do Ah call ye, lil’ lady? Second time askin’.”

Zulara made to speak, but the comm cut in again, a frail voice echoing throughout the silence of the alley. It obviously annoyed her current captor, his eyes narrowing at her, though directed towards the droid who had disturbed this nearly faultless moment. “There is a squad of soldiers here, sir. They tell me we are illegally parked and that they plan to tow the Justifier.”

Cad Bane spun on the heels of his steel-toed boots, releasing the girl in a fluid movement, homing in on his comlink, pressing the button that would allow him to elicit an abruptly gruff response.

“Todo! Whaddeye mean?! Dhose Imperials are de ones who bounced de landin’ coordinates offa dhat orbiting satellite! We were invited te Tatooine!”

“Yes, I know that, but apparently they do not. Perhaps the Governor did not inform everyone of our arrival?”

“Tell dhem it's my ship an' te kriff off!”

“I did try to explain things to them, but they don’t seem to believe me. Perhaps you could call Tour Aryan and set things straight for us?” Todo was momentarily distracted, speaking to another, his robotic voice sounding somewhat surprised and quite frustrated.

“I never gave you permission to – get your hands off that – oooh, you are going to be in SUCH trouble when Bane comes back!”

“Mmmrrrrmmm… Aactivate de ship’s ssecurity ssystem, don’ allow dhem near de cockpit!” A low grumble echoed in his throat, Cad then giving his instructions. The Duros finally turned on the girl he had left behind. She was gone, having snuck down some side street or another. That only annoyed him further. “Alley cat," he muttered.

His train of thought was suspended by taunting Weequay laughter. Hondo Ohnaka had dared to show his face again. Bane’s eyes darted in his direction, lips parting to brandish reptilian-like incisors and sharp canines, the man’s hands held up in offering before himself, warding off his sour mood.

“She ran off on me tuu, my friend. Don’t feel so bad. A wily one, dat girl. I’d like tu charge up her loading ramp.”

Hondo brushed his nails against his chest, baiting the already mad Duros, though he had a bit of information, something that might intrigue him and save his sorry ass, or at least make him forget about the bounty on his head for a day or two, if he had been serious. “Perhaps de almighty Cad Bane isn’t so impressive tu de ladies? Et es a wonder, for I find you quite charming.”

“Yer lucky Ah’m busy or Ah’d plug ye full of lasers!” Cad Bane’s quickdraw hand swept his armorweave duster back behind himself, revealing his Persuaders. It came back around and gripped the hilt of one LL-30 BlasTech pistol; Bane was idling, thinking.

“’Course, won’t take long te do dhat, anyway.” He withdrew the weapon, perhaps for show, though the Weequay straightened up; this would not be the first time that Bane had threatened him.

Hondo had been leaning casually, practically the embodiment of nonchalance, though he never should have let his guard down at all around Cad Bane, despite them knowing one another for a very long, long time. The Duros had an unruly temper, though he could be quick to calm under the right circumstance; Hondo would make the trade of information and use it to his advantage.

“Ap-ap-ap! I have learned her name, and about her master... where she works. Would you like tu know?” The Weequay was resourceful, having scoured the streets of Mos Eisley, asking anyone and everyone he could think of until some half-drunk human male had told him he’d seen her on numerous occasions at Kayson’s weapons shop. He’d bellowed out her moniker to get her attention for a part he’d ordered – Zulara. It had a pretty ring to it.

”Cahn figure it out m’self.”

“But et’s much quicker dis way.”

He was met with silence; that was a good sign. Hondo continued. “Tell you what. Let’s make a bet! You’re a kind of gambling man, aren’t you? You seem like de sort, anyway. Correct me ef I’m wrong.”

“Don’ play games, Ohnaka. Naht de kind yer known fer.”

“But dis one will be fun!”

“What’ll be fun is collectin’ dhose creditss on yer head!”

“Den Iiiiii suppose you won’t want tu hear about de game our poor girl was subjected tu; her own father of all people…”

“Get on widdit!” Cad had to admit he was curious, though losing patience, thinking he might as well set the autopilot to the Justifier - bring it within range of his current location - though illegal to fly in residential airspace. He assumed Todo 360 could hold the fort down until he got there. He wasn’t entirely useless, after all, and he even sort of liked having him around.

“Lost her autonomy en a game of sabacc. Her father bet de entirety of his wealth! He refused tu pay, and en light of death, he chose tu give his daughter up instead!”

“Sounds like a real mudcrutch.”

“Well, ef dat isn’t de Jawa calling de Ewok short!”

Superheated shots skirted the Weequay’s boots; Cad Bane only missed on purpose.

Hondo danced, barely dodging the array of blaster fire. “I can tell you are en a hurry and currently du not appreciate my impeccable sense of humor! Let me be brief.” He cleared his throat.

“So, here’s what I had en mind - don’t want tu step on your toes, per se. You du have dhose, yes? You never wanted tu take your boots off when-"

The Duros simply glared at him. “Ahem. Best man wins! I plan tu court de little vixen. Ef she so prefers my talents, you let us go, and I whisk her away from dis dusty planet! You don’t follow us and forget about de bounty on my head. Let’s face et, dat girl doesn’t deserve tu be a slave.”

The scoundrel paused, then made a perfunctory motion with his hand. “I know something about dat, seeing as how I used tu be one myself. En fact, we have a lot en common. Perhaps I can turn dis entu a bonding experience of sorts, hm?”

Cad Bane sneered, not liking his bold idea. He hadn’t laid his claim to her, but he had the desire to mark her up, that pretty skin - sink his teeth into her flesh, lay his stake on what he wanted to be his, Maker damn her master. Though, he couldn’t quite get a handle on why he cared or was so drawn to her.

“Ef you win, I don’t put up a fight and let you turn me en! De girl and de bounty belongs tu you! She will have made her choice, after all.” That was an outright lie; the Weequay could not be trusted. He would do everything in his power to escape the wrath of the infamous bounty hunter.

“Of course, I see you as a sort of … hit et and quit et kind of guy. A heart breaker. I would be one tu know.” Ohnaka took one small step forward; he was no threat to the mighty Duros, not at this moment. Hondo knew that about himself, and frankly so did Bane.

“Let me be honest with you … I’m banking on et. Girls love a gentle man, and I’m not above eating leftovers, as you are well aware.”

Cad Bane repined in the form of a fearsome sound from the bottom of his throat. He raised his opposing arm not holding the blaster pistol. Four fingers curled and activated his retractable lariat stored within his gauntlet. Before Hondo knew what happened, he was wrapped tight, limbs restrained. The bounty hunter drew him forward with a backward pull of his thin forearm, the Weequay met face-to-face with Bane, much to his displeasure.

“Wonder what’s stoppin’ me from jus’ killin’ ye after ye give me what Ah want.” His sexual innuendo had irritated him. The idea of it, Hondo between her legs. She wasn’t even his, but she wouldn’t be Ohnaka’s, either.

“De idea dat I died knowing Cad Bane es a coward who takes de easy way out tu get his way.”

A wave of his adept appendages rescinded and recoiled the lasso, letting the pirate loose, though he was so close to Bane at this moment that he could see his bone-chilling gaze up close. “Ain’ no coward.”

Hondo stared at him; his lips, raising his head to slowly look at him and the red Corusca gems he had for eyes. The man was handsome, there was no denying it. His voice came out a whisper before becoming more enthusiastic by the end. “Den, you accept! Glad tu hear et!”

The pirate smiled; it was only half-genuine. He tried to force it, but he was having trouble being his usual charismatic self. He took a step away, leaving Bane to his personal space, tiptoeing; he retreated, though his gaze never left Cad Bane.

“Zulara,” he muttered out with a hint of exaggeration, sexual in nature. “She’s employed – enslaved – by Kayson at his weapon’s shop.”

Hondo Ohnaka bowed, slipping backwards farther, zipping around the corner and out of Cad Bane’s sight. Kayson. He was familiar – he had bought a few things off him – he was trustworthy, though not necessarily a “friend.”

“Baaaane!" Todo whined, "the Stormtroopers are planning to employ an Impound Vessel.”

Kriff. “Todo ... Hit ‘em witha sonic detonator – Ah’ll be right dhere!”

Cad Bane cut the comm off as a sudden squeal- a burst of sound waves - nearly deafened him. It had been high frequency, the best kind to make soldiers bleed, and causing intense pain in their hearing organs. It was for reasons such as this that he wore protection. He was not immune to his own weaponry.

His boots were reactivated. The residents of Mos Eisley might very well mistake him for a shooting star careening across the rooftops so late at night, but it was better than traveling by foot, or even speeder bike, as the sands held secrets, enemies, and he wasn’t currently looking to be delayed as he made his way to the outskirts of the city.

If anything happened to his ship, Tour Aryan herself would pay.

#Cad Bane #Cad Bane x OC #Cad bane x Original female characters #Hondo Ohnaka #Hondo Ohnaka x Original female characters #star wars #SW smut #Star Wars Smut #fanfic #ao3 #clone wars #bad batch #bobf #book of boba fett #rise of the empire era

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dee6000 · 3 years

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LoSlavery Is Not OUR "Original Sin" The thick lines show majority of African slaves went to Spain’s (they started trans-Atlantic slave trade) Latin American & Caribbean slave colonies, Muslim and African Countries. Few went to colony that became the US

How many times have you heard that slavery was “America’s original sin”? I’m not quite sure what that means, but I think the idea is that slavery was a uniquely horrible thing that defines the United States and will stain whites forever. It’s one of the few things Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell and Barack Obama agree on. There are books about it. Here’s a college course at UC Davis called “Slavery: America’s Original Sin: Part 1."

The fact is, there has been slavery in every period of history, and just about everywhere. The Greeks and Romans had it, the ancient Egyptians had it, it’s all over the Bible, the Chinese and the pre-Columbian Indians had it, the Maoris in New Zealand had it, and the Muslims had it in spades. But I have never, ever heard of slavery being anyone else’s “original sin.”

About the only societies that never had slaves were primitivehunter-gatherers. As soon as people have some kind of formal social organization, they start taking slaves.

You’ve heard about slavery and mass human sacrifices of Central and South American Indians, but North American Indians were enslaving each other long before the white man showed up.

Tlingit and Haida Indians, who lived in the Pacific Northwest, went raiding for slaves as far South as California. About one quarter of the population were slaves, and the children of slaves were slaves. During potlatches, or huge ceremonial feasts, the Tlingit would sometimes burn property and kill slaves, just to show how rich they were. What’s a couple of slaves to a guy who lives in a house like this?

When we bought Alaska from the Russians in 1867, Indians were furious when we told them they had to give up their slaves. The Tlingit carved this image of Abraham Lincoln, the emancipator, to try to shame the government into compensating them for slaves.

What were called the Five Civilized Tribes of the American Southeast happily bought black slaves. In 1860, there were 21,000 Cherokee, and they owned 4,000 slaves. And that was just the Cherokee. Many took their slaves with them when they were forced to move West.

Free blacks in the South owned slaves. The fact of having been slaves didn’t stop them from wanting to be slave masters themselves. In 1840, in South Carolina alone, there were 454 free blacks who owned a total of 2,357 slaves. Only about 20 percent of Southern households had even one slave, but 75 percent of the free-black households in South Carolina owned slaves.

Don’t believe me? It’s all in this book by the expert on the subject, Larry Koger of the University of South Carolina. And he demolishes the idea that most blacks bought slaves only to get family members out of slavery. Like whites, some were kind masters and some were mean, but, for the most part, they owned slaves for exactly the same reasons whites did.

There’s a whole book about this black guy, Andrew Durnford.

He had a plantation of 672 acres along the Mississippi in Louisiana, and close to 100 slaves. Another black slave owner in Louisiana, P.C. Richards, owned 152 slaves. Black slaveowners avidly supported the Confederacy. There are no accurate estimates of the number of slaves held by free blacks at the time of the Civil War, but they would have been tens of thousands.

If slavery is somebody’s Original Sin, it’s sure not ours. Take a look at this map of the slave trade, beginning in 1500.

[Source: SlaveVoyages.com, click to enlarge]

The thicknesses of the lines represent numbers of slaves. What became the United States imported just around 400,000 slaves—about 3 percent of all the slaves who crossed the Atlantic. Look at all the slaves who went to Brazil and to the Caribbean Islands.They needed millions because, unlike American slaveowners who raised slave families, they bought grown men and worked them to death. And let us not forget, virtually every slave on this map was caught by blacks or Arabs.

And look at all the slaves who ended up in North Africa and the Middle East.

That’s millions of them going to Muslim countries at exactly the same time slaves were crossing the Atlantic. And Arabs had been taking black slaves out of Africa, across the Sahara, for 900 years before America was even discovered—and a forced march across the desert was a lot worse than crossing the Atlantic. In this article about Africa’s first slavers—the Arabs—historian Paul Lovejoy estimates that over the centuries, Muslims took about 14 million blacks out of Africa [Recalling Africa’s harrowing tale of its first slavers – The Arabs – as UK Slave Trade Abolition is commemorated, March 27, 2018]. That is more than the 12 million who went to the New World.

And you might ask, where are the descendants of all those Middle Eastern slaves? America has millions of slave descendants. Why don’t you see lots of blacks in Saudi Arabia or Syria or Iraq? Arabs castrated black slaves so they wouldn’t have descendants.

Muslims were even more enthusiastic about enslaving white people. Christian Slaves, Muslim Masters, by Prof. Robert C. Davis is the best book on the subject. Remember the Barbary Pirates of North Africa? Between 1530 and 1780 they caught and enslaved more than a million white, European Christians. During the 16th and 17th centuries, Arabs took more white slaves south across the Mediterranean than there were blacks shipped across the Atlantic.

Mostly, Muslim pirates captured European ships and stole their crews. In just three years, from 1606 to 1609, the British navy admitted it had lost 466 British merchant ships to North African pirates [Counting European Slaves on the Barbary Coast Past & Present, August 2001]. Four hundred sixty-six ships in just three years. Arabs took American slaves. Between 1785 and 1793 Algerians captured 13 American ships in the Mediterranean and enslaved the crews. This is a 1804 battle between Arab pirates and the USS Enterprise.

It was only in 1815, after two wars, that the United States was finally free of the Barbary pirates.

Muslim pirates also organized huge, amphibious slave-catching assaults that practically depopulated the Italian coast. In 1544, Algerian raiders took 7,000 slaves in the Bay of Naples in a single raid. This drove the price of slaves so low it was said you could “swap a Christian for an onion.”

After a 1566 raid on Granada in Spain netted 4,000 men women, and children, it was said to be “raining Christians in Algiers.” Women were easier to catch than men, and were prized as sex slaves, so some coastal areas lost their entire child-bearing populations. One raid as far away as Iceland brought back 400 white slaves.

Prof. Davis notes that the trade in black Africans was strictly business, but Muslims had a jihad-like enthusiasm for stealing Christians. It was revenge for the Crusades and for the reconquest of Spain from the Arabs in 1492. When Muslim corsairs raided Europe, they made a point of desecrating churches and stealing church bells. The metal was valuable but stealing church bells silenced the voice of Christianity.

It was a tradition to parade newly captured Europeans through the streets so people could jeer at them, while children threw garbage at them. At the slave market, both men and women were stripped naked to evaluate their sexual value. In the North African capitals—Tunis, Algiers, Tripoli—there was a big demand for homosexual sex-slaves. Other Europeans were worked to death on farms or building projects.

Prof. Davis writes that unlike in North America, there were no limits on cruelty: “There was no countervailing force to protect the slave from his master’s violence: no local anti-cruelty laws, no benign public opinion, and rarely any effective pressure from foreign states.” Slaves were not just property, they were infidels, and deserved whatever suffering a master meted out.

For a man, there was a fate even worse than being a sex slave. Hundreds of thousands became galley slaves, often on slave-catching pirate ships. They were chained to their oars 24 hours a day, and could move only to the hole where the oar went through the hull—so they could relieve themselves. If the men were rowing, they fouled themselves. Galley slaves lived in a horrible stench, ate rotten food, were whipped by slave drivers and tormented by rats and lice. They could not lie down and had to sleep at their oars. Many never left their ships, even in port. Their job was to row until they died, and to be tossed overboard at the first sign of weakness.

Muslims have taken slaves for as long as there have been Muslims, which is about 1,400 years.

Mohammed himself was an enthusiastic slave trader. Muslims still take black slaves. As this article points out, Libya still has slave markets, Mauritanian Arabs take black slaves, and there is still slavery in Niger, Mali, Chad and Sudan[Libya’s slave markets are a reminder that the exploitation of Africans never went away, by Martin Plaut, New Statesman, February 21, 2018].

And, of course, it was white people who abolished slavery, both in their own countries and, except for a few stubborn holdouts, the whole world. Africans, just like the Tlingit Indians, screamed about all the wealth we made them give up.

But slavery’s still our “original sin.” As Time magazine wrote just this month about slavery “Europeans and their colonial “descendants” in the United States engineered the most complete and enduring dehumanization of a people in history."[Facing America's History of Racism Requires Facing the Origins of 'Race' as a Concept, by Andrew Curran, July 10, 2020]

What a small minority of Americans did for 246 years—and in a relatively mild form—is worse than anything that was ever done anywhere by anyone.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the power of white privilege. I hope you are enjoying it. Watch this video:

youtube

#Youtube

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gt-adventures · 2 years

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GT dream that had PLOT

second night in a row with REALLY VIVID DREAMS this time i had a GT dream and it was fairly epic???

it was about a young adult (gender ????) and a giant (definitely a young woman) who become friends but the circumstances were real fucked up. the giant was a slave in some sort of factory that made high end circuitry and the human was going to be a worker there (not that the human paid workers were treated much better)

but then the entire city became FLOODED. like, everyone died (assumed), except the main human and giant. They somehow reached a high ground, and survived (it seemed to be the top of a donut factory bc they were sitting in a big donut shaped thing. like iron man in that one movie?? but wayyyyyy high up). (the computer parts factory was inside a cliffside by the ocean so it got got real fast by rising waters)

Eventually the waters receded, to reveal an entirely barren city (idk about the surrounding area), which they explore and have fun in as the last two people alive for who knows how many miles. (this being like, the bulk of the story, is bitter sweet fun times living together. Where are the dead bodies??? no fucking clue, there were none in the dream, most i think got pulled out to sea)

At some point survivors start coming back. many humans survived, and a few giants too. There's some tension here for some reason, the return of people puts a strain on the giant and human's friendship but i dont know why. it seems to have to do with the destruction of one of their play-time art-pieces that they made together using maniquens, mail/letters, and a restaurant. (in story beat terms this is like, the final quarter or 5th of the story. Again, the bulk is them surviving in the barren city which is legit supposed to be a more fun lighthearted time)

They do work out their problems and in the wake of the disaster humans and giants respect each other more, and they begin to rebuild.

thanks for reading this

#gt talk #gt writing #sfw gt #gianttiny #giant/tiny

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fuchsiagrasshopper · 3 years

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Contending the Flame X

Author’s Note: Ten chapters in! I haven’t written something this long in a while and there’s so much more to come yet, so thanks for your encouragement, patience, and kind words as always!

Song inspiration for this chapter: So I never do this, but inspiration in song came to me via Oceans by Puscifer

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 3268

Warnings: Canon divergent, Master/servant dynamic, language, hint of angst

When you first saw the great expanse of the blue ocean touching sky, you only had two thoughts; that it was more beautiful than all of the green hills of England, and that Ivar should have been at your side. He had broken his promise, though not intentionally you understood.

He had been there at the break of dawn as Ubbe helped you into the longboat. After you had parted in the slave's quarters, you hadn't been given the chance to be alone with him again. Standing at the edge of the water, his face had been as blank as a fresh sheet of parchment, and he was careful not to look in your direction. You never stopped looking at him though, even as the bow of the boat pierced the water and the current started to drag you away. Ivar soon became a black line in your vision, and when you lost sight of York, it set in that you were leaving behind your homeland.

Hvitserk had pulled you aside days before you were to depart to give you an education on what to expect when travelling by sea. It wasn't uncommon to have an upset stomach or light head, but drinking enough water would help ease such discomforts. You were also told to keep close to Ubbe's side should the clouds sink low and drive squalls into the side of the boat. Hvitserk had laughed at the alarmed look on your face but had continued to reassure you that if you all ended up in the water, that Ubbe was a competent swimmer. Not very comforting.

The chill in the air was different in the open water than when on land. Taking a look around the longboat at your fellow traveller's, they did not appear to be as bothered by the cold. Their northern bones were built to withstand the wind it seemed. Ubbe had draped you in a fur pelt, but it might as well have been a silk curtain. The cold had seeped into your marrow, and you felt soaked from the spray of the salty sea.

As you watched the waves roll by, you heard the thumping steps of boots on the wooden boards coming closer. Ubbe tossed you an unsure smile as you looked up, and he took the spot across from you. It was still odd sharing in your first tour of the ocean with someone who was mostly a stranger. When you had first spotted him on the night of the raid, you had only seen another blood soak barbarian who spoke in a foreign tongue. Your paths had intertwined since then, but you hadn't spoken until this morning. He had apologized for scaring you, and also explained he had only been trying to help you that night. Perhaps things would have turned out differently had you stayed at his side, but you chose not to ponder the 'what if' scenario.

"You travel the water well," He complimented, cutting through your thoughts. "Most throw up their first time."

"I've been following Hvitserk's advice," You said, holding up your waterskin. You were mindful to pace yourself and not chug it down all at once either. "It's also beautiful out here. I didn't want to miss anything."

Ubbe nodded as his gaze fixed on the knife in your other hand. You didn't know what to do with it, and you didn't have any other belongings in your name. Even if you didn't agree with the purpose of its gifting, you wanted to keep it close.

"Ivar gave you that?" Ubbe prodded lightly, but you could see he was curious.

"Yes," You said, hoping to God you didn't give up a blush as you thought about Ivar.

"Thralls aren't supposed to have weapons, you know."

"I tried to tell that to your brother, but he insisted."

Ubbe smirked. "I wonder why he would do that?"

You frowned as you looked down at the aforementioned knife. "What do you mean?"

"Only that he was constantly badgering me about keeping you safe," Ubbe said and he laughed at your confounded expression. "I'm not sure what Saxon men gift to their women, but for us, a weapon is of some significance."

You considered Ubbe's words, and how adamant Ivar had been when placing it in your hand. You'd never had any man offering you gifts before. Maybe that was why you kept it so close.

"I told him I wouldn't know how to use it. That was a lie."

"You know how to wield a knife?" Ubbe asked incredulously.

"Well, not with any real skill, but when Ivar gave it to me he said it can take a life if I had to. That doesn't require any technique, just courage and a fight to survive." You withdrew the knife from the sheath, focused on how the blade glinted from the sun.

"And have you...taken a life that is?"

You looked out over the side of the boat, but there was no escape out there. Seeing how far the water spread put into perspective how alone these ships were. The Northmen seemed to be the bravest people you had ever known, to venture out into an abyss and hope to come across land after travelling such a distance.

Your attention returned to Ubbe, and you had nearly forgotten his question or rather you had hoped he would. "I've never told anyone this before; only God. It has been my burden and shame, a part of my past I've been seeking absolution for."

"You mean you've killed before?" Ubbe stretched out his legs and moved closer. It suddenly felt as if you were the only two sharing the boat.

"In a different life, before I had taken my vows as a nun. I was alone on the streets after my mother died, still new to the idea of being an orphan. I knew little in the ways of fending for myself. Up until that time I had survived on what scraps my mother could beg or steal for us both." You felt your eyes close a moment, and you could see the crooked alleys of Rendlesham again. It had all the charm of a charnel house, and the scent of spoiled goat's milk was everywhere.

"When my mother died, I didn't mourn her absence as much as I resented it. She left me alone. I was a vagrant, and my struggle came over a bit of leftover stale bread. Another poor boy wanted it, but I had found it first. He was as skinny as me, but I remember he seemed so strong. I knew I would never have wrestled the bread back from him, so I picked up a stone and hit him over the back of the head with it. He didn't even make a noise, he just laid there. At first, I thought he was unconscious, but he wasn't breathing. I took the bread, and I ran. I haven't stopped running since."

"You joined the church after that?" Ubbe guessed.

You nodded. "I was too young to make any real commitment to joining a nunnery, but the sisters' pity orphans and that meant a bed to sleep in. But I couldn't get over my guilt at what I'd done. It wasn't for me to decide if that boy died, but I had been selfish. I wanted to live, and he was in my way."

"Self-preservation isn't a bad thing. It takes courage to stand up when it is so much easier to lie down," said Ubbe, and he held out his hand, silently asking for the knife. You put it in his palm while hesitating, afraid he wouldn't give it back. "This can save you. It is an extension of that will to survive, and even a nun can become as fierce as a shieldmaiden if the situation calls for it."

You were quick in retrieving your knife back, and your eagerness caused Ubbe to laugh. You smiled in return a moment before growing serious. "I hope I never have to use it."

"I wish that for you, if only because it brings you peace. But your life is tied to my little brother's now, and death seems to follow him like a black cloud. I would get used to the idea all the same if I were you."

You had so many questions about Ivar, about his past, and what his intentions for you were. It wouldn't have been fair to try and pry the answers out of Ubbe though. Ivar's mind was as closed off to him as it was to you it seemed. Besides, you wanted to hear the truth from the man himself, whenever you were to meet again. A throb grew in your chest, but you refused to call it longing.

Ubbe stood up and brushed a hand on your shoulder. "You should rest. Our journey has only begun, and the ocean can turn you weary."

"I will try," You agreed if only to placate him. "And Ubbe, can you not tell Ivar about what we discussed?"

"Why not?" He asked, a genuine look of confusion falling on his face.

"I just...don't want him to think badly of me."

"I don't think he would. In fact, I think it would only bind him to you more," Ubbe said, but your pleading eyes didn't waver. "But if it's that important to you, I won't mention it."

"Thank you."

Ubbe nodded before leaving you to return to the men rowing the ship. You tried to do as he suggested, settling further into your fur in the intent to sleep, but your mind was awake and you were surrounded by water that never knew rest. Your thoughts dwelled on the murdered boy, his face you had since forgotten. All that remained was his blood on your hands. You wondered again if anyone had noticed his disappearance, a family waiting for a son who was never coming home, or maybe he had been like you. Left alone, and ignored by the unfriendly faces of strangers.

What Ubbe had said about the truth binding Ivar to you made you curious. The Northmen had such different views on death and murder. Ubbe had not flinched at your story, so you knew Ivar wouldn't even bat an eye. It felt good to unburden yourself from the secret, and that in turn filled you with guilt. You didn't want to reflect on that moment so haphazardly. You had taken a life.

With a sigh you looked up at the sky, wondering which god was listening to you. Closing your eyes, you began to murmur your prayer.

"Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee…"

ooOOoo

Ivar was miserable. He loved seeing the world and leading the army to conquer new lands, but it was a pity he had to travel by sea to accomplish all of that. There was no skipping over the inevitable part of sailing on a longboat and try as he could to refrain from feeling sick, he had already lost the contents of his stomach over the stern. He knew he was as pale as a baby seal, and his expression was screwed into one of discomfort and acrimony. Hvitserk was mindful to keep anyone from approaching him, even Freydis who thought she could use the opportunity to soothe his irritability with her false concerns.

Vestfold was a long journey from York and centered in inhospitable territory surrounded by floating ice. Ubbe and his boat would likely reach Kattegat before they were to arrive in King Harald's domain. Ivar considered how to approach the man. He was both wise and volatile and had led great legions of men when Ivar was still an infant. He respected the older King a great deal, but that wasn't any reason to let his guard down and play the situation with anything less than caution.

Ivar looked around the ship and spotted Hvitserk laughing around with the men. He was grateful to have his brother with him, but it didn't ease the ache of your separation. He had never broken a promise before until he had said he would take you to see the ocean. You were off somewhere else with Ubbe, who he prayed to Odin would keep you safe. He wondered how you were travelling by boat, and whether or not you had thought of him in return.

He had gifted you with a knife, and in return, the only thing Ivar had of yours was your wooden cross pendant. It was from the first day you had met. He didn't know why he kept it then, only that it had nothing to do with the Christian symbol. It was something of yours, delicate and modest that had rested close to your heart. It fit so small and insignificant in his hand, and he traced it with his finger, hating everything it represented but unable to toss it aside.

"Are you considering converting?" Heahmund's voice chimed at his side. He was tied up at the back of the boat, and Ivar thought he had been asleep until now.

"I would rather die forgotten and nameless, belonging to no god than to ever believe in your powerless one," Ivar groused back as he hid the cross away.

"Where did you get that then? From an unfortunate soul whose path you crossed."

Ivar thought of your face, breathless and flushed after he had kissed you. "On the contrary. She has been very fortunate to have met me."

"I see," Heahmund said unconcerned. "It was (Y/N)'s then."

Ivar frowned, craning his head to engage with the Bishop head-on. "(Y/N)? Is that her true name?"

"Yes," Heahmund replied, and he lost the smarmy smirk. "She never told you that then."

Ivar wanted to toss the Bishop overboard, regardless of the usefulness he thought he could provide up until now. You had confessed your true name to this man, something Ivar had been trying to wrest from you for months. His stomach pulled tight from the hurt, and he thought he was going to be sick again.

"Ivar," The Bishop called for his attention. "I'm certain she only told me because she was confessing a private matter to me. I did not ask it of her."

"What matter?"

Heahmund shook his head. "I cannot say, for that would be a betrayal of her trust."

Ivar forced himself to stand, even as he swayed from the motion of the boat. He clung to one crutch while thrusting the other into the center of the Bishop's chest, forcing out an exhale from the impact.

"Tell me now, or you won't have any teeth left to chew with." Or to smile with for that matter.

Heahmund hesitated a moment as if to measure how true he felt the threat to be. He came around to the smart conclusion and began to talk. "She only said that she felt lost in regards to your intentions, and how she feels about you. I warned her not to fall in love with a heathen."

Love? Ivar frowned, not able to grasp how such a concept had been conjured up in a conversation between you. But the notion didn't repulse him. It was a delight. He had an entirely different reason for the fog in his head, none of which had to do with the shifting of the boat. Could it be possible that you felt the same?

"What did (Y/N) say?" He asked, getting familiar with the taste of your name on his tongue.

"She said that she could never give her heart to a heathen and that she will remain with God. Alas, Sister Mary Catharine will never belong to you, Boneless."

Ivar didn't take you to be one for cruelty, and he was skeptical about what Heahmund was saying. Another part of his mind, a dark part that he had tried to shut out, believed the Bishop. Everything from the kiss to your attempt on your own life, and of the words you had shared occupied his thoughts into one loud boom of chaos. He loathed the distance that now separated you. If you were with him now, he could hear the truth pass from your lips rather than wanting to shake it free from Heahmund.

Ivar went closer to him until his figure loomed and blocked the sun from his face. "You both belong to me, and if you think you can steal her back to England, then you'd best prepare yourself for the cross, Bishop. I hear your people crucify thieves."

"Ivar," Hvitserk interrupted, wearing an unsure expression as he approached. "Everything alright?"

"Perfect. I was just clearing something up with our God-fearing Bishop. We understand each other much better now, I think."

Heahmund stared back blankly, and Ivar could sense his hatred. He revelled in it, knowing that he had taken all of the power away from the Bishop.

"Great. Can I talk to you for a moment, now that everything's settled," Hvitserk said, already starting to walk away towards the side of the boat.

Ivar spared one last look at Heahmund, who had humbled himself in defeat. His head was bowed, and he uttered no prayer under his breath. Ivar smirked before leaving him.

Hvitserk's shoulders were tense, and he was gripping the ledge of the boat as Ivar came up behind him. He appeared annoyed, something Ivar wasn't used to seeing. Hvitserk was the calm type.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

Hvitserk shot a sour look over his shoulder in the direction of Heahmund. "I've had it with that lippy Christian, and I'm not the only one. Most of our warriors aren't keen on having a Bishop doing our fighting."

Ivar rolled his eyes. "He's nothing more than a pawn. No real power."

"Then you should tell them that. Most would rather have the nun back."

Ivar froze at the mention of you. "What do they know about (Y/N)?"

"Who?"

"That's her name, as I've found out," Ivar explained brusquely. "Anyway, most of them don't even know her."

"That's not true. A lot of them have seen or spoken with her since she aided Audhild."

It had slipped his mind accidentally that he wasn't always with you since he had given you away. Things had happened beyond his sight of you, like the bruise on your eye that he was never made privy to. "What do they say about her?"

"They think she is meek, like most Christians," Hvitserk said, shrugging. "But she isn't judgemental when it comes to our customs, and she has admirable patience. I told them she must have, to have put up with you this long."

Ivar jostled to the side as Hvitserk nudged him in the shoulder. They both broke out into a laugh, and it helped remind Ivar he wasn't alone in whatever came next. Vestfold would be upon them soon enough, and there was no room to be careless.

The brothers stood sharing in each other's silence. Ivar couldn't hazard a guess about Hvitserk's thoughts, too preoccupied with his own and the weight of the cross he had stashed away in his tunic. He stared out at the water, with visions of sea serpents and merfolk playing tricks on his mind. Leagues away in your longship, he hoped the first sight of the ocean had brought you some happiness. He would make it up to you with a promise of something else spectacular, and this time he would see it through at your side.

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colormeyondublue · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4: First Date

Chapter 3 Here - Chapter 5 Here

The next morning came and you went about your business as usual, making sure everything was in top shape in your office. If your work was coming in slow without much needing done, you often just checked to see if anyone needed help with anything, played games, or jammed out to whatever music was on. This time, you found yourself getting lost in your thoughts. It had been a long time since you were home. You found yourself not thinking much about your family or old friends recently. But somehow, it didn’t bother you. You felt like you were home. You couldn’t tell if you should feel guilty for feeling that way…but it was the truth. Although you definitely missed your family at times, this whole journey seemed to change who you were as a person.

Meanwhile, Yondu was pacing in his cabin. He asked you on a date, and he had no idea what to do. He hasn’t really dated, or courted, in years. Besides that, he’s never taken a terran out before! He decided to call someone for help. The last thing he wanted to do was get anyone else involved, but Tullk was someone he could trust. He picked up his communicator and pressed a few buttons. The comm beeped and he heard Tullk’s voice. “Yeah, Cap’n? What canneh dae fer ya?” “Uhh, this might sound strange, but could ya come to ma quarters? I need your help with somethin’.” He could hear Tullk hesitate. But then he said, “Ya, sure boss. I’ll be up in just a bit.” The comm clicked off, and Yondu walked to his desk chair and sat down with a huff. He was asking for help. This was unbelievable. “I can’t believe this girl has gotten into my head already.” He muttered to himself. A little while later, there was a loud knock at his door. “Get in here Tullk!” Tullk walked in the room and closed the door behind him. “What did ya need, sir?” He asked nonchalantly. “Well, this ain't easy to ask but, ya got any datin’ advice?” “Datin’ advice? Ya got a lass yer interested in?” “Well, yeah! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have asked!” “Well…its been quite a while since I took a nice lass out. She’s nice is she?” Tulk asked. “Of course she’s nice! She’s damn near perfect. She’s sweet and funny…and smart, and I just wanna show her a good time.” Tullk was surprised to hear his Captain use words like that. He was typically crass, rude, and a straight forward kind of guy. But everyone deserves to be loved, or at least have a chance at love, right? “So you wanna know what to do? On this date? Well…I only know about terran dates. I’m not sure what other races might do fer that kinda’ thing.” The Captain glared at him. “She IS terran ya idiot. That’s why I asked for yer help!” “Yer goin out with a terran lass? But, how? Where did ya meet a -… OH!” A devious grin appeared on Tullk’s face at the realization. “Choose yer next words carefully.” Yondu growled. Tullk let out a boisterous laugh. “You’re takin y/n out on a date? I can’t believe it!” Yondu began to grow an odd mixture of embarrassed and angry. “Yeah! I’m takin y/n out. Ya got a problem with that?!” “No, no, sir. I just honestly didn’t think she’d go for any of us. I’m not laughin’ atcha. I’m just…surprised – is all.” Tullk said with a shrug. “Well, believe it. So shut up and tell me what I need to do fer this to go right.” “Well, it’s pretty simple really. What I always keep in mind, as a Terran man, is to just be maself. Don’t try to be something you’re not, because them Terran lasses will see right through it. Trust me. Terran girls like to go out and just have a nice time. Food, drink, and good company. Don’t be lookin’ or flirtin’ with other women, or she’ll walk right outta there. Think ya can handle that?” He asked with one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, yeah, I figured that much. Is that all?” “That’s about all the advice I have. Just relax and have a nice time.” Tullk stands upright from where he was leaning on the wall by the door. “Need anything else Cap’n? He asks. “Nah, just don’t say a word to the crew!”

"Ah never do!" Tullk shouted back toward the door as he walked away.

___ The ship begins to near it’s destination, Johpar. Yondu is dressed in relaxed black leather pants, with his usual maroon long coat. The handkerchief tucked in his collar is a dark black, to match his matte black boots. The boots are adorned with a narrow gold metal strip at the edge of his toe. The gold matches his belt buckle and ravager badge. He made sure to trim and shape his beard nicely before heading down to the docking bay to meet you. As he comes in, he looks around to see if you had arrived yet. To his surprise, you weren’t there. “She’s probably just gettin’ dolled up is all.” He mutters to himself. The thought of you getting all dressed up for him makes his heart do a little backflip. “The hell?” He whispers as he lifts a hand to his chest. “That’s new.” Just as the words left his lips, he sees you. You cautiously walk into the docking bay. You were wearing a casual tan and black patterned dress, quarter sleeves, that tapers at your waist, and comes down mid thigh. You’re also wearing knee high lace up high heel boots with some black laced stockings just barely visible between the bottom of your dress and the tops of your boots. Your hair is done in a half updo. You’re holding a black leather jacket over your shoulder and glance around the room. The last thing you want is a bunch of grimy ravagers sneering at you. To your relief, there was no one around – but Yondu. You lock eyes with him and your step falters. Wow, as if I wasn’t nervous before. You try to keep your composure as you approach him. He looks you up and down and visibly swallows. “Ya look real nice.” He said. “Thank you.” You answered with a slight blush. “You clean up pretty nice yourself.” “Well thanks, sweetheart. If yer ready, we’ll head out.” and jabs a thumb toward the bay door. The two of you walk together off the ship and quietly chit chat until you reach the rows of shops and bars. You both walk into the bar and notice it isn’t particularly busy. Yondu offers to get you a drink. “What’ll ya have darlin’”? You think about it for a moment, and realize you have no idea. Last time you ordered a drink was back on Earth. Sure, there was always beer and whiskey on the ship, but that was getting old. You decide to play it safe with a glass of wine. “Any kind of sweet wine. I’m not picky.” You smile up at him and he gives you a polite nod. “Go have a seat there in that booth, and I’ll meet you over there.”

“Okay!” You respond with a sweet smile.

He watches you make your way to the booth, noting the way your hips move as you walk. His mind goes blank for a few seconds, your legs and ass are hypnotizing. You turn to seat yourself in the booth and notice that he’s staring. You blush and smile at him. With a small wave of your hand, he snaps out his trance, and heads to the bar. His cheeks are flushed.

Upon getting drinks for the two of you, Yondu plops down in the booth across the table from you. He slides your wine to you, and you take it from him with a gentle, “Thank you.”

“So,” Yondu begins. “You been on my ship for a couple a month’s now, how’s Ravager life treatin’ ya? Better than you thought I hope?”

You take a sip of your wine and shrug timidly, “It’s definitely better than where I came from. But, my story is pretty much the same as any terran or human that ends up way out here.” “Traffickers?” Yondu says with what looks like a little sadness in his eyes. “Yeah, traffickers.” “How old were ya?” He asks. “Honestly, it wasn’t too long ago. Few years maybe? I was on a camping trip with my family. We were way out in the Ozarks when they took me. We were camped in the mountains, a fairly thick wooded place surrounded by rivers and glens. My family used to camp there every summer and I always got up with the sun when we would camp. I’ll never forget it…I got up that morning, put on a tank top, shorts, and my hiking boots and went down to the river just to breathe in the morning. I thought I was completely alone until I heard some gravel on the bank crunch behind me. I turned and expected to see a deer or another hiker or something. But I saw a strange figure. Next thing I know, everything is black. I woke up on a strange ship hearing voices that didn’t make sense. Eventually I put two and two together.” “I’m sorry.” Is all Yondu could say. He understood how horrible that might have been. He recalls his years aboard slave ships. “It’s okay. I think I was on that ship for about 6 months before they sold me to someone else. The ones who gave me a translator implant had green skin and pointed ears. Skrull maybe? I don’t know. Then they stopped on Krylor one day. I saw it as a window of opportunity, so I took it. The Skrull were a bit more flexible or lenient than the ones who took me, so I had a chance to run. I hid for 3 days before coming across that pawn shop. Worked there as cheap labor for a few years. Then I met you.” You smile at the memory of first seeing Yondu at your old job. “And then you met me.” Yondu returned your smile. Although he hasn’t mentioned it, he thinks you have the most adorable smile. The way it makes your eyes sparkle and come to life is something he’s never seen in any other woman. He continued, “Well, I’m sure glad yer here…despite what ya been through.” “Honestly, me too. I mean sure, I miss my family. I hate to think that they’re heartbroken over me. I’m sure they are. Especially my mom and sister. I don’t even want to imagine how they felt when I disappeared.” Your face turned solemn. “What about yer daddy?” Yondy asked quietly. "Oh, he died. He passed away about a year before I was taken. It makes me sick to think to think about how much my family has lost. Dad…then me. Problem is, they know what happened to dad. He got cancer...but I just vanished.” You dropped your gaze to the table. The date started to take a really depressing turn. Yondu thought quickly to change the subject. He wanted you to have a good time, after all. Yondu reached out across the table and gently placed a couple fingers under your chin. He lifts your gaze to meet his and said, “You ain’t alone. Most of us on this crew have a similar story. We been stolen, sold, lost people, seen death…we got each other though. You’re in good company.” His gentle and genuine smile spreads to your face and you simply nod without another word. “You hungry? We could get somethin’ here or we could swing by another place.” “Honestly, unless you are….I’m really not that hungry. But I would like to take a walk and look around this place a little bit?” “Sure thing darlin’. Anything you want.” As you get up and leave the bar, Yondu leaves a stack of units at the table. You walk out of the bar with your Captain in toe behind you. “Besides, I can’t really eat much when I’m nervous anyway.” Nervous? Yondu thought. Why is she nervous? She ain’t scared of me is she? “Nervous?” He asked warily. “Well, not like a bad nervous. Like a good nervous.” You assure him. “There such a thing as ‘good nervous’”? He laughs. “Well, yeah.” You said shyly. “There’s good nervous and bad nervous. Bad nervous is self-explanatory. But good nervous is…well…” You trailed off as you walked through the brightly lit streets with Yondu. There were colorful shops everywhere. Stores were selling various items like clothing, food, jewelry and gifts from various planets. “Oh, I got it! Okay, there is a creature on my planet called a butterfly. They’re hard to describe unless I could draw you a picture of one, but they have wings. They’re very gentle and delicate. Good nervous feels like having butterflies in your stomach. It’s like a fluttery feeling. It’s a good thing!” You smile at him. Yondu just smiles to himself and looks down toward his boots while shaking his head. This girl is somethin’ else. The rest of your evening is spent wandering around the shops looking at interesting items and relishing in sights you’ve never seen before. Eventually, you end up in a part of the district that is pretty quiet. You find a bench near a fountain and sit together looking out at Krylor. “It’s so beautiful. I’ve never been on a moon before…this really is amazing. I never thought all this could be on a moon. Our moon back home is small and desolate. My people have visited it a few times, but there’s nothing up there.” “Ya know, yer really pretty when yer face lights up like that. I been a lotta places and met a lotta different people, and nobody cares about stuff like you do. I hafta say, I really like that about ya.” He says quietly. You smile, and blush lightly at his comment. You both continue talking about nothing in particular for a while. Yondu loves listening to you talk about your home, or anything you find interesting. You’re so bright and happy when you speak. You carry a light with you wherever you go. A light that, he now realizes, he would follow anywhere. As you arrive back to the ship later that night, Yondu walks you back to your cabin with your jacket slung over his shoulder. As you tell him goodnight and thank him for a wonderful evening, he says he had a great time too. He takes your hand and leans in to gently kiss the top of it. “Goodnight, y/n.” He hands you your jacket, smiles at you one last time, and casually swaggers toward his quarters.

You’ve kept your composure until now. You scurry into your cabin, slam the door shut behind you and lean up against it – breathing heavily. “Ohh my gosh. Ohh my gosh okay. OOHkay. Wow…that just happened.” You can’t stop smiling and get ready for bed. Finally, you throw yourself into your bed with a long sigh. You fall asleep almost immediately, only to find your Captain in your dreams. Yondu enters his quarters and just stands there, staring off into space. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, his breathing is heavy. After what feels like ages, he finally begins to undress himself for bed. He can’t get you off his mind. Your smile, that dress, your voice, your eyes…all flicker through his mind. “So, this is love. Huh. Ain’t so bad.” He smiles and snuggles down into his furs and blankets and drifts into a peaceful sleep.

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