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raaorqtpbpdy · 1 year

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Don't Crack Under Pressure

Written for the Phic Phight Prompt: (Not phantom planet compliant) Danny's finally an astronaut! He's somehow got through college, after barely managing to pull through high school. But after he manages to make it into a NASA rocket and travel to the final frontier, his helmet cracks. So how does he explain how he got through the entire day to the rest of the crew with a cracked helmet? (from @shadowpixel)

Chapter 1: Let's Take a Rocketship to Space (I hear it's a real swinging place)

AO3 Link

[Warnings for deep space and assumed character death]

Despite the nightmare that was high school, and just barely getting his diploma, Danny managed to get into college. By some miracle he got his engineering degree, and now he was achieving his lifelong dream of becoming an astronaut. His first mission was with a crew of mostly veterans to investigate a NASA probe that had been sent to Psyche, an asteroid in the Main Asteroid Belt which traveled between Mars and Jupiter.

The probe had sent signals indicating that it had collected samples and was processing data, but due to unknown circumstances, it had suddenly stopped transmitting information about Psyche's surface, even though it was still responding to the deep space optical communication signals. All efforts to repair or reprogram it remotely had failed. That was why NASA had decided to send the Eros mission.

Captain Simon Lao, copilot Denali North, engineer Danny Fenton, and geo-chemist Dr. Ivy Grace Carson were selected for the approximately 2 year mission. Their ship would use the same advanced communications system as the Psyche probe to communicate with Earth using optical signals transmitted via lasers, which traveled faster than radio waves, so they wouldn't be completely cut off from their friends and family, despite traveling farther than any manned spacecraft had ever gone before.

Just five years ago, it would have been a six year mission there and back, if not longer, but using improved ionic propulsion with a little ectoplasmic boost, partially designed by Danny, the speed at which they could reach the asteroid increased dramatically. Once the mission was green-lit, it still took months of testing and training and preparing before the Eros spacecraft could finally launch, but this was it. Today was the day.

"Communications test," Simon said into their headset. "Mission control, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear Lao," came the voice of Miranda in the mission control room. "Check ignition and prepare for liftoff."

Danny felt like he might vibrate right out of his skin in his excitement. He'd been to space once before, that time Technus took over a satellite, but this was different. This was an actual, real life, NASA mission, on a real NASA spaceship with a real space suit and everything. He'd finally made it big. He'd gotten to the place he'd wanted to be since he was two years old and watched the Endeavor launch on TV.

The time leading up to the final takeoff passed agonizingly slowly but at last the countdown commenced. The engines roared to life.

"Nervous, Fenton?" Ivy Grace asked with a smirk. Everyone else in the cockpit had gone on missions for NASA before, making Danny the only newbie, but he was the furthest thing from nervous.

"Not on your life, Doc," Danny responded with a grin. "I've been waiting for this moment as long as I can remember."

The thing about space was that it really wasn't all that far away. Hard to get to, yes, because straight up, and up, and up was not an easy direction to go, but it wasn't necessarily far. The ship took off, and less than ten minutes later it had escaped Earth's atmosphere. Danny stared out the window in awe at the planet Earth growing farther and farther away.

"Go ahead and unbuckle your seat-belts, and you are now free to move about the cabin," Simon said once the autopilot confirmed course and they were on their way.

Danny immediately got out of his seat, almost phasing though his seat-belt by accident in his frenzy, instead of unbuckling it. Long since used to zero gravity from his time in the Ghost Zone, Danny easily flew to the rearmost window to watch his home planet shrink into a speck in the distance while his crew-mates shook their heads fondly. And thus began the ten month journey to the asteroid Psyche.

The beauty of space was something Danny could never get tired of, even if this mission were to last a million years. Even after months in space, his crew-mates often found him floating by the window, just watching the stars outside for hours on end. Of course, Danny had plenty of other things to do, and he did them, but there were also stars. And they were breathtaking. The rest of the crew preferred to pass their time in different ways.

Ivy Grace spent most of her time isolating herself in her bunk to work on her manuscript with headphones blaring the playlists she'd downloaded for the journey. She was the type who never seemed to get lonely. No matter how many times they asked her, she completely refused to tell any of them what her manuscript was about, which led the rest of them to the obvious conclusion that she was writing hardcore erotica, probably involving tentacles.

Their captain Simon, on the other hand, took great joy in dragging the rest of them into social past-times together. Somehow, they knew a ludicrous number of party games and had packed a two terabyte hard-drive full of movies for the crew to watch during the trip. Simon couldn't seem to stand being alone for ten minutes if they were awake. At least they didn't mind quiet though, and sometimes they would sit in silence with Danny, just watching out the windows.

Lastly there was Denali. She'd been an air force pilot before applying at NASA, but only to pay for college. Originally, she had wanted to go to art school, but after discovering a genuine love for flying, she'd decided to go to NASA instead. For the Eros mission, she'd brought along six, cheap, empty sketchbooks, and requested as many pressurized ink capsules for her pen as she could get away with, since regular pens couldn't write without gravity. She was determined to improve her art skills while she was in space for months at a time, and often asked the rest of them to pose for her drawings.

Once a day, they'd receive communication from Earth. Mission control would call to confirm that they were still on course, and there were no problems on the Eros craft, and they'd get messages from their loved ones back home. Denali got to read her mother's updates on what was happening in the tight-knit community she'd grown up in. Ivy-Grace messaged back and forth with her girlfriend. Simon threw a full on party on the Eros when they got the news that their sister was pregnant and they were going to be an auncle.

Danny got to spend an hour and a half once a week decoding his sister's overly long ghost activity reports from Amity Park. Sam and Tucker kept him updated on how life was back on Earth and added vague statements at the end of their messages that told him things were fine in the Ghost Zone too, even though "all quiet under the green sky" looked like utter nonsense to mission control and the rest of the crew. Danny's parents managed to work in how proud they were of him in every single message they sent.

Ten months passed by slowly but surely. The four of them were already used to each other after their time spent in training, and they knew the importance of getting along with people you were stuck with for two years without escape, so no arguments or bad blood ever developed among them.

After a lengthy travel period, the Psyche asteroid finally came within sight, and the crew assumed landing positions.

"Alright, Denali, prep for landing," Simon ordered, slipping seamlessly into their serious captain mode. Denali flipped the appropriate switches to activate the automatic landing system, and prepared to take over manual control if something went wrong.

"Ready to go," she confirmed.

"Then take us down." It was a pretty smooth landing, with only slight jostling and no malfunctions or unexpected obstacles. Once they touched down on Psyche's surface, Simon sent a communication to Earth. "Mission control, this is Eros, we have safely landed on the asteroid's surface and are preparing to track down the Psyche probe for diagnostic, over."

Even at light speed, communication between Earth and the Main Asteroid Belt took several minutes. Eventually, the response came back. "Confirmed, Eros, keep us posted and let us know if anything happens. Good luck, and stay safe, over and out."

"You heard her, finish suiting up and lets go," Danny urged enthusiastically. He was already in his suit, fully ready to step out onto the asteroid, and just waiting on the other three. The plan was to get the Psyche probe and take it back to the ship to repair or reprogram it as needed, and to download the data it had collected on the asteroid so far.

The Psyche probe was a ways away from the ship, but that wasn't too much of a problem. Denali dropped their buggy onto the surface, and she and Danny headed out to pick up the probe while Ivy Grace collected her samples and Simon made sure that anything that might be needed to deal with the probe was ready to go by the time it got back. As the engineer, Danny would be the one doing most of the repairs, although Ivy Grace was on standby with some chemical tests to run, in case something like that was the problem.

As they drove toward the probe, Danny's feet tapped on the floor of the buggy with excited energy.

"Careful there, Fenton," Denali teased. "Looks like you're about to shake right out of your suit."

"Sorry, it's just... I'm happy," Danny told her. "If I were to call up five-year-old Danny and tell him I was driving on an actual asteroid right now, I think he'd be so thrilled his brain would explode and he would drop dead on the spot."

"I dunno, it kinda seems like I'm looking at a five-year-old Danny right now," she ribbed, and he laughed. "I guess it's a good thing you can't make calls to the past then, or else you'd never get here."

Danny laughed harder. "If you think a little thing like death would stop me from getting here, you're dead wrong." It wouldn't, and in fact, it hadn't.

The two of them talked a little more until the probe was in sight, then got out to give it a look. A preliminary once-over didn't reveal any obvious problems, like exposed wiring from a panel that had shaken loose, or significant exterior damage. They hitched it to the buggy, ready to tow it back to the ship.

So far, the mission had gone off without a single snag, and the crew had high hopes that it would stay smooth sailing the rest of the way. However, everyone knows the moment you start to think everything's going your way is the moment everything starts to go horribly wrong. It was at this moment, that things went horribly, horribly wrong.

The latch on the tow cable broke as Denali and Danny were headed back to the buggy. That alone wouldn't be a problem, because there were spare latches, and it was easily replaced. The problem arose when the cable retracted, and the broken latch slammed into Danny's helmet with a horrible crack that resonated through the headset in Danny's helmet and broadcasted directly into Denali's ears.

She gasped in horror and skipped to Danny's side as fast as the asteroid's low gravity allowed. "Oh my God!" she shouted. "Mayday! Simon, Doc, something happened, the tow-latch broke and hit Danny. His visor is cracked. Oh my God, oh my God."

"Denali, breathe," Simon ordered, their voice level but stern. "Assess the damage. If it's not too bad, he could still make it."

"Right!" Denali turned Danny over to get a cleared look at his visor. "Oh no..." she breathed out, eyes stinging with tears. "It's... it's broken, all the way through. There's a hole the size of my fist, oh my God, Simon there's no... there's no way he could've survived. He's... he's gone." Emotion made her words catch on her tongue, and she blinked rapidly to keep from crying. If she was going to drive back to the ship, she had to see clearly.

There was nothing to be heard in their headsets for a long time.

"Well, bring him back and we'll—" Ivy Grace started to say, but Simon cut her off.

"No," they said. "There's nothing we can do for him if his helmet is fully breached. We can't have his corpse decaying on the Eros during the return trip, and we can't bury him on a metal asteroid." No one had anything to say to that. Simon was right, of course, but they didn't have to like it. "Just... leave him where he is and bring back the Psyche probe. We should get to work if we're gonna have to figure out how to fix her without our engineer.

"At least... you know Danny," Ivy Grace said brokenly, "he'd probably be over the moon to die out in space and not on boring, old planet Earth."

"Y-yeah," Denali agreed, and they all politely ignored the way her voice cracked. "I'm pretty... I'm pretty sure I've heard him say something like that before."

"Yeah, me too," Simon said. "I thought it was morbid then, and I still think so. I'll make the report to mission control. They'll probably bring in an engineer to walk us through a diagnostic and repair."

"Right." Denali tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she changed the latch on the tow line and hooked the probe up again. Then she returned to the buggy to drive back all by herself. "I'm on my way back with the Psyche probe... alone."

Next Chapter

#phic phight #phic phight 2023 #danny phantom #astronaut danny #danny fenton #dp #fic #things i wrote #space #nasa #not phantom planet compliant #original characters

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candyrockpop · 11 months

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A Deep Dive

Merfolk!Eddie Dear x GN!Reader

CW/TW -- Cussing, mentions of the ocean, swimming, deep diving, being stranded, near death experience via drowning, unknown sea creatures, possible large sea creature, mermaids

Summery: You are participating in a deep sea exploration when something goes terribly wrong. You black out and when you wake up you're on an island, stranded, and are now in the company of a merfolk who doesn't speak your language. The sun is setting soon and you desperately need shelter, but this merman seems to have a delivery for you...

“Gods, why did I sign up for this?” I thought as I descended into the deep waters of the ocean. I was about 1737 ft (about 529.44 m) down and counting, and my body was hurting pretty bad from the amount of pressure. It’s a miracle that my gear has survived this long and this deep. Hell, it's a miracle I've survived this deep! “Come in diver, are you alive and safe?” Echoed the earpiece in my ear.

Somehow, three years ago, someone invented an earpiece and oxygen tank duo that allowed someone to dive to extremely deep waters without damage to the equipment. Some believed that it was a witch that made it, others thought it was a hoax, but it didn’t matter since it worked.

That was how I got here, far too deep in water that could potentially kill me. “I’m here. All seems safe, I think.” I spoke, but of course, I jinxed myself. After I spoke a low rumble began, and I swore I could feel it in my chest. All a sudden the chord above me snapped, sending me deeper into a seemingly bottomless ocean.

I panicked and tried to swim up to the surface but my oxygen tank was running low and if I went up too fast it could kill me. I was stuck. I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of me, either. I tried to look around, maybe there was a cave nearby? I didn’t find anything and I couldn't help but think, “Is this how I'm gonna die? Stuck in the ocean where no one will ever find my body?”

I heard the beeping of my oxygen tank. It ran out.

I couldn’t breathe, there was no air left.

I blacked out.

I woke up coughing. Did I drown? Is this the afterlife? I reached up to check my pulse, but I still had a heartbeat. I must still be alive, then, right?

I looked around, noticing I was on a beach. It seemed like an island since there was no sign of life other than animals and a person peeking out of the water.

...A person peeking out of the water? My head jerked towards the ocean, eyes skimming the surface before landing on a man's head above the surface of the water. “H-Hey! Can you help me? I don’t know where I am!” I shouted to try and get him to talk since his attention was already on me. It didn’t work. He turned and swam away, leaving me alone. I sighed and my shoulders slumped as my head fell into my hands.

I heard a splash and quickly looked up. The man...was back...

Holy shit, he's a mermaid. “Holy shit you have a fucking tail!” I exclaimed without thinking. He looked at me hesitantly before nodding. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself a little before looking him over. He seemed to have some sort of seal tail, but I didn’t recognize the species. His tail was white with grey freckles, though some colorful freckles, too. His upper half was orange with red hair, too. Not any sort of human, or at least a subhuman species, then.

He made a series of clicking noises and looked worried. I must've zoned out. “Uh, do you know how I got here...?” I were hesitant to ask, but it had to be done. He nodded and made some more clicks, pointing towards himself with a grin. I looked at him, surprised and confused, “So, wait, you saved me? You didn't just see me here and decide to say 'hi!' or something?” He nodded again. He seemed to understand me considering he was answering me okay.

“Okay, so am I near any sort of human civilization...?” I questioned. He shook his head with a frown. I sighed and tried not to laugh out of something akin to frustration. I groan, “Right, I was exploring the deeper waters of the ocean before the chord snapped. Wait,” I paused to look at him cautiously, “how did I survive if I was that deep with no oxygen...?” He at least looked sheepish before clicking more.

He seemed to blush before getting too flustered and jumping back into the water. "Great, now I'm alone, there’s no shelter, and its beginning to get dark." I stood up and exhaled. “Alright, let's see if I remember anything from those TikTok videos, I guess.” I walked to tree line, swatting bugs out of my face and making sure to pay heed to my surroundings and where i stood.

I didn’t walk much further, not wanting to get lost. I made a makeshift tent out of sticks, leaves, more sticks, and broken tree limbs with the leaves attached. “Gods, I hope this works, or that it doesn’t rain...” My thoughts trailed off as I heard more clicking noises in the distance. I groaned quietly, turning around and walking back towards the beach. I made sure to mark the entrance, or at least where I walked, to get to my makeshift tent.

The merman was back, and he seemed to have a sort of messenger bag with him. It was an array of colors, and I don’t know how it was so many different colors since it looked to be made out of seaweed. I mean, I can understand the greens, reds, and maybe the yellows. The blues and purples on the other hand... “You know what? I'm just gonna stop asking questions right now...” I muttered under my breath. The Mer tilted his head. I shook my head in response and he just started pulling things out of his bag.

Were...were those fucking boxes?!

“What the actual hell...? How do those even...? I...” I was so confused. How in the hell did they even fit in there? Was it a magical messenger bag? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was considering mermaids exist. He pushes the boxes towards me with a smile. I cautiously look at the small label on it. It is addressed to me.

Okay, fuck this, this is creepy! I stare at the box for a few minutes, just contemplating on opening it or not. I don’t know whats in that box, for all I know it could kill me! Then again, what if it's somehow something useful...?

I cannot actually be considering this...

Hello! Happy pride month! I'll take this moment to say I'm a proud gender-fluid omnisexual! 🏳️‍🌈

I hope everyone is doing good, and if you aren't I hope that it gets better soon. I hope you enjoyed reading and thank you for doing so. I have a hard time writing Eddie normally so I tried something else instead. And one last thing, this is 1,064 words. It doesn't look like it, but it is.

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moodymelanist · 1 year

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Where The Light Won't Find You Chapter Six

Happy New Year, everyone! I'm super excited to be coming back to this story and I hope you are too. The feedback has been so wonderful so far, and that makes me even more inspired to write it. I have the next chapter mostly done, so hopefully that will be coming next week! Until then, please enjoy :-)

Read on AO3 here!

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Cassian

Cassian was rooted to the spot for a few long moments before he came back to his senses. Lucien was long gone, and his family would be demanding answers soon. He needed to come up with something plausible, because explaining he’d had a feeling wouldn’t be sufficient justification for letting Lucien escape.

Just in case, he performed a quick search of Nesta’s old apartment. Other than whatever Lucien had done, the apartment seemed to be undisturbed, but it was just as decrepit as ever. Cassian didn’t think he’d ever understand how she’d ever been able to stomach living here — she deserved palaces and estates, not a place that only got hot water on a good day.

Cassian took one last look around and sighed heavily before leaving. He slowly began making his way to the river house, having decided to walk instead of fly so he’d have more time to clear his head. Lucien’s words had struck him right to the core, and he couldn’t show up to face his family like that.

The last thing he needed was Rhys to see right through him without listening to a single thought.

Cassian just couldn’t get over how Lucien had known every button to press, every shoved-down feeling to drag back up to the surface kicking and screaming. Now that he was gone, Cassian would readily admit that Lucien had been right — Cassian truly didn’t know how he’d been able to stand it. He knew that his family was going to count this against Nesta, even though Lucien hadn’t even really confirmed if he’d taken Elain, let alone why.

You’d really risk her life? he’d asked Cassian. You know what they’ll do to her.

The worst part was that Cassian knew exactly what they wanted to do. Mor had already been talking about acts of aggression and war, and that was before Cassian had let Lucien slip through his fingers. If Lucien’s allegiances had changed, it would only be a matter of time before Rhys decided to take matters into his own hands. Rhys had been the one to pressure Feyre into intervening with Nesta’s life in the first place, and he’d probably do the same when he decided enough was enough.

Nesta was powerful, yes, but she’d barely trained her magic while she’d been in Velaris. How could she be a match for Rhys, who’d had centuries to hone his skills? Against someone like Azriel, who had mastered hiding in the shadows in wait? Hell, even Mor could strike Nesta down with a well-timed blow — could all the raw power in the world really keep Nesta alive if his family decided to strike?

At that gods-awful thought, Cassian had to stop and lean against the nearest building to force himself to breathe. His chest was so tight that it was a miracle he could get in any air at all, and his heart was pounding so loudly in his ears he could barely take in his surroundings. The idea of Nesta being struck down was so repulsive to him, so gut-wrenchingly wrong, that his body couldn’t physically handle it. How could he be expected to stand by and allow them to do that to her? Just thinking about all the awful things that could happen to her made him desperate to throw himself in front of her, to protect her with his own flesh and blood when nothing else could.

Eventually, he managed to catch his breath and calm himself enough to start walking toward the river house again. If nothing else, he needed to be there as the voice of reason, to hopefully keep his family in check so he could keep Nesta as safe as he could.

When Cassian arrived at the house, he realized he was the last person to come back. Everyone was already assembled in the study to wait for him, and he refused to falter under the weight of all those combined gazes. “Sorry for being late to the party.”

“I guess you saw Lucien,” Rhys said once he noticed the state of Cassian’s shirt. “What happened?”

“He got away,” Cassian answered, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lied to his family, especially over something this serious, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to justify why he’d let Lucien go. If he wanted to keep Nesta as safe as he could, this was the best course of action. “He blasted me and winnowed out before I could stop him.”

His brother’s violet eyes lingered on him for a moment before he nodded. “He’s not called the fox for nothing.”

“He had to have known we’d be looking for him,” Feyre said with a disappointed shake of her head. “Did he say anything to you before he attacked you?”

Cassian supposed he could mix in some truths to his answers. “He wouldn’t give me a straight answer about whether he’d taken Elain, but I didn’t notice her scent on him.”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved,” Mor pointed out. “Where did you end up seeing him?”

“Outside Nesta’s old apartment building, actually,” he answered without looking at her. “I don’t know what he took, but he had something in his hands when I got there.”

“She could’ve sent him to retrieve something for her,” Azriel suggested quietly. “We just packed the obvious things when we moved her — clothes, shoes, books that she left out. She easily could’ve hidden something that we missed.”

They lapsed into silence for a few moments before Feyre broke it. “So… what should we do now?”

“We don’t know what she’s planning,” Azriel answered, his voice still deathly soft. “It would be premature to move before we know what her end goal is.”

“She killed my father and slaughtered all his advisors,” Mor snapped. “She stole my birthright. What else do we need to wait for?”

“I’m sure Azriel is just as aware of that as the rest of us,” Feyre intervened, pinning Mor with a warning look. “We just don’t want to be too hasty. Or make any unnecessary mistakes.”

“You’re right,” Mor replied. She made a show of calming down, pasting a sunny smile over her features in a poor attempt to hide the anger simmering underneath. “What do you have in mind, then?”

“I think we should try to reason with her before we jump to answering with aggression,” Feyre responded diplomatically. “I know she’s done some terrible things, and I know you want retribution. But I don’t want to jump to violence if we don’t have to.”

“And if she doesn’t give up this farce?” Mor pressed. “What then, Feyre? Maybe you’re fine with turning a blind eye, but I won’t stand—”

“Morrigan,” Rhys thundered, night-kissed power leaking from him as he rounded on his cousin. “That is enough. I won’t let you disrespect my mate in my presence. Do you understand me?”

Brown met violet in a tense staredown, and Cassian watched with bated breath for Mor to stand down. Like he knew she would, she blinked first and apologized for her behavior, and Feyre nodded tightly before accepting it.

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before a strange expression flitted over Rhys, Feyre, Mor, and Amren’s faces. Azriel’s shadows darkened around him a split second later, and even Cassian’s siphons rumbled in response to whatever they were all reacting to.

“What the hell was that?” Cassian asked, frowning. He hadn’t felt something like that since Hybern attacked the city, and he prayed to Enalius that they weren’t about to be attacked again.

“Did we all just feel that?” Feyre asked. Her palms erupted into flame before she reeled her power back in, but she wasn’t the only one leaking magic. Mor’s form was shimmering gold, a stark contrast to Rhys’ glittering, dark magic, and even Amren’s eyes were glowing silver.

“Yes,” Amren replied through gritted teeth. “Someone’s altered the wards.”

“What?” Mor asked, shocked. She summoned a gleaming, golden sword that reminded Cassian of the one she’d wielded in the Hewn City. “Can you sense which ones? Is Velaris in danger?”

Rhys took in a slow breath, his eyes going vacant as he searched for the answer with his magic. “No.”

“Velaris isn’t in danger, girl,” Amren added before Mor could get another word in. “Put that sword away. It’s the moonstone palace.”

Feyre spoke up next once she got her magic under control. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nesta’s finally claimed it for herself,” Azriel answered. His shadows were practically bouncing off each other, they were so agitated, but he merely waved a hand and they calmed themselves slightly. “She must have had someone re-key the wards around the palace — likely Lucien. He’s very proficient with them.”

Cassian nearly bit his tongue off trying to hold back surprised laughter. It was like Nesta had plucked the thought right out of his mind and made it happen. Part of him couldn’t help but be proud of her, even though he knew this would only continue to spell disaster.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Mor hissed under her breath. The sword she’d put away at Amren’s insistence thankfully didn’t make another appearance, but even Cassian could tell how badly she wanted to summon it again. “My birthright wasn’t enough for that greedy, conniving little bitch—”

Cassian moved without thought at that word, his wings flaring wide as he stalked toward Mor. Any amusement he’d felt at the situation had been rapidly replaced by anger burning so hot inside his veins it was a miracle his hands weren’t shaking. “Don’t you ever insult her like that again.”

“She doesn’t want you, Cassian,” Mor sneered, refusing to be cowed by the way he towered over her. “She’s not going to fuck you because you defended her nonexistent honor.”

“Take a walk,” Azriel interrupted before Cassian could get another word in, using his shadows to shove Cassian back a few steps. “Now, Cassian.”

“I’m not going anywhere until she apologizes,” Cassian snapped, his patience dangerously thin. His own magic shoved back at Azriel’s shadows, the darkness mixing with his red to produce a color that reminded him of dried blood. “This whole situation is her fucking fault and she knows it—”

“I never made her do any of this,” Mor snapped back. “I thought she’d come back a little humbled, not go on a fucking killing spree and usurp the throne!”

“You thought she needed to be humbled?” Cassian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d lost the ability to be surprised about Mor whenever Nesta was the topic of conversation, but she still managed to disappoint him all the same. “You honestly thought a twenty-five-year-old female needed to be humbled so badly that you’d willingly send her to the people who abused you? Are you hearing yourself?”

Mor shoved at him with her magic, but he refused to be moved by the golden blast. “She asked me to take her!”

“And you shouldn’t have listened to her!” Cassian yelled.

“And done what instead?” Mor sneered. “Gone to you? What part of she doesn’t want you is so hard to understand?”

“Hey!” Feyre roared, effectively ending the conversation. “That is enough. Both of you, get the fuck out. This meeting is adjourned until you both cool off.”

Mor’s eyes slid toward Rhys for confirmation, which only served to make the atmosphere in the room even tenser.

“Your High Lady gave you an order,” Rhys answered the unasked question, sliding his hands into his pockets with forced nonchalance. “I suggest you both follow it before one of us makes you.”

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. His blood was roaring so loudly in his ears that he knew it was for the best that he left, but it didn’t stop him from throwing one last glare in Mor’s direction before storming out of the study.

He was so pissed he barely thought about where he was going, snapping his wings out again and again as he flew as hard and fast as he could. The early autumn air had some bite to it, especially this high up, and he felt every sharp wind like a slap to the face. Flying without conjuring a shield would leave his eyes watering and his body cold, but he didn’t trust himself to call his magic any closer to the surface.

By the time he made it to the top of one of the mountains surrounding Velaris, he was still spitting mad and more than ready to take it out on something. The air was even colder this high up, but it barely even registered in the face of his rage. He landed hard against the solid earth, the impact jarring his knees, and he yanked his wings in close so they wouldn’t get snagged on any of the nearby trees.

Cassian barely spared a thought to protect his hands, reaching into one of his pockets to grab his gloves and shoving them on before he hit the nearest tree. He knew it was stupid, that he should’ve gone down to the House and used all the training equipment designed for this very purpose, but he didn’t want to risk running into anyone if he didn’t have to. He knew it wouldn’t stop his family from finding him if they really wanted to, but it felt better to be physically isolated.

The shock of the hit against his hands felt good too, even with how painful it was. His gloves weren’t as thick as they should be for this kind of exercise, and he could already feel the pain from his knuckles as he hit the bark over and over again. With every smack of his hands against the unyielding trunk, he poured more and more of his anger into his hits, his hands protesting every time they connected.

“Fuck,” Cassian snapped as he continued to pummel whatever was left of the tree in front of him. He knew the trees here had some kind of magic in their roots from how long he’d been coming up here, but for the first time in a long while he wished the enchantment would break just so he could snap something for real. What was wrong with him? Letting Lucien get away, lying to his family — he knew something was off, but he didn’t know how to explain it.

He knew the answer even though he didn’t want to admit it. Nesta was what was wrong with him, and between Lucien’s words and Mor’s insults, he could hardly bear to think about what it meant that they could rile him up so quickly at the mere mention of her name.

He didn’t want to think about it, so he just kept hitting.

Eventually, he stopped punching and just stood there breathing heavily. It had started raining, and he realized he was soaked and shivering from the chill of the unexpected storm. The next sense to come back was the pain in his hands; once he’d stopped punching, it was easy to notice how the dull pain had turned into sharp throbbing.

Cassian cursed at the sight of his knuckles once he pulled the gloves off, bloody and bruised in a way they hadn’t been in months. Even the sudden rain wouldn’t be enough to wash away all the blood, and he might have to go see Madja if he’d fucked up his hands as badly as he suspected.

What was it about Nesta that made him want to be so violent? He would tear the world apart for her, let everything burn just to bring her warmth, even when he knew she wouldn’t even look his way. He would lie for her, steal for her, demand retribution for her — even kill for her if she asked him to. Even if she didn’t ask him to. He didn’t want to know what he would do the next time someone insulted her in his presence, family ties or not. It was pure instinct to defend her in a way he’d only felt for her and only her.

Cassian’s entire body yearned to be by Nesta’s side in a way he’d never felt before. She’d always been close at hand, even when she wanted nothing to do with him, and he’d never had to wonder about her immediate safety the way he did now. Even when she’d been chasing her pleasure in the seediest parts of Velaris, they both knew he’d never been far away if she’d ever truly needed him.

But now… now, things were so different. If his family decided to strike and Cassian wasn’t there to protect her, he’d never be able to forgive himself. He’d already failed her so many times — too many times — but he couldn’t stand for this. Wouldn’t stand for this, not when her life could truly be in danger.

“Are you done sulking in the rain like a youngling?” Azriel suddenly asked from behind him.

Cassian whirled to see his brother standing before him, his siphons creating a blue shield to protect him from the worst of the rain. Once he realized Cassian was drenched in rain himself, Azriel let the magic go and let himself get just as soaked, but he didn’t seem nearly as bothered by it as Cassian did. “Well?”

“I’m not sulking,” Cassian responded, breathing hard. Whatever he’d just done, it had been far too angry to be called that. “I was just blowing off some steam.”

“If you say so.” Azriel’s wings shifted, reflexively shaking off some of the water. “We need to talk about what happened earlier.”

“Do we?” Cassian replied flatly. “You were there. You saw what happened for yourself.”

“Just because I saw what happened doesn’t mean I know why,” Azriel responded coolly.

Cassian laughed, the sound cold and ugly and without a shred of humor in it. “You know exactly why that happened, Az. Don’t be an idiot.”

Everyone knew, but they’d been dancing around it for weeks. Months and years, really, but none of that mattered when the female in question didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m not trying to be an idiot,” Azriel told him. “You’ve got that taken care of.”

“I’m not trying to—” Cassian began, but Azriel was faster.

“You’ve always been a shitty liar, Cassian,” Azriel said, shaking his head. “You’re lucky today went how it did.”

“I’m lucky?” Cassian exclaimed.

“Yes,” Azriel snapped, his cool exterior giving way to the icy rage that glittered underneath. “Lucien slipping away without much of a fight? You’re lucky Mor made you lose your temper when she did. It was only a matter of time until Feyre or Rhys started asking questions.”

“Who said anything about Lucien getting away without a fight?”

“There isn’t a single defensive wound on you. You don’t need to be a spymaster to come to the likely conclusion.”

“And what conclusion would that be?”

“That whatever he said made you think twice about hurting him, and you decided to let him go instead of doing what you were told.”

Cassian turned away, a muscle in his jaw working as Azriel hit his mark without much effort. “I was never going to hurt him. I just wanted him to tell the truth.”

“If he’d really taken Elain, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to show his face in Velaris without proof of an accepted mating bond,” Azriel replied, a tinge of annoyance coloring his words. “Lucien hasn’t stayed alive this long to start making foolish mistakes now. Someone else is pulling those strings.”

“So you let us run around on a pointless mission because…?” Cassian trailed off.

Azriel remained silent for a few moments before speaking again, his shadows growing agitated around his hands. “Because I don’t think what they’re doing is right.”

“What do you mean?” Cassian asked. His brother could’ve been referring to a lot of things, but something like hope sparked in Cassian’s chest anyway.

“It was a mistake to lock Nesta away in the first place,” Azriel eventually answered. “And to punish her for making changes in the Court of Nightmares when no one else bothered to seems… cruel.”

“You don’t think she usurped the throne?” Cassian questioned curiously. He knew how strongly Azriel felt for Mor; he wondered if that held any sway over his brother’s opinions. “That she stole Mor’s birthright?”

“Can she truly call it a birthright when she’s been content with the way things were all these years?” Azriel quietly pushed back. “When we’ve all — Mor and Rhys included — turned a blind eye to the suffering there?”

“Have you spoken to her?” Cassian asked suddenly. He’d had no idea Azriel felt this way and couldn’t help but think about the possible reasons why. “To Nesta?”

Azriel snorted. “Relax, Cassian. I haven’t spoken to her since she was here in Velaris.”

“Oh.” Cassian couldn’t hide the disappointment. He hasn’t spoken to Nesta since he’d seen her that day covered in blood and wearing a crown of bones, and he suddenly ached at the separation. Even if it was only to hurl a well-placed insult his way, he’d grown used to speaking to her every day. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Do you really think speaking to her would make a difference?” Azriel asked after a moment. He took a few steps closer to Cassian and resummoned his blue shield to protect them from the rain once he noticed Cassian shoving his hair out of his face. “Do you think she would even listen to anything you have to say?”

“I don’t know,” Cassian admitted. He knew there was a very real chance Nesta could make good on her threats, but a large part of him hoped he’d have a chance to make things right. He knew he wouldn’t be able to rest without at least offering himself up. “But I have to at least try. I couldn’t live with myself if she got hurt and I did nothing. Or worse, if I helped.”

“If you go down there, you won’t be coming back the same way you left,” Azriel replied. “You might not even come back at all. Do you really want to risk that?”

Cassian set his jaw. “Yes. She’s worth it.”

“I know,” Azriel told him simply. “But I at least had to try and convince you otherwise first.”

“What?” Cassian replied, caught off-guard. “You’re not…?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Azriel cut him off with a look. “You’re my brother. If this is something you have to do, I certainly won’t stand in your way.”

“And if Rhys asks?” Cassian dared to question. He didn’t want to force Azriel into an impossible position, but Nesta’s safety was more important than that.

“I’ll deal with it,” Azriel answered with a shrug. “He needs me too much to do much, anyway.”

It was true. Shadowsingers were rare in Prythian, and having one in your court was far too valuable to throw away over a potential disagreement. Still, it was no small thing for Azriel to just brush aside, and Cassian hoped Azriel knew just how grateful he was.

“Thank you,” Cassian said emphatically.

Azriel nodded. “I know you’d do it for me.”

✵✵✵✵✵✵

Azriel made Cassian promise to at least sleep on his decision before they did anything serious about it, and so Cassian found himself flying back to the House of Wind to try and get some rest. He doubted he would get much sleep, but at minimum, he needed to do something so his hands healed right.

Instead of calling for Madja, Cassian decided to go about things the old-fashioned way. He hissed as he ran his hands under some cool water, doing his best to pick any errant pieces of bark out from between his bruised and bloody knuckles, and eventually was able to apply a salve before wrapping them gently. With any luck, the damage would be healed enough tomorrow that he wouldn’t have to walk into Nesta’s court with any visible bandages.

As he wrapped his hands, his mind traveled back to that day on the battlefield where Nesta had been the only one to notice he was injured. Gods, he’d been stupid then. How could he have turned away from her, especially after noticing the hurt look on her face? He’d give anything to go back to that moment and keep holding her hand.

There was nothing to be done about it now, though. He could only keep moving forward and keep praying that she could find it within herself to forgive him rather than put his head on a spike.

The next morning, Cassian found Azriel waiting for him at the dining table. A second, steaming plate of eggs and sausages was waiting across the table, and Cassian dutifully took his seat across from his brother.

“Well?” Azriel said after a few moments.

“I’m still going,” Cassian answered quickly. “It’s… hard being away from her.”

“I’ll take you tonight,” Azriel told him. He fixed Cassian with a flat, serious look before adding, “Assuming you actually manage to keep your head, you’ll owe me a favor.”

“Whatever you need,” Cassian agreed quickly. Owing someone a favor could be dangerous in their line of work, but he trusted Azriel with his life. He wouldn’t lord it over Cassian the way other fae might. “Thank you.”

“Remember your gratitude when I ask you for it,” Azriel replied. His tone didn’t invite a reply.

Cassian nodded and tucked into his food, though he was suddenly so nervous that he could barely hold down the food. He would be seeing Nesta tonight, and it was all he could do to stay focused on the tasks before him. He wondered how she’d changed the Hewn City, but more importantly, he wanted to know how she’d changed herself.

The day passed in a blur. Cassian did his best to behave normally as he put the males through their paces in Windhaven, but even Devlon was eyeing him strangely once training was over. Cassian didn’t let himself dwell on it; they could speculate all they liked about what was going on with him. Enalius knew they talked about him enough behind closed doors.

By the time Cassian touched back down in Velaris, he was almost too wired to think straight. Azriel hadn’t specified what time they would be meeting, but Cassian figured it wouldn’t be so late in the evening that they risked Nesta having retired for the evening. To keep himself busy, he paced around his bedroom for several minutes, agonizing over whether to pack anything, whether to bring Nesta anything, but ultimately decided he would come as himself.

He forced himself to take a bath, doing his best to scrub away the day’s grime. Thankfully, his hands had healed enough that he could remove the bandages, and although he knew Nesta would undoubtedly notice the injuries, he hoped his presence would be enough of a distraction that she wouldn’t call him out on it right away.

Once he was satisfied with his cleanliness, Cassian hauled himself out of the bath and dried off. He didn’t want to make Nesta doubt he respected her – especially not in her capacity as a ruler – so he reached for the nicest pair of leathers that he had with him. He didn’t have his ceremonial leathers with him, so these would have to do.

Eventually, Azriel came to find him. He didn’t say anything about the way Cassian was furiously polishing his siphons, but his pointed look was a comment in and of itself. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Cassian answered. He stood and took one last look around the room before following Azriel out to the balcony,

They flew to the top of the same mountain they’d talked on last night, the sky thankfully much clearer now. It was the perfect evening, with the full moon shining down from above them and the stars glittering against the dark night sky.

“I’ll winnow you as close as I can,” Azriel told him once they’d both landed. “I like my head attached to my body, so I won’t risk winnowing you inside.”

“That’s fine,” Cassian replied. “You’re saving me a lot of time as it is.”

Azriel nodded before offering Cassian one of his scarred hands. Cassian took it without hesitation, and the two of them faded into the night. Cassian much preferred his brother’s way of travel to winnowing, the shadows warm and familiar against his face, and before long the darkness disappeared in favor of the familiar gray mountains surrounding the Court of Nightmares. True to his word, Azriel had taken them as close as he could to the entrance without arousing suspicion, and Cassian looked around for a few moments before realizing they were on a plateau overlooking the entrance at the bottom of the mountain.

“Best I could do,” Azriel said with a wry smile.

“Better than me, that’s for sure,” Cassian responded with a wry smile of his own. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome,” Azriel answered. He extended his forearm toward Cassian and Cassian immediately reached out to grip it, both of them squeezing tightly for a few moments before letting go. “Good luck, Cass. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I won’t,” Cassian promised.

Azriel studied him quietly for a few moments before he was apparently satisfied. With a final, tense nod, he disappeared with his shadows, leaving Cassian standing alone outside the entrance to the Hewn City. He spread his wings and launched himself into the air, easily maneuvering himself down toward the mountain’s entrance, and landed on soft feet after a short flight.

Cassian swallowed hard as he eventually made his way inside the mountain, immediately wary when the wards let him in without issue. They felt stronger since the last time he’d been here — probably Lucien’s doing — but they were certainly more than enough to keep him out if Nesta wanted.

The optimistic side of him was hoping it was because she wanted to see him. The other, more logical side was screaming that this could be a trap, that she could be luring him inside just to kill him as soon as he got close.

There was only one way to find out.

As Cassian walked through the cavernous halls of the Hewn City, he was shocked to see so many fae wandering about. Normally when he paid visits down here, everyone was already gathered in the throne room, but instead, he got a glimpse of what life looked like under Nesta’s rule. The servants he passed didn’t seem terrified to make eye contact, and he even passed a bright corridor where some youths were roughhousing playfully. He of course attracted his fair share of stares as he wandered, but no one paid him any mind beyond a few moments of initial interest.

Not until he stumbled across one of the guards that Nesta hadn’t killed in her hostile takeover, at least. “You there! Halt!”

“Yes?” Cassian asked, pausing mid-stride. He’d be more than able to overpower the young male, but he didn’t want to make Nesta hate him any more than she possibly did.

“Her Grace wishes to see you, my lord,” came the swift reply. “Come with me.”

Cassian didn’t bother questioning how he’d been found out so quickly. He just nodded and let the guard lead the way, their footsteps echoing off the smooth stone surrounding them.

They eventually reached the large stone doors Cassian knew led to the throne room. The male leading him exchanged a few quick words with the few guards standing at attention, and suddenly the massive doors were groaning open to reveal the throne room.

“The Lord Commander of Illyria,” someone announced as he walked in. The room was mostly empty, with only a few servants and guards milling around, but it didn’t make the walk to the throne feel any shorter.

Cassian’s heart was pounding so loud in his chest that he didn’t bristle at the title, far too concerned with Nesta’s reaction at seeing him again. His eyes took in all the changes she’d made to the room — most noticeably replacing Rhysand’s throne with one of her own carved with emerald-eyed snakes — before settling on Nesta herself sitting on her throne.

Cassian couldn’t breathe as he looked at her. She was so beautiful that it was difficult to stare at her for too long, like she was his own personal sun and he was blessed to orbit around her. She’d traded the crown of bones for one of glittering black spikes adorned with emeralds, nestled safely within her braided coronet. The crown perfectly matched the bodice of her dress, and she looked so stunning and powerful at the same time that Cassian had to force himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Cassian,” Nesta eventually said, tilting her head as she continued to study him. She’d put on some more weight since the last time he’d seen her, and even when she was staring at him like that, he couldn’t help but be thankful that she’d regained some of the color back in her cheeks. “Tell me. Have you come to bend the knee? Or did you want to die by my hand?”

Read Chapter Seven here!

#acotar #acosf #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #moodymelanistwrites #where the light won't find you #evil!nessian #court of nightmares fic #court of nightmares acotar #hewn city acotar

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boyoungbe · 12 days

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hello, nerds! it's just me, ryan (h/h, 25+), here with another shot at a fourth muse. this particular muse is newer to me, but the more he revealed about himself over the last few months, the more fond i grew of him, and i can't wait for you all to meet him today! his name is moon boyoung (20040904, h/h)! he's a student at yonsei university (my first ever muse that's attending a SKY university, i'm so proud...) and a lifelong athlete who, despite going through a lot of shit right now, is working hard in his classes, seeing musicals every chance he gets, and is remaining as optimistic as he can...

(tw, discussions of unnamed health issues, parental death, infidelity, grief)

from birth, boyoung was hailed a miracle child. his mother suffered from a lot of physical health issues, and it made conception extremely difficult for her, but similarly to boyoung, the challenge of it never stopped her from trying. her dream was to be a mother, and after years of praying for a baby, she was gifted the perfect son.

boyoung is a golden child, and he wears the title like a badge of honor. his grades are exceptional, he's heavily involved in extracurricular activities (primarily various sports and the student council), and on top of that, he always made sure to come home in time for dinner, and happily did the dishes/kitchen cleanup after. his parents adored him, overall he was loved and supported, and his upbringing was pretty idyllic... until his second year of high school.

his mother's health grew worse, and added onto his busy schedule was being her caretaker. he sacrificed a social life to ensure that she got the care she needed, and to also ensure that his grades never slipped. somehow, his test scores were high enough to earn him admittance into yonsei university, the school his mother dreamed of him attending, and shortly after receiving an acceptance letter, she succumbed to her illness; confident that her son would be alright.

little did she know that, upon looking through her belongings and stumbling upon old journals, boyoung learned that his father was not the man he thought he was, and his mother had secrets of her own, too. it fractured the view he had of his life and of his parents, and he carries that baggage around with him from class-to-class. he's doing his best to keep his head up, but life's curveballs are teaching him lessons he never learned before. all he can hope is that they make him into a stronger, better person.

boyoung is someone with immense patience. this is largely what makes him so good at so many things. he's one of those people you meet who has a massively long list of learned skills, who is frustratingly good at what seems like everything, who makes himself perfect at things by pouring metric tons of energy and effort into them. he's perfectionistic, and doesn't settle for results that are less than flawless. this, however, makes him rather hard on himself.

boyoung has a strong work ethic. the first ever sport he played was basketball, and he started out as a bench-warming water/towel boy. everyone on the team enjoyed his presence, and after months and months of practice, he earned himself a rightful spot on the court, even going so far as to be co-captain in the future. he applies the same work ethic to all things in his life. school work, the arts, sports, his relationships with his loved ones, etc. it's all at 100%, no less.

the pressure to be so perfect, so golden, is crushing, though. he possesses a rather critical nature, and this is largely because he's so polished. he'll spend hours remaining up at night ruminating over fuck-ups of the past; wondering what he could've done differently. it creates anxiety within him sometimes, but he's a master at faking a smile; remaining cool and composed on the surface, even if he's battling inner turmoil.

he's someone who, if you need a favor and you ask him to do one for you, he'll take it extremely seriously and get it done in a timely manner, and the favor will be completed beautifully. he sometimes has a hard time saying no to things, but he's getting better at being practical about what he can and can't handle. regardless, you can rely on him. he likes feeling needed. it's a blessing and a curse.

despite being rather rock solid and even-tempered, he's a big softie. he'll totally cry watching a sad movie or musical. he loooves musicals. loves them so much. he's essentially troy bolton—golden retriever energy jock with a passion for singing and dancing. he's not ever gotten proper instruction for the arts, but he wants it so bad. he's always been practical and wants to focus on landing a good job, but his dream is to be on stage. he's shy about it, though.

i'm still learning more about him, so i can't wait to see him grow!

gimme all plots! i want them all! i prefer brainstorming, so like this or message me and we can figure something out together!

#BE:INTRO #BE:PLOTCALL

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telekinctic · 6 months

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@silverjetsystm: "you know, Julian, if you're not comfortable with this, it's okay. i'm not trying to pressure you."

He was a boy who was forced to grow up too soon, just a kid who thought he had his entire life mapped out. He thought he'd be an X-Man by now, graduated and helping his former teachers rid the world evil doers. It was supposed to be simple, and yet his life had to get torn asunder for him to realize life wasn't simple. Parents who didn't want him, who gave him up and disappeared without a trace, and the X-Men who he had considered his family had closed the school, his only home and left him without anything. It was miracle that he even happened across Moon Knight, a miracle that the vigilante whom he never even met before even offered him a place to stay, and it was a miracle that Julian, already grown up from seeing the burning bodies of his classmates was now a young man grown beneath the roof of the Grant mansion. Julian was thankful, appreciative that Marc Spector, all the men who shared those eyes even liked him enough to keep him around. Years ago he would have scoffed at the idea of working, but the silver spoon that had been in his mouth as a child had been ripped out and he was all too happy to become a barista, a simple worker to help earn his keep at the Grant mansion. Hell, he even looked more grown up every day when he glanced in the mirror and he sometimes wondered if Emma Frost or Scott Summers would even recognize him now.

And yet when he looked in the mirror he was still frightened, terrified of what was happening beneath the surface. How wrong was it to become so emotionally attached to the man who took you in? The man who had became a mentor, a friend, and now family? A man far older than him. It was a harsh realization, that his little crush had morphed into genuine feelings, the way his heartbeat nearly skipped whenever he got an affectionate smile or a welcoming hand on his shoulder. Marc, Steve, Jake, even Moon Knight, all of them treated him like he belonged and yet he paused, frightened of how he felt. Frightened that once any of them saw what his parents saw, what the X-Men saw, that he'd be discarded. Not of use, not loved. It was what worried him most of all, that he fell in love with a man that he was so certain could never love him back.

Marc no doubt had picked up on his uneasiness over the last few days, and after a long shift at the cafe Julian had returned home to find him waiting up for him. The sight scared him while simultaneously made his body warm with affection. A forced smile is what he offered, and a shrug of his shoulders. "I'm not sure what you mean, Marc. I'm perfectly fine... with everything." He was about to leave it at that, excuse himself to the bedroom that was now firmly his, but he pauses, cobalt gaze lingering on the other for a moment. "I... I need you to know that you could never pressure me. I'm not some awestruck kid, but a part of me honestly does think you hung the moon. No pun intended." His smile wavers despite the humor of the joke, and he purposely avoids Marc's gaze. "You took me in, you're... you're the most important person in my life and I think the world of you. ...I'm just worried I'll never have anyone think that way about me." That you'll never think that way about me. A pause, and he still purposely doesn't look at him, terrified that his calm mask would break if those eyes met his own.

"The truth of the matter is that I'm too comfortable. That you'll find out just how comfortable I am and I'll ruin everything. I can't risk losing you like that."

#silverjetsystm #ALEXA PLAY I WON'T SAY I'M IN LOVE BECAUSE HE HAS IT BADDDD

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thisisevenharderthannamingablog · 1 year

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I posted 1,508 times in 2022

307 posts created (20%)

1,201 posts reblogged (80%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@eternal-jamie

@dduane

@amazinglybeautifulphotography

@mcbitchtits

@clockadile

I tagged 1,317 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#art - 168 posts

#my boring life - 98 posts

#things to read - 62 posts

#cats - 50 posts

#oh - 48 posts

#yes please - 43 posts

#b has a wordpress - 42 posts

#neat - 27 posts

#heh - 26 posts

#things to see - 25 posts

Longest Tag: 106 characters

#but that's because it pokes fun at a lot of the fantasy novel cliches i'm old enough to have grown up with

My Top Posts in 2022:

It’s not the Power of Friendship but the Power of Everyone Collectively Chilling the Fuck Out.

11 notes - Posted January 19, 2022

Holy shit everybody, I got a community garden spot!!!!

11 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

If you want to, you can read the three sisters’ songs as a synthesis sequence.

“Waiting on a Miracle” - No one asks Mirabel to do anything (because they don’t think she has anything to contribute).

“Surface Pressure” - Everyone asks Luisa to do everything (for them).

“What Else Can I Do” - Isabela gives a nod to that (”if they would let me be”) but then spends most of her song exploring how to continue using her gift, but in a way that is self-fulfilling.

12 notes - Posted January 22, 2022

A new book from me!

I always seem to start these posts with "after many years..." because it does in fact take me years to finish a book. I have now done this THREE times, though, so that's a thing.

The Hasty Visitor's Guide to American Fairy Hills -- it's only slightly off to say it's a book I wrote for Tumblr. It's light and fun, but not silly, and it's about a half-fairy, soon-to-be-ex-lawyer and her guitar player would-like-to-be-girlfriend on a road trip to save a phoenix. I think the people here might like it.

Previous from me:

The Prometheus Skein, aka "I have an English lit degree and I will use it." There's art, poetry, magic, Arthuriana, my love of Boston, and Lord Byron.

Tisiphone's Quest, aka "What if I threw every trope I like into a blender?" Science fantasy noir with AIs, space pirates, interstellar conspiracy, found family, and characters full of secrets.

15 notes - Posted October 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Cover Peek!

“I know,” I thought, “I’ll write a fun, whimsical little book as a break from working on the heavier stuff. A fantasy road-trip with faery lore, kind of American Gods meets War for the Oaks.” Eight years later…. Pre-order link coming soon-ish, once I get all of the fiddling with things done!

View On WordPress

24 notes - Posted March 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #sorry about the huge images i guess #long post

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masterbadyl · 10 days

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I just answered 5 questions, now let's do another 5

6. Your favorite animal

Rajah, Jasmine's tiger from "Aladdin"

I love him! He's so cute. Just look at him

7. "Your favorite sidekick"

Genie from "Aladdin"

He's iconic XD

8. "Your favorite villain"

Hades from "Hercules"

It's very rare for me to like a villain this much.

9. "Your favorite original character"

I don't know XD

10. "Your favorite song"

I have so many of them and I can't choose just one, so I'll list them all XD

-"The Bells Of Notre Dame", "Out There", "Topsy Turvy", "God Help The Outcasts", "Heaven's Light" and "The Court Of Miracles" from "The Hunchback of Notre Dame"

- "Arabian Nights", "Friend Like Me" and "Prince Ali" from "Aladdin"

-"Beauty And The Beast"

-"Great Spirits" from "Brother Bear"

-"La Llorona" and "Remember me" from "Coco"

-"Surface Pressure", "Waiting On A Miracle" and "We Don't Talk About Bruno" from "Encanto"

-"Frozen Heart" from "Frozen"

-"The Gospel Truth", "Go The Distance", "Zero To Hero" and "The Star Is Born" from "Hercules"

-"Circle Of Life" and "Hakuna Matata" from "The Lion King"

-"Under The Sea" from "The Little Mermaid"

-"Make A Man Out Of You" and "Reflection" from "Mulan"

-"Just Around The Riverbend" from "Pocahontas"

-"Once Upon A Dream" from "Sleeping Beauty"

-"I've Got A Dream" and "Healing Incantation" from "Tangled"

-"Once Upon A December" from "Anastasia" (I know it's not from Disney)

#disney #questions #aladdin #hercules #the hunchback of notre dame #tangled #the lion king #mulan #the little mermaid #brother bear #beauty and the beast #encanto #sleeping beauty #pocahontas #anastasia #frozen

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mynameishazard · 2 years

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Things I like about Encanto that I can remember/will add on to as I watch it again

-Mirabel's skirt has the name Madrigal embroidered onto it. It's around hip level and you can only see it, like, three times but I love it.

-How when Abuela asks Mirabel what she sees, when she looks in the doorknob, you can still juuuust see the Madrigal M through her reflection. Implying that "The Family Madrigal" is still there but now she's not overshadowed by everyone she loves.

-The butterflies in the stones that Julieta and Augustin are replacing during All of You.

-The fact that Mariano is the epitome of Disney Princess(ridiculously pretty, really good hair, wants to get married immediately, etc.) and Dolores is just like "Slow down."

-When Isabela is singing What Else Can I Do, she asks "How far do these roots go down?" The absolute power of the fact that she doesn't know that limit and then Casita just OPENS THE FREAKING ROOF to accomodate Isabela's growth, slays me.

-The fact that if Mirabel hadn't been deprived of a power in the start-as cruel as it seems-Casita/the Miracle crumbling slowly and eventually collapsing/going out, wouldn't have been visible. When things happen, Mirabel is the only one who can see the actual cracks until Bruno comes along. The Miracle not giving Mirabel a tangible gift was the gift itself.

-The fact that Pepa and Julieta are just like "I NEED TO HUG YOU A PIECE OF ME HAS BEEN MISSING FOR SO LONG." when Bruno returns just kills me. Also, Agustin's "The triplets all reunite!" is adorable.

-THE FACT THAT IT'S NOT EVEN BEEN AN HOUR SINCE CASITA CRUMBLED AND THE ENTIRE FUCKING TOWN JUST SHOWS UP LIKE "WE LOVE YOU! YOU'VE HELPED US SO MUCH FOR SO LONG, LET US HELP YOU IN YOUR TIME OF NEED!" Like, Abuela is just....so confused about the SOUND of a group of people that she's been mothering and grandmothering and greatgrandmothering for YEARS wanting to help her. Which is sad, because that surely means that she hadn't've needed to go it alone for so long.

-The absolute power and resolution in Mirabel's voice during the bridge of Waiting on a Miracle shortly followed by her uncertainty about if she's too late to do anything.

-I love that they translated Dos Oruguitas into english as well, because I get so much more emotion from the whole scene since I can recall the meaning of the words, instead of my usual "Oh, pretty words."

Edit 1:

-Luisa and Surface Pressure

-Luisa's line "I'm pretty sure I'm worthless, if I can't be of service." Gets me every time. Every time. There is an entire generation of people out in the world that will relate to Luisa simply because of that line: you're worthless unless I can use you. And lots of them will work their way out of that 6 feet deep hole...and lots of them won't because they are simply so tired.

-Luisa's delicacy with Mirabel in SP-how she tenderly replaces her glasses, how she spends most of the song protecting her from fictional instances, how she holds her hands during the bridge as they're floating, etc. Luisa got her super strength as a child and she had to learn how to be gentle with everyone and then Mirabel came along and there was suddenly this BABY that was so DELICATE and BREAKABLE and Luisa had to relearn how to be gentle again.

-Luisa is posturing during the entirety of SP. Absolutely posturing. Everyone else's songs take place in the real world for the most part-I am considering WDTAB to take place in the real world-but Luisa's is completely a Disney montage song. I mean, dancing donkeys? Sudden twisters, bouncing on clouds? Luisa is posturing because she's had to hide her pain her entire life, she makes jokes to make everyone else more comfortable regardless of her of feelings.

-The way Mirabel's reactions to Luisa change during the song from fear at all the situations despite knowing Luisa would save her to absolute horror during the last chorus where most of the music cuts out. Mirabel has finally realized EXACTLY how much pressure has been put on Luisa since her fifth birthday and she is horrified.

-Back to Luisa's feelings of worth. Her clothes are a lot simpler than everyone else in her family and that makes me think she thinks that everyone only wants her for her gift, so why make the effort to make herself feel pretty every once in a while. She has her hair pulled back so it's out of the way, she has a mostly plain outfit with few embellishments. Plus, I'm pretty sure someone in her life has brought up her height and her muscles. As much as those things can be seen as beautiful and wonderful, even in today's society there are people who are absolutely disgusted by a woman who is muscled or tall and that's a shame.

-At the end of SP, I just realized that it's not just Casita she's holding-it's the ENTIRE TOWN. Luisa feels responsible for the entire town and that's too much pressure for anyone alone. Think of leaders in power-how they started versus how they ended. Most go in as fresh faced, bright, young people and come out weary, greying, and worn.

-There is a moment in SP, right before Luisa sings "I don't ask how hard the work is." where she does this THING with her eyes-she looks away hesitantly before realizing that someone's watching and snaps back to being in the song.

-The few situations that we see the whole part of that leads to the next one...all of them end badly. Luisa defeats Cerberus but the ground still breaks in two. Luisa is holding to the edge of the mountain but the mountain crumbles. Luisa is holding the door up but the twister still scatters everything. Luisa is doing everything right but it's still going badly.

This is all I can think of right now but feel free to add things that caught your eye in the movie and reblog, etc. I just ask you to please try to avoid headcanons and such-just add stuff you noticed and/or enjoyed about the movie and the music.

#encanto #mirabel madrigal #abuela madrigal #alma madrigal #pedro madrigal #pepa madrigal #julieta madrigal #bruno madrigal #isabela madrigal #dolores madrigal #luisa magridal #camilo madrigal #antonio madrigal #casita

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nach0 · 2 years

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So I've switched brainrots again to Encanto, sorry to any new followers who came from... *checks comically long list of fandoms* Empires, old followers you're used to this by now

So as I do whenever I get brainrot I come up with an AU that will consume my thoughts for a very long time, and Encanto's is:

What if Bruno took Mirabel to live in the walls with him?

very long AU notes are under the cut, about 1250 words!

Bruno still gets his vision about Mirabel but he stays just a little bit longer to watch her get her gift

His heart sinks when she doesn’t get one because she’s probably going to become an outcast like he was

That night when he’s about to disappear he stops by the nursery to se Mirabel one final time but hears her crying

It’s extremely late at night, she should have been asleep, but he can’t just pretend he never heard anything, and so he goes in to comfort her

His heart breaks as his niece sobs under the sheets, knowing that she’d be treated differently just like he was and he makes a choice that will change the future forever.

He offers to take her with him.

Time skip to the events of the movie, Mirabel and Bruno have been living in the walls together for the past 10 years

Mirabel is extremely connected with Casita after leaving only a handful of times and she cares about it a lot, she got extremely worried when the cracks first started appearing

Bruno is a little better mentally now he actually has someone to talk to, neither of them are what you would call healthy though

Neither Mirabel or Bruno are talked about, though there are rumours that Bruno kidnapped Mirabel

Julieta and Pepa won’t stand for anyone insulting their brother though god help anyone caught spreading that rumor because they'll need it

Antonio is even more nervous than he is in canon because the last time someone was going to get their gift not only did it fail but they also disappeared

Mirabel argued with Bruno about her watching the ceremony from the crowd, she’d be disguised and no one would notice her and she had to watch it

Bruno thinks that it’s a bad idea, it wouldn’t be good for her to watch no matter which way it goes, and its an even worse idea to watch it among people, can’t she at least watch it from the walls?

Eventually he relents and she sneaks in to the back of the crowd with Casita’s help, getting nervous as Antonio doesn’t go to his door

Antonio is freaking out and hesitating as he looks out at the massive crowd until he sees someone who looks like the cousin that vanished ten years ago giving him the most supportive look

He blinks and she’s gone again, but it gives him the courage to move forward, he gets his gift as in canon and everyone celebrates

Mirabel is having her Waiting On A Miracle moment (though the song would be very different to canon) in the courtyard when more cracks start appearing

She freaks out and disappears back into the walls and tries to talk to Bruno about it but he doesn’t want to hear about it

She takes it upon herself to try and figure out what’s wrong with Casita because if the cracks are now spreading to the main building then something bad is happening

So the next day she sneaks out with a disguise and follows Luisa from a distance and when Luisa thinks she’s alone she has a mini breakdown Surface Pressure style except there’s no one to comfort her afterwards

Mirabel learns that her family has a lot more struggles than they let on but there was one thing that stuck out to her, Luisa had said something about not being able to protect her (Mirabel) from Bruno’s visions

She heads back to Casita, confused, and overhears Alma talking to herself/ Pedro about the last vision

To get some answers she goes to Bruno’s room, climbs all the stairs and everything goes as canon except the room doesn’t collapse and finds the vision

She puts it all together and sees herself outside a cracked Casita and her heart drops, how could Bruno keep this from her?

She leaves the room and tries to sneak back into the walls while no one is around (they’re all preparing for the dinner) but she gets caught by Bruno who is coming out to come look for her

They have an angry whispered discussion where Bruno scolds her for leaving without telling him and Mirabel gets mad at him for not telling her about the vision

Voices slowly raise in volume and eventually they’re yelling, not noticing the cracks appearing around them, until suddenly Bruno goes silent and Mirabel slowly turns around to find the whole family staring at them in shock

Feelings are mixed, they’ve both been missing for ten years, and some of the family even thinks Bruno kidnapped her, only to find them arguing with damage to the Casita around them

They both look like they want to run back to the walls to hide but then Julieta and Pepa rush forward and wrap them both in hugs

That’s the cue for everyone else to join in and there’s a lot of tears at the reunion

Alma asks why they left and Bruno confesses that he thought they would treat Mirabel like they did him, and that he had a vision about her they would take the wrong way

Mirabel interrupts and says there was only one way to take it, it was pretty clear, but then Bruno gently tilts it and shows her the alternate future, explaining there were two ways it could go

The triplets and Alma start talking and trying to figure it out and Mirabel is left with the others

It’s awkward until Antonio thanks her for being there at his gift ceremony and it starts a round of questions about where they’ve been this whole time and Mirabel says they’ve been in the walls, showing them the painting entrance

They talk a lot and Mirabel notices Luisa trying to hold back tears and reassures her that she’s allowed to cry, she’s allowed to take a break from just being the strong one, basically everything she overheard Luisa worrying about, and the floodgates open up

Isabela also confesses she doesn’t want to marry the other dude (who’s name escapes me) and she wants to try growing things that aren’t perfect

The cracks heal around them as they all bond and when the others come back they tell Alma that there’s too much pressure on them and they’ve been struggling too keep up with all their responsibilities

She apologises for being so hard on them and there’s more hugs, Bruno and Mirabel stand awkwardly to the side before they get pulled in as well

It’s getting late and everyone starts talking about going to sleep and dealing with everything properly in the morning so Mirabel and Bruno start to head back to the walls, only to be blocked by everyone telling them to sleep in a real bed for once

Casita won’t open the painting for them so the pair decide to stay in Bruno’s room for the night (he’s got to have a bed in there that’s not at the top of the stairs because otherwise that would just be mean)

A few days later Mirabel is brought into what was once the nursery but has been turned into her room, filled with things that she likes (Bruno helped pick everything out)

From there everyone slowly gets used to the new situation, Bruno and Mirabel are still a little shy but Mirabel was always energetic and so even if the loud crowds freak her out sometime she adjusts fairly well and helps Bruno as well

So that's the AU! It doesn't have a name yet but I'm really invested in it now, if you have questions/ ideas/ just general thoughts my inbox is open! Come yell at me about this because I need other people to talk about it with haha

EDIT: apparently I've been spelling both Luisa's and Pepa's names wrong, my bad lol

EDIT 2: Now has a name! A boring name but a name nonetheless

Raised In The Walls AU

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notrecommendedforlife-blog · 2 years

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Encanto

I really wished we got personal songs for Dolores, Camilo, Pepa, Julieta and Bruno. Don’t get me wrong ‘We Don’t Talk About Bruno’ is a bop. I just wish we got songs about how they felt in the family and about there powers.

We got great songs of Mirabel waiting for her miracle (Waiting on a Miracle), Luisa judging her worth on how much she could carry (physically and emotionally)(Surface Pressure), and Isabela learning more about herself and her powers (What Else Can I Do).

I want a song of Pepa not being able to express her emotions, in the movie she just kept saying to herself “Clear skies, clear skies”, something tells me that that was because of Abuelas expectations. I want a song of Dolores being overwhelmed by her powers and getting sensory overload; whenever I think of Dolores having her own song I feel like she would sing the way she did in ‘We Don’t Talk About Bruno’, kind of a whispering voice. I want a song of Camilo forgetting what he looks like and not knowing who he is ((and I know it would be a long shot but I would love for him to be the first canon non-binary Disney Movie character or a genderfluid character)). I want a song of Julieta feeling overworked from making all the meals for her family and food to help heal people in the village, that’s 11 people to feed (12 now that Bruno is back). I want a song of Bruno, who was alone for so long and blamed for his prophecies and visions, trying to reconnect with life outside of the walls.

Sadly, that will probably never happen, but I like imagining it. Anyone else got song ideas comment ‘em, I’d love to read them! :)

#encanto #disney #disney encanto #encanto camilo #encanto dolores #encanto pepa #encanto julieta #encanto bruno #camilo madrigal #dolores madrigal #pepa madrigal #julieta madrigal #bruno madrigal #madrigal family #family madrigal

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whatanoof · 3 years

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A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #sex pollen #pining fools #pining #fluff #feelings #smut

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sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity

Three months, two days and seven hours.

That is how long you’ve been in Dimitrescu castle for. If rumor is to be believed, you are well on your way to setting the year’s record for longest living maid. Well. ‘Maid’, according to their perception. Your mind always automatically corrects it to something more fitting:

Prisoner.

You did not choose to work for them. You did not choose to be in this godforsaken place, cleaning crimson stains off the floors, trying to convince yourself the wailing that sometimes reaches your ears is simply the wind. You never would have imagined your life’s end like this, serving wine –no, who are you kidding, it’s too crimson for that— to the Dimitrescus at dinner until one of them snaps and drives the nearest blade into your throat.

Probably Daniela.

It’s not unheard of. And stories of other maids’ murders are plenty.

Daniela has bitten one’s throat off for the crime of addressing her wrongly. Cassandra has left increasingly deep gashes, some of which resulted in deaths, for random offenses, like staring at her for too long. Bela, arguably the more merciful of the three, has snapped necks only when the staff disrespected her sisters’ names, or her mother’s.

You aren’t sure if you want to thank the older maids for this information or yell at them for the nightmares it has caused you. You are lucky to not be in the village, they say –everyone there must already be dead. You are even luckier to have been taken from the dungeon by the Lady herself. It means the daughters don’t know you and the castle is big enough that they may never spare you a glance.

You hadn’t believed it, at first.

Yet in the three months of your stay, you have never come across anyone other than Bela in the sections you were assigned to clean and polish. She passed you by the hallway like she did the decorations and the furniture –and you couldn’t be happier about it. You have caught scarce glimpses of Alcina Dimitrescu, too. Never the other two residents.

Not until the fateful day another maid disappears and the staff’s assigned posts change. You have no say in it and no power to object.

May as well keep my head down and continue to work as carefully as I have. That is the idea. Not to look too much, or think too much, or feel too much. Avoid mistakes because those in the castle are fatal.

It is a little difficult to remain utterly calm when the sound of swarming insects comes from far behind you, though.

Your blood starts to kick in your veins. Your heart wants to jump out of your chest and make a run for it. You lock your muscles down and summon all the willpower you possess to stay focused on your task.

Please be Bela, please, please, be Bela—

The buzzing dies down. Steps approach you in the otherwise silent hallway. They are too light to be Bela’s. You’re probably screwed, you think, but you keep cleaning the surface in front of you until it’s practically a mirror with how it shines.

The steps halt too close to you for comfort. Out of the corner of your eye, you realize they’ve left bloody imprints on the floor you’ve been polishing for hours now. Dainty, pale fingers are wrapped loosely, almost lazily, around a sickle dripping crimson.

“Never seen you around, before.” the sound of her voice makes you freeze.

You stop and turn— to face none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her hood is down, brunette waves on point, the dried blood at her chin a terrible contrast to her otherwise attractive face. You… didn’t know she was that pretty, up close.

“I… I have been here for three months. On the opposite wing.” you say. Was I even supposed to reply? You’ll find out soon enough, if your tongue is still attached to your body.

Her eyes give you a quick once-over. “Bela’s been keeping you a secret, huh.” she tsks. Her free hand goes to the handle of the door next to you… and only then do you realize it must be her bedroom. You’re literally assigned to clean the wolf’s den. “Come wake me up when the sun has set, completely.” she emphasizes.

What.

“Uh—”

The crimson-dyed sickle moves until its blade rests underneath your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet hers. From this angle, under the pale lighting of dawn, they look more –stunning— blue than inhuman gold. “No loud sounds. No lights. Got it?”

How can you not, when your life depends on it?

“Yes, my lady.” you reply. You don’t even dare draw breath.

“Good.” In one swift movement, the sickle is gone, the handle turned and she’s already shedding her robe.

You catch a glimpse of a black corset and a narrow waist before you avert your eyes.

The door shuts.

...

Waking Cassandra up can be… tricky, the other maids tell you.

She detests light when she opens her eyes but she also doesn’t want it to be pitch black. You’re not supposed to talk but you can’t shake her, either. Which brings you to the very logical question:

“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?”

To which they have no answer.

They have no answer, you realize with a start… because there’s nobody alive to tell the tale of how to actually wake the brunette sleeping beauty up without simultaneously signing their own death sentence.

The hours pass both too slow and too fast. The sun sets over the horizon.

And you stand, riddled with nerves, outside Cassandra’s room.

A deep inhale later, you turn the handle. The door is left half-open so a bit of light comes in from the hallway. Her bedroom smells like shampoo, bath salts and spices. She must have taken a shower before she went to sleep. You approach the figure tucked under the silken sheets of the queen-sized bed…

Cassandra is lying on her side, one hand underneath her pillow, the other extended loosely towards the edge of the mattress. She probably sleeps naked, at least from the waist up, but thankfully the covers are wrapped around her chest. Their royal red color makes a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin.

Her face is so… serene.

She is a monster and a sadistic killer, yet right there you can’t deny she looks more like a renaissance painting.

Now onto the hard part.

“My lady… the sun has set.” you whisper, kneeled on the floor beside her. No movement comes. “Hey… I’m here to wake you up?” you try again. Still nothing. Shakily, you bring your hand up to the bed. Not daring to touch her, you leave it beside hers, over the covers. “Cassandra?”

She turns her face deeper into her pillow –no, no, you don’t think it’s cute, what’s wrong with you— but at least she’s finally reacting. You call her name one more time.

Her nose scrunches up a little. Long fingers flex –and they touch yours. She’s cold. A pair of blueish ambers blink open to regard you. Not with malice, or with annoyance.

“Good evening.” you speak, unsure of what else to say.

A smirk slowly curves her lips. She looks like a lazy cat pondering whether or not it’s worth it to pounce and that’s not good. It’s not good, not ‘hot’ like your mind suggests. God, you’ve been in this castle so long you are starting to get messed up.

“Mm, breakfast in bed.” she grins and licks her lower lip sexily. Your eyes fly wide open, but her hand is already gripping the front of your black shirt, trapping you there.

How could you ever find this psycho attractive?! you get mad at yourself. Is she hot now that she’s going to kill you?

But Cassandra only lets out an airy laugh and releases you. You fall backwards on your behind. “Breathe, darling, I’m joking.” She rolls onto her back and seems to wince from it. Her smile vanishes.

“…does… your back hurt?” you ask when you finally find your voice again.

“Ugh, a Lycan landed a hit on me. He’s pieces now, of course, but my muscles still pull.” she says it casually, like it’s a thing that happens.

Silence falls over the room. You take it as your cue to leave. You stand and bow while she’s looking blankly at the ceiling—

But she stops you.

“Wait. Come here.” you don’t like it when she gets that tone, like she came up with something she cannot wait to try. You’re already close to the bed, you’re not sure what she means. Until she pats the spot right next to her. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You won’t. You know what’s good for you.

Hesitantly, you take a seat on the –admittedly very comfortable— mattress. “Yes, lady?”

“Give me a massage.” she says like it’s your job, like she’s the rich woman in a spa and it’s what’s expected. She turns onto her front, bearing her naked back to you and you have less than five seconds to come to terms with the thought of straddling her.

Carefully, you bring your knees on either side of her thighs and pull the sheets so they rest low at her waist. You feel warmer than you should given the temperature of the castle. If she knows the fine teasing line she’s walking, she is loving every inch of it.

Cassandra loves being the center of attention and she loves being pampered, you realize.

It’s probably amusing to her to make you fluster, but this is also an opportunity for you to get on her good graces. She is a dangerous one and it’ll be a great asset for your survival if she’s leaning favorably towards you. Win-win situation. You just have to be good at your job. Like always.

By some miracle of God, you do know how to work the tension out of muscles.

The first time you touch her, you simply rest your hands on her back to warm it. She doesn’t seem to object, from the way lean muscle stretches out under your fingers. Cassandra feels cool, but not hard like marble. Her skin yields under your touch, soft and smooth.

As you apply more pressure to your stokes, she starts to let out little sighs that you have to mute in your mind before they start to affect you. You’ve been high-strung and without sex for too long. Your body all too eagerly intercepts this death-trap as foreplay.

Minutes roll by.

You alternate between all the methods you know. The one that really seems to get her is when you drive your thumb into the knots and end with a little circle.

Cassandra is –God help you— openly moaning every time you press more. It is a bit too much pressure you’re applying though and you don’t know if you’re hurting her and she’s just into it.

“Is this too much…?” you ask. Fuck, why do you sound so breathless?

“No, it’s good.” she husks back.

“Harder?” You don’t know what innocent means, anymore.

Cassandra sends that little smirk again over her shoulder. “Harder.” she replies and the extra flair she puts into it is enough to nearly fry your brain. And other parts of you.

You’re pretty sure you need a cold shower by the time you leave her room.

...

At diner, you hang back in the shadows, gaze downcast.

You do not need to know what the Dimitrescu family is eating, nor what they’re drinking. You do not need to see Cassandra or risk catching Daniela’s gaze. You love your anonymity in the castle. It has kept you alive.

But it is shattered like frail glass when you bring another bottle of Sanguis Virginis to the table. You’ve almost retreated back to your place, when Daniela’s eyes zero in on you.

“She’s the human!” she exclaims like she’s made the world’s most startling discovery. Bela seems to understand, but the Lady and Cassandra frown over their glasses.

“I am almost afraid to ask, love.” Lady Alcina says…

And she’s right.

“The one who made Cassandra go ‘harder’ and ‘yes, yes!’ earlier this evening.” she impersonates in her sluttiest voice and then breaks into a fit of cackles. Bela’s lip twists into a withheld chuckle.

Lady Dimitrescu nearly chokes on her wine.

Cassandra slaps the back of Daniela’s head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Girls.” Alcina warns and glares until the table calms again.

Then, her eyes curiously fall upon you.

So much for your anonymity.

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