#marla the rescue

[gelu-the-babosa-multiversal]

For the blorbo bingo: Brushfire(RBA) and Miserable Marla(Starbeam. It's a Netflix original)

Brushfire she needed more screentime 😞

Marla I just saw a clip of her and I hate her 😊

#ask #thanks for the ask! #ask game #bingo #blorbo bingo #look at me liking children 😈😋 #my stuff #opinion #maccadam #transformers #tf #transformers rescue bots academy #rescue bots academy #tfrba #rba #brushfire #starbeam #miserable marla #netflix

[rosyandraw]

Speaking of Damen’s POV. I’ve always wondered what Damen was thinking in Chapter 5 when he just got back from secretly rescuing Auguste and Laurent ask him whether he wanted to fuck him. Idk because the way you wrote it seemed so ominous.

Did Damen ever suspect that Laurent was ever groomed at all? Because I think it’s evident that Laurent portrays obvious signs of unhealthy experience like how he assumes that every favour should be repayed with sex etc.

Would love to know more on Damen’s introspection of Laurent. And ngl for someone as protective as Damen, I’m surprised that Damen didn’t take action on Bastian sooner. Like just beat him up already djdghshs

Okay this might get long so I’m very sorry! And I’ll put it under a cut because it could potentially be upsetting or triggering and I don’t want anyone to accidentally see it.

Damen’s awareness of Laurent’s abuse in canon and how I translated this.

Firstly, thank you so much for this question, and yes, it was meant to be a little ominous or dark because you guys all know what it implies.

I’ll start by saying it is a tough topic to navigate in fiction because the nuances can get lost on page and there is no one size fits all.

And that’s always very present in my mind when I think about Captive Prince and the way it deals with -and the ways it doesn’t deal with- Laurent’s abuse.

For Damen in particular I based NMFY and Damen's behaviours/reactions entirely on my opinion regarding the canon.

Did Damen consciously and actually think the words “Laurent was groomed”? No.

Do I think he was aware on many levels of the things he was witnessing, and cataloguing of Laurent's behaviours, and it's likely source? Yes.

I think Damen, like many of us, would never just assume something so brutal regardless of what’s in front of us. It’s not a standard thing to think or assume regardless of the people and circumstances around the person. Most people do not go around thinking of it because it is abhorrent and outside of -most- people’s experiences. I think as good people we -like Damen- would shy away from the conscious admission of the thought because we don’t want it to be true. Even when something is “off”.

And I believe that is at the heart of Damen's understanding in canon (and in my fic by extension). Canon Damen is very good at compartmentalising and actively not thinking about the things that upset him. His ability to repress his pain (Kastor, Jokaste, being made a slave, not getting to say goodbye to his murdered father, the prep and ring scene, the post, Ancel... the list goes on) is unparalleled and speaks to his own trauma response mechanisms. I think this very much extends to Laurent and the fact that he was, as Damen said "mishandled"

He actively shies away from it. He notices little things here and there and then quickly swerves away. An example that springs to mind right now from very early on is Pg 13 of Prince's Gambit:

There was something uneasily transgressive about the idea of sleeping in the place meant for Laurent’s uncle “the prince stays here often?”. The castellan mistook him to mean the keep, not the rooms. “Not often, He and his uncle came here a great deal together in the year or two after Marlas. As he grew older, the Prince lost his taste for the runs here. He now comes only rarely to Chastillon."

Damen made a leap but he doesn't tell us exactly what that leap is. We just know that the intimacy of Laurent sleeping in his uncle's bed made him uneasy. That something felt off. But the castellan mistakes Damen's meaning implying it is something normal and follows up with what is essentially the reason he thinks nothing of it. And then food arrives and Damen rushes off to it with the air of someone desperate to cut the conversation. A flash in the pan; noticed, documented, and quickly buried. One instance of many.

So, yes. I think Damen was only waiting for confirmation both in Canon and in my fic. He was actively repressing everything he had noticed and rejecting the conclusion he desperately did not want to think about.

Because what if he was wrong? That’s a terrible thing to assume or bring up or bookmark in your head about someone when you don’t know.

I think in Canon, and likewise what I attempted in my fic, it equates somewhat to: Schrödinger’s awareness. He doesn't know, but he also does.

In Chapter 5 of NMFY it gives Damen pause, like most of Laurent’s glaring markers, the same way they do for Damen in canon. It’s something he makes a note of and something he endeavours to not question out right -not his place- and to make sure Laurent feels safe enough to know Damen would never do what Laurent expects.

This part in particular I based on Laurent’s assumption following how drunk he gets at Marlas in Kings Rising, that Damen probably fucked him. Laurent in CP and Laurent in my fic are both aware that being out of it (drugged, practically asleep, incredibly drunk) means it’s easy to fuck him and all he has to really do is lie there and it’ll be over quick, because his submission or compliance is the expected norm. Neither upsetting nor angering to him. Just is what it is. An expectation from experience. He’s less trouble when he’s half conscious: this he knows and equates it to ideal time to fuck him because docile is preferable and his comfort/consent has never been part of the equation.

In my fic Damen clings to the idea that Auguste would have said something if it had been true of Laurent. So whilst he’s aware something about Laurent is off, he consciously shuts the ideas down. But Damen doesn’t take time to be convinced both in my fic and in canon, he just absorbs it. There are no questions, it’s just bringing a hard buried suspicion to the forefront as fact.

As for Bastian I think Damen wants to so very badly. But he’s also aware that he can’t really do that given who they are. And he’s never exactly certain that it’s his place to do so. He (and me by extension or is that the other way around? Haha!) needs Laurent to pull the trigger so to speak. He’s protective yes but Laurent has his own agency and Damen wouldn’t overstep that.

Especially in a modern setting and in this setting in particular where he has to worry about the press and the truth of a certain situation which he can never afford to have out. Anything with the police is a no go for him. Just in case. Damen is aware that the Royal family, the secret service, they’d all flip if someone dug up -or dragged up- the truth so its best not to tempt fate. Which absolutely isn’t to say he can’t be pushed but as of right now he’s conscious of Laurent and his choices and what he might want -or not want- and his place in all of that. He’s not petty enough to lash out with jealousy at least. Like in canon jealous Damen is more derisive and sulky than aggressive or petty.

I am very sorry this got so long but I wanted to give it a proper answer 💕💕

#asks #Captive Prince #damen/laurent #Lamen #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #nmfy #sorry this got long but your question is deep and i wanted to give it the answer it deserved #omg is this meta?

[oldestenemy]

every me, every you, every moment passing through - finale

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

There is a very long moment where nobody moves.

Penny catches Malorn’s gaze with a look caught between horror and sudden realization that he’s sure is mirrored on his own face. A shared moment of ah, so that’s what that was.

Had they always been able to do that? At least recently?

Had it been on purpose?

Had it been because of the extra circle?

How had they drawn an additional battle circle and had it work?

“Ashthorn, c’mon, help me carry them out.” Duncan is halfway to the wizard’s body before Malorn manages to break Penny’s gaze and move.

They each thread one of the wizard’s arms around their shoulders. Like the claws of the shadow creature, their fingers and hands are stained blue with spider blood. Their eyes and mouth are running that dark sparkling purple, but it seems to be drying out. Malorn isn’t entirely sure if that’s good or bad…

“There’s a new teleporter in here—” Marla calls from where she’s looking through the hole that had been blown through the dungeon wall. “—one of the big round exit ones.”

“Oh thank the gods.” Malorn mumbles, “Let’s get out of here.”

He and Duncan clamber somewhat akwardly after Marla through the hole, trying not to bump the wizard around too much. Penny follows behind them, arms wrapped around herself.

The exit teleport leaves them all standing outside the moon door inside Nidavellir. Nobody questions why.

The bear standing at the outer doors takes one look at the wizard’s limp form and says he’s escorting them to the King’s Hall. None of them have the energy to protest, but Duncan and Malorn refuse the offer to let him carry the wizard up.

Words are exchanged between their escort and the guard at the door—the Thane, Bjorn Ironclaws—but the doors are swung open and they are led to a side room set up with a small bed. None of the words Malorn hears are really registering. His head is buzzing. Too much happened, and all of it so fast.

Is this what it’s like for them?

All of the time?

“I am told you four rescued our hero from an unexplored depth within Nidavellir.” A rumbling voice greets them in the doorway, and they are met with the King of Bears, Valgard Goldenblade. “Grizzleheim thanks you for that service, we owe much to the wizard for stoping the Coven and the Everwinter.”

“Right.” Malorn just blinks, he’s out of his depth by miles. “Thank you, I’m sure once they’re awake we’ll be on our way.”

Mercifully, the king seems to understand that none of them are used to dealing with this. “Stay as long as you need. The doors of this world are open to you.” He says, and returns to the main hall.

Penny is working on cleaning the blood and starlight from the wizard’s hands, she’s been silent since the fight had ended and is still somewhat glassy eyed. Duncan is in the corner, inspecting some of the strange starlight liquid from the wizard’s face, drawing little symbols in the air and looking increasingly irate when nothing happens.

“So are we just not going to talk about them turning into some kind of monster?” It’s Marla who breaks the quiet. “Or how they broke through a wall into a dungeon already at capacity and then joined the duel by finger painting?”

“I don’t know,” Malorn admits, sitting down on the foot of the bed. “I’ve never seen magic like that—it wasn’t Myth, it didn’t even seem like the Astral stuff we’ve seen them use before.”

“Do you think the spider mage—Lorcan—do you think he was trying to draw it out of them?” Marla asks.

“No,” Penny says softly, “no I don’t think he knew what he was getting into. The same way we didn’t.”

She’s probably right.

Malorn thinks about the flash of fear in all those eyes. “Hey, Penny?”

“Mmm.”

“They’ve usually got a ring on them, full of spiral keys.” It’s a shot in the dark, but a fairly straight one. If anyone could tell them what was going on, it was probably someone the wizard had met more recently than not.

Penny digs a hand into the wizard’s backpack, which is on the floor next to the bed, surfacing with a ring full of mismatched keys. She holds it out to him in silence, the look she’s giving him is enough to know that she understands.

Duncan frowns deeper in the corner, “Ashthorn we just got ourselves beat to dirt by a bunch of spiders—you’re not suggesting—”

“—Do you want to find out what that was or not?” Malorn snaps “We don’t know how long they’ll be out for, we know they weren’t… weren’t like that before Azteca, we can’t go to Azteca, we can go to Khrysalis.”

“No. No way, we could have been seriously hurt in there—and for what?”

“What if it’s killing them?”

“Who cares—they did it—they won, the fight is over! Bring them to the headmaster, tell him they turned into a weird winged beast, and let him deal with it!”

“Duncan—”

“What! Not everything has to revolve around what happens to them! Honestly they’d probably prefer if we just ignored it and moved on! That seems to be their default, pretend things just didn’t happen.”

“Well we can’t!” Penny isn’t usually one for anger, she’s too bright, too worried about what everyone else is doing. “They’ve been throwing themselves into danger and wars and titans know what else since they enrolled—you might not think you owe them anything, you might not think any of us are friends but I do! Malorn does!”

“Then you two can drag yourselves across the spiral without me, see how long you manage.” Duncan shoots back. “I’m not dealing with this anymore—I’m going back to nightside and I’m finding a way through that portal.”

He storms out, Malorn hears the creak of the great doors swinging open, and then slamming shut.

“I’ll go after him.” Marla says, “Either just try and convince him the portal is a dud without them—or else get him to come back. No offense, but please don’t go throwing yourselves at anything until we’re back—You’re both miserable fighters.” She looks reluctant to go, but swings her staff over one shoulder and vanishes into a small explosion of bats.

“You know the levitate cantrip right?” Penny asks once they’re alone, picking up the wizard’s backpack and shouldering it.

“Yep.”

“Perfect.”

~*~

“This is stupid and you know it.” Marla finds him where she expected to. “Exactly how are you expecting to win if you make it through?” Duncan, to his credit, is trying to mimic the wizard’s voice. Failing miserably, but trying. So on some level he’s aware it’s hopeless.

“Once the portal is open I can get help.”

“Yeah, sure, I bet you’re just dying to go running to Susie and Nolan for help.” Marla snorts, “Duncan come on, the best way to do this is going to—”

“—to what? Wait for the wizard to rescue us again?”

“To do this as a group, to do it together, to give all of us closure. Not just the wizard, and not just you.” Marla doesn’t stop the irritation from coloring her words. Duncan acts enough like he’s the only one who cared when they all thought Malistaire had died, like he was the only one betrayed when they were told what he was trying to achieve. “You don’t get to take that away from the rest of us.”

~*~

They’re floating.

Sleep feels like that sometimes.

It’s gentle.

It’s quiet.

Until it’s not.

They’re floating, and it’s not because they’re asleep.

They’re floating and their limbs are all aching and their head feels like it has split down the middle and there is still the faint echo of blood and starlight in their mouth, sour and metallic. There is a faint twinkling noise from below them. The wizard groans, tries to sit up, and falls straight down. Landing with a musical thud on the rainbow bridge that separates Grizzleheim from its spiral door.

How—?

“You’re okay!”

Penny’s voice hits their ears like a siren, and the wizard groans again.

“Why am—wait—” Jumping to their feet makes the world spin, but they look down towards the doors of Nidavellir, barely visible beyond the bridge. “—Lorcan, and the—wait—”

“—It’s alright.” Malorn takes them by the arm and they’re not going to admit it but without the added stability they might be at risk of tumbling right off the rainbow. “You’re safe. It’s over.”

“No.” The wizard shakes their head, squeezing their eyes shut when it makes the pain spike higher. “No, how did you know where to find me?”

“Malorn heard a voice.”

Their eyes snap open.

Brown. Gold. Brown again.

“What voice?”

Malorn leans back just a little, like he isn’t sure why that’s important, like their intensity is concerning. “A—a woman’s voice—she said you were—”

Raven. This had been Raven.

“Have you heard her since then?” Malorn shakes his head and the wizard lets their shoulders drop, lets the tension ebb slightly. “Good. If you do—tell me. I’m not—” they try to take a step and the world spins violently again.

“—Woah, hang on, you’re still really out of it.”

Right.

The shadow circles must have really done a number on them.

“How did we…get out?”

Malorn and Penny share a look that they do not like at all. “What do you remember?” Penny asks.

“I—the last round, and then the circle went out, and—I don’t know, I passed out didn’t I? You all carried me out.” That makes the looks get even worse. “What? What happened? Duncan and Marla are fine right—Lorcan didn’t—”

“—No, no they’re both fine!” Malorn says hurriedly, “Duncan stormed off while you were unconscious and Marla went to find him—we—you—” he lets out a nervous little laugh. “—you kind of—turned into…something.”

“I turned into something.” The wizard repeats blankly, looking between the pair for some kind of context. Any kind of context. When none is offered, the wizard sits slowly back down on the bridge, holding out a hand to both of the others and pulling them down too. “Do either of you know how to use conjuration sigils? I know that’s mainly a myth discipline, but it lets you turn memories—at least, short ones—into something other people can view.”

When neither of them do, the wizard reaches back for their bag, stomach dropping momentarily when they find it missing until Penny slings it off her back. It takes a moment, but they dig out some parchment and charcoal. “Okay, this is the sigil—it’s easy, and it doesn’t take a lot of effort, just—whichever one of you wants to try, just draw it, think of the memory you want, and activate it the same way you would if you were doing a cantrip.”

Penny is the one who does it. She and Malorn exchange one more look like they’re worried about what’s going to happen afterwards. Like they don’t quite want to know.

The dark grey glow of death magic forming a flickering image.

Within it, they can see Lorcan kneeling on his frontmost legs, and something throwing itself at him. Claws digging into the segments of his body and ripping it apart. Something that looks almost like one of the shadow creatures. An amalgamation of them all, winged and clawed and—

—and then it dissolves.

And the wizard sees their own body.

Sees backlash, sees payment for creating the extra dueling rings, slam them into the wall of the dungeon.

Penny waves her hands through the image to banish it just as that happens.

“I—” they trail off, feeling a tremor work its way up their spine and force through their whole form. “—I don’t—I didn’t—” It’s not supposed to come out like that. Uncalled. Unsummoned. It’s supposed to be under control now. They’re supposed to be able to handle it now. If they can’t— gods and starlight if they can’t—

“—Don’t run away again.” Penny says quietly, reaching out for one of their hands and not letting go when they try to flinch back. “We can’t keep doing this.”

Shadow is a dangerous chaos unleashed upon the spiral. Oftentimes too destructive to allow. Its dangers must be understood. Its creator must be dealt with.

Raven’s voice is as soft as usual.

It sends a jolt of white hot anger through the wizard. She had told them to enter the lunar dungeon. She had guided Malorn to Nidavellir in search of them.

…Had she known Lorcan was waiting? Had she sent him here too? Lorcan had wanted them to deal with the wayward spider and his kin. Old Cob, his children, things they don’t have answers for.

What do they fear more?

Facing Malistaire again?

Or the idea that they are not as in control of their magic as they should be.

That they are walking the same razorwire of those before them.

Running away again.

Prodigal Problem Child.

They want to get out of here.

They are in no mood to humor Raven.

So perhaps spiting her is the better option.

What better way than to continue bending the laws of this reality.

“Come with me,” the wizard says quietly, pushing to their feet and taking one of Malorn’s hands with the one they have free. Pulling both him and Penny towards Baldur’s ship. “I should talk to Professor Drake before we go back to Nightside.”

Once more.

For good this time.

read the rest here <3

#wizard101 #wizard101 fic #wizard101 fanfiction #wizard101 fanfic #wizzy fandom #lark is still playing funky wizard game from their childhood #did it! fuckin did it! #took me a while but i did it! #kinda got a little very fucked up in the last couple weeks of june so forgive me the wait #please enjoy #it is long #the darkmoor fic will likely ALSO be multiple chapters #anyways #enjoy #im so tired #i love every one of you

[tmrrwppl]

Jedikiah Price

Full Name: Jedikiah 'Jed' Price

Faceclaim: M.ark Pell.egrino Kiefer Sutherland (older: Donald Sutherland)

Fandom: The Tomorrow People

Ethnicity: American

Family: Brother: Roger Price Sister in Law: Marla Jameson Nephew: Stephen Jameson Nephew: Luca Jameson Daughter: Clarissa Tellemanca Son: Roger Price (II) [Verse dependent] Partner: Morgan Burke

Birthplace: New Haven, CT

Bio: Not much is known about Jedikiah's parents or childhood, but his young brother Roger 'broke out' in his teens, which prompted Jed to study him and his kind, wanting to help him. This led him into the field of Genetics, completing his undergrad at Columbia and his doctorate at Yale. During college in 1989, Jedikiah met a vivacious young woman on Spring break. Unknowingly, he impregnated her.

The Founder hints that Jedikiah was jealous of his brother's abilities; this is also strongly suggested by flashbacks. In Thanatos, it is also shown that Roger taught Jedikiah tricks about how to resist having his mind read. The fact that they shared this and worked together in later life suggests that they were close in childhood.

However, as adults, the brothers’ relationship began to deteriorate. Jedikiah’s desire to understand the evolutionary miracle of his brother’s gifts (and how he could attain them) often went opposed to Roger’s sense of purpose to protect people like him and develop his gifts as far as possible.

After an introduction, Hugh Bathory, the brothers, and old mentor Aldus Crick started Ultra with the intention of studying the homosuperior/tomorrow people. It seemed it would be an organization for the good of the homosuperior kind.

But there was a darkness festering. Roger found out Bathory had been testing on their kind, with Jedikiah’s study of the results. This lead to both Roger and Crick leaving Ultra and disappearing into the wind. Jedikiah lost contact with his brother and his family, only seeing his brother briefly as Roger began to destroy Ultra from both outside and within (sometimes literally), due to the experiments Bathory was employing-- with intention to eradicate the human race.

During this time, Jed took on a new trainees, significantly Killian McCrane, John Young, and Liam McKinley.

He connected especially with John, seeing him as the son he never had, often treating him as his favorite young agent and protecting him from severe consequences in his adolescence.

After putting Killian through the Anax product-- and Killian subsequently 'losing it', the plan his brother and him had was quickly falling to pieces. Until John turned out to be the perfect subject. While Jed didn't want to put John through the regimen, John insisted. John survived, and was competent with no signs of mental deterioration such as Killian had suffered.

The plan was back on. Jed had John kill Roger, successfully initiating an avalanche of events which ended with Roger's 'death', John defecting from Ultra, and Bathory's plans put on hold. Jed stayed at Ultra, turning the program from a study to a paramilitary operation. The new Ultra detained homosuperiors deemed 'threats' to exposure and humans, removing their powers or killing them.

When Roger's oldest son broke out, Jed was ready, testing the strength of the Tomorrow People by letting them rescue Stephen, recruiting Stephen to Ultra in the aftermath, and setting up the pieces on the board to play out to his ultimate goal-- End Hugh Bathory, his Machine, and go back to his science.

There were several unexpected complications, of course, but like any decent chess player, Jed was aware of Zugzwang. And utilized it, no matter the cost, until Bathory was gone.

He was last seen escorting a brain washed and re-powered John out of the office of a senator they had just threatened.

And Jed gave John has a list of recruits, the Tomorrow People... John's old friends. And Jed's daughter that the younger man never knew he'd been protecting all these years.

It was time to get back to work.

#b: Jed #bio

[annisthree]

Chapter XI: Maelstrom

previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter (all the following chapters were posted on ao3 only; you can find all the links in the masterlist)

Pairing: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Word Count: ~5k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Explicit language, canon typical violence, 

A/N: Cross-posted on AO3 (same username).

The spaceport lights gleamed against the dusky Corulag sky as Marla and K-2 rushed towards platform 12-C.

They had just returned from the ship after transmitting a brief mission update to the command. They should have waited for a reply and further instructions - instructions that would probably include the words 'wait' and 'backup' - but Marla didn't care. There was no time. She would deal with the command once Cassian was safe.

The initial anger and subsequent panic transformed into intense, single-minded focus. Of course, she was terrified - but fear wouldn't help her save Cassian.

'I suspect I am going to regret asking this,' K-2 said flatly, 'but do we actually have a plan?'

'Gotta learn where they took him. Once we know that, we just go in, kill everyone on our way, get Cassian, and get back to the ship.'

'I understand now why it is usually Cassian who takes care of the logistical part of the assignments.'

Marla didn't feel like exchanging snarky comments with the droid - perhaps for the first time since Cassian had him reprogrammed. In fact, she didn't really feel like anything that wasn't directly tied to rescuing Cassian. It felt like all of her existence, all the training, fighting - all of that was just a preparation for this single moment.

She had to succeed. There was no other option. Her world had shrunk to this single, all-consuming mission - find Cassian, bring him home.

Platform 12-C looked exactly the same as every other day. Beams of bright light crisscrossed through the hazy air, outlining shapes of workers, pilots, and merchants - each absorbed in their own world, oblivious to what had happened earlier that day.

Marla supposed the spaceport had seen its fair share of arrests, and so the people learnt to move on and return to their daily routines. But what they didn't realise was that this wasn't just a normal arrest, and Cassian wasn't just some criminal. They couldn't possibly see how important his mission was, or how important  he  was. Because he really, really was. And it felt like only Marla understood that.

'If I may suggest something, I think we should start by locating the Imperial headquarters. The protocol would dictate detaining and interrogating the suspect before transferring him to a larger facility, depending on the result of the interrogation.'

'Thanks,' Marla muttered, her fingers clenching and unclenching nervously. 'Does your memory bank have the map of the city by any chance?'

She tried very hard to ignore the word  interrogation  and its implications. Not now. Not when she needed to stay razor sharp.

'No, that is not part of standard programming.'

Marla cursed under her breath. Great. So they would have to do things the hard way.

'Stay here. I'll try to ask around.'

Her eyes darted from one worker to another. She knew she needed to tread carefully - too eager, too obvious, and she'd draw unnecessary attention. But this kind of reconnaissance wasn't exactly her expertise.

Maker. Cassian would have immediately known what to do.

But Cassian wasn't here.

As she continued to scan the crowd, Marla eventually spotted a woman in grubby overalls, her brow furrowed as she wrestled with a large crate. She seemed like a local.  Good enough.

'Excuse me.' Marla approached the woman, trying to slip into the role of a concerned citizen. 'I think I saw something... illegal. Someone-- I think they were smuggling contraband. I don't know where to report it.'

'Just talk to one of the Imps,' the woman grunted, clearly not too eager to stop her work. 'Plenty of them around.'

Right, that would have made sense.

'N-no. I think it's a bigger operation. I want to speak to someone in charge.'

The woman eyed Marla sceptically. 'Then you should probably report it to the Captain.'

'And where can I find him?'

'Imperial headquarters, just outside the spaceport,' the woman replied, setting the crate down with a heavy thud. 'Go back to the main road and turn left behind the med centre. Big, ugly, grey building. Can't miss it.'

Marla was almost surprised at how easily she managed to get the information. She was just about to turn around to give Cassian a smug look of victory and maybe a comment about how he underestimated her espionage skills...

But Cassian wasn't there, of course.

'Thank you,' Marla offered the woman a shaky smile before turning on her heel and promptly retreating to where she had left K-2.

'Over there,' she said to him quietly, pointing her chin in the right direction. 'Right behind the med centre. Let's go.'

Not wanting to waste any more time, she set a vigorous pace towards their destination. Kay was right - it must have been where they had taken Cassian.

'If I may suggest,' K-2 broke the tense silence, 'I think once we get there, we should pretend I have brought you in for questioning.'

'This... isn't actually a bad idea,' Marla said. Until now, she had been focused entirely on getting Cassian out, but she hadn't really figured out the  how . She was ready to tear the place apart brick by brick with her bare hands if needed, but she had to admit K-2's plan was probably more sensible. 'You can say you found me sniffing around the cargo. Which is technically true.'

'Correct. And then I shall wait for an opportunity to release you both.'

'Yes. Here.' She stopped abruptly and removed her backpack to fish out a couple of round, metal objects.' Take these charges and plant them... somewhere. Try to get us some weapons while you're at it, just in case. And check if there are any speeders we can steal.'

'Noted. With this new approach, I estimate that our chances of success have risen to approximately fifty-five per cent. It would have, of course, been much higher had we waited for the reinforcements--'

'You can go back to the ship and wait for reinforcements,' she spat out with frustration. 'If you're so scared of a couple of bucketheads.'

'As a droid, I do not feel emotions such as fear,' he informed her. 'I will assist you with your rescue mission, Marla Reid.'

'Thank you,' she said, and she really meant it. She'd had mixed feelings about the droid at first, but he had positively surprised her more than once during this mission. He had demonstrated unexpected levels of resourcefulness and perseverance during their space station adventure, and now he was helping her despite clear orders to wait for reinforcements.

Plus, she was getting quite fond of his sassy attitude. Which, of course, she would have never admitted openly.

Out of habit, she thought about sharing her reflections with Cassian - he would have been happy to hear she was willing to give Kay a chance.

But Cassian wasn't here. And it was getting increasingly clear how much she needed him for the most mundane things - to be able to share small victories, to rely on his expertise and skills, to vent, to just  be  there and look at him, at how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, at how his mouth twitched when he had trouble remaining serious, and how he looked back at her.

She knew she shouldn't, of course. Becoming so dependent on someone, especially someone who got himself into as much trouble as Cassian did, was... well, unwise at best.

But she had long accepted that this wasn't a choice anymore. She couldn't pinpoint when exactly that happened, but somewhere along the way, between stealing hesitant glances at him and fully immersing herself in the depth of his eyes, between thinking about him at night and actually falling asleep next to him, between hesitant touches and melting into his naked body - somewhere on that journey, she'd realised she could no longer stop it.

It was still terrifying, but not having him around and not being sure if she ever  would  have him around again put this into a new perspective.

She really,  really  had to get him back.

  *

  Cassian sat alone in the cold, dark cell, the chill seeping into his bones. The silence was punctuated only by the rhythmic clanking of stormtrooper boots outside his cell and the low, incessant hum coming from the vents somewhere behind the locked doors.

Every single muscle in his body was aching. He could barely see anything in the dark, but he didn't need his eyes to know he was covered in bruises and dried blood. The metallic taste was still in his mouth, and the dull pain of his ribs suggested there was a very unpleasant med-bay appointment waiting for him at the end of this adventure.

If he got out.

The cell was completely empty; there wasn't even a bed, so he was sitting on the cold floor with his back against the wall, staring at the faint streak of light coming from under the heavy durasteel door. 

They took away all of his weapons as soon as he was captured - that, unfortunately, included his pocket vibroblade and his lockpicking kit. Although to be fair, there wasn't anything for him to lockpick - the outpost was surprisingly high-tech, and the door mechanism that stood between him and his freedom could only be accessed from the outside. 

Based on his estimation, he'd been there for about five hours, based on his estimation (which could have been grossly off, because there wasn't anything there that could help him keep track). Upon their arrival at the outpost, he'd been briefly interrogated - but as soon as it became clear he wasn't going to talk, the interrogation turned into a show of dominance. They didn't even seem that interested in getting any answers; not at that point, at least. Cassian didn't know if it was his complete lack of reaction that angered them or if they were just very keen on some good, old-fashioned violence, but his stomach and arms were now covered in evidence of Imperial brutality. 

Not that he'd needed any reminders.

He wasn't looking forward to seeing them again, but he was hoping they would soon want to ask him some actual questions. That would be his only chance for getting out of here - although he wasn't yet clear on how exactly he would do it.

Normally, he would have just patiently waited to see how the situation developed. He'd seen his share of Imperial holdouts and detention cells, and somehow he always came out of those situations in one piece, so there was no reason for him to think this time would be any different.

But it could be. Because of Marla.

Cassian knew she would try to rescue him as soon as she realised what was happening - probably even still in the spaceport, while doing something incredibly stupid like starting a shootout surrounded by stormtroopers and civilians. That's why he'd had to make sure Kay brought her back to the ship, even though the chances of his escape would have been much higher if the droid was with him (Cassian was sure Kay would have been able to tell him exactly how less screwed he'd have been).

He was confident K-2 could manage it, and it seemed his strategy had worked. Cassian imagined that, upon transmitting the coordinates, Marla would have been instructed to wait for backup. They weren't far from Coruscant, and he knew there were several squads stationed in the capital, so it likely wouldn't be particularly difficult to find someone to come over and assist them.

What might have been difficult was tempering Marla's anger enough to keep her on the ship - but he was confident Kay would find a way to do it. He was only hoping it didn't include having to physically restrain her. Although, knowing her, it was a very viable scenario.

Suddenly, Cassian's focus was disrupted by a series of loud sounds upstairs. Something was happening. The outpost's steady, slow rhythm was becoming faster and more frantic: the rush of hurried footsteps, an explosion of voices, and the dull sound of some large object hitting the floor.

Change of guard? No, it sounded too irregular, too rushed...

He began listening in, trying to identify some keywords in the sea of muffled voices, but his focus was broken by the sound of footsteps walking down the stairs, followed by the whirr of the cell door.

A torrent of light swept into the room, filling it with the sterile luminescence of the holding block. Cassian squinted, raising an arm against the glare, heart rate accelerating with an instinctive rush of adrenaline.

Two figures emerged from the flood of light. The first one was wearing stormtrooper armour.

The second one was wearing the spaceport worker's uniform, had a long dark braid slung casually over one shoulder, and was currently being thrown into the cell with a force that almost knocked her over.

Cassian's heart froze in his throat.

'You were supposed to--' he started, but Marla interrupted him with a fierce hug that almost stole the breath out of his lungs.

He froze. It felt like his brain was rebooting, trying to decide how he felt about Marla's unexpected presence.

But was it really unexpected? Of course, he wanted her to stay on the ship - but deep down, he knew she wouldn't. Just like he wouldn't.

'Are you okay?' Marla whispered into Cassian's shoulder as she continued to trap him in her arms. There was the slightest tremble in her voice, and he didn't know if he should attribute it to having recently been rather violently thrown into the cell, or something else entirely.

Cassian hummed, nose buried in Marla's hair. He knew he should have been cross with her for disobeying the orders and rushing in without a plan. But for now, for those couple of brief seconds, he was just happy to inhale the familiar scent of her shampoo and absorb the warmth of her body against his.

Finally, she took a step back and looked up at him. Despite the dimness, Cassian noticed the bright gleam in her eyes. She looked relieved. She looked as if she genuinely expected him to not be okay - even though he'd only been there for a couple of hours.

'What are you doing here?' Cassian tried giving his voice some sternness, but he wasn't entirely sure he succeeded.

'I came to save your sorry ass,' she replied, the familiar roughness replacing the tremble in her voice. Only her eyes still carried traces of worry - but she was visibly trying to conceal that, too, shifting her gaze to the wall behind him to avoid eye contact.

Cassian sighed quietly. 'You were supposed to stay on the ship.'

'Well, you were supposed not to get captured. And yet, here we are.'

'What's your plan, then? And how is getting locked up going to help?'

'It  is  going to help, because right now, K-2 is upstairs looking for a good place to plant explosives.'

'And what if he fails?' Cassian searched Marla's face for even the faintest suggestion of a backup plan. He found none.

'He won't fail. '

Cassian let out a long exhale in an attempt to tame his frustration. Of course there was no backup plan. He supposed they were lucky there was  any  plan at all.

'Damn it, Marla,' he said, running a hand through his hair. 'You should've stayed away.'

She shrugged, a small smirk playing on her lips. 'Well, I didn't. Now we're in this together. And I intend to get us both out.'

That faint trace of a smile on her lips reignited something in him, something that helped momentarily bury his fear and frustration. They  were  in this together. And as much as he could be mad at her rash ideas, he understood her need to act.

At least she was here. And somehow, the cold, barren cell didn't seem so hopeless anymore.

  *

  'This is hopeless,' Cassian murmured an eternity later, still sitting on the floor in their cell, still no sign of any activity upstairs.

'Give him time.'

'You're  advocating  for him now? When did you two become best friends?'

'Shut up.'

As if on cue, the silence was suddenly shattered by a muffled rumble, the vibrations pulsating through the walls of the cell. A shock wave moved through the floor, sending Cassian's heart into his throat. His eyes met Marla's, and she nodded.

It was happening.

The cell door shuddered in its frame as the sound of rending metal echoed between the walls. Cassian's pulse thundered in his ears. They were now standing next to one another, facing the door, waiting. 

'Hope it took care of all of them.'

'Well, it sounded... sufficient.'

And then, just as the dust began to rain down from the ceiling, the cell door hissed open to reveal the towering silhouette of K-2.

'Cassian. It is good to see you alive. I told Marla that the likelihood of you dying so fast after being captured was very low, but she would not listen.'

Cassian raised one eyebrow at Marla, who, in turn, gave him a nonchalant shrug.

'Okay, less talk, more rescuing. Care to untie us?' her voice was now uncharacteristically flat, and Cassian knew she was trying very hard to sound unbothered. 

They definitely needed to have a conversation after all that was over. But for now, he needed to focus on escaping.

With their hands untied and equipped with the blasters Kay was able to recover, they pressed forward into the maze-like interior of the Imperial prison. The smoke from the explosion was thick, coiling around them and making Cassian's throat burn.

After a while, they found the demolished staircase that got them upstairs, into the corridor that would lead them to the exit - at least Cassian assumed it would. The signs of the explosion were everywhere: they passed piles of rubble, some still-burning pieces of furniture, and two - no, three - fallen stormtroopers, their white armours now smudged with soot.

'There were eight of them, I think.'

'Nine,' he corrected Marla, almost tripping over another, fourth body. But where was the rest?

He got his answer even before he finished forming the question in his head.

Out of nowhere, a blaster shot echoed through the hallway, shattering the silent stillness and filling the darkness with a quick flash of red light.

Grabbing Marla by the sleeve, Cassian pulled her behind the nearest corner, flattening them both against a wall. There was some shouting, then another shot in their general direction, and a wave of footsteps. Three people, judging from the frequency.

K-2 was the first one to react, stopping in his tracks and sending a series of blasts down the corridor. 

Meanwhile, Cassian looked back to Marla only to see she already had both her blasters out. She had that fire in her eyes that he should definitely not be focusing on at that moment...  but, Maker, did he love seeing her in battle.  She looked like a statue, like a goddess of war sent to the Galaxy to annihilate the Empire and to make an absolute, hopeless fool out of one Cassian Andor.

An echo of another bolt ripped the air, and Cassian focused back on the shooting, trying to map out the enemy's location based on the angle of the shots.

And then he stepped out of his cover and fired a flurry of blaster shots, praying his estimation was correct. In return, he heard a loud, pained groan, followed by a series of rather creative curses in at least two different languages.

Not wanting to see just how angry the stormtrooper was now, Cassian stepped back behind the cover again and took a deep breath. 

'My turn,' he heard Marla's voice almost directly in his ear, and before he could react, he saw her run out of her cover, charging straight at the three stormtroopers grouped at the end of the hallway. Blaster bolts, like shards of glass, shredded the air in all different directions, and Cassian's heart froze as he watched Marla duck behind a pillar somewhere halfway between him and the stormtroopers.

She looked around and tucked one of her blasters back behind her belt. And then, in one fluid motion, she gripped a half-loose and visibly burnt durasteel panel on the wall and ripped it out. 

Cassian wasn't sure why she did that - but she didn't let him wonder for too long. Soon enough, she grabbed the sheet of metal and held it in front of her, using it as a makeshift shield, her other hand outstretched with a blaster pistol. 

She darted out of her cover towards the stormtroopers and somehow managed to deflect an oncoming bolt in a way that sent it ricocheting and hitting the stormtrooper who'd fired it. She then stopped behind another pillar and paused for a couple of breaths, her chest rising and falling almost in sync with the frantically flashing red lights.

Swearing under his breath, Cassian started running, and shooting, and dodging, and running some more - before he'd reached her position.

'Two left,' Marla panted quietly, a fleeting hint of a smile dancing on her lips. She had already discarded her makeshift shield, reaching back for her second blaster. 'Ready?'

Once again, she didn't wait for his reply - she just charged among a swirling maelstrom of blaster fire, pressing forward with lethal grace.

Not wanting to stay behind again, Cassian darted out of his cover and caught up to her, and soon enough, the sharp clatter of an armoured body hitting the floor filled the corridor. One last trooper left. 

But that one last trooper was surprisingly persistent, and it quickly became clear it would take more than blindly shooting forward to take him down. 

So they gave it all they'd got. Dodging, weaving, and countering with their own shots, they moved as one, as if they were dancing the same choreography they'd known for years. With their combined skill and K-2 providing covering fire from the back, they were as powerful as ever.

But that still wasn't enough. The stormtrooper kept dodging their shots and replying with fire - surprisingly precise fire, considering how long they'd already been fighting. 

Does he not get tired?

Cassian was just about to fire another shot when he saw the stormtrooper duck out of his cover. But this time, he wasn't holding a rifle. He was holding something small, something that had a tiny red switch. And then he threw that something in their direction - or, more precisely, in Marla's direction. 

Time seemed to slow as Cassian spun, catching sight of the grenade flying straight towards Marla. Immediately, his world narrowed to a single objective:  shield her .

With an adrenaline-fuelled lunge, Cassian jumped towards Marla and wrapped his arms around her waist, sweeping her off her feet and landing on top of her as they both collided with the cold, hard floor behind the cover of a storage locker.

The next thing Cassian registered was a searing flash of blinding light that illuminated the entire hallway for a split second. And then his ears were attacked by a deafening wall of sound that swallowed up every other noise, every other sensation.

The sheer force of the explosion was so immense that it shook not only the ground but the very air around them, causing the storage locker they were taking cover behind to tremble and quiver in response. Bits of debris whizzed through the space where they'd stood only seconds before, and the world became an indistinguishable chaos of sound, light, and heat.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to hang in suspension, the aftermath of the explosion still ringing in Cassian's ears. But the reality quickly snapped back into place.

'Are you okay?' he managed to pant out, propping himself on his elbows to shift some of the weight off Marla, who was lying beneath him with shock painted on her face. 

'Y-yeah...' she murmured, looking around at the surrounding dust and rubble, before focusing her eyes on Cassian again. 'You?'

Cassian nodded nervously, adrenaline still hot in his veins. He could swear he felt Marla's heart hammering against his chest, matching his own frantic heartbeat. 

It was a good feeling. It meant they were both alive.

A shiver ran down his spine, a chilling realisation washing over him. It was really close this time. Too close for his liking. If he hadn't spotted that grenade, if he hadn't reached her on time...

No, not now. It wasn't over yet. He had to stay sharp.

'Kay? Are you--'

Before Cassian could finish, he heard a single shot being fired, and then a loud thud of a body hitting the floor.

'I am unaffected,' the droid replied, lowering his blaster. 'And I am happy to report that the area is now clear of hostiles.'

Cassian let out a long, relieved exhale. 'Good job.'

'Great. Now, do you think you could maybe consider getting off me?' Marla groaned from underneath him, and Cassian realised he was still pinning her against the floor with all his weight. 'Stars, you're heavier than you look.'

'Right.' He pushed himself up to all fours, still a bit lightheaded from the explosion. He looked around - if the place had looked demolished before, it was now barely holding together. Small fires were still flickering out in several places; at least two large stone columns fell over and crashed into little pieces on the floor; and the end of the hallway was painted with the blood of the stormtroopers.

'More luck than brains,' he murmured, slowly pushing himself up to his feet.

'Hey. We made it. That's all that matters.'

'No, Marla...' he threw her an irritated look. 'We almost--  you  almost...'

He let out a frustrated sigh. Gradually, he began recounting everything that happened during the fight - and then everything that happened earlier. And, as the adrenaline and the survival instinct subsided, Cassian Andor began slowly realising how close he was to losing something -  someone  - very, very important.

And he really did not like that.

  *

  Hours later, Marla eased into the pilot's chair, the familiar cool touch of synthetic upholstery meeting her skin. Normally, she'd have savoured the view - there was something soothing in the steady vastness of the constellations ahead, something familiar in the way the ship shook as they entered the hyperspace, something irresistibly hypnotising in the brilliance of stars that blurred outside the viewport as she executed the jump sequence.

But she really wasn't in the mood to savour anything.

The journey back to the ship had luckily been much less eventful than the rest of their day. It had also been much more silent, with Cassian limiting his reactions to monosyllabic grunts uttered with a frown that quickly discouraged Marla from trying to make a conversation.

Fine. Whatever. She just wanted to get them off this rock as soon as possible.

And she did - only this time, she had to do it with K-2's assistance, because her usual co-pilot was busy sulking somewhere on the other end of the ship.

But she was tired and frustrated, and she wasn't looking forward to spending the entire night wondering why Cassian was mad at her. And so, with a long exhale, she left the safety of the cockpit to look for him.

When she entered the common room, Cassian stood by the viewport, his frame outlined against the blue and white of hyperspace. 

'You disobeyed your orders,' he stated flatly, turning around to face her.

'Yes. And you got yourself captured.' He looked up at her, his mouth pressed together in a tight line. 'I don't get why you're so cross about it. I have assessed the situation and made a strategic decision. And I was right. We made it.'

' Strategic decision, ' he scoffed, his eyes widening in disbelief. 'You rushed headfirst into an Imperial den. If it wasn't for Kay, we would have still been there.'

'That is correct,' K-2 interjected from somewhere behind her. 'I calculate the chances of successful rescue would have been over sixty per cent--'

'Oh, shut up, both of you.' Marla rolled her eyes and then focused back on Cassian, a mixture of icy resentment and burning-hot anger filling her chest. 'I saved you. What the hell is your problem?'

'My...' Cassian scoffed again and shook his head. There was a moment of heavy silence, and when Cassian finally spoke, his voice was quiet but unusually - painfully - bitter. 'You. You are my problem. You and the reckless, suicidal stunts you pull.' Cassian paused, taking a heavy breath. 'You nearly got killed, Marla. Just because you couldn't be bothered to actually think something through for once.' 

The mask of composure had been torn away, revealing an expression Marla didn't quite understand. Cassian was still visibly angry, but there was also a hint of sadness, and something else, something indescribable that felt strangely familiar, almost as if it was mirroring the same ache she could find within herself.

After a long, heavy pause, Cassian turned back around, seemingly focused on the stars outside the viewport.

'You're not the only one allowed to be worried, you know?' Marla said quietly, her words almost swallowed by the hum of the engines. She saw Cassian stiffen slightly, but he didn't turn around. 

'I'm too tired to argue with you, Marla. We'll talk tomorrow. Go get some sleep.'

Fine . Sure. If he wanted to be angry at her for saving his life, so be it. Throwing him one last irritated look, she turned around and left the common room to disappear below the deck.

As she entered her quarters, her mind became so crowded she could barely pick a singular thought to focus on. It felt like staring at a navigational chart overloaded with conflicting data. Or like exiting the hyperspace to find yourself in the middle of a battle. Or like having your systems fail mid-flight, one by one, the aggressively red warning light mixing with the smoke and the smell of burning engines.

You are my problem . 

Cassian's words had struck a nerve. But it wasn't the accusation that kept repeating in her mind - it was the concern. The worry that had somehow sneaked into his voice, clung to his words. 

Was he  worried  about her?

It wasn't right.  He wasn't supposed to  worry about her. He must have realised how little sense it made - damn it, either one of them could end up dead at any moment during one of their missions. Concern was a liability neither of them could afford.

But then, she remembered back to that feeling when she saw him getting surrounded by a swarm of stormtroopers, when she had to be physically dragged back to the ship, when she realised how easily she could lose him.

It seemed accepting her own mortality was much easier than that of someone she cared about.

Of course, she had known from the very beginning - from the moment she kissed him that night on Scen or perhaps even before that - she had known this would never be easy or straightforward. But this, this was getting too much for her simple pilot brain to handle. And yet she had to figure it out - preferably sooner rather than later - before it spiralled out of control. Before it exploded. 

Because, despite being rather fond of explosions, Marla wasn't sure she was ready for the fallout of this one.

'Kriffing hell,' she muttered under her breath and slumped onto the edge of her bunk.

When did it become so damn complicated? And what was she supposed to do with this mess?

#cassian andor #cassian andor x original female character #andor #andor fanfiction #rogue one fanfiction #star wars #andor series #fanfic #rogue one

[moonlight26posts-blog]

In Baltimore County, MD: URGENT: Needs Rescue by Tomorrow-3 year old Sweet Kitty Not Eating

Baltimore County Animal Services is seeking urgent rescue placement for Marla, a 3 year old that came in as a stray. Around November 30, Marla appeared lethargic, and wasn’t eating. Despite treatment being started, she has continued to decline. As of today, Marla is still anorexic with severe URI. Gave IV midazolam to stimulate appetite and she appears interested in the food but didn’t eat anything. IV fluids restarted. Marla needs a rescue ASAP that can help her get healthy again. If you are interested in pulling Marla, or have any questions, please let us know!

Thank you,

Megan Phillabaum

Rescue Coordinator

Baltimore County Animal Services

13800 Manor Road

Baldwin, MD 21013

410-887-7297

[email protected]

To see other animals in need of rescue, visit here: https://www.baltimorecountymd.gov/departments/animal-services/rescue-partners

Baltimorecountymd.gov/animalservices

#cat rescue baltimore maryland #urgent shelter cats #urgent rescue

[gurugirl]

Part 5! Can we talk about the roller coaster you took us on from part 1 to the final part (and so fucking glad you're not gonna just leave us with that ending - I need more of these two like I need air)??

I'm sick over how much I love these two. Harry is so hot and so sweet and so - what? What is he in this story that's so appealing? I just need him. If I could have a man that was this vulnerable, so available, so kind hearted, so eager, not afraid to put himself out there. This man doesn't exist. We want a man that is so sure of himself that he doesn't mind looking like a fool and he knows he's right the whole time and doesn't give up.

The smut was delicious as always - guru your smut excels in just about every way. The way you describe not only the actions but the scene around them, the smells the sounds, the feelings, internal thoughts. It's so immersive.

I was gonna come here off anon to tell you what I'm about to say (I normally don't go on anon) but I don't want any other blogs seeing me say this and knowing who I am when I say this...

No one. And I mean no one does smut and feelings like you. I mean I've read some really good smut and some amazing well-written stories but your ability to write a scene while making it dirty and hot is unmatched by anyone. I just needed you to know this.

In part 4 I was so upset that it ended the way it did. The angst was exactly what was needed in the story, though. How could they actually have a sweet and ideal little story that was all rainbows and smiles the whole time? They couldn't! So you did the story right by making part 4 so angsty.

And then starting of 5 with the angst, moving into the club scene and more angst with a touch of a moment I thought things would turn around but Marla to the rescue 😅 The vacation in Greece was needed and I love the jealousy that came out. Love that Harry was determined and the way you ended it with the two of them at the villa while Leo was passed out and Tyler was out with that girl he met. Phew. That whole thing with the songs you picked to showcase some of the emotions. The way he grabbed her and told her she needed to tell him she wasn't into him and she couldn't 😩 My heart. The emotions and the feelings were tangible.

Then of course their I LOVE YOUs??? The sex? Getting "caught" sort of!! I wonder if Leo heard? I cannot wait to know more. I want to see some follow up on that and just more of A Good Boy Harry and YN so bad.

My favorite couple ever. My favorite story. My favorite Harry. My favorite blog. I love you, guru.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I read this over and over again last night (was not a good night for me last night and this made me feel better seeing your thoughts on the series).

Honey, you really went all out with this feedback. I loved writing this series and to have anyone enjoying it this much just means the world to me. You are fabulous and kind to come here and share with me this kind of feedback.

AND?? I love that you feel that way about my smut scenes and writing but I have to say, I am most definitely not the best there is but if you insist that I am who am I to argue with your opinion? I've seen better writing for sure but it is something that is subjective so I'm highly flattered and feeling so warm and bright all over after hearing this.

I cannot even tell you enough what this means to me. This is so special to me and I will not soon forget this feedback and your kind words to me and about my writing in general. Literally over the moon reading this.

Thank you so much, baby. Thank you for reading and taking the time out of your day to type this love letter to me and give me your opinion and thoughts. I'm flabbergasted. Totally in shock from reading this.

Thank you 💕

xoxo

#ask #a good boy feedback

[viewer-of-many]

It was another day for the rescue bot recruits of class 2. They were tasked with performing maintenance on the Spacebridge, and so far, everything seemed to be going well. All that was left to do was test their work. The orange and yellow femme volunteered to go though, but as she did, something went wrong and the portal closed. Her classmates looked on in shock. "Uh...what do we do now?"

The bot found herself in a forest, but not the one close to the academy...she wasn't sure where exactly she was. She tried to reach her team on the comms, but all she got was static. It was strange, but nothing she couldn't handle. Just then, she heard someone coming, and quickly went into vehicle mode.

It was just another day for Marla. She flies all the way to Summersette to unleash her miserable mood on the townsfolk, and as always, the Beam Team show up and ruin it. Of course, there's not much she can do against that. Fairspring has no heroes of its' own, so doing bad there is almost too easy to be worth it. As she headed back home through the woods, she saw that someone had left a half-track ATV around. Well, she had time to inflict a little misery. Conjuring up rainclouds, she made just enough of a storm to turn the dirt underneath the vehicle into a puddle of mud. Whoever the owner was, they sure weren't going to be happy about this!

(my blorbos have now technically met. get ready, this is going to be fun!)

[therileyfarmrescue]

We’ve been led to believe that farmed animals have no other purpose than to serve as sources of food for humans.

I challenged the status quo.

MARLA RILEY

The Riley Farm Rescue's mission is to rescue suffering animals and provide them with the quality and loving home they deserve through rehabilitation and long-term care. The Riley Farm Rescue brings awareness to the neglect and cruelty animals experience through education, special events, and by living and promoting a vegan and cruelty free lifestyle.

Www.therileyfarmrescue.org

#animalrights #animalsanctuary #nonprofit #animal rescue

[noctomania]

EMOTIONAL FUCKING ROLLERCOASTER

Story time below the cut of how i nearly broke:

So. Setting the scene:

I have surgery set for monday 6am. I had this appointment set weeks ago and the time was confirmed a couple of days ago. Today is Friday. This morning at 830am I had a pre-admission testing appointment that I went to.

Cut to 130pm today I get a call from the services coordinator telling me they requested the my history and physical from my PCP's office but hadn't gotten it so the coordinator put the onus on ME to get those faxed to her -- as if i have any better luck with that.

I emailed my PCP and got a response that she was out of the office. So I messaged an NP and thought that would be it. Cut to 4:50pm I check my messages -- the fucking NP told me I had to contact the medical records office to have them faxed! YOU WORK IN THE SAME BUILDING AND YOU HAVE THE CONTACT INFO WHY ARE YOU NOT DOING YOUR JOB?!

I start freaking out, the records office closes at 5pm so I call immediately. I'm put on hold before i can even talk to anyone. I'm on hold for i shit you not an entire hour. The music is forever stuck in my head, practically a low level form of torture. Mocking me with its cheery up beat. I give up certain that they have all left for the day. Still panicking I try and do whatever I can. I call the health services nurse on call and she cant do anything but offer me empathy. I call the ortho's after hours all they can do is redirect my call. I download every recent record that i have access to and email them all to the coordinator who's inbox is now littered with my panicked emails.

I'm screaming i'm crying i'm just saying "i can't believe this is happening" over and over unable to process anything freaking out bc I do not have time for this I do not want to have to reschedule the surgery that has taken literally 3 months to get to and for it to suddenly be in jeopardy the last damn minute it felt unreal.

Cut to about 630 I have a new message. From my PCP. I now regard my PCP to be an angel, a guardian sent from another world, a god. She tells me she checked and it looks as tho her staff did fax over the info, she double checked and sent a second message to confirm and told me she would be around over the weekend and could fax it again.

When i tell you my reaction was unlike anything i've ever experienced. You know in movies how people will drop to their knees crying saying thank you thank you -- well that was literally me. As soon as i finished writing her back to tell her how much of an immortal heaven sent incredible person she is i lost all control i literally sounded and looked insane crying and laughing and just saying thank you into the air for like 10mins straight.

I'm now in so much pain from the stress that put on my body. I'm not allowed to take any acetaminophen for the week leading up to surgery so all I can take is tylenol. I cannot believe i was put through all of that. I can't believe this day. The stress frustration emotions ive been through since 8am i cannot ever find this to be acceptable. But Marla Onishi came to my rescue I am so thankful for her existence. I've never even met this doctor but damn she did right by me when nobody else would. I take back any negative thoughts, if any, i've had about her. All the coordinator had to do was let me know she got the info. Or anyone to tell me! Anyone who reads this please say some good shit into the universe for Marla Onishi. She has spared me so so much and I'm eternally grateful for this moment of grace.

#medical #health care #surgery #thankful #emotional #stress #pain

[impossibleyear]

To the Lake, 11 September 2020 Polaroid SLR 680 SE/Polaroid Color 600  

We took a ride over to the lake and brought Marla with us to walk along the coastline and enjoy the beginning of fall weather setting in.

#marla #mutt #rescue dog #dog #Polaroid #family #Instant Film #chihuahua #shih tzu #marla the rescue #impossible #impossible year #impossible project #photo #photograph #photography #subism #chicago #lake michigan #montrose beach

[littlesolo]

My Kate/Lucy Fics - Current and Upcoming

This is a collection of one shots and multiple chapter fics about Kate and Lucy and things between them. There's one series as well. I'll try to update this more often.

Multi Chapter Series

There's Still That Pull - (19/?) Breaking up with Kate had been hard. A drink with Jane hadn't helped, but it hadn't hurt either. It's the one she has afterwards at her own place that has her spending the night in front of Kate's door, but unable to knock.

Lucy's still mad at Kate, but after finding out a few more details, she wants to talk to Kate again. Needs to talk to Kate again. Trouble is, work goes on.

Kate has been sent to New York to follow a lead given to them by Clark Lohan. She's fallen back into what she knows, but is miserable. She has her priorities though: Work, eat, sleep, and try not to hurt Lucy.

Things quickly spiral out of control and it puts their own situation on the back burner while putting them side by side again. If they live through it all, maybe they'll find time to talk.

Ending Start - (4/?) Kate and Lucy met for the first time on one of the rare nights Kate goes out to a bar for a drink. She hadn't planned on starting anything, hell, she hadn't planned on talking to anyone other than to order a drink, but then Lucy Tara showed up with her smile. Followed by other moments in their relationship.

A Shift in Priorities - (3/?) Kate's first undercover assignment for the FBI has her nervous. That feeling doesn't last long though. No, she's well past nervous when things take a sudden and unexpected turn that she can't ignore. Kate has to think on her feet to keep herself and a young boy safe and a step ahead. When the NCIS team learns that Kate's gone missing, they scramble to find her while staying under the radar. Lucy can't lose Kate, not now that they've just started again. 

Adrift in the Snow - (8/?) Lucy's finally sitting down to talk when Kate gets a shock from back home. Setting their break up aside, Lucy goes to be there for Kate. It’s only until they get there that she realizes how much Kate needs her support. Hopefully, they can find a moment to themselves to figure things out. Because the situation with Cara wasn't what she thought, but neither is Kate. (Slight Criminal Minds crossover). 

The Wrong Whistler - (1/?)  A different take on Lucy and Kate's break up in S1. 

One Shot Collections

Kacy Drabbles

Kacy Drabbles II

NCIS Hawaii/MCU Crossover

Hidden Little Things

The Moments Between the Daily Grind

Kacy AUs

Mechanic AU -

Bodyguard AU - (Complete)  Secrets That Are Only Yours to Keep - A new sensational actress, Marla might be in danger. Worried about her safety, her manager hires a bodyguard. Jane Tennant's best: Kate Whistler.

Model/Photographer AU - (1/?) Through the Lens - Lucy's a model going into a photo shoot with a new photographer. At first she's nervous, but Kate Whistler isn't the typical photographer. It has her intrigued.

Childhood Friends for a Summer AU - (Complete)   Moonlight Ridge Reunion -    Lucy Tara met the best friend she's ever had one summer when her dad was doing business in LA.  18 Years Later, Moonlight Ridge is her Uncle's latest venture and it's in trouble. Kate takes over and tries to keep them afloat or at least get them through the season. The latest guest to reserve a cottage? Lucy Tara.

Upcoming Multiple Chapter Fics/Long One Shots

Details Matter - They've broken up and Kate is now FBI. A lot has changed, but now they have to work a case together. Alone and in a creepy town, they have to figure out how to survive until rescue. And maybe figure things out between them. But seriously, it's those details that you don't think to mention that turn out to be important. Turns out that applies to more than in just relationships. Based on this post.

Cindy Thomas Returns

- Cindy is back on the island and brings her kind of chaos.  There’s a story associated with it all, but Cindy isn’t sharing. 

More to be added!

#kate x lucy #kacy #kate whistler #lucy tara #ncis hawaii #upcoming fic #future writings #i have pages of notes for all of them #just gotta throw it all together #and type it up

[not-a-coral-snake]

for the @lamenweek Day 6 prompt: Auguste Lives Au

inspired by this post by @skyline-sunset-in-my-veins and @phoenixtcm

“When I am in Arles this fall,” Damianos says, words soft in the summer sunset air around them, “I will kneel before your brother the king and ask his permission to court you.” He pauses, smile just the slightest bit cocky. Laurent is lounging, hair mussed and shirt trailing half-opened laces, in Damen’s arms. “Court you officially, I mean.” 

“You are going to Arles for the negotiations yourself this year?” Laurent says. Seated as they are, Damen cannot mistake the shudder of tension, quickly repressed, that runs through Laurent at Damen’s words.

“You haven’t told him yet,” he says. 

“It’s just I thought that the ambassador—”

“You haven’t told him yet,” Damen says again. “You said when I saw you last fall that you would tell him last winter for sure.” He tries not to sound accusatory, but well. It is not the first time they have had this conversation.

“I haven’t told him yet,” Laurent concedes. It should not be so hard. It’s been six years since Marlas. Vere and Akielos are at peace. Laurent is in the habit of sharing nearly everything with Auguste, and yet— 

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” he says, as he always does. “It’s a sensitive matter, I wish to catch him in the right mood, lest he make up his mind before hearing me out.” 

“And you’re afraid of hurting him,” Damen says, as he always does.

“And I want to ensure I don’t hurt him. So I have to find the right time—”

“It’s been years now,” Damen cuts in. “Should we believe that, somehow, the perfect moment will occur this summer, when it did not last winter, or last spring, or the summer before that?”

“Damen—”

“This can just be a fling, if you want,” Damen says, gently.

‘That’s not what I—no,” says Laurent. Damen’s never said that before. 

“We can just keep meeting a few times a year. It doesn’t need to be serious. It doesn’t need to be something we tell others about.”

“Damen, stop,” Laurent says. “No. I want to court you. I want it to be official. I want it to be serious.”

“Well, then let it become serious.”

“I’ll tell him this time,” Laurent says. He can do this. It’s been six years since Marlas. Auguste always speaks of Prince Damianos in respectful tones. Laurent picks up Damen’s hand, kisses his knuckles. “Promise.”

And Laurent means to tell Auguste that summer, he really does. He meant to upon his return last fall as well, and the time before that, and the time before that. It’s just that—well, it’s just that every time he returns from diplomatic visits to Delfeur or Ios, he’s struck again with the slow, deliberate way that Auguste moves now. Each year as late spring ripens into summer, he sees how it saddens Auguste that he still no longer has the vigor or endurance for hunts or long rides or anything more taxing than a slow turn around the gardens. Each year as fall deepens into winter, he sees how another year has gone by and the cold makes Auguste’s injuries ache just as much as they had the winter before. 

Auguste had nearly died on the battlefield at Marlas. But that wasn’t the whole of it. Even after he had survived the trip home to Arles, he almost died of fever, of wound rot, of the pneumonia his battle-damaged lungs nearly couldn’t shake. And he almost died of assassination, not one time but many. There were few ways to kill a king in the peak of youth and health without attracting undue suspicion, but endless subtle ways to hasten the death of a man in his sickbed. Their uncle, left to rule the court unchecked, had tried seemingly most of them, endless schemes which Laurent had only barely managed to avert and which left behind no conclusive evidence for Laurent to show the court. Even as Auguste had gained strength, the schemes had continued, until the day Laurent gave up trying to beat his uncle while playing by his uncle’s own rules and had simply arranged an accident of his own. 

After that, Auguste was safe, but the fallout from their uncle’s years ruling the court and admittedly-suspicious death left him with nearly as many enemies as allies. As prince, Auguste had been universally adored. As king, he faced a yearslong struggle to regain the allegiance of erstwhile allies. 

And all this was, at its root, because of Marlas. Because of Damianos. Auguste’s history with Damen wasn’t just the matter of an injury six years ago, not when that injury had colored every day of his life since. And Laurent can’t imagine a way of telling him that he loves Damen, wants a future with him, without it sounding like a betrayal. 

To make matters more awkward, Auguste has, for whatever reason, gotten it into his head to nag Laurent about romance. It’s uncomfortable enough to be keeping his relationship with Damen a secret from Auguste. It’s worse to lie, outright or by omission, every time Auguste asks him if there’s anyone Laurent is interested in pursuing. 

And then— “You know you can tell me anything, little brother,” Auguste says quietly, a few minutes after Laurent has let a conversation about an overly-flirtatious marquis from Lys lapse. 

Laurent swallows, mutely cataloging the darker corners of his past. He does not like to lie to Auguste. But he does.

And there are things he probably will never tell his brother about, things Auguste does not need to know, but also— “Actually, Auguste,” he makes himself say. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

And then he pauses, because he still hasn’t figured out a semi-workable phrasing. I’m in love with Prince Damianos, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still upset about what he did to you. I’m fucking the man who almost killed you, and I’m sorry but also I won’t stop. I know seeing the prince of Akielos this fall will probably be terrible for you but also when he asks to court me please say yes.

It’s Auguste who rescues him, after a moment or two of expectant silence. “Is this going to be you finally telling me about your romantic entanglement with Prince Damianos?” he says. “Because honestly, I’m getting sick of seeing you walking around looking guilty and sad all the time.”

“You knew?” Laurent says.

“Of course I knew! You, dear baby brother, are not very subtle. And I’ve had to hear all your reports from the negotiations with Akielos twice a year. Was I somehow not supposed to notice how you gradually stopped insulting Damianos and started telling me about all his varied and impressive positive traits?”

“I said that he was straightforward and committed to the good of his people, and thus that the negotiations were likely to be a productive use of time!”

“And then the trip after that, you said that he was an innovative thinker, a natural leader, and you couldn’t help but admire his tenacity. You said you didn’t mind having to go on hunts with him, which anyone who knows you understands is a major compliment, and when you said he was patient, you smiled that quiet smile of yours that means you are remembering something that made you very happy.”

“Auguste—”

“And yet! Whenever anyone suggests you have developed any fondness for the man, you deny it. Why go to such lengths to conceal a friendly working relationship?”

“Auguste—”

“And honestly, brother, even back when you hated him, I couldn’t help but notice you mentioned his appearance rather a lot. You were always complaining that he was ridiculously tall, or offensively muscular, or something along those lines.”

“I said he was a brute!”

“You also said that his eyes were, and I quote, ‘disgustingly soulful.’ Oh, and the letters! Was I not supposed to notice that in the last year your correspondence with the prince of Akielos has roughly quadrupled in volume and frequency, even as the official negotiations are reaching a standstill? There isn’t enough policy discussion to account for a tenth of the letters you write. There isn’t enough policy discussion to justify you going to Delfeur in person twice a year, and yet you insist on overseeing things personally each time anyway.”

“Auguste, I’m sorry, all right? I know that this must have been painful for you to witness, and I don’t want you to think I don’t care about everything you’ve been through.” He swallows. “But I don’t want to stop seeing Damianos.”

“All right.”

“‘’All right?’ You’re okay with it? Just like that?”

“He makes you happy. If your judgement of him is to be believed, then he sounds like a worthy man. And I trust your judgement.”

“But he stabbed you. And now I’m sleeping with him.”

“Well, we were at war. And it was years ago. And I’m fine. We’re at peace, the nation’s moving on, you’ve moved on in your opinion of him, I can move on as well.”

“It’s not that simple!”

“Why can’t it be? I only met him for about ten minutes. I’m sure there’s more to him than he revealed in a single duel. You have my blessing, Laurent.”

“How can you just—”

“Remember when your pony threw you and you broke your collarbone?”

“This is not the same, this is not even close to the same—”

“You snuck out of the infirmary to go to the stables and tell Chuckles you weren’t mad at him.”

“I was seven, he meant me no ill will, and the bone healed in a month. Also he was a horse,” Laurent grits out. “Damianos was—is—a grown man, responsible for his choices, the injuries he inflicted did lasting damage, and he was trying to kill you.”

“Well, no one is asking you to sleep with him,” Auguste says, in his reasonable-big-brother voice. 

Laurent lets out a breath, sits back in his chair. “I started managing the negotiations with Akielos so that you wouldn’t have to speak with him,” he says. “We said that it was because I could travel more easily, that it was because you could not justify spending so much time away from court. But in truth, I did not want you to have to be in a room with him, to have to learn to make polite conversation with him and pretend that Marlas did not happen, that it didn’t matter. If I have come to know him as far more than just the soldier who attacked you, if I have put his past actions behind me, come to care for him in spite of them—that does not mean I expect you to do the same. Could ever ask you to do the same.” 

“You’ve always been protecting me, all these years,” Auguste says softly. “Don’t think I don’t know it, or appreciate it. But let me be the protective big brother again once in a while? You’ve learned to let the past go and let yourself have the present you want with Damianos, because you’re in love with him. Allow me to let the past go and have the future I want, where my little brother is happy.”

He’s looking Laurent in the eye, gaze steady, and slowly Laurent allows himself to believe that Auguste is serious, that in his heart of hearts, he does not mind. That he is happy for Laurent. 

“Thank you,” he says. “For your blessing.” 

“Of course,” Auguste says. And then, “Well, when I say you have my blessing, I mean informally, of course. Prince Damianos will have to ask me himself.”

“You just want the chance to make him squirm,” Laurent says. 

“I just want the chance to make him squirm,” Auguste concedes, and he and Laurent break into quiet laughter, imagining it.

#captive prince #Lamen Week #Lamen Week 2021 #my post

[marlasomething]

Jonmartin Week 2022 Day 8: The Work of Three or Four

Hello there!

As said in previous one-shots of this week, I cannot see a "challenge" and let it go so...Jonmartin week 2022 here we are! The idea is "forcing myself" to write piece of under 1K in different universes, AND, ONCE AGAIN, AS WE FINISHED SAID WEEK WITH THE BONUS FREE DAY I DIDN'T MAKE IT UNDER 1K YAIH, MARLA, GOOD BAD JOB!

This was written for the prompt of day 8: Free/AU day. As I have already done quite a lot of AUs, I also took the concept of Free quite literaly to be included into the story (somehow) and, then, I just wrote a pirate AU set in the universe of Our Flags Means Death bcs I can (highly inspired by some of the ideas discurssed in the TMA Spanish-speaking discord, love you pals!)

Also: I will try to end all one-shots with the line of the finale "One way or another. Together". AND I DID (with an extra note by Tim, but I am not letting go not having a certain type of episode on the canon, NEVER)

I wanted to thank from the bottom of my heart to @jonmartinweek for arranging this week of promps, I love a good challenge (especially a writing one).

As usual, do please forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes,

Marla

Allons-y!

AO3 version!

Whole week Masterlist!

Martin and Jon were being attacked.

At night.

At the bloody harbour, the only day they were the only the two of them of board. Because, of course, Gerry’s evil supposedly-dead mother had to choose that week to make her great comeback, and they had to be the designated members of the crew to keep an eye on The Sixteenth Fear (at least, it had been a great opportunity to stay together, being the ones that pulled the Jacks out of the deck -a very democratic fair system Tim had come up with after his brother Danny had been tormenting him for months in his letters with his later hiperfixiation: card games-).

And, to be honest; spending the night in their quite cosy pirate ship tied in a port city far quieter than Nassau had even sounded delightful.

However, as they hid behind the food and drink provisions, their visions of how this night was going to develop were changing rather quickly.

“I am starting to regret those knaves; I’d be far keener on facing Mary Keay…” Jon muttered, playing with the globe that covered his burnt hand.

He still recalled perfectly well when, after betraying the King (as if fucking George would have ever known who the bastard he had working as a quite efficient privateer had been), Jude Perry and her mercenaries had tried to catch him to reclaim the price over his head.

They had those two chaotic co-captains and their improbable crew to thank for that rescue. Another favour he owned Ed.

He just hoped this time wasn’t to be the entertaining distraction , singing shanties to a murderous crew of people drunk enough to get mad over the stupidest of things and yet sober enough to properly aim when shooting. Also becoming, later as the night had progressed, the physical incarnation of the infamous messengerof the renowned idiom (you know? The one that everyone eventually tries to kill) as the other pirate crew stole God knows what.

If he hadn’t been able to fit in a rather small wine barrel, he’d be dead by know (though he had wanted to be, in all those weeks of Tim mocking him while gently pushing him towards admitting his feelings, that he might have been muttering to himself when Blackbeard and The Gentleman’s crew had left the Jon-barrel right next to their shit…specially since now he was a bard).

He came back to the present to a Martin that, next to him, emitted a muttered sound that could, with the power of sheer imagination, pass as a laugh.

“Trust me, you don’t” his tone had gotten extremely severe all of the sudden.

Sometimes, with his nice smiles and soft appearance, Jon forgot that he had been a pirate for far longer than he had.

After all, his life had truly begun when he had been asked to retrieve him to his family…or something on that line; the details were to never be revealed.

The step of the intruders grew nearer, making both men shivered in place; there were at least seven of them (if not more), and they were only the two. They definitively needed a strategy.

In an ever lower tone, Jon communicated the beginning of the first step of the prologue of a very terrible disastrous plan.

“As we are well aware of, I am what could be easily called a light-weight and I am rather highly proficient at sneaking…”

“What you mean is, you are a scrawny bastard that has a special talent to backstab. Yeah, I know, and I am so not letting you risk your bloody stupid life on a suicide mission.”

“I love you too” the second man said, half mockingly.

“I am serious, Jon. You have to let go this carry-all-burdens constant attitude…I could be the first to attack them too, you know? I could get rid of, like, three or four? At least, before…”

“Who is talking suicidal now?” he had to use all his will power not to start yelling. It wasn’t much of a consolation but, with his initial terrible idea doom was only an extremely likely scenario for him. With Martin’s?

There was no way on Earth he was surviving a frontal encounter, as much as he was right about probably ending the life of at least five of the people entering their ship and…he couldn’t lose him.

Not like this.

Yes, they were pirates, and that doesn’t make you any closer to immortality, precisely; but one thing was to go away in a boarding, in plain daylight, hand in hand, you’ll never take us alive and all that experimental shanty and a very different one was to die alone, bleeding out in the arms of the other, as you can only feel betrayed because of how stupid their decision has been, even though you wish you could only feel love and grieve in that moment.

What’s more, he knew Jon would likely be already dead had he stayed in his former position; the jobs given to him by Jonah would have slowly but steadily turned him into the exact kind of avatar of his will he had always wanted.

He would have never left if it hadn’t been for Martin, even if he had just been an annoyance he hadn’t actually known anything real about. He had made him free, shown him he could be himself, no shame about it; no need to hide or constraint anything. Martin was the reason he met Gerry, and Sasha, and Tim, the Michaels (having three people named the same way in the same pirate ship could be a bit of a headache, but they handled it)…

“Hold on, Mikaele.”

“Yes, our art expert, what about him?”

“His annoying protégée: Cane. The thread system she installed…it is connected to the lower decks…we could just…pull the right strings and…” he let a knife (that he had gained after it had been positioned inside of him for being a bit of a known-it-all, quite the story) show for a moment from inside his vest and smiled a little bit too enthusiastically.

“You are not letting the backstabbing bit go away, are you? God, do you remember when you were this little too polite privateer that just wanted to be left alone with his books and laws.”

“I still want to be let alone with my books, I just rather have some people close to me while I read them. And stabbing people that are almost certainly going to kill you otherwise is an immensely entertaining activity.”

“Fine, ‘lright. I’ll admit your whole murderous bookworm energy is adorable.”

“I am not…” he breathed deeply, pretending to be annoyed as he opened the wooden piece beneath which the system of cords was. “Ready?”

“Let’s give them Hell.”

Next morning, the rest of the crew came to a pile of ten bodies of random sketchy looking men, only one of them alive (someone had to tell the tale -and also be followed to their employers, to know if there was something bigger to worry behind this attack-).

“What happened?” Joshua Gillespie asked; he had been their last acquisition and, in a very mundane way, he had the precise common sense of the common folk the rest had eventually lost.

Martin and Jon looked at each other, smiling mischievously.

Tim crossed his arms, he had a new scar in one cheek; the short he fancied collecting (and, in all honesty, it was a completely understandable decision; he really knew how to pull them off).

“You either tell us right now or I will make you sing, literally.”

Martin shrugged.

“Well, let’s just say, that we are not going down. We are getting through, whatever they threw at us. One way or another…”

“Together” Jon ended, entangling his burnt (and now covered in blood) hand with Martin’s.

“Ugh, alright. But you are not getting away without the song.”

#jonmartinweek2022 #day 8 #jmart #jonmartin #jonmartinweek #tma #the magnus archives #challenges #tma challenge #fanfic #pirate AU #everybody lives #our flags means death references #bcs it''s me #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #tim stoker #joshua gillespie #YEAH YOU READ THAT WELL #free #AU day #magnuspodfic #one way or another together #no beta we kayak like tim #magnuspod

[annisthree]

Chapter I: Welcome home

previous chapter // series masterlist // next chapter

Pairing: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Word Count: ~6k

Warnings: Explicit language, brief mentions of death, brief mentions of sex, fluff

Chapter s_ummary: Not long after that unfortunate mission during which Saw Gerrera almost had her blow up an Imperial weapon factory along with all of its workers, Marla Reid became part of Jan Doddona's rebel cell, introduced by captain Cassian Andor. Originally stationed on Dantooine, they were quickly forced to move to avoid detection, which led them to settle on Yavin IV.

A/N:  Cross-posted on AO3 (same username)

(Does this ever get less terrifying?)

// Revised on 26th Jan 2023. Again, cosmetic changes, plot remains the same

Throughout her life, Marla knew many homes - too many for her to still care about having one. First, there was Taris, back when there were still four of them. She could barely remember the place, mainly from her parents' stories. Then, Corelia, a place tainted by the deaths of her brother and father. Then, Carida and the Republic Defense Academy, where she fell in love with flying and where she witnessed first-hand the fall of the Republic. Then, briefly, an imperial prison on Onderon, under some bullshit charges that involved the words 'assault' and 'Imperial security forces'. Then, Saw's base on Onderon, after he and his band of angry misfits released her (and some other known sceptics of the Imperial rule) from her sentence. Then this, the Rebel base on Dantooine. And soon enough, it would be Yavin IV.  

It didn't take much convincing for her to join Dodonna's Rebel cell. After the events of Malastare, she was angry and bitter, but that did not temper her aching urge to be in the heat of the battle. The next day after the factory incident, she was already en route to Dantooine, and the day after that, she officially became a part of the operation, on Captain Andor's recommendation (of which he still occasionally liked to remind her).

She quickly gained a reputation for her flying skills. She led many bold missions, defying the odds more than once and nearly crashing the Blackbird on several occasions. Sometimes, she was also tasked with providing backup - a lot of Dodonna's operations relied on espionage and undercover missions, and from time to time, when things went south, she would have the undeniable honour of barging in and doing what that one year with Saw Gerrera taught her - complete bloody chaos. She always considered herself a pilot first, but she never missed an opportunity to get involved beyond simply dropping the crew off and picking them up after some time. Whatever it took to rescue her from having to wait in the cockpit for hours, waiting for the spies to do their spying.   

'Ready to go?' a familiar voice, one that years ago mortified her in the storage room of that weapon factory on Malastare, woke her up from her thoughts.

She would never admit it out loud, but Cassian Andor, apart from being her captain, was also one of the few people she would ever describe as a friend. She wouldn't go as far as saying they were close - neither of them was too outspoken or open about... well, anything, really. But maybe that's what worked so well - whenever something was wrong, they both knew they could sulk in each other's company, sitting in silence and distracting themselves with alcohol.

Which, of course, didn't change the fact that she simply loved getting on his nerve from time to time, just to remind him that - captain or not - he had no power over her.

Looking back at the empty room, Marla shrugged, feigning indifference. She picked up the embarrassingly small bag containing all her earthly belongings and signalled her readiness to depart.

 *

 A sudden, sharp tug in her stomach and a loud beep of the navicomputer told her they had arrived. Before she made any deliberate decisions, her hands were already finding all the buttons and levers, easing the ship into the atmosphere.

'Well, ladies and gentlemen, here we are.'

Yavin IV was covered in a blanket of thick fog, golden from the warm morning sun. The lower they descended, the more details they could single out: the dense and seemingly infinite jungle; then, the narrow strands of blue interwoven with the greenery; and finally, the massive stone structure towering over everything else in sight.

'Initiating the landing sequence.'

The sound of shuffling feet behind her told her the crew began preparing for the touchdown.

There were five of them, currently all strapping into the seats in the cockpit of a modified Kom'rk fighter nicknamed the Blackbird. She and Cassian were seated in the pilot seats, their faces lit with the colourful flashing lights of different controls and screens. Right behind there was Zafe. Marla remembered the surprise of seeing him on the base for the first time - they had known each other before from the Academy and lost contact after the fall of the Republic. They joined the same year and had some classes together; although, after some time, Marla decided to focus on becoming a pilot, whereas Zafe was always more inclined towards studying strategy. Still, she liked the guy and was always happy to spar with him or grab a drink and exchange some gossip.

Next to Zafe, there was Aevie. A short, blue-skinned Pantoran, she was somewhat withdrawn and quiet, but her tiny frame helped her get into the tightest shafts and sneak up virtually anywhere. On top of that, she was very skilled with technology and security systems, which had proven to be a significant asset to their team more than once already. She was also the newest addition to their crew, having joined only half a year ago.

And finally, at the back of the cockpit, grunting and wiggling in his seat, there was Salvatore, a burly man in his fifties. He was a veteran of the Clone Wars, where he served in the Planetary Security Forces. Despite his age, he was still an excellent soldier and helped them shoot their way out of a tight spot on many occasions. Now, finally strapped in his seat, he was craning his neck to asses the sights outside the viewport.

'Doesn't seem to we're gonna have a welcome party,' he declared after scanning the horizon.

'Don't worry, Sal, we'll find you something to shoot at.'

'Okay, just to manage your expectations, the landing pad has clearly seen better days and the visibility's shit,' Marla interrupted. 'You might wanna hold onto something.' 

'What's the matter? Surely the Rebellion's self-proclaimed best pilot can handle a little bit of fog...?' Zafe teased her.

'Wanna take over the controls, buddy?' she smirked in his direction. 'Be my guest.'

'Over my dead body,' mumbled Cassian. His eyes were still glued to the viewport and the landing pad beneath them, but a slight grin crept onto his lips. 'Won't let you crash another one of my ships.'

'Heeeeey. Not fair. It was a snowstorm.'

'First of all,' Marla said, turning back towards Zafe, 'it wasn't a snowstorm; you're just a shit pilot, buddy. Second of all... I'm sorry, Cassian, your ship?'

'Well, I mean technically I am the captain, which would make this ship...'

'Oh, you've got to be-'

'Kids!' Salvatore bellowed loudly, stopping Marla in her tracks before she could articulate anything more than an outraged puff. 'You know I love both of you. Marla, you are a great pilot. Cassian, you are a great captain. Now, respectfully, can it. You can claw each other's eyes out once we land.'

Still slightly offended, Marla shifted her focus onto the control panel in front of her. If she were to look at Cassian right now, she would see a carefully repressed grin hidden beneath the mask of concentration, which would surely aggravate her even more. Thankfully, though, she has decided not to grace him with attention, and so the rest of the flight was spent in silence, interrupted only by an occasional rattling noise from under the console ('Mental note: check the power subsystem before the next mission').

The landing pad has indeed seen better days. However, the mere fact that there was a landing pad to begin with was a luxury they weren't used to. 

Marla was careful with her enthusiasm. It all seemed a bit too perfect, a bit too much of a lucky coincidence. Sure, the place was in ruins, but beneath the battered surface was a structure of an actual base, a base that someone operated from hundreds of years ago and then abandoned, leaving it for them to find. The Rebellion had scouted the place thoroughly, raking the entire base and its surroundings before deciding to make it their next home. Still, she couldn't shake off the feeling of hesitance. Things just didn't come as easily, right?

The base was empty; their crew was the first to be sent to confirm the previous reports and deliver some of the essentials before the rest arrived. The next day, the place would slowly start filling with people, running around with screwdrivers and hammers and whatever the kriff else you use to make a ruin like this usable again. Marla didn't care much for being a repairman, praying to be shipped out on the first possible mission and not return until the restoration was complete. Still, she was hoping this additional day would help her secure some nice quarters, preferably single, preferably with a window.

The rest of the day was spent unloading their cargo, scouting the location and assessing the work to be done. After an initial reconnaissance, Cassian disappeared to report back to the command. Aevie and Zafe wandered off to find and map the best places to install shield generators, and Sal began moving the rubble out of the landing pad. Having nothing better to do (or, rather, wanting to do something so that Sal doesn't draft her into moving rocks from one pile to another), Marla decided to grab her belongings and find a place to unpack.

As she wandered through the maze of empty corridors, she tried to assess the potential of each room. After a while, she slowly caught herself warming up to the idea of settling here. She didn't expect this to become her home - she had long given up on the concept, the closest thing being that little nook in the cargo bay of the Blackbird. Still, she could imagine walking through these corridors after a long, exhausting mission, dreaming of a shower and a warm bed. Or finding a spot where they could have a sabacc game, complete with a bottle of Tevraki whisky and loud laughter. Or finding a desolate corner where she could hide, just like that nook on the Blackbird, and where she could wrap herself in a blanket and pretend she was back at the Academy, hiding from her professors, smoking smuggled cigarettes and dreaming of the battles ahead.

But first, she needed to find a room good enough to transform into her quarters and yet inconspicuous enough for the command not to squeeze five more bunks into. She really, really missed not having roommates.

 *

 The following day, the base started slowly filling up with people. More and more ships were arriving, carrying all of the equipment from Dantooine, as well as their entire weapon arsenal and a couple of weeks' worth of provisions.

The entire crew of the Blackbird, minus Cassian, was huddled together in the corner of the hangar bay, doing their best to look inconspicuous - which of course, made them look absolutely suspicious.

'I think we can pull it off, but we need to be smart about it.'

'Well, what's the plan, then?' Aevie murmured under her breath, her eyes scanning the other people in the hangar bay.

'The… goods… are in the Valkyrie's cargo hold, brown crates, stacked behind those durasteel rods we took from the old base. Sal and I can move them over, but we need to make sure we don't draw attention. Anyone starts sniffing around, and at best, our cosy little spot will become full of people. Or the stuff gets confiscated, and we get ourselves a priority ticket to the General's office. Or the brig. Do you think they've set up a brig already?'

'Don't know, don't wanna find out,' Sal answered quietly. 'So, when do we do it?'

'I say we go in during dinner; everyone should be in the mess hall. Hopefully, no one decides to have a romantic sunset walk around the landing platform.'

'Do we really have to be so… dramatic about this? It's not exactly illegal to be in possession of a couple of crates of Corellian whisky. And some Naboo red. And whatever else there is.'

'Sure. Do you want to explain to the General how Marla and I made a quick detour after the last mission and confiscated the entire storage room worth of alcohol from a bar on Ord Mantell?' Zafe grinned at Aevie, raising one of his eyebrows.

'Well, it's not theft if you're stealing from the Empire, right?'

'Yeah. I'm sure the Captain would be delighted to hear about our little unauthorised adventure. Sure he wouldn't have anything to say about it, especially not anything that would include the words irresponsible and stupid .'

'Come on, Marla, you're making him sound like a monster.'

'I'm making him sound like a bore. Which he is.'

'Okay, okay. So, dinnertime?'

'You've got it. And someone please bring some cards. I really feel like kicking Zafe's ass tonight.'

 *

 They gathered in the docking bay as soon as the smell of freshly cooked food filled the corridors. The enormous hall was dimly lit by the setting sun; clearly, they hadn't gotten around to installing any lights there yet. The area was crowded with different size crates and boxes, some open, some still sealed. The Valkyrie was one of the six ships docked in the bay at the time, not counting about a dozen X-wings sitting on the landing pad outside. As predicted, no one was diligent enough to work through dinner, the floor littered with hastily abandoned tools and parts.

'Where's Sal? He should have been here by now.'

'Maybe he couldn't resist the appetising aroma of whatever unidentified sludge they are serving as dinner.'

Right on cue, the man appeared from behind a corner, clad in a standard issue uniform that needed to be adjusted to accommodate his below-average height (pint-sized, he liked to call himself) and his broad frame. His face, partially hidden behind a huge and mostly grey beard, was now covered in sweat.

'This bloody climate will be the end of me. Well, come on, kids, no point standing here,' he said, wiping the sweaty forehead with a sleeve.

The four of them began marching towards the ship, trying their best to project confidence and a sense of purpose, in case someone did end up seeing them.

They barely made it halfway through when Aevie stopped abruptly and signalled for others to do the same. There was a figure on the other side of the hangar bay, right by the entrance, appearing to be working on one of the release mechanisms. Quietly, the group moved behind the nearest stack of crates and huddled together.

'What do we do? Should we come back later?' Aevie's whisper cut through the silence.

'Are you kidding? After dinner, this place will be flooded with people again. And we can't risk leaving the cargo on the ship for one more day; someone will finally notice a bunch of unlabelled crates that no one seems to be able to identify. We have to do it now.'

'So, what are you suggesting?' Marla raised her eyebrow, a small grin appearing on her lips.

'Glad you should ask,' Zafe smirked right back at her. 'We're gonna need you to go in there and provide distraction.'

'Why me?'

'Because we need our little scout,' he motioned at Aevie, 'To ensure the way is clear while Sal and I carry the crates.'

'I can carry the crates. Don't be a sexist pig.'

'I know you can. But, out of the four of us, you have the strongest bluff.'

Marla couldn't stop herself from laughing, 'We both know I do not. Remember that time on Nar Shadaa when you had me go undercover as Cassian's business partner? I almost got us killed within the first ten minutes.'

'Well, I'm sure you've learned a lot from that experience. Go.'

'You're planning to start without me, aren't you?'

'I would never. Go.'

'Fine. But the three of you owe me one. I'll collect this debt when you least expect it.' Marla sighed and threw them an agitated look. She peeked from behind their cover - the figure was still there, not recognisable in the dim light but clearly occupied by the electrical panel by the hatch door.

Throwing one last bitter look toward her friends, she took a deep breath and started walking in that direction. She tried to look casual and inconspicuous, like someone who would never even think about smuggling alcohol into the base and putting together a makeshift, unsanctioned cantina.

The closer she got, the more details of the mysterious figure she could make out. It was definitely a human, most likely a man, judging by the build and the short hair. He was wearing one of those standard Rebellion outfits that they had an entire storage room of, which didn't exactly tell her much. A couple of more steps and she started distinguishing the colours - the dark hair, the beige shirt, the... oh.

Great. The last person they wanted to bump into. She briefly considered turning back, but he must have heard her by now.

'Evening, Cassian. Not a fan of today's dinner menu?'

'What is today's dinner menu?' He was still focused on tinkering with the electrical panel.

'Dunno. Smells like shit, though.'

'Shocking.'

'Aren't you being a bit overzealous?' she suggested, at which he threw her a brief questioning look. She pointed at the panel. 'We do have mechanics, you know. They can handle it tomorrow.'

'Or I can just finish this up today.'

'Clearly, you're not doing so well.'

Cassian let out a loud sigh and turned around, resignation on his face, 'What is it that you want? Did you come all this way to comment on my engineering skills?'

'Come on, don't be so cross. I was actually doing a bit of work myself and needed a hand. Seeing how you're the only other person here, I figured I could ask you. Didn't realise you were in one of your cranky moods.'

'I...' Cassian sighed again, visibly giving up. Finally, he rubbed his forehead and gave her a resigned look. 'I can't deal with you right now. Okay. What do you need?'

'Well, I was rewiring the Blackbird's cooling sensors...'

'We do have mechanics, you know?' he interrupted her with the smallest hint of a sneer.

'Oh, being cheeky now, aren't we? Glad to see your mood is improving. I do know that. I also know I don't trust any of these rookies with my baby.'

'But you're asking me for help? I'm honoured.'

'Shut up, I have no choice. It's a two-man job; I need someone to check the readings on the control panel while I fix the wiring. Trust me, we wouldn't be having this conversation if it wasn't absolutely necessary,' Marla said, trying to project her usual confidence. In reality, her brain was flashing red alert signs, and she could feel her hands starting to sweat a little.

Good bluff, my ass.

Cassian visibly paused to consider something, inspecting her face thoroughly. That definitely didn't help her confidence. In a desperate attempt to throw him off the scent, she gave him her biggest, fakest smile.

'Pretty please?'

He took another moment to think but then rolled his eyes and put away the tools he was holding.

'Fine, let's go.'

 *

 Cassian knew Marla well enough to know that she was a terrible liar and to know exactly when she was trying to bluff. He was absolutely certain she was up to something.

Still, he decided to play along - he was curious to see why she was so desperately trying to distract him.

He followed her to their ship, trying carefully not to show how entertaining it was to watch her stiff, nervous gait and occasional witty remarks, which she surely thought sounded confident and inconspicuous. He had been having a pretty frustrating day so far, but watching her try so hard was delightfully entertaining.

When they finally arrived at their destination, Marla promptly disappeared under the ship's console and started tugging at some wires. Cassian was instructed to check the thermal stats on the control panel, then to note down the thermostat readings in the cargo bay, and then to confirm the central console again. It was not a two-man job. He quietly marvelled at how desperately she was trying to come up with new tasks for him and how absolutely inconspicuously she was looking out of the viewport when she thought he wasn't paying attention.

'Okay, I think we're done here. Thanks. You're relieved of duty,' she finally announced after having him run to the cargo bay and back at least five times.

'Are you sure? Maybe we need to double-check? Surely, you don't want us to freeze on our next mission,' he mentally reprimanded himself for the obvious provocation. Luckily, with all her nervousness, Marla didn't seem to realise he was making fun of her.

'Positive. Now go.'

'Okay. See you tomorrow at-' he started, but she was already gone, clearly in a hurry. He stood there for a brief moment, and then, with a spark of childish excitement burning in his body, he began quietly following her.

 *

 'I knew you would start without me. Stupid bantha-fuckers.'

When Marla finally entered the room, her friends were sitting on crates in a circle, bottles in hand, cheerful banter filling the room.

'Oh, come on, you will catch up. Besides, what the hell took you so long? You were supposed to distract that guy's attention, not invite him to a romantic dinner.'

Marla furrowed her brow, painfully aware of a slight hint of redness that was creeping onto her cheeks. She quickly approached Zafe, grabbed the bottle he was holding (triggering some unhappy moans on his end) and took a long sip.

'The guy was Cassian. So, first of all, you're fucking welcome. And second of all, I had to pretend I needed help with the Blackbird's wiring. I had to drag him there, quickly disconnect the thermal panel, and then pretend to be fixing it. I had him run around and check all the thermal readings in each part of the ship. Several times. This will seriously destroy my reputation as a genius engineer. So, again - you're fucking welcome. I'll think really hard about that favour you owe me,' Marla promised, taking another long sip and discarding the empty bottle. 'Okay, someone get me another one.'

'Can you ask nicely?' a familiar voice reached them from outside the room. Cassian was leaning on the doorframe with a blank expression, slightly raising one brow.

They all froze, shooting hesitant looks at one another.

'Maker, why are you such a creep? Anyone ever tell you sneaking up on people like this is not socially acceptable behaviour?' Marla broke the silence.

'Socially acceptable, huh? Do tell me more.'

'Hey, Cassian!' Salvatore yelled joyfully, detecting tension that surely wouldn't get them out of this situation. 'We were just talking about you! Come, join us. You'll never believe what we have found in these creepy old ruins.'

Cassian's emotionless face was replaced by a frown that was screaming  I am so done with you.  He rolled his eyes, made sure to give every single one of them a disappointed look, and went in to sit down on one of the empty crates.

'You wouldn't tell on us, right?' Sal asked jovially, trying his best not to reveal his unease.

'Why would I? You said it yourself; you just found all this. Funny, though. I thought I saw crates very similar to these on the Valkyrie when we were unloading.'

'Well, buddy, a crate is a crate. You've seen one, you've seen them all.'

'I suppose... So, what did the Massassi leave us?' The tension started slowly decreasing, but they were still cautious. Aevie, being closest to the crate that still contained some bottles, began listing the contents.

'See? I told you he's not a bore,' Zafe sneered at Marla. Cassian shifted his gaze at her, raising one eyebrow. She just shrugged and grinned at him innocently.

Cassian knew he should keep a straight face, but in all reality, he was rather amused with the whole farce, as well as the fact that they felt like they had to hide from him. He found it rather endearing, like children sneaking out to steal candy from the cupboard. It seemed like he really grew fond of those idiots.

He didn't exactly care about making friends. He never really had a particular need to surround himself with people - if anything, he always preferred limiting his close circle as tightly as possible. He knew he had a bit of a reputation on the base; there were people who misinterpreted his need to maintain distance as a demonstration of superiority, while others still simply considered him boring. He didn't particularly mind either, as long as it meant he could steer clear of drama and unwanted attention.

Still, he grew close with his crewmates - a fact which worried him a little, since he was generally convinced that any sort of closer connection in times like these was potentially troublesome. War was not a good moment to make friendships.

Then again, there's only so long one can brood in isolation. Sometimes - not too often, but still - he would find himself needing some company, and he was grateful he had a handful of people he could feel comfortable around. Even if it meant breaking some of his own rules.

'So, I'm hearing we have a new class of recruits coming tomorrow,' Zafe started, eager to change the subject.

'Yeah, I have Flight 101 with them. Hope they're less useless than the last group.'

'Marla, they weren't useless. You're just a particularly shit teacher.'

'Well, excuse me for not explaining everything five hundred times. I won't be sitting with them in an X-wing, holding their hands. Up there, if you hesitate, you die. So if they're not listening carefully to every word that leaves their instructor's mouth and repeating it like gospel every day before going to bed, then yeah, they are out.'

'No wonder we're short on pilots,' Zafe commented quietly, immediately hiding his face in a glass full of alcohol.

'At least the ones we have are good. You're welcome,' Marla sent him a wide, playful grin.

'Just please, stick to teaching them the intended way of using the X-wing cockpit,' Cassian murmured. His face said nothing, but there was a playful spark in his eye as he fixed his gaze on Marla.

'Wait, what?' Aevie, being the only one in the group who hadn't heard the story, took a moment to piece things together. 'Do you mean…?'

Salvatore and Zafe exploded with drunken laughter. Despite the subtle redness creeping onto her cheeks, Marla maintained a cocky smirk and did not break eye contact with Cassian.

'Do you have a problem with my teaching methods, Captain?'

'Only when they result in traumatising a bunch of mechanics who were unlucky enough to get the night shift.'

'Nothing traumatising about that,' her grin widened.

'You really slept with a recruit from your class? In an X-wing? Damn, I'll drink to that, kiddo,' Sal raised his glass enthusiastically. Marla just cocked her eyebrow and raised her own glass.

'Don't encourage her,' Zafe joined. 'You should be outraged. She used her status to lure the poor boy to bed. Or, well, a cockpit.'

'The boy was older than me. And what, am I not allowed to sleep with people below my rank? That doesn't leave much choice.'

'You could consider, erm, fulfilling your needs off base,' Aevie suggested.

'What, like Cassian?' Sal chuckled a bit too loudly and gave the captain a nudge. Cassian only cocked his brows, returning his attention to his drink.

'Don't pretend, Captain. We know what those undercover missions really are,' Zafe joined, leaning forward.

'Don't… You clearly have too much built-up frustration if you're fantasising about my undercover missions, Zafe.'

'Oh, you have no idea-'

'Ew. That's it, we're changing the subject,' Aevie firmly stated. 'Let's see...'

'How do you think we can spruce things up here?' Sal chimed in. 'I'm thinking we could put some shelves on the wall and then use some of these empty crates to build a bar. And those smaller ones can be seats, at least until we raid an Imperial diner or something. And we can paint the place and put up a sign.'

'Sounds like an awful lot of work,' Marla proclaimed loudly, picking a random bottle from the crate. She stumbled briefly on her way back, catching her balance at the last moment and subsequently bursting into drunken laughter.

Cassian rubbed his forehead and sighed, 'You're gonna be absolutely useless tomorrow.'

'As if she was particularly helpful sober,' Zafe sent Marla a wide grin, to which she responded with an exaggeratedly contorted grimace. 'What were you doing yesterday when we were setting up the shield generators?'

'Sightseeing,' she gave him her most innocent smile.

'My point exactly. Don't worry, Captain, we're gonna be exactly just as helpful as we always are.'

'Great,' Cassian concluded with a tired look on his face.

'See? I told you he is a bore.'

 *

 It took another couple of hours for them to decide they were ready to call it a day. Some, like Salvatore and Cassian, were in relatively good shape - the first of them due to his body mass and extensive experience, the latter out of responsibility and precaution. The rest were still conscious but had significant difficulty walking in a straight line.

'You're impossible,' Cassian commented, offering Marla his arm to hold onto.

'No,  you're ... whatever,' Marla said in an accusatory tone, pointing her finger at his chest before briefly stumbling. Cassian raised both his eyebrows and focused all of his energy on stifling the smile that was trying to creep onto his face.

As she grabbed his arm, he could see the rest of their crew departing towards the hangar bay, with Sal supporting Aevie and Zafe just cheerfully zigzagging through the corridors. They have agreed that it would be best to sleep on the Blackbird until they manage to set up the barracks - the ship was big enough for each of them to have a small cabin, and it would definitely be more comfortable than sleeping on the floor inside the base.

And so, they slowly traversed the maze of corridors, led by Salvatore and Aevie, followed by the wobbly figure of Zafe, with Cassian and Marla closing the drunken parade. Their shadows danced to the music of their echoing voices, shifting and growing as they lit their way with flashlights. Cassian was mentally mapping the facility as they walked, noting the layout and thinking about which rooms could be used for what. From time to time, he had to catch Marla, who was tugging his arm in all possible directions.

After a lot of stumbling and several wrong turns, they finally reached their ship. With Marla still hanging off his sleeve, Cassian waited patiently as the remaining companions climbed onboard. Just as he was ready to get in, he felt Marla letting go of his arm and taking a step back.

'You go first,' she suggested, not looking at him.

Cassian threw her a suspicious look, 'You're up to something again,' he concluded after a moment of silence.

Marla reacted with the most innocent look she had in her repertoire. 

'Marla.'

'Okay, I just need some air. Just gonna stretch my legs and take a quick walk outside.'

'Pretty dumb idea, even for you. Come on, you're going to bed.'

'Noo,' she whined. Cassian looked at her with a growing feeling of helplessness, but she was still stubbornly standing her ground.

'Marla-' he started, but she simply darted towards the exit, filling the whole hangar bay with the echoes of her thumping feet and barely stifled laughter.

Cassian sighed, rolled his eyes, looked around. And then, reluctantly, he followed.

 *

 'You're an idiot,' he announced, catching up to her in the middle of the landing pad outside. She was folded in half, laughing maniacally.

'And you're a bore.'

'Yes, you've mentioned. Several times this evening.'

'Come on,' she moaned, sitting down on the tarmac and looking up at him. 'It's never gonna be this quiet again. Just a couple of minutes, and we can go back. Deal?'

'Do I have a choice?' he mumbled, joining her on the ground.

She went quiet, staring at the vast jungle outside the landing pad. They could hear the loud rustle of the leaves, the sounds of animals calling through the darkness, and the humming of the shield generator in the distance. Marla was taking in the views, smiling gently as the wind tangled the loose strands of hair that escaped her tight braid.

It was indeed blissfully quiet, Cassian admitted, laying down and looking at the sky.

'Do you think any of this will matter?' she finally said after a few minutes of silence, her voice unexpectedly low and distant.

It took him a moment to process the sudden change of subject and tone.

'I don't know,' he answered. 'Does it matter if it matters? I mean, I can't really imagine not fighting,  not doing anything. Even if, in the end, it amounts to nothing.'

She nodded slowly, still looking into the distance. Then, she lowered herself to the ground, positioning herself perpendicularly to his body and propping her head on his stomach.

Cassian muscles stiffened for a moment, but he quickly regained control. He suddenly realised he was tense, rummaging his head for something to say. Luckily, it didn't seem like Marla was interested in continuing the conversation; she focused her attention on a small pebble lying on the ground and began playing with it, turning it in her fingers and inspecting its shape from each angle. He watched her in silence, feeling the tension slowly leave him.

After a moment, she let go of the pebble, and her breathing became slower and more even. Cassian realised his own eyes were beginning to feel heavy, and so he carefully propped himself up and tapped her on the shoulder.

'Hey,' he whispered. 'Not a good idea. We're going inside.'

She mumbled something quietly in response but then began slowly getting up. He looked down at her and offered his hand to help her, which she happily took, hoisting herself up and finally standing on her feet.

'Thanks. This was nice,' she mumbled sleepily.

It was nice. Cassian felt himself smiling at her half-opened eyes, her tousled hair and her blushed cheeks, clearly still affected by the alcohol. They stood like this for a moment before he broke eye contact and silently reprimanded himself for acting like a teenager.

They started towards the ship, and soon enough, Marla was climbing onboard, trying to maintain her balance and groaning miserably. Cassian grabbed her by her shoulders and gently pushed her forward towards her cabin.

'Goodnight. Try not to be useless tomorrow,' he murmured, guiding her inside and leaning on her cabin door. She replied with a stifled laugh and a playful stare.

For the second time today, he found himself suddenly tensing and freezing. Marla just laughed again.

'Goodnight,' she said, punching the control button and closing the door right in his face, jerking him back to reality. He furrowed his brows, confused at his own reaction, and slowly began finding his way to his own cabin.

#cassian andor #cassian andor x original female character #andor #star wars #rogue one a star wars story #andor series #star wars fanfiction #rogue one fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

[inky-duchess]

The Villain's Ending: How to Serve Your Villain Their Comeuppance

The Villain is one of the most important characters in your story, the driving force for everything that happens your heroes and your world. The Villain must be dealt with, we can all agree on this one point. The Villain has been tormenting our hero and they must be punished. And not by a falling brick, Dave and Dan. The audience deserves a real ending and your villain must be punished accordingly for their actions.

Punishment fits the crime/ Poetic Justic

The Villain has been cruel, they have done horrible things to our hero. The world decides to get its own back in the most ironic and poetic way possible. These endings are perhaps the most enjoyable to both read and write, they allow both you and the audience to have closure but while making echoes in the story.

Carrie is one of my favourite novels. Carrie has been pushed far past breaking point by the conclusion of her story, she has been bullied, humiliated and betrayed. Every character who has ever hurt Carrie (either physically, emotionally, mentally or spiritually) gets their just desserts. She has been tortured for her strangeness and inability to fit in... and now, her strangeness is what she wields against her villains. She destroys her bullies at the school dance (wiping them put at an event which was meant to be the happiest night of their life), getting rid of Chris Hargensen and Billy Nolan, the puppeteers of her humiliation (using Chris and Billy's status symbol [the car] against them and taking control of it away from them to hurt them with it) and good ol' Mama Margaret White dies at her daughter's hands, slowing her heartbeat with her TK (Margaret is punished by her own daughter, her life taken by the gene she passed to her own daughter and via the symbol of love, a commodity she denied her own child).

Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame is a beautifully shot film and one of Disney's gems. At the film's climax, Frollo is trying to kill Esmeralda and Quasimodo atop the apex of Notre Dame. Frollo has a sword in his hand and seems to be winning, raising his sword to smite Esmeralda as she tries to help Quasimodo, reciting "And He shall smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit!" But he has weakened the stone gargoyle he stands on and his movements cause him to fall and cling to the gargoyle as it cracks, its eyes glowing with sudden divine rage. Frollo falls backwards into the fiery blaze of Paris to his death. Justice is served.

In Game of Thrones/ASOIAF, we see this in spades. Ramsay Snow has hunted down young women in the woods with his hounds, tormented Theon Greyjoy into madness, had his stepmother and half brother fed to his hounds only minutes after the boy is born, killed his father (though this is a service to society), might have killed his own elder half brother, burned Winterfell, raped Jeyne/Sansa and being a pretty bad human being. In the show, Ramsay is fed to his own dogs while Sansa watches. Tywin Lannister has also been a terrible human being: having his son's wife raped while he watches, arranging the Red Wedding, allowing Cersei to set Tyrion up for murder, punishing Alayaya, his actions against the Reynes and Tarbecks, his terrible parenting and his general evilness. He is shot while taking a dump by Tyrion, the child he disparaged most in a rather inglorious fashion. Tywin dies leaving his dreams of dynasty to crumble, his unsavory relationship with Shae to be uncovered and humiliated after his death. The Seven were truly good that day. And not to mention Walder Frey, being served his own dead sons in a pie and killed by the daughter and sister of the woman he had slain in the very room he sits in. You can see the confusion and fear in his face as he tries to work out why this is happening, mirroring Catelyn and Robb's own horror and fear. Arya cuts his throat, echoing her mother's death.

In Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, we are introduced to the hunter Ken Wheatley. He hunts the dinosaurs, helping the main villain in rounding them up. He has a habit of collecting the teeth of the animals he hunts. He pulls out a Stegosaurus's tooth, relishing in the prize without caring for the creature's fear and pain. Wheatley tries to do the same with the Indoraptor, thinking the beast has been tranquilized but Indy was just playing. The Indoraptor bites his arm off as he tries to pull her tooth, killing him in gory glorious fashion. Indy was a very good and clever girl.

Book Ends

The Villain sometimes is treated to a walk down memory lane in their final moments. The beginning of their story is echoed in their final moments, bringing the circle to a finish and creating a nice clean break. The end feels earned in these circumstances, rounding off the arc nicely.

In Harry Potter, Voldemort fears death. He has done all he has done for his preservation and longevity. Voldemort faces off Harry in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, one on one as it had been when Voldemort stood in Harry's bedroom in Godric's Hollow. As before, the action that begun the tale ends it for Voldemort. He fires the Killing Curse at Harry and it gets turned on him. Voldemort dies simply, with no thunderous drama. He gets both his worst fears wrapped up in some poetic justice. The circle is complete.

Arya Stark faces all kinds of villains in her trek across the riverlands in A Clash of Kings. She and her gang of misfits (Gendry, Hotpie and an injured Lommy) are cornered by Lannister soldiers. The soldiers gather the gang to send them to Harrenhal. Raff the Sweetling, one of the soldiers asks Lommy "Is there something wrong with your leg, boy?" And Lommy replies, that yes he is hurt and he has to be carried. Raff stabs the boy through the throat and jokingly repeats Lommy's request. Arya encounters him again in Braavos in the Mercy Chapter of Winds of Winter. She stabs him in the thigh and feigns worry for his condition, asking him whether she should help him to the physician. Instead, Arya stabs him in the throat. The circle is complete.

Though Braveheart is a rather mixed bag of tricks, it does get this echo right. Muireann has her throat cut for both marrying without the Lord's permission and attacking the English soldier who tried to rape her. Enter William Wallace who takes on the garrison and raises the village to utterly destroy the soldiers. He marches into the Lord's fort (the place he felt safest in as Muireann did in her village and metaphorically in her marriage to Wallace) and drags the fucker to the same post he executed Muireann at, cutting the Lord's throat. The circle is complete.

In Captive Prince, the whole conflict of the series kicks off at Marlas where Damen kills the Veretian Prince in battle, brother to Prince Laurent. Kastor has taken his brother Damen's throne and forced him into slavery. Damen's opening chapter has him being readied for his ordeals in the slave's baths before being sent off to Vere to serve Laurent. Fast forward to our ending and Damen has come home for his throne. He confronts Kastor in the slave baths where Kastor tries to kill him. Laurent steps in and delivers a killing blow, killing Damen's brother as Damen killed his. Two circles are fulfilled.

In The Heroes of Olympus: The Blood of Olympus, Gaia has begun to destroy Camp Half Blood, levelling the forces of the gods and demigods. Gaia began the first first cycle of the PJO Universe by having her husband, Ouranos/Uranus killed. Gaia had Ouranos come down from his domain the sky, away from his source of power. She had him ambushed and killed, her son Kronos, the original antagonist do the deed. We fast forward to the present and Kronos has been taken down by Camp Half Blood and Camp Jupiter. Gaia is mad af and rises to take out the heroes. In the end, Gaia's fate is that of Ouranos, driven from her point of power, the earth and destroyed. The bookends are a couple of millennia apart but the circle is complete.

There is always somebody else.

The Villain and hero are mortal enemies. The Hero has suffered at the Villain's hand for the length of the story, battling them in tests of strength, power and wills. The Hero must over come the Villain... or do they? The Villain must be beaten, that is a fact or else the story has no purpose or no meaning. One must triumph over the other. But there is no written rule that states that it must be the protagonist who must deal the blow and here is where justice can be done for even the most minor character.

The Captive Prince series has this ending in spades. Throughout the story we are pelted with the Regent's evil actions: Hurting Erasmus, killing Laurent's horse, setting his own nephew up to be sexually assaulted and murdered at the hands of the man who killed his brother, constantly being creepy, keeping children as pets, taunting Laurent about abusing him, killing his own brother the King, ordering the death of Pashcal's brother who knew the Regent ordered the King's death, of the killing Nicaise, corrupting Aimeric and his takeover of the Kingdoms of Vere and Akielon. We spend the story waiting for his downfall, waiting for Laurent or Damen to strike the blow. But it isn't them. Instead, the Regent seems to have won, trapping both heroes. Then comes the justice. The truth comes to light. Aimeric's mother testifies against the Regent. Evidence gathered by Nicaise and Pashcal's testimony of his brother's actions both prove to be a nail in the Regent's coffin. In the end, it is the ghosts of three of the Regent's victims who beat him and drive his supporters to abandon him. The victims get the revenge, not just the heroes. It isn't an empty victory for them.

In Outlander, Claire is kidnapped and subjected to torture and abuse at the hands of Lionel and his men. He broke into her home, snatched her, beat Marsali and tortured her. When Claire is rescued by the men of the Ridge, Jamie asks her which men attacked her but she cannot recall so he has them all killed excepting Lionel that is. He is kept because of his value to his brother and Claire's belief that a patient shouldn't be harmed by the doctor. Enter Marsali. She has hurt in the kidnapping and had to watch the strongest woman she has ever known subjected to horrors. She understands Claire will not take revenge because of her Hippocratic oath but she swore no such vow. Even the speech, is striking reminding us that Claire is not just the only one has hurt. "I've been learning the art of healing. Mistress Fraser taught me well. She took an oath to do no harm... I have taken no such oath. You hurt me, you hurt my family, you hurt my ma. I will watch you burn in hell before I let you harm another soul in this house..." Also, she kills him with a syringe which is a nod to his destruction of the one at the battle with the regulators. I for one hope it hurt.

In Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, we see this happen a lot. Neville takes out the sword of Gryffindor and fucking charges at Nagini, a piece of Voldemort, avenging his parents' torture and his own brutal treatment in his final year. Bellatrix has killed Sirius and Dobby, both two characters very dear to Harry and his friends. They do not get to bring her down. It is Molly Weasley who gets to do it, a mother who has lost her brother, her son and almost her world to the ideals of Bellatrix. She fucking snaps and we cheered her on.

In the Lion King, we watch waiting for Scar to get his comeuppance after he pushes his brother off a cliff, chases away his nephew and destroys the pride lands. Though Simba fights a good fight, he gets a case of Hero-itus and decides not to kill his uncle (it is a Disney movie after all) but events transpire and then Scar is trapped with the hyenas, the same hyenas he just tried to throw under the bus only a few seconds before this.

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