#of his continuity mess i can live with that and YES ''ship one'' or ''vessel one'' would be a perfect name for the TOOL he flies

[eliza1911o1]

Show!Inej is lowkey a mess. Terrible mess. Like fire alarm sounded, complete panic, pushing people down the stairs mess. The writing and acting for her is spot on, yet her progression is probably the largest divergence from the books. In the novels, Inej is tied to Ketterdam by her contract (to Tante Heleen in the show and Per Haskell, really Kaz, in the books) as well as this connection she has to Kaz, but there is also the fact of her incredible trauma from being a young women stolen from her family and sold into prostitution. When Inej decides to hunt slavers, this isn’t simply out of the good of her heart; she has made the decision that her and Kaz need to heal themselves before they can be together, that she will not be serving someone else and can not sit by to aid him (which he does more than respect by literally gifting her a vessel to sail away on), and decides that she wants to save girls like her from ever having to go through what she experienced.

This comes after almost dying multiple times and literally having to question why she’s living. After continuously facing a relationship that may never happen and having few examples of care at all. After repeatedly and willingly facing her past and triggers and making peace with them. (Stealing from Tante Heleen? You can’t tell me that isn’t one of the best examples of a full-circle moment)

Inej’s decision to leave Ketterdam is tied to a certain hopeless towards he relationship towards Kaz, but is more so driven by being stronger than her trauma. Inej faces extreme trauma from her time at the Menagerie; past the fact she faced emotional and physical abuse, she was also forced to exist as a “thing,” sold again and again to act for others’s whims. Getting a ship to captain isn’t about running away or not wanting to owe the Dregs or Kaz, it’s about finally being free to make her own decision and that decision being to never allow someone to feel as lost as she did. Much of Inej’s character arc is tied to overcoming being shackled by her trauma, feeling afraid she’ll see past customers or freezing upon seeing captors. It is an incredibly powerful narrative.

I don’t have too many qualms with the show, but the decision to have Inej just leave on Sturmhond’s ship just feels so wrong. At this point, she hasn’t faced her past, it hasn’t even mentioned, and I will not forgive the show runners for withholding her trauma and not giving it proper breadth. It’s literally a central point in her character and she’s one of the strongest because she’s one of the only to directly confront her trauma

Also, the significance of her dream and Kaz can’t be overlooked. The show makes it feel like Kaz is her only tie to Ketterdam and her leaving is acknowledging they aren’t able to be together. This just… it misses the mark, so very far off. Yes, he is part of it, but book!Inej had so much more tethering her to the city that she cut away when she left. Furthermore, when she made her decision, Kaz only respected it and was even spurred to change for her out of desperation. Kaz tries to touch her, he tries to tell her his feelings, and after he does a very horrible job of all that, he gives her the best ship he can and finds her parents so that even if he’s not with her, she’ll still be safe. Inej acknowledges this. When Inej leaves she’s choosing to be her own person and she’s not giving up on Kaz; there’s an unspoken promise she will return and he will always attempt to meet her.

I just think this is such a beautiful example of their relationship and the show completely scrapping it breaks my heart

[dukereviewstv]

Duke Reviews TV: The Orville 1x06 Krill

Hello, I'm Andrew Leduc And Welcome To Duke Reviews TV Where Today We're Continuing Our Look At The Orville By Looking At Episode 6 Of Season 1, Krill

This Episode Sees Ed And Gordon Going On An Undercover Mission To A Krill Vessel To Scan What Is Supposedly Their Version Of The Bible Known As The Anhkana (I Hope I'm Spelling That Right) So The Union Can Try To Understand Krill Culture A Little More In An Effort To Possibly Make Peace With Them...

Will Ed And Gordon Get The Scans And Make Peace With The Krill?

Let's Find Out As We Watch Krill..

The Episode Starts In The Mess Hall With A Scene Involving Gordon, Lamar, Bortus, Alara And Issac Where They Talk About Alara's Latest Breakup..

And Make Fun Of Bortus Because His Species Can Eat Anything Without Feeling Any Sort Of Discomfort (Even Wasabi)...

But Eventually They Get A Call From Kelly Who Tells Them To Report To The Bridge As Another Human Colony On The Planet Kastra 4 Is Being Attacked By The Krill, And Sadly This Has Been Happening Alot Recently...

They Hail The Krill Ship To Tell Them To Cease Fire Or They Will Attack But All That Does Is Just Put A Target On Their Backs As The Krill Ship Approaches To Attack Them...

But After A Little Tricky Manuvering Done By Gordon, They're Able To Not Only Destroy The Ship But They're Able To Get Ahold Of A Krill Shuttle...

Visited Afterwards By Admiral Ozawa (Played By Lady Deathstrike) She Gives Them A Mission To Use The Krill Shuttle To Sneak Ed And Gordon Into A Krill Ship Where They Will Scan The Krill Bible Known As The Anhkana, In Order To Give The Union More Information On Krill Culture And To Possibly Find A Road To Make Peace With Them...

As They Don't Have Much Information About That And Believe That If They Went To War With The Krill They Would See It As A Holy Crusade, Which Would Last Decades...

Which Is Fine As We Learn Some Of The Krill Want Peace As Well, However, After Recent Episodes, I've Come To Believe This About The Krill...

(Start At 1:08)

Especially When It Comes To One Character Who Later Appears In This Episode, Now, I'm Not Saying This Character Is On The Same Level As The Joker, But This Character Is Pretty Much Up There With Khan From Star Trek...

(Start 0:20, End At 0:38)

Yeah, That Bad People, That Bad...

So, Using Miniature Holographic Generators (Courtesy Of Issac) To Disguise Themselves As Krill, Gordon And Ed Enter Krill Space And Come Across A Krill Ship..

Once Inside, They Speak With The Ship's Captain, Haros And The Ship's High Priest, Sazeron, As They Act Like Idiots As They Name Themselves Chris And Devon...

And How They Don't Instantly Get Discovered By Having Names Like That I Have No Clue...

Anyway, They Tell Them What Happened To The Krill Ship And Say That They Were Working On The Shuttle At The Time Of The Attack On The Krill Ship And When It Exploded The Shuttle And Them Were Thrown Into Space..

But Despite Believing That "Chris And Devon"...May Have Information That May Help Them With Their Current Mission, They Decide To Hold Off Their Questioning For Now As It Is Time For Church, So To Speak...

But Before We Continue With "Krill Mass" So To Speak, I Got To Talk About Gordon In This Episode...

I Love Him When He's On-Board The Ship, But When He's On The Krill Vessel, He Doesn't Seem To Be Taking The Mission Seriously And Any Attempt At Humor He Does Comes Off As Either Awkward Or As Well..

I Mean, Ed Is Even Looking At Him In Some Scenes Like "Dude, Shut Up"

And It's Here, We Meet...Her....

This Is Telaya, The Character That I Was Talking About Earlier And If There Was Living Proof That The Female Of The Species Is More Deadier Than The Male, Then This Heartless, Emotionless, Monster Is It..

And Yes, She Is Every Bit A Female Version Of Khan, Sure, She Doesn't Go Around Quoting Lines From Paradise Lost Or Moby Dick, But There Is One Scene In Season 3 That's Pretty Close..

(Start At 0:35, End At 1:17)

Pretty Close, Huh?

But As The Old Saying Goes, Evil Isn't Born It's Made So, Let's See How Telaya Starts Out...

She Meets Ed And Gordon (I'm Not Continuing To Call Them Chris And Devon, Sorry) At Krill Mass And When They Reveal That They Were On The Destroyed Krill Ship, She Reveals That Her Brother Was On The Same Ship...

(Sniffs) Is That Motive I Smell?

Anyway, We Get A Good Joke From Gordon For 2 Seconds Only For Him To Kill It To The Point That Ed Tells Him To Finally Shut Up As Krill Mass Finally Starts And...

How They Expect To Make Peace With This Race Especially When They Massacre A Human Head At Mass Is Beyond Me...

After Mass, Ed And Gordon Sneak Into The Krill Church And Begin Scanning The Anhkana, But Before They Are Finished The High Priest Sazeron Enters...

Wondering What They Were Doing, They Tell Sazeron That They Wished To Seek Further Guidance And Comfort From Anhkana After The Destruction Of Their Ship...

Sazeron Buys The Story (But He's Somewhat Onto Them) And The 2 Go Back To Their Room On The Ship Until The Ship's Night Shift Begins, Only Then Do They Return To Continue Their Scanning Of The Anhkana...

However As I Said, Sazeron Is Somewhat Onto The 2 And Asks The Captain That Guards Be Placed By The Chapel, Telling Them What Ed And Gordon Were Doing...

But Despite Initially Believing It To Be A Good Thing, The Captain Grants Sazeron's Request...

But Eventually, Ed And Gordon Face Problems As Not Only Are Their Holographic Generators Acting Up But So Are Their Scanners..

With The Guard Arriving, Ed And Gordon Seem Pretty Screwed But Luckily They Manage To Escape And Get Back To Their Room Without Being Spotted...

Turns Out Their Scanners And Holographic Generators Were Jammed By Electromagnetic Interference From A Krill Bomb Which Is Producing High Levels Of Neutron Radiation...

Yeah, But Here's The Odd Thing, It Doesn't Look Like A Bomb, It Looks More Like A Missile Than A Bomb, But Still It's Bad News...

Realizing That If That Weapon Activates It'll Wipe Out Billions Of People, They Turn To Telaya Who Not Only Gives Us A Little Bit Of Character Development By Revealing That Because Of Her Brother's Death She Has Retreated Further Into Krill Faith..

But Also That The Bomb Is Meant For Destroying A Human Colony On Rana 3 (Which Has No Defenses) As Krill Believe That Which Is Not Krill Is Without A Soul....

With Gordon Realizing They Have To Warn The Union And Get The Hell Out Of There, Ed States That They'd Never Be Able To Send Help In Time So They Have To End It There And Now...

So They Come Up With A Plan To Use The Emitters (Which Run On The Same Frequency As The Bomb) To Activate The Bomb From The Shuttle Despite Their Mission Being To Find A Way To Make Peace With Them...

Realizing That They'll Need Tools They Attempt To Go To Their Ship Only For Telaya To Temporarily Delay Them By Asking Them To Help Her With Some Trainees Of Hers, Leading To More Awkwardness But A Sad Scene As They Realize There Are Krill Children Aboard...

Which In Turn Leads Ed To Change His Plans As Whether They're Krill Or Not Killing Innocent Kids Is Wrong And If They Destroy The Ship Now, They'll Just Prove Telaya's Point Right That They Have No Souls...

Eventually, After A Krill Boy Named Koja Enters, Ed Realizes That The Reason The Krill Are Pale Is Because They're Like Vampires...

(Start At 0:24)

Yep, They Burn When They're In Sunlight...

Therefore If They Turn The Lights Up By Inducing A Power Surge, They'll Burn To Death, But What About The Kids You Ask? Well They'll Just Blow The Lights Out In The Classroom And The Kids'll Be Safe...

Setting The Timer For The Power Surge To Start In 10 Minutes But Gordon Is Caught By Sazeron, Leading To More Awkwardness Before Gordon's Holographic Generator Acts Up...

With Alarms Going Off As Ed Arrives To Talk To Telaya's Class More But Discovers That Student That Questioned Him Earlier, Koja Is Missing...

Asking Telaya To Keep The Kids Safe On Her Brother's Honor While He Looks For Koja, Despite The Guards Looking For Him, Telaya Promises To Keep Them Safe...

With The Ship Arriving At Rana 3, They Prepare To Activate The Bomb As Ed Finds Koja And Gets Him To Telaya's Class Just In Time As The Power Surge Happens And Everyone Except Telaya And The Kids Fry...

As For The Bomb, Gordon (Who Was On The Bridge For Questioning) Fires The Ship's Torpedoes At The Bomb, Destroying It, Before It Gets Onto The Planet...

Contacting The Orville, They Get Telaya And The Kids On Board The Ship With Ed Visiting Her In Sickbay As Who He Really Is Before Alara Takes Her To The Brig...

They're Arresting Telaya For What Her Crew Attempted To Do But Arrangements Have Been Made To Return The Children To The Krill Homeworld Because They've Done Nothing Wrong And They're Not Their Enemies, But Telaya Pulls A Yoda And Says They Will Be 2 Times...

And To That I Throw In Another Star Wars Quote At You, Telaya...

Cause, God Knows We Haven't Seen The Last Of Her....

And That's Krill, And Despite The Awkward Scenes With Gordon, It Was A Good Episode..

But It's Only Good Because It Started The Villain That Would End Up Becoming Not Only The Orville's Biggest Threat But The Union's As Well, So For That Alone I Would Rewatch It, But Otherwise The Rest Of The Episode Is A Major Skip...

Till Next Time, This Is Duke, Signing Off...

#the orville #seth macfarlane #adrienne palicki #penny johnson jerald #halston sage #scott grimes #michaela mcmanus #disney + #Spotify #Youtube

[thedarkreborn]

Okay so. It’s not that I’m surprised that sad mean angry gatekeeper boys are losing their minds over Disney “renaming” the Slave I. I’m just annoyed that I keep clicking the links to articles about it thinking that they’ve finally actually told us what the new name is and no, it’s just the same articles about things being labeled “Boba Fett’s starship” and “Firespray” instead. That is not the ship’s new name that is not a name. That is just a label on a product. Folks, come on, stop telling me there’s a “new canon name” for the ship until there is a new canon name for the ship.

(Also like...you do remember there were years there where we only had “Hammerhead” and so on as names because the Expanded Universe hadn’t invented proper names yet and we were just using the labels they slapped on the action figures, right? It’s just that again. It’s not a new name it’s just a product label. Stop lying to me and making me think they’ve actually released their choice of its new name when they haven’t yet!)

Anyway. I'd honestly like to see them rename it as "Vessel One" or "Ship One" or even "Firespray One" (although the latter is my least favorite of the choices because it sounds too flowery for Fett tbh even though it’s just the ship type). All names that don't just keep the pragmatic, disposable vibe of the original (you don't bother to name something "One" if you aren't expecting/prepared to eventually have a "Two," right?) but are in fact even less sentimental in their complete lack of acknowledgement as the vehicle as anything unique or precious.

It's a tool, nothing more and nothing less.

That seems like a very in-character naming choice for Boba Fett tbh. At least, the old school "this is my face" practical man that I grew up knowing as Boba Fett. Disney does seem disappointingly (but unsurprisingly) determined to turn him into something else, but I'm just telling myself that this honor-code guy with an inexplicable interest in running Jabba's old palace is Spar or some other clone who thinks he's Boba Fett, because the barve I know would never.

Seriously though it would be nice to have his ship named something that I could actually put on a T-shirt (or vanity license plate! I spent almost a year when I was a small teen dreaming of getting a vanity license plate for my car and putting the name of Boba Fett’s ship on it until I realized that would be terrible! omg!!!!), though, so I'm totally in for dropping "Slave" as long as they replace it with something fittingly cold and not some sentimental osik. That would be great, actually, please?

#boba fett #star wars #and believe me i am a Classic Fett fan #we're talking old school original jaster mereel barve like that kast-killing guild-destroying cold-space-lubricant-for-blood BOBA FETT #mister ''i remove my helmet for no one this is my face'' boba fett #i was the kid in the audience for the special edition release going what the FIERFEK are you DOING #when they had him tweak rystall's chin like that what the FUCK #i had a ''she's one of his informants and that weird flirty thing was a cover so people wouldn't suspect'' headcanon before i even got home #reading all this modern shit with him being all woobie sentimental over dead jango and CRINGING what are you DOING #boba fett is not sentimental he is RUTHLESSLY practical and pragmatic don't even #yes of course when he's a wee child it makes sense he would be devastated at his dad's death OBVIOUSLY #but by the time we meet grown-ass fett in the OT he has excised emotional imperfections from himself #and the sintas/ailyn/mirta retcon actually works WONDERFULLY and cleans up so much (he was young and desperate to please a dead man sure) #of his continuity mess i can live with that and YES ''ship one'' or ''vessel one'' would be a perfect name for the TOOL he flies #and i am not spouting random ''pc'' nonsense here folks i know what i'm talking about #i KNOW classic fett i CHERISH classic fett #there is nobody who knows and cherishes the original version of him more i assure you #not dala not shysa NOBODY #so do not AT me with your fascist white supremacist fake geek boy BULLSHIT

[bugsyfics]

Hey! Can I please request prompt#38 with undertaker, prompt #4 with Sebastian,and prompt #47 for ciel please?Thank you!!

A/N: Hii! Thank you for the lovely requests <3

Tw: mention of overdose/suicide

Undertaker

Prompt: #38

It was of pretense your true love would be yours forever. In fact, whenever that shimmer in your eye faded after every ‘I love you,’ he spoke against your apprehension.

“Stay with me,” Undertaker would mumble into the crook of your neck.

Though your heart skipped a beat every single time he uttered those words, you couldn’t help but feel heartbroken.

It was loss. It made you afraid and vulnerable; it broke your trust in those who cherished you down to each vessel within their beating heart. But one thing you couldn’t decipher was whether you were more weary of loss or of love. Love always seemed to betray you with those untimely tragedies, so the words that your partner spoke never failed to tear you to pieces.

You knew of the consequences of your actions. Simply you would leave in ignominy and be shunned by your bitch of a mother. Though you still remained uncertain how your lover would take it all. Sure he was happy-go-lucky, but that was all a facade. Underneath, there lied a fragile soul, easily crushed by the barbarity of this world. The world he claimed to have failed himself and his dearest friends, then you.

Perhaps, it was the chemist to blame or Undertaker's lack of warning, but the lazy smile that lingered on your ashen face made it clear you were fond of your choice.

As the glass prescription bottle clattered to the floor out of your weak hand, you watched Undertaker catch you. His mouth hung open a bit, grabbing at your pale face.

Your body went limp in Undertaker’s arms.

Free. You felt closer to yourself than you had all those years of living. Closer to your self. And though you knew this feeling wouldn’t last, you realized you weren’t afraid anymore of the suffocating darkness “love” had sucked out of your essence. You finally found the beauty of it —your longing grew stronger for your heart’s desire.

Just as you were enveloped in ear-splitting silence, an ethereal bliss washed over you. You came to your senses.

Your eyes opened, only your darling in sight.

Undertaker shook his head with a shallow laugh, brushing wisps of hair away from your face.

“God, you’re so annoying,” he exhaled, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

“But I can stay with you forever.”

Now the color of chartreuse, your eyes danced over Undertaker’s, bright with a similar glow.

Sebastian Michaelis

Prompt: #4

Silky black fur and oh so perfect paws, you have!

Sebastian couldn’t help but admire such a beautiful creature. He was fascinated with how the feline’s limber body took each step without a care. Those pleasant, soft purrs against his chest nearly melted the man. Poor Y/N, she watched as her partner gave more attention to the old cat rather than herself. Jesus, she was jealous over nothing, but that didn’t stop her from spying on the strange interaction.

“I love you far more than anything in this world,” Sebastian cooed softly atop the cat’s head.

You scoffed. He is beyond smitten of that thing over me!

Creeping back behind the bushes, it was best for you to leave before you were caught.

“Darling?”

Oh no, of course he could sense you there. Popping your head past the hedge, you were summoned to him.

With a little attitude, your lip jutted out and arms crossed.

“You love it more than me, huh?”

“Yes,” Sebastian smiled, “cats are simply more superior beings than humans after all.”

“Seb! You’re so mean,” you whined, stamping your foot like a child. A faint smile tugged at your lips.

Quickly, he stood sitting the cat down, and embraced you with a soft hum. “It was a joke, dear. I swear.”

Surprising Sebastian, you giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. “Oh, I know!”

In amusement, Sebastian stroked his chin. “You know, I’ll never understand how you can switch emotions with such ease. You’re an interesting one, my love.”

Ciel Phantomhive

Prompt: #47

“I didn’t mean to... Ciel, you know that.”

The earl exhaled, a shallow laugh fell from his parted lips. The Darjeeling tea in his cup, sat for a while during your heated argument, so when he finally took a sip he cringed at the coolness of it. He couldn’t complain too much, he needed that quick drink to suppress his distaste.

The earl spoke, “I can’t take you seriously —you disappoint me. How did you think I would accept something like that? You think telling my adversaries where my ships are docked is the proper way to get ‘even?’”

Too upset to continue, Ciel shook his head and pushed his teacup aside. He mumbled to himself and grabbed for a pen and paper to take a few notes. You couldn’t read what he wrote from where you sat, but you knew it wasn’t good. Finally, he set the pen down and glared back up at you.

“Y/N—”

“Shut your mouth! You must be a fool to not realize that what I did was imperative. My God, Ciel! You forced me to choose between you and my dreams,” you scoffed.

“And, and, what was I supposed to tell those men, knowing that you pissed me off?” you hissed.

Ciel slammed his cup of tea, rattling the chinaware, and pointed a finger at you. “Would you for once, stop being a bitch?!”

You froze, unable to believe that he would call you such a name. Ciel realized what he said and how terrible he sounded, talking to a woman he was courting that way, and covered his open mouth. His eyes wide.

Standing, you threw your kerchief to the ground.

“I will stay at the townhouse for a while… Until you get your act together and learn how to speak to a lady, there won’t be any further communication. It’s up to you to fix this mess.”

You motioned to the butler, ordering him to pack your belongings. That afternoon you left for London.

— bugs

Taglist: @second-weeb-chick @master-of-schadenfreude

#black butler imagines #black butler fandom #black butler headcanons #black butler fanfiction #black butler sebastian #black butler undertaker #black butler ciel #ciel phantomhive x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader #undertaker x reader #black butler #answered

[winchesterxxi]

For the Best (Din Djarin x Reader) | PART 1

PART 2 ⇒

Rating: G (General Audience)

Type: Angst

Summary: Din has put his life at risk one too many times in order to protect Y/N. But how much is too much?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: CHAPTERS 14 & 15 SPOILERS

A/N: this a long one, so strap in. and fun fact, that’s my favorite gif of din, ever. something about the ruffled hair, the worried eyes and the facial hair just hit the spot. (UPDATE: Hi so apparently people want this to be a series??? So part 2 is in the works but because this was intended to be a one shot apologies if it seems rushed)

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

Din would give his life to protect the ones he loved. It wasn’t just a case of honor and duty anymore but rather of pure unfiltered love, which he’d never admit out loud or phantom of letting you know. Most of the times he’d do it so unconsciously that it was as if a primal instinct took over him when it came to protecting either of you. Sure you were a grown woman, with amazing hunter skills but for him, you were something that he had to protect, without making it too knowledgeable to the people around him.

That is why he was quite reluctant to take you along with Mayfield to the hidden Imperial rhydonium refinery on Morak to get Moff Gideon's ship coordinates.

“Din, I’ll be fine.”

“What if-”

“No discussions. I’m going.”

And he just silently nodded his helmet in a yes ma’am manner that made the whole crew on the back of The Slave side eye each other.

Once inside the officer's mess hall, where the terminal Mayfield needed is in, he notices his former commanding officer, Valin Hess, and fears being recognized, refusing to step into the hall.

“This is your part of the job. You go in there and you get the bloody coordinates.” you hiss at him through your own helmet.

“My part of the job? I drove us here while under attack and saved our asses, and you have the nerve to say this is my part of the job? No way I’m going in there.” he looks between you and Din.

“I’ll do it then.” you say decidedly, but before you could take a single step into the hall, Din grabs your upper arm.

“No.”

“What do you mean no? He won’t do it and you’ have to take your helmet off which is not happening.”

“Why would I have to take my helmet off?” he questions through his modulated voice.

“All the terminals in this refinery can only be accessed after a facial recognition scan. I noticed it while we were making our way through the halls.” you explain causing Mayfield to throuw an impressed look in your direction.

All three of you fall in silence for a few seconds, considering how you would go about reaching the terminal and before you could say another word, Din steps away from you and Mayfield not even giving you time to process what was happening or try to stop him.

With just a few strides he was standing in front of the target terminal pressing a few buttons and for two times getting an automated voice stating facial scan required. Sensing his distress, you try to walk to him only to have Mayfield’s hand forcefully grabbing you and pulling you back to where you were standing.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he whisper-yells, scolding you.

“I’m trying to help.” you answer with the same voice tone, releasing your arm from his grasp.

“He can take care of himself.” you don’t say anything but instead turn your head in Din’s direction, just like Mayfield as you hear the facial recognition being asked for a third time, initiating a countdown.

Din reaches for his helmet and you cut your own breathing. and there’s a slight buzz in your ears. The world stops spinning when your eyes catch the back of his head and the curling of his brown hair strands there resting. You can’t believe what he just did, exposing himself like that and introducing his face to virtually every security control in the galaxy. 

Even though his back was still facing you, there was almost a sense of disrespect in looking at him, almost as if you’d caught him undressing. 

Then, from the corner of your eye you can see Hess approaching him. 

“Trooper!” Hess shouted to him. “Hey, trooper!”

Din turned his head in Hess’s direction and as soon as your eyes caught a glimpse of his skin, you looked away - this didn’t feel right. He didn’t have a say on whether or not he’d want you to look at him and you didn’t want him to be even more uncomfortable than what he already was.

“Pay attention when a superior addresses you. What’s your designation?” 

“Transport crew,” he said. No helmet modulator whatsoever and his honey like voice slipped so easily into your ears. 

“What?”

“My designation is Transport Copilot.” his voice said again and you could hear to slight tremble in his statement.

“No, son. What’s your TK number?” Hess insisted

“My TK number... is...” he tried but nothing comes out, and you know that this might be the moment that gets all three of you killed. That is until Mayfield steps in front of you and quickly strides to Din’s side.

“This is my Commanding Officer TK-593, sir,” Mayfield quickly says, and gave Din a look of reassurance before turning in your direction and motioning with his head for you to come closer. Slowly, with the riffle still under your harm you approach the three men all looking at you. “And this is my First Lieutenant TK-234. I’m Imperial Combat Assault Transport Lieutenant TK-111, and Sir, I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a little bit, since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.”

You are standing next to Din and you now realize how he was only a few inches taller than you without the beskar armor, his chin just little above your eye line. For a moment you imagine how enjoyable it would be to lay your head against his shoulder or nuzzle against his neck, heights perfectly matching.

“What’s your name, Officer?”

“We just call him Brown Eyes,” said Mayfield with a mocking undertone in his voice “Isn’t that right, Officer?”

Brow eyes you thought. Brown eyes... that suits him.

With your peripheral vision you can see Din slightly nodding with his head. You still din’t dare to look at him.

“C’mon, let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power coils-” Mayfield started, trying to get done and over with this situation 

 “You’re not dismissed.” you all froze. 

“You the tank troopers that delivered the shipment of rhydonium?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Yes, sir” Din was the last to answer and you could feel the vibrations of his voice next to you.

“Well, you three managed to be the only transport today to deliver their shipment. Come with me, hmn? Let’s get a drink... Brown Eyes.”

As soon as he turns his back Mayfied follows suit and you can see Din looking at you, once again, through the corner of your eyes, but you look straight ahead and walk behind Mayfield.

What you didn’t see is that you left a hurt man behind, one that wished for you to be the first person to look him in the eyes but that now thought that he was so hideous that you couldn’t even bear the sight of him.

Sitting down on a nearby table, Mayfield took the seat in front of Commander Hess and you to his right, leaving the seat in front of you free for Din to take his place at the table.

“So,” said Hess, “What shall we toast to, boys, and girl? I can blather on, about ‘to health’ or ‘to success’, but... I’d like to do something a little less rote.” he turns to Din “Where you from, Brown Eyes?”

“How ‘bout a toast to Operation Cinder,” Mayfield intervenes.

“Now,” says Hess “That’s what I’m talking about.”

“No,” Mayfield continues. “No, you don’t get it - I lived it. I was in Burnin Konn.”

“Burnin Konn?” “Mm.”

“That was a hard day. I had to make many... unpleasant decisions.”

An exchange between the two men initiates but all you’re focusing on is keeping your eyes looking down at either the table or your drink avoiding Din at all costs. But then, feeling his eyes practically burning a hole in your forehead you realize how much of an asshole you are acting like right now.

This man trusts you with his life. And you with his. You both had made sure to make that known a few weeks ago when you almost got killed by this enormous Ice Spider in Maldo Kreis and he told you to instead of running away from the spider to try and run into and under it.

“Are you crazy?” you cried out

“Do you trust me?” he asked

“With my life.”

“Me too. Then do it.”

And so, your eyes start to trail their way across the table. To his chest plate. To his neck. To the bottom of his face, noticing his light stubble and mustache. To his eyes. And then, just like that, wind knocked out off you. 

Your furrowed and anxious brows soften and your teeth release you lips, that you were biting trying to not think too much. Your whole body softens and as you look at him in adoration.

And he is looking at you. Adoringly. These two people that have known each other for so long, longed for each other for so long are finally meeting each other, actually seeing each other for the first time. For him, it’s the first time he sees the true color of the flush of you skin or how blood tinted your lips are as he doesn’t have the slight darkness of his helmet distorting them.

He wants to kiss you, so bad.

“You see, kids,” Hess says snapping you both from that moment “Everybody thinks they want freedom, but what they really want... is order. And when they realize that, they’re gonna welcome us back with open arms.”

He lifted his glass, and Mayfield chuckles. Both you and Din look worriedly at him knowing how he is about to go out of his mind

“To the Empire.” He drank and Mayfield fires.

You and Din look shocked at each other before turning to Mayfield.

“What the hell?!” you scold him.

Suddenly, stormtroopers appeared from all sides, and the three of you grabbed your weapons, starting to shoot everyone on sight, Din in front of you. Eventually, they were all down and there were just the three of you standing in the room.

Mayfield jaunts ahead “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Turning back to Din, you meet him looking down at you, his expression soft again. You reach for his helmet, pressing it against his chest.

“You did what you had to do. I never saw your face.” He looked back at you.

“Y/N...”

“It’s okay. If there is a next time that I can look at you, I want it to be out of want. Not out of need.”

He looks at you, actually thinking about whether or not he’d go back to hiding himself from you but ending up nodding and putting it back on.

“Thank you.” he says voice muffled by the helmet.

“You’d do the same for me.”

Yes he’d do.

You sat in the main chamber of the Slave next to Mayfield as the rest of the crew conversed in the upper room trying to come up with the next part of the rescue plan.

“You’re going to get him killed.” your head turns in his direction. 

“What?” you question not sure of what you heard.

“You’re going to get him killed. Today, that man went to the terminal to prevent you from going. He put himself in front of you, shooting at a whole battalion of stormtroopers. He stayed behind so that you could be the first to climb into this very ship.” 

You look down, remembering today’s events.

“He just did that for you, and Cara told me that yesterday he almost made a roast of himself when he thought you were on the Razor Crest when it got blown up. He was actually going to walk up into a ball of fire because he thought you were there. Don’t you get it? He might be one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy but that man goes completely irrational when it comes to you.”

“What are you trying to say?” you asked confused and trying to mask the hurt in your voice.

“I know this is going to hurt to hear but... maybe you should go away. At least until he gets the kid back so that he can concentrate only on that.”

“Are you saying that I’m a distraction?”

“Your not a distraction to him. You’re his priority. And that has proved itself to be beyond dangerous.”

He stands up without another word and climbs to the room above, letting you to sit with your thoughts, going over the exchange that just happened.

Boba had stationed the ship on some random planet for the night and while everyone was sound asleep, preparing for what they had to face the next day, you spent the past hours pacing in your room, Mayfield’s words still echoing in your head.

That’s why you were now standing next to your bed, a bag with all of your belongings on top of it. This is for the Best. If I stay he’ll probably get killed. You repeat over and over, recalling all the times that Din risked himself for you, the ones that no one but the both of you knew because they weren’t there to witness them.

This is for the Best.

Decidedly, you sling the bag over and across your shoulders, silently opening the door to the outside of your chamber and sliding it close. It’s better this way: to leave without saying goodbye, during the dark of the galactic night. A goodbye will wreck you and a goodbye would make you stay.

This is for the Best.

You repeat one last time, once you step out of the ship into the frosty night air, taking one last look back, before walking away, wishing that the next morning people wouldn’t panic and rather understand your decision; wishing that Din would some day forgive you.

This is for the Best

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

Want a completely personalized imagine just for you? Click here!

#for the best #winchesterxxi #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #angst #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian imagine

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Dolls’ Eyes — A Jaws AU

Pairings: established Peggy/Steve, developing Brunnhilde/Carol Rating: T Chapters: 14/14

Summary: Tony Stark snapped his fingers and the vanished half of the universe returned, but Thanos escaped the battlefield, fleeing into space. Now that he’s virtually powerless, most of the Avengers consider chasing him all over the universe a waste of resources, but Peggy Carter—newly deposited in the 21st century—is determined to finish the job. Brunnhilde and Carol Danvers have the same idea.

When scattered rumours of fresh killings escalate to the death of one of their own, the three women team up to defeat Thanos once and for all.

read the prologue

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten 11 eleven / 12 twelve / 13 thirteen / 14 fourteen

After everything, Carol wasn’t surprised that Brunnhilde put up a fight over being told to just rest. Carol reminded her that she was lucky to be alive, to which Brunnhilde responded that it wasn’t anything like luck, and went on to list the incredible, lifesaving properties of her fine armour, explain the enhanced durability provided by her Asgardian biology, and enumerate all of the injuries she’d previously sustained that were apparently worse than being electrocuted half to death, and then nearly drowning while incapacitated. Carol didn’t believe half of it, but it was kinda hot when Brunnhilde bragged.

So, in spite of Carol’s efforts, Brunnhilde kept getting up the second her back was turned in order to haul bodies off of Thanos’s ship. As they started to fix everything Carol had broken (including a patch job of that hole in the roof), a scan of the local environment informed them that almost all of the life on this planet was aquatic. They left the stack of corpses on land. Whatever water critters were around, they didn’t need toxic eyeball goo leeching into their habitat.

Carol caught Brunnhilde shaking out a twitching arm and made her sit to do electronic repairs rather than manual labour. (Carol had that handled anyway, plus, she knew where all the bodies were because she was the one who’d left them there.) Brunnhilde protested that she was the captain. Carol came way too close to saying not of this ship, but stopped herself. Instead, she suggested Brunnhilde do like any other captain would and let her underlings take on the grunt work. That got a smile, if not verbal agreement.

Thankfully, Peggy was a fast learner; Carol explained the basics of what she’d done to wreck something and Peggy quickly understood how to walk back the damage. They worked their way through the ship, staying at neighbouring stations so Carol would be there if Peggy had questions, and Peggy would be there if (when) Carol had messed something up so badly that it needed four hands to fix.

“Maria would’ve been great with this,” she said without thinking, holding up a fistful of wires while Peggy tinkered beneath.

“Maria?”

It was easier to talk about her than it had ever been before. Like with the repairs, she could tell that Peggy understood without Carol having to do much more than gush over how good Maria had been at fixing stuff, how thorough she’d been with the plane she’d kept in the hangar on her property, how reliable, how trustworthy, how patient…

“Yes,” Peggy told her with a smile. “She sounds like she was wonderful.”

“She was.”

But when the two of them had finished their circuit of the ship and Carol went to tell Brunnhilde they were good to go, she wasn’t there. Carol panicked, worried that Brunnhilde had overheard all her praise of Maria and somehow missed the tone of a person who was in the late stages of grief, who had accepted the worst and was keen to keep living, maybe even loving.

When she couldn’t find her on the ship, she jogged down the ramp, intending to look for her outside. The second she turned to face the water, she spotted Brunnhilde coming towards her from the escape vessel. Carol ran out to meet her.

“What’s all this?” she asked in a tone of amusement, because Brunnhilde had her arms full.

“Food, Peggy’s jacket, a couple beers that didn’t get smashed when Thanos rammed us, uh…” She tried to examine the rest of the pile she was carrying, but it teetered and slipped; laughing, Carol scooped a few things out of her arms before they could end up in the shallow water.

“I thought you might’ve taken off on us,” she said lightly.

“I didn’t think you thought I’d be capable of that after getting zapped.”

“I was just…”

Brunnhilde walked close, pressing her arm into Carol’s.

“I know. I would’ve been the same way if it’d been you.”

“I don’t even know if I can get electrocuted,” Carol said.

“I’m not gonna recommend trying it for fun,” Brunnhilde told her. “Anyway, I used all my discs on Thanos and I dropped the remote in the water somewhere… You’d have to go to Thor with your request, ask him to bring the lightning down.”

“Straight to Thor?!” Carol laughed. “That seems a little extreme.”

“Or you could just stand around outside in New Asgard during a storm and wait for it to happen naturally.”

“And why would I need to be in New Asgard specifically?” Carol asked in a teasing voice. “I could get struck by lightning anywhere.”

She watched Brunnhilde flounder but couldn’t get an answer out of her, not on the way to the ship, not while she was distracted with Peggy asking her a slew of health questions, and not while they were trying to figure out how to get this humongous spaceship off the ground with a crew of only three people.

As they made their rocky assent, Carol was too busy to wonder whether Brunnhilde had heard her talking about Maria before she’d left the ship to scavenge from the escape craft. They had just broken through the atmosphere, blue sky giving way to black, when Brunnhilde spoke.

“Love’s like war.”

It was so sudden that Carol snorted a laugh.

“Ok, poet,” she said. She was tempted to devote some time to getting Thanos’s ship to play her music, if only to put on ‘Love Is a Battlefield’ for Brunnhilde. To let her know what had been said on the subject already.

She smirked to herself when Brunnhilde continued, clearly not giving a shit about her interruption or joking criticism.

“It is.”

“What do you mean?” Carol asked more seriously.

Brunnhilde shifted in her seat, engaging different protocols for outer space travel. Carol noticed the tremor had gone from her arm.

“You do better in both because of experience,” Brunnhilde said, looking straight out the viewport. “Anybody who can’t appreciate the benefit of falling for someone who’s been in love before is a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re not a fucking idiot.”

“I hope that isn’t a question.”

Carol smiled and shook her head. They flew in silence for a while.

“When we get back,” she said eventually, peering shyly over at her captain, “I owe someone important to me a visit, but then I’m coming to see you. Just a heads-up.”

“Vaguely threatening.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” Brunnhilde told her, grabbing her forearm to get her full attention, “I liked it.”

Heat raced up Carol’s neck until she was blushing as bright red as her suit, or the dumb acid burn on her arm.

Just then, Peggy’s agitated voice came from the other end of the wide flight deck.

“Someone’s coming right at us!”

Before Carol had the chance to say what the hell? or who? or again?, an incoming message threw a distantly familiar face up in front of them, hovering in the form of a hologram.

“Hey,” Carol greeted. “Small universe.”

—

Peggy had never thought to imagine what Gamora might be like. She’d had an account of Peter Quill’s affection for her from Rocket, but had recognized that a portrayal of the woman that crew had known—the woman Peter had loved enough to forfeit his life in the quest for reunion—couldn’t be fully accurate. At best, the Gamora they described would be one layer removed from the real person. The Gamora they had known and the one whose hologram had just appeared before Peggy, Carol, and Brunnhilde were a handful of years and a thousand experiences apart.

It seemed absurd to Peggy that this woman may wish to harm them, but she really ought to have considered it.

“Was it your distress signal I picked up?” Gamora asked flatly, eyes locked on Carol in the pilot’s seat.

“Umm… yep.”

“And you still require assistance?”

Carol glanced at Brunnhilde, then over to Peggy, who nodded. They certainly had worked wonders, she felt, in getting this massive spaceship off the planet, but who knew how many things could go wrong between here and Earth? Peggy doubted either of her shipmates had told her the half of it. They were simply short-staffed, too few fingers available to plug any metaphorical leaks they might spring on the journey.

“Yes please,” Carol told her.

With a nod, 2014 Gamora went from unknown quantity to ally. Peggy sighed in relief.

The three of them were transported directly from Thanos’s ship to Gamora’s. The process was quite indescribable, Peggy thought. Tingly, quick, with a bit of a lurch as she rematerialized on an entirely different flight deck from the one she’d just left. Had the transfer been instantaneous? Had she, perhaps, ceased to exist for a moment or two? She was full of questions but unsure to whom she should direct them.

Gamora, while welcoming in deed, was somewhat inscrutable when they met her face-to-face. Standoffish. Unsure of herself, Peggy realized. Immediately, she warmed to the woman. She had been in her place herself once, sort of, if not precisely in her intimidating boots. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d been ferried through time to find the world completely changed. What Gamora needed was a reason to trust them the way they were trusting her.

“I take it you killed my father?” Gamora asked plainly once they were aboard.

Oh dear. It seemed they weren’t off to a very auspicious start.

Brunnhilde stepped in front of Carol, who’d just been opening her mouth to speak, presumably to claim responsibility.

“I was the captain,” she stated. “Thanos was killed on my orders.”

“Uh, no, not explicitly,” Carol argued.

“Anyway,” Peggy piped up, “I’m the one who shot him in the head.”

“And he was only vulnerable to that because I electrocuted him to within an inch of his despicable life and his helmet fell off,” Brunnhilde countered.

“On a planet I flew us to,” Carol reminded them.

“We’ll be sharing the blame,” Peggy informed Gamora on behalf of her crewmates.

Gamora cocked her head consideringly.

“And if it’s approval?” To their universal silence, she explained, “I know what he was capable of in my time, and I saw enough of Earth to get a general idea of what he was set to accomplish if he wasn’t stopped.”

“Were you out here hunting him too?” Peggy took a step towards her.

Directing her gaze away from them, Gamora blinked rapidly, looking momentarily confused and upset. In the next second, she’d hidden any outward hint of those feelings.

“I should’ve been,” she said, “but I’ve never been able to stand up to him like I should have. After I left your planet… for a while, I wasn’t looking for him. But I began to see signs. And then Peter Quill came.”

“Peter!” Carol said. “You saw him? Did you talk to him? Rocket never said—”

“No. I just watched. I followed him for a while. I knew he was looking for me. He was so… loud.” Gamora made a face. “Leaving word for me everywhere, telling traders and transports that he was my boyfriend. He was an idiot, but an entertaining idiot… I barely noticed that I’d stopped keeping track of Thanos until he just showed up…

“I was a coward,” Gamora went on. “I saw my father intercept Peter’s ship and I knew what would probably happen, but I couldn’t put myself between the two of them. Was I supposed to stand up for this guy when I’d never been able to stand up for myself? I was raised to be cruel, to think of myself, that attachments formed to accomplish anything but the acquisition of power make you weak. I know Thanos killed Peter. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Peggy stood in front of her, refraining from placing a reassuring hand on Gamora’s shoulder when she gave her cagey eyes.

“It’s not,” Peggy told her firmly.

“I only heard your distress signal because I heard Peter’s first,” Gamora said. “I went onboard after my father had left; it was days before I could force myself to do it, maybe longer. I used his communications system to speak to his crewmates on Earth.”

“You must’ve just missed us leaving,” Brunnhilde said.

“That’s what he told me. He said three more morons had left the planet, on their way to hunt down Thanos.”

“And you’ve helped us,” Peggy said, tone insistent. “If you do feel any responsibility for what happened to Peter, then surely you should also believe that you’ve redeemed yourself by saving our backsides.”

Gamora’s eyes squinted as though she were in pain.

“I owed him more than this and I hate it,” she said, jaw clenched. “He was no one to me. He knew someone I’m never going to become.”

“Shhh. I know,” Peggy said soothingly.

“I don’t see how that’s possible. Have you ever had someone tell you they love you when it feels like it’s impossible that they even know you? That whoever they loved had to be a different person from who you are?”

Peggy’s shoulders fell. She could feel the bittersweet smile on her face.

“Actually, yes.”

Gamora appeared surprised to have been brought up short in such a manner.

“Do you have any advice?” Peggy urged softly.

For a minute, Gamora was quiet, staring hard at the wall. Peggy could feel that the others had backed away, giving them time and space when Gamora’s stream of information had been diverted by the confusing grief she was obviously experiencing.

“Whatever lengths he goes to because he thinks you’re better than you are…” Gamora finally said, turning her head to look Peggy in the eye. “Try to be worth it.”

“Got it.”

Peggy folded her hands together, pressing her right palm to her wedding ring.

—

They were about to get underway, their new crew of four on a significantly smaller, though sleeker, ship. (Brunnhilde didn’t mourn for the one they’d left in the shallows; it had served them well, first the Asgardians and now the team responsible for the death of Thanos.) However, staring out the viewport from the seat in which she’d been installed as the effective second-in-command, Brunnhilde didn’t feel right. The sight of Thanos’s ship just hanging there in space unnerved her. It would be better if no trace of the Titan remained.

“Let’s blast it,” she suggested to the deck at large.

“Thanos’s spaceship?” Peggy checked.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Carol said, “we aren’t near anything. There’s nothing for the debris to hit…”

Brunnhilde smiled slightly and looked to the captain.

“Gamora? Do you have any weapons on this ship that could do the job?”

“There is one thing I’ve been saving for a special occasion,” Gamora said, gaze fixed on Thanos’s ship. “First, we’re going to need to get clear.”

She piloted them away—away from the planet, away from the ship. Part of Brunnhilde wanted to request the honour of launching the torpedo Gamora was setting the coordinates for, locking it onto her late father’s final vessel, but she was already satisfied with the role she’d played. Let Gamora take this final, symbolic step. It was like Thor’s hideous couch; Brunnhilde had helped him lug the thing into the open air, but permitted him to drop the match (once she’d soaked the cushions in lighter fluid, just in case it wasn’t sufficiently saturated in spilled beer). She would content herself with watching it go up in flames.

And it did. It was an impressive explosion, scattering wreckage in a wide perimeter Gamora had kept them outside of. They were briefly silent as jagged hunks of metal twisted in the void.

“That’s one way to get the stink of dead bodies out,” Carol noted, and Brunnhilde turned to her, shoulders shaking with laughter Carol quickly joined in on.

They flew for some time, and it was good just to relax, to stretch in her seat and tilt her head from side to side so that her neck cracked horrendously and Peggy said things like “good lord!” while Carol laughed her ass off. Brunnhilde remained alert though. She couldn’t help it. In the old days, with the Valkyrie, there’d been a certain relief when the battle in which they’d been engaged was done, but they’d only known true rest once they’d returned to Asgard. Home. The last time she’d been on a ship bound for Earth, the atmosphere had been one of intense grief, muffled weeping in the corridors. They’d known Earth as Midgard and had little admiration for its country of Norway, chilly with fog and swathed in the bleak colours that reflected their inner emptiness. Nothing they loved was there—not their people, not their gleaming towers and soaring statues. How could it ever possibly feel like coming home?

Brunnhilde had honestly believed she’d lost her ability to experience that feeling, that, without her sisters-in-arms, the sensation was lost to her. Yet, despite the tension she still carried from the fight, she felt it easing. She felt herself longing for home, her little house at the water’s edge. For the chance to return to her people as their king and announce a great evil defeated. Maybe this tension was only anticipation after all.

In contrast to the fruits of her own contemplation and revelation, Gamora’s private thoughts had left her expression mournful and roving. Brunnhilde exited the deck to relieve herself and find something to eat in Gamora’s stores, and when she returned, she addressed her.

“You’re not taking us all the way to Earth, are you?”

Gamora flicked her gaze sideways to assess her. Brunnhilde knew there was no judgement to be found in her face, so she stared back calmly.

“I’m taking you to Quill’s ship. Thanos, in his infinite arrogance, didn’t damage it. Maybe he thought he might like to return to it some time and claim it as part of his fleet. It’s a tribute to how much I continue to feel my father’s influence that I planned to do the same. Not build a fleet, but go back. There’s something about that ship… I find it comforting.”

Brunnhilde frowned thoughtfully.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it and leave this one for us?”

“No. What I felt when I was onboard, examining it and… and removing Quill’s body for space burial… that was just a feeling of, I don’t know, another life. There’s a group on Earth for whom that ship means something. And it’s the only thing they have of him. I couldn’t keep it.”

“One of those people is your sister,” Brunnhilde said carefully.

“Yes.”

“I tried to talk to her, but she doesn’t like me very much. I don’t blame her,” she added as Gamora gave her a wary look. “She was upset.”

“Nebula is at her most dangerous when upset, and she’s always upset, so she’s always dangerous.”

“She was upset about Peter’s death. But I think also because, without him, no one was out here looking for you.”

Gamora stiffened.

“If she really wants to find me, she can come look for me herself. I’ll be ready.”

“She doesn’t want to fight you,” Brunnhilde said. “She misses you. I think. It’s really none of my business.”

“Why would you wish to get involved in our family affairs?” Gamora’s voice was more curious than accusing. “Besides murdering our father, of course.”

Brunnhilde sighed before answering.

“I’ve lost many people I cared about. I don’t have a family anymore.” She glanced over to see Carol and Peggy bent over a screen together, Carol’s sudden snort infecting Peggy until they were both laughing. “I mean,” Brunnhilde corrected herself, “I didn’t.”

When they arrived at the Benatar and Gamora transported Carol and Peggy off her ship, Brunnhilde motioned for Gamora to hold off a moment on removing her.

“If we don’t meet again,” she said, sticking out her arm for Gamora to grasp.

Gamora gripped her tightly and nodded.

“I think we might though. I thought about it and realized it’s easier for me to find Nebula than for her to find me.”

“I may have left you her coordinates.” Brunnhilde released Gamora’s arm. “Enjoy Missouri.”

She joined Peggy and Carol on the Benatar, pausing to bend over Carol’s seat to surprise her with a deep kiss before she took up her own position. She brushed stray strands of hair back out of Carol’s dancing eyes.

“I’m going to have to redo your braid,” Brunnhilde told her.

“Oh, we’ll have time. We’ve got quite a road trip ahead of us. Luckily… Peter left us his tunes.” Beaming, she started up a song with a bright beat.

Brunnhilde smiled and went to her seat, fastening herself in as Carol readied the vessel for launch.

“You know,” Peggy said thoughtfully, slinging her jacket over the back of her chosen seat, “before all of this, I was actually quite afraid of outer space.”

Carol laughed.

“I can’t imagine why.”

#my writing #Dolls' Eyes #MCU #Avengers: Endgame #Peggy Carter #Brunnhilde #Carol Danvers #Valkyrie #Captain Marvel #Steve Rogers #Nick Fury

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 141

Last week I posted a day early because vacation was doing vacation things to my sense of time.... This week I forgot to queue the chapter up because Monday was a work holiday, so I forgot today was Tuesday. *insert facepalm here please*

Thanks on this one go largely to @baelpenrose who rightfully pointed out that one part made very little sense to him and therefore was unlikely to make sense to a reader.  The clarification smoothed things out quite a bit, I think.  Just in case, whoever spots the area I’m talking about gets a cookie as soon as travel restrictions lift.

As always, thanks go also to @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname for completing the corners of my support system. And, a super-duper extra-special to @drinksteawithcake! I don’t know if I am allowed to tell everyone why, but you know why you get the extra-special, and I hope you are having fun!

BWAAAAAHP!   BWAAAAAHP!

“Uhhh?” I squinted in complaint as flailing arms clambered over me. One pair snagged me around my waist to drag me from bed before depositing me shakily on my feet. “What are you - ?”

BWAAAAAHP!  BWAAAAAHP!

Any trace of sleep was shoved out of my system, replaced by sizzling alertness when I realized I was hearing ship-wide alarms.  Shoving myself into the first clothing I grabbed, not even bothering with shoes, I was hot on Conor and Maverick’s heels as we raced out of our quarters and into the corridor. We paused only long enough for both men to kiss me and for “I love yous” to be exchanged before they turned and headed toward the areas indicated on their datascreens, while I hauled ass toward the Archives, ducking and twisting to avoid anyone in my path.

“Forty minutes,” Tyche told me crisply as I basically fell through the door, panting. “The Ark could be invaded and the battle over by the time you make it.”

“I ran….huff….the whole….ugh….way….” I managed to gasp out.  Part of me felt like puking, but I was pretty sure the muscles in my abdomen were too busy to figure out the logistics.

Clicking her tongue, she pulled me up from the floor. “Alistair, make a note to suggest to Xio that Sophia’s quarters be relocated once we have a better idea of when we are dropping into real space.”

I nodded numbly. “And probably… amp up… sensors… give… earlier… warning.”

“Nice outfit, by the way,” she laughed quietly as we finally reached the shelter point within the Archives.

Glancing down, I had to suppress a sigh. The first thing I grabbed to dress myself had apparently been a pair of Conor’s boxer shorts and a very filthy t-shirt that I assumed belonged to Maverick, since Conor’s was usually under coveralls. “At least you can’t say I took my time getting dressed.”

Her shaking head was greeted by faces in various states of wakefulness - this had been a drill, and woke nearly the entire Ark during their sleep interval on Delta shift.  But we weren’t out of the woods, yet: the drill didn’t end until all of Xiomara and Evan’s scenarios played out, including the mock combat and various tests of concealment for the other shelters.  As such, Tyche stood guard over the choke-point into this section, while Alistair had stayed behind at the entrance.

Early on, when the drills started, there had been fifty-fifty odds that the mock-invaders would make it this far, but over the past few weeks, that had narrowed to maybe twenty-percent.  It was still too high a chance in my judgement, and Xiomara clearly agreed as she stepped up training schedules and randomized the timing of the drills. 

Taking a swig of water from a stash of bottles, I queued up my datapad and stood next to Tyche, watching the ‘casualties’ from a point where no one could see over my shoulder to avoid panic, which I would have done in a real situation. “They didn’t find mess hall seven this time,” I murmured.

She glanced at my screen. “Acoustics are still too damned high. She must not be simulating for that this go around.”

One of the decoy locations lit up. “Looks like this time it’s heavy on thermal.” The location in question had been equipped with a cooking surface, triggered to activate when the klaxons that had woken me up went off.  Which Xiomara knew, but did not tell the ‘pirates’ for authenticity.

“How did they get past the combatants this time?” She asked, both curious and slightly worried.

Rolling back the sensor data, I watched it carefully. “Looks like these got in during the initial breaches, multiple points. But the line has held since, that’s good.”

Doing another check toward Alistair’s direction, she didn’t seem to see anything concerning. “How many?”

“Four,” I confirmed.  “Sam’s thermal camouflage is working beautifully, though.”  I couldn’t help but grin, and Tyche snorted at the same time. ‘Thermal camouflage’ was a bit of overkill as a name, but it was working well in every round. Potential access points were equipped with fast-acting environmental simulators - originally designed for temporary habitats on inhospitable moons - modified to release atmosphere like a Terran equatorial rainforest within one minute in an enclosed space.  It was a much more simple and elegant solution than any others we had found for giving combatants defending the Ark an advantage - instead of trying to create technology to make them look colder, make the entire area match human heat signatures.  Boom, instantly blinded enemies.

A tense half-hour later, the ‘all clear’ sounded, queueing grumbling from those who had dozed back off as everyone stood to make their ways back to their quarters. I waited with Alistair and Tyche for everyone else to be accounted for on the way out, and the three of us headed back toward our quarters together.  Alistair peeled off first, living closest to the Archives, and no sooner had my sister and I reached my door than the page sounded for the post-drill meeting.  She waved me off as she answered on her databand, and I did the same as I pushed into my quarters and flopped on the couch. “Councillor Sophia Reid, present, audio only,” I answered. “And no jokes, Pranav… I look like I smell awful.”

“Alistair Worthington, present, audio and video. I can confirm that she does, and she does.”

Laughter filled the comms and the rest of the group leaders and Councillors joined the debrief.  Finally, everyone was present and Xiomara called the meeting to order.  First, the leaders of each shelter reported in, as those usually went the fastest. There were a couple malfunctions in the deployment of the shielding to disguise the entrances and hide heat and electrical signatures, but nothing Huynh’s team couldn’t fix.  Tyche and Alistair made the recommendations around earlier detection and the need to move those sheltering in the  Archives closer as we approached time to drop out of relativistic space. 

Once that was out of the way, it was on to the combat and invasion teams. Overall consensus was that Sam’s trick with the portable environments was a rousing success and would be installed at each point determined to be most likely as a breach, with trigger conditions to be determined later. “I hate to say it,” Michael sighed, “but we also need Charly’s team to crank up the scovilles on the arrows and grenades.” His team had played the ‘invaders’ this go around, equipped with sensors and readouts to simulate the effect our defenses would have on the various species who most commonly were found on pirate vessels.  Evan had worked intensely with Pranav and Derek to ensure that the strategies provided by the readouts were modelled after similar strategies based on which ever species each team member was assigned, to ensure we weren’t accidentally drilling against human tactics.

Michael hated it, but he was strict about his team complying nonetheless.

“Seriously?” I squawked, and I wasn’t the only one. “One of those things accidentally went off in my quarters…. Can confirm, they’re pretty potent.”

“They dissipated too fast against my team, and also the contact element left a lot to be desired. Charly, you may want to consider adding a sticking element.”

“Duly noted,” she chimed in with a yawn, her normal pep doused by being woken up and then the drop in adrenaline post-combat.

“What about the sonic weapons?” Xiomara asked, moving the meeting along.

“Still less effective than Nixe is on her own,” a familiar voice I couldn’t put a name to responded with a sheepish tone.  “How hard would it be to train more people to shatter glass with their voice?”

“Incredibly,” Grey stressed. “It takes a very unique combination of training and the right vocal chords.”

“Then we may need to work on adding a projection component.  The sonic devices can match the pitch, but not the actual tone and direction. They’re very effective given time and especially contact, but we need something more immediately disabling.”

Xiomara groaned. “Are we back to Mariah Carey on this one?” Objections exploded until she muted the comms. “It’s that or opera.” Votes started scrolling up the screen, and I could see Xio nod. “Opera it is.  Let’s find a suitable piece and try using more analogue-style speakers.”

“I still say that death metal would work better,” Arthur suggested as soon as the comms were back on.

“Annnnd we already tested it, I will remind you. The volume works, but the pitches aren’t high enough to hit a broad enough population of species sensitive to sound.” After that nearly-obligatory objection, the meeting continued going through reports from each combat team until finally Xiomara announced the end results. “I have to admit, this was one of our best drills yet. Ten percent casualties of the combatants defending the breaches, only two percent among non-combatants, and the invaders were only able to traverse three decks before they were subdued.” She let the cheers go for a couple seconds before getting everyone’s attention again. “Yes, great job on the improvements, but let me remind everyone - those numbers still leave us below threshold for a healthy genetic population. Engineering teams, make the necessary adjustments with whatever resources are necessary. Shelters Three and Seven, you will start training for armed and unarmed combat with Shelter Fourteen and Combat Team Two daily.  Sophia, your team will coordinate schedules. Any questions?”

There were no arguments, not even a groan or mutter as the meeting was dismissed. Before I could even add the new task to my agenda the next day, I received the notification that Alistair had beaten me to the punch.

Glancing at the time, I wanted to hit something.  I had to be back up and at work in four hours, and the realization weighed me down with exhaustion.  The guys had come in and gone to bed while I was in the debrief, and I could already hear synchronized snoring coming from the bedroom.  Rather than risk waking them with my now-frozen feet, I pulled the quilt off the back of my couch and rolled myself into it.  Only minutes later, a heavy weight oozed across my hip and started purring furiously.

“Yeah, buddy. I agree. We need a nap.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

[just-asks-and-beats]

Let’s Set Sail

Lycan woke up slowly, stretching as he continue to lay on the soft grass. He sat up and looked over to Gray, who was lying unmoving beneath the tree. A flash of worry shot through him as he realised just how still Gray looked. He crawled over and pocked at him, no response was given. They panicked a little more as they shook Gray, then practically shoved him into the trunk of the tree.

“WAKE UP PLEASE DONT BE DEAD!” he shouted. This finally got a reaction out of the sleepy gray shape, who groaned and looked around in a half-conscious panic. His movements were sluggish, as if all his energy had been drained, but he still found it in him to sit up… He somehow managed to feel even worse than yesterday, maybe because all the adrenaline keeping him going was gone. Hopefully he’d find some spite within him sooner or later to give him a reason to keep moving. Lycan let out a sigh of relief as Gray finally moved and sat up.

“Hey, I know you’re still tired, and I have no idea what time it is, but we should get goin’. No offense but if you looked bad yesterday, then you look horrible today. We really gotta get you to the volcano.” Lycan looked worriedly at Gray, the dark circles beneath his eyes seeming even more pronounced. Gray simply grunted and leaned on the trunk of the tree, taking a while to stand up. Lycan crouched on the ground and signalled for Gray to get on his shoulders, the beach wasn’t very far away, and with the bridge being closed because of some issues Lycan had hardly heard or cared to find out more about, finding Ship was their only option. Gray climbed onto Lycan’s shoulders, slouching a bit, and the two were on their way again.

(this is a kinda long story segment sorry lmao)

The beach was either a lively place, or a desolate one, not much of an in-between. The two could only hope it would be quiet today. As they approached the beach hey heard the hustle and bustle of many other shapes, just their luck. They tried to stay on the sidelines and as nonchalant as possible, with little to no cover out on the open sand. Lycan opened the cloak just a bit, enough so they could see but not be seen. It took a little while of walking and almost bumping into a few shapes, but they eventually saw Ship discussing something with some other sailor.

“Ok, I know you’re, like, exhausted so just let me do the talking, all you gotta do is move your mouth. I’ll try to talk a little slowly so you can try to sync up your movements to the words. Kinda stupid but just do your best.” Lycan instructed. All Gray let out was a small “mhm”, spending all other energy and brainpower on keeping himself upright so he won’t bring Lycan down with him. They walked over to Ship, keeping a little distance so he couldn’t immediately tell the voice was coming from lower than Gray’s face.

“Um, hello. Sorry to bother you but w- I’ve come to request a ride on one of your fine vessels. A short trip, nothing too treacherous whatsoever, simply someone who will take me from point A to point B. If you would be so kind it would make me most gratuitous.” Lycan tried to make his voice sound deeper and more mature, and use weird sophisticated words like he’d heard Barracuda use every now and then. He thought it made him sound stupid though, and made a mental note to never say “gratuitous” again. Gray was too tired and awkward to really pay attention to what was going on, other than the fact that shapes were looking at him. He didn’t like that. He especially didn’t like it when Ship looked at him, finding it hard to keep his cool. However, Lycan’s change in attitude and word use reminded him of someone, he smiled a little bit while loosely mouthing what Lycan was saying. Ship took a moment to look the stranger up and down. Gray head, blue legs and tail. Looks like some strange plant species they’d never seen before. They adjusted their eye patch and seemed to think for a moment before shrugging.

“Well I’m not much one for ferryin’, but I s’ppose a short favor really can’t be too bad. Where can I take ye, lad? Wherever it is I’d be willin to bring ye there for a small price and a short trip.” They spoke with a slight accent, peering at the stranger before them. Lycan’s tail wagged slightly, happy his plan was already going so well.

“The volcano please, and I do apologise if this is causing any inconvenience, I saw the bridge was out so you’re really my only option.” Lycan and Gray both felt a drop in optimism as a look of surprise overtook Ship’s face.

“The volcano!? Well.. y’see.. shapes have been stayin’ away from ‘ere for a little while now… There’s been rumours o’ some leftovers of the corruption there or somethin’ like that. Not sure what’s true and what isn’t, but I believe the resident grump’s been makin’ things a bit hard on those who want to visit. We’re working’ on getting the lad to come ‘round, but he hasn’t budged yet. I really don’t recommend going there lest yer ready if he tells ye to piss off, and his warnins ain’t always been verbal.” As Ship explained the reasons why going to the volcano would be a bad idea, Lycan and Gray realized at once who that “resident grump” must be… Barracuda. Gray felt that pit of guilt forming in his stomach once again. Lycan felt worried about if he would be welcome back. He and Barracuda had already butted heads for the time he was staying there, if Barracuda was now even more irritable, he might take one look at Lycan and pelt him with rocks until he leaves. He gulped before responding.

“Ah… It‘s certainly unfortunate to hear that, but you see getting to the volcano is very important to me. I… uh… left my wedding ring there! I simply cant leave it behind, my wife has been berating me about being such a clutz for months!” It was a terribly lie, but it was the first that came to mind so they just went with it. Ship gave a look of surprise, then understanding.

“Aye… I can see how important of a trip that would be. Ok, I’ll take ye, but just be sure to find it and leave as soon as you can, I’ll leave my vessel waiting around the outskirts of the island and come in with ye, I don’t want ye dealing with ol’ Grumps alone.”

“Wait, n-no!” Lycan realised how much of an idiot he was, retrieving an item was more of a short term in-and-out visit, and that certainly wasn’t what either him or Gray needed. He sighed then thought up another story, feeling nervous and pressured by Ship’s confused look. He could only imagine how scared he was making Gray right now.

“Uh, look… I may have lied to you about that previous story. You see, I’m actually an old friend of Barracuda’s family, though over the years we sort of lost touch. I heard about this… incident he was involved in and felt it would be only right to come out and check on him. Please, I just need someone to discretely take me there so I can stay with him and make sure everything will be ok.” Lycan hoped desperately that this new story would be convincing enough for Ship. Gray, on the other hand had to deal with that knot of guilt in his stomach worsening. This whole situation was so draining, and that look of pity which formed onto Ship’s face certainly didn’t help. He usually hated looks like that, but maybe this time it was a good thing, it might mean Ship was buying Lycan’s story.

“…Alright I understand. I’ll take ye there free of charge, just… please do what you can to calm him. We only want peace, and to move on from all that mess.” Ship sighed and walked over to the dock, a sky blue sailboat tied up there.

“This certainly ain’t my most impressive vessel, but she does the job just fine for quick errands!” They hopped on and motioned for the stranger to follow. Lycan and Gray let a wave of relief wash over them, though the journey was only just beginning, they had to get through the trip to the volcano and dealing with Barracuda first before they could really rest. Lycan boarded and sat down slowly, doing his best to stay steady so Gray wouldn’t be jostled and fall.

“Thank you very much, it really means a lot to me.” Despite the previous lies, Lycan meant every word of this. Ship just smiled at them as they prepped everything for sailing. Once the boat was in order and undocked, beginning to venture away from the shore, they turned back to the stranger in their boat.

“Ye know, ye never did tell me yer name, and I’m not sure I told ye mine either! Well Ye can call me Ship! A fitting name for a sea captain, I know. I’m proud of it.” Thye puffed their chest out then offered a hand to the stranger, awaiting a response. Lycan froze. They thought and thought and thought, but nothing good came to them. He had done so well with everything else, why was this what was giving him trouble!? They silently panicked until he felt Gray sort of reluctantly tap them on the head and try to make some sort of gesture without moving too much. It was a little hard to understand but Lycan thought he got the picture, reaching his pink-free hand out to shake Ship’s.

“Call me Gray.”

#js&b #jsab #jsab blixer #just shapes and beats #jsab lycanthropy #long post #story segment

[faetxlity]

Here’s A Health To The Company

@save-a-witcher-bingo  Prompt: At Sea Characters: Witcher Gerd, Togeir the Red, Jerome Moreau

 Torgeir was looking up at the ruins of what had once been his home. What      was     his home.      Is.    The flames were spreading quickly, Fort Tuirseach was all but destroyed. Like the Jarl who had filled its halls with laughter and mead- ruined.

 At his side, stained in blood, sat the Witcher Gerd. His jaw was tight, his hands were fisted in the fabric of his own filthy shirt, but his eyes were clear. He did not watch the ruin of his adopted home, rather he watched the blood seep from the bandages that he had wrapped around Torgeir’s leg. Already they were in need of changing but they had no fabric with which to do so, his original job had been so hasty... Unless they ripped apart the sails there was nothing to be done. But to do such a thing as that was a death warrant.

 The little ship they had taken was not meant to go much further than around the cape but they had set out for sea with no choice. They had with them five men and a woman, of whom only two were well enough to take up oar, not counting the Witcher who had rowed them the first half hour from shore nearly on his own with eyes blacker than coal.

 The Witcher rested now though, so much as he could with his life burning on the shore.

 “We will die out here.” The Jarl said, voice was devoid of emotion. Gerd looked to his friend’s face then, to his lover’s eyes. The anger, the      grief    , all the emotions he had expected were nowhere to be found.

 “No.” Gerd replied, “we will live. We will see them pay for this and you      will     see it rebuilt.” He received no answer, no acknowledgement as the jarl’s hand did not return the gentle pressure that he put upon it. Gerd looked at the island they were sailing from, the land they may never get to set foot on again.

 They would live; he would accept no other outcome.

 ~seven days~

 For seven days the ship rocked, sailing for some imagined safe haven on the mainland but without hope or half a crew. One man had succumbed to his wounds on the first dawn and another had followed two evenings after. Torgeir had said nary a word since his ominous assertion of their fate, his leg had steadily grown worse over the days and it left him with little ability to do more than lay down and sleep. When awake he stared across the sea as if expecting death to appear to him with an outstretched hand.

 Gerd had taken over easily enough, tucked Torgeir into the captain's quarters and spent both days and nights looking for either a miracle or their end.

 On the seventh day it came to them in the form of a ship thrice their size. No man aboard their own was fit to fight but still Gerd drew his steel and braced himself. The dark hull of the incoming vessel felt like an omen and he was flanked by Andrea and Koll, the only two who remained in good health- though weak from hunger they would die on their feet. Of that they were sure.

 A figure leaned over the edge of the ship above, their back was to the sun and so Gerd could not discern any features.           “Are you in need of assistance?” The voice was, clearly, not Nilfgardian and that alone was enough for the man on Gerd’s left to sag. Andrea looked to the Witcher, her eyes wide and hopeful.

     Please, let this be a mercy.  

 “Yes!” He called up. “We are!”

 The ship called itself a merchant’s vessel though a pirate’s den is what it looked. They had been pulled aboard with canvas and rope, the men of the ship quick to provide them with fresh water and food while their medic checked each refugee for wounds. If the crew were upset to have a witcher in their midst they did not voice it. Their captain was nowhere to be seen.

 “Oh dear.” The medic said, in his hands were the bandages that Gerd had re-applied to Torgeir’s leg on the third day of their voyage, made from scraps of a shirt found in the captain’s chest.. The odor once they were removed turned even the Witcher’s stomach. “I need a knife.” Gerd tensed but produced his own blade, edging closer to see what was going on.

 Torgeir was sweating, his skin deathly pale and feverish as he had been for the last day. In that moment though the jarl’s eyes were wide open- “Where’s Gerd?” It was slow and slurred but clear enough.

 “I’m here, Torgeir.” He sank to his knees and took one scarred hand in his own. With his other hand he brushed the tangled mess of the jarl’s hair back from his forehead. The infection was nasty, but it hadn’t spread far. He smiled though surely it was more of a grimace, “Just here.” It took all his strength not to snatch the medic by his throat when the knife began to cut away flesh. It took nothing at all to blame himself for the state of the wound. He was a witcher, he should have known better.

     You had nothing on hand to help. You did what you could.    He reminded himself. It could have been much worse, the beam that had splintered and slashed the jarl’s thigh had nearly taken his head instead.

 Green eyes rolled back and the man’s labored breathing evened.          “Witcher?” The medic hedged, “I’ve patched what I can but he will need someone to keep an eye on the wound. We’re still some ways away from the next port but we’ll find a proper healer there.”

 “I’ll look after him. Thank you…” he pushed himself to his feet. “Where is your captain?” The men pointed him across the deck to where a slight man was coiling rope, seemingly unconcerned with the new arrivals. He was dressed in a loose fitting shirt and a pair of garish calico pants.

 “Cap’n.”

 The supposed captain turned and Gerd’s first impression of the man was ‘pretty’. He had light brown hair and blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He was handsome in a plain sort of way, surely a charmer in any tavern he wished. The bear’s second impression was      Witcher.    Which couldn’t have been right.

 There was no such thing as a blue eyed Witcher.

 “Jerome Moreau.” The man-maybe witcher introduced himself as he passed the rope off to a deckhand. At the silence he continued, “Maybe we should speak somewhere private.”  Gerd followed him across deck, listening to the slow beat of his heart. The captain’s quarters were decently large and Gerd had the ability to put space between himself and ‘Jerome’ once the door was closed and the lantern lit.

 “As I said, I’m Jerome School of the Griffin.”

 He wasn’t sure       why     he snapped. Perhaps it was the time at sea, trying to hold together men on the brink of death while the only one who he could have turned to for help laid on a cot in pain. Perhaps it was how long it had been since he’d seen another of his kind. Perhaps he simply needed to hit something to keep his meager sanity. Perhaps, it was because there were no witchers with blue eyes.

 It was a laughably short fight. An      embarrassingly    short fight that Arnaghaf himself would have thrown Gerd from the highest mountain peak should he have witnessed it in his youth. Seven days at sea with limited water and only small bites of food to stop the hunger pains had done him no favors: against a man he would have been fine, perhaps even against two or three by sheer luck of size. But against a witcher? He hadn’t stood a chance. The Griffin-turned-pirate ducked his blow and tripped him backwards, before he could hit the floor a strong hand pushed against his chest and slammed him against the wall, pinned him there on the floor while the stranger watched him with those      blue    eyes. Jerome bared his teeth and Gerd found himself far too close to fangs unlike any he’d seen before, a feral snarl tore from the other’s chest like a beast. It was a sound that the bear could do without hearing ever again. But, just as quickly as the anger came, it left and the Griffin spoke softly,

 “I am not your enemy. Do not bring such strife onto my ship or I will not hesitate to feed you to the first kraken that threatens us. You and your men have been through a lot; I can see that.” Jerome shifted back on his heels and eased the pressure on Gerd’s chest. “If I cared about having another Witcher on board I would have left you to die. We Griffins are not quite as fickle as your lot.” he smiled as if sharing a joke. “Well, you are here, so tell me your name.”

 “Gerd.”

 “And your friend is Torgeir the Red then.” The Griffin moved away so that they were both sitting on the floor, Jerome with crossed legs and Gerd with legs akimbo from his fall. “Don’t worry, your safety on this ship is assured so long as I’m alive. We’ll reach a port in a week’s time, you’re welcome to go ashore and we won’t expect any payment for our help; though we’ll discuss other options later. For now, I think it best if you have a meal and rest. You can answer my questions once things have settled.” It was a very one sided conversation but Gerd had both too many questions to begin with and not near enough energy to ask them. If most of them were about the captain himself? Well,

 He was a strange thing, even for a witcher.

 Gerd was given a water skin for himself and Torgeir and the captain put them in a private room that was used to store trade cargo. It was empty for the next weeks, as had been explained to him by a young lad, and therefore made for a good place to rest. An extra cot had been dragged within. Torgeir’s fever broke after some hours and in the darkness Gerd watched him crawl from his heavy slumber. He hadn’t allowed him to get a word out before pressing the water skin to his lips.

 “Drink.” He urged and the skin was nearly empty by the time Torgeir pushed his hand away.

 “Where are we?” The room was black as pitch once the sun went down.          “A ship came through to help us. We’re a week from port. Your leg… we’ll get you medicine for it soon.”          “What?” Torgeir asked.          “Fucking thing got infected. They’ve got a decent healer on board though. Stitched it up fairly nice.”

 “Fucking great-” the red head pushed himself up and Gerd was quick to move closer and support him. “The others?”          “We lost Ragnar and Beorn. The others are having dinner and resting. No sign of Nilfgaard chasing us so far.” With his lover awake and clear eyed Gerd felt the weight of the last week and a half hit him in full force. His eyes drooped and he began to list to the side like a sinking ship.

 Torgeir shifted and pressed their shoulders together more firmly. “Come on, y’ bastard. Lay down.”          “Can’t.”          “You said we’re as safe as we can get. When’s the last time you slept?” Torgeir’s hand squeezed his thigh, kitten weak compared to what it should have been. When Gerd didn’t have an answer for him the jarl sighed. “Tha’s what I thought.” Gerd let himself be poked and prodded until he was reclined against the hull of the ship with rags and old feed bags piled behind him as a comfort. One leg stretched out in front of his while the other hung over the side of the cot, Torgeir laid between them. It was a familiar enough position even if the environment around them was not.  He had planned to meditate again, afraid that if he slept then he would not wake for quite some time,  but the moment that he had Torgeir’s weight against his chest his eyes closed and sleep dragged him under.

 He woke when light spilled across his face, feeling only half as rested as he should have and mortified that he hadn’t been able to fight off the slumber.

 Jerome was standing in the doorway, a white shirt half open across his chest and a look on his face that was far too soft. “Your crew demanded that I bring you something to break fast with. Andrea, I believe? She said that if you didn’t take it, I should send her in here in my place.” Again, that smile graced his lips. “I can leave it here and let you sleep.” It sounded good, to be able to close his eyes once more and sink into slumber. Perhaps to wake only when they were docked. He extended a hand instead.

 “I’ll take it.” They were hunted men for all he knew. They would need their strength.

 “Good,” as witchers they did not need to light an oil lantern and Jerome closed the door behind himself, some sunlight crept in from above. “While none here should voice any judgement, I would advise you to keep any overtly forward displays within this room or in my study should you need it. My men are good but they have loose lips in port, drunkards are not half as lovely.”

 Gerd was handed bread and a bowl of thin porridge. It was meager for a man his size and even more so for two. But, they were a week from port and The Hawksea, as the Griffin’s ship was called, had not been prepared for five more bodies on board. Particularly not those of warriors and witchers.

 “Thank you.” The words were rough.

 “Don’t mention it. I’ll be putting you to work before long. Lots of things to do here that could use a witcher’s strength.” Jerome sat on a crate, one leg pulled up to his chest with his arm draped over it. “Can’t have any freeloading going on, might start talk of mutiny.” His eyes crinkled at the edges as if he’d spent a lifetime laughing rather than fighting monsters. Maybe he had, with a face like that.

 “I thought you Griffins were supposed to be chivalrous bastards.” Gerd grunted.

 “Chivalrous? Yes. Bastard? Most certainly.” Those fangs were flashed at him again. “I was under the impression you bears were the loner sorts.”

 “We are.” Gerd didn’t miss the way Jerome’s eyes lingered on the redhead asleep on his chest. Caught even longer on the scarred arm wrapped around the human like a shield.

 The Griffin hummed, “I see.”

 The witcher left them alone with their breakfast and somewhere above them a man began to sing.

#witcher #witcher gerd #fic #my writing #sawb

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part One: Should Have Known Better

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Hello everyone, and welcome to my latest indulgence. This tale will run parallel to the show, picking up between episode three [The Sin] and episode four [Sanctuary], so spoiler warnings for all portions!

Our story begins a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...on Nevarro, to be specific. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @helplessly-nonstop @huliabitch @culturalrebel

[And here is the playlist for this (now completed) series! Be warned that this post does contain spoilers for all chapters of Stay Safe, so if you would rather just have the playlist without additional exposition or breakdown, you can find it here!]

The ship was filthy. 

Whoever the pilot was had clearly gone bellying in a mudflat. Dried grime was spattered as far up as the cockpit! You wiped the sweat off your forehead, squinting in the brilliant sunlight. 

She had the potential to shine, you decided, and in your current line of work, that was really what mattered. "I'll get it done." You said aloud. 

"You will? Excellent!" The person hellbent on hiring you pressed a small, yet strangely-weighty bundle of cloth into your hands. "Your payment. The other half will be delivered upon completion." They said, voice muffled through their thick cowling. You waved off their promise, absently giving them the usual 'the work is its own reward' rigmarole as you made a mental list of what you would need to pick up from your tools. 

A few panels looked dented and carbon-scored underneath all the mud; this puddlejumper had clearly seen some kind of action. Not too surprising, what with the Empire getting upended. Skirmishes were all too common in the brave new world, where the tenuous New Republic sought to bring peace to a galaxy full of warlords and criminals.

In hindsight, you probably should have checked what you were being paid with. You might have saved yourself a lot of trouble.

Instead, you launched yourself headfirst into sweeping the crusted muck off the cockpit shielding and scrubbing as high as you could reach on the grungy fuselage. Clients sometimes got antsy about you traipsing around on top of their fancy vessels with your sturdy boots, so you always did your best to be expedient when brushing off the sand and grime. 

Once the brunt of the outside work had been done, you went and punched in the code you had been given to open the hatch.

Nothing happened.

You pulled your notebook and tiny charcoal stub from your side pouch, running your eyes down the line of old codes from previous jobs. No, that had been correct. How bizarre! What if the owner had changed it and forgotten? 

You grimaced at the keypad. You hated leaving a job half-finished. Maybe you could guess it? It would be a fair bit easier than trying to locate the owner, and you didn't want them returning to find you twiddling your thumbs.

To your surprise, it only took six tries at the combination before the boarding ramp extended with a throaty hiss. Your grin of triumph at your own cleverness was woefully short-lived as the thunder of approaching footsteps alerted you to the fact that you were no longer alone. You went to turn and see who was coming, barely glimpsing the bundle that was your payment flying at your face with purpose. 

Metal, you realized dimly before consciousness deserted you.

…

You awoke to a boot in your ribs and you coughed, gasping for air. The bundle was clutched to your chest tightly. How had you picked it up? The last thing you remembered was getting clobbered with it. Why would your attacker leave you with your payment?

You opened your eyes sluggishly, realizing even in your barely-coherent state that you were in the hold of that ship you had been cleaning. "Wonderful." You groaned. Your whole body felt bruised. This wasn't exactly your first time being Shanghaied, but it definitely was up there on the list of 'experiences that don't bear repeating'.

Now, to find out who owned the boot that had so graciously awoken you from your slumber. You struggled to roll over, still keeping a hand on the heavy bundle. As you moved to stand, however, the cloth that made up the bundle began to unwind. You clumsily fought to catch the edges to no avail, fumbling the whole thing until it ended up dropping to the floor with a resounding clack!. Whatever was inside it was clearly metallic, but you already knew that from how sore your face was. 

Any further musing on what it could be took a back seat to the disruptor rifle suddenly inches away from your face. 

"Wait!" You yelped, your hands raised over your head.

The individual in gleaming beskar armor gave no sign that they heard you, the pronged rifle barrel trained between your eyes. You had never seen a Mandalorian so close before, but right now was hardly the time to dwell on the magnanimous rarity of the occasion!

"Oh, oh please wait. I...this is all a huge mistake. Please don't shoot me." They didn't move and you took that as your cue to start trying to get yourself out of this mess. "I've been working this port all cycle, I was hired to clean thi-"

"Not by me, you weren't." A male voice, clipped and irritated but distinctly human even through the doubled-back modulator on that helmet. "Continue."

"I…" You were at a bit of a loss. You had been hoping, albeit vainly, that it was a droid under all the beskar. You might have been able to reason with a droid. "W-Well, I…"

"Five seconds." The rifle clicked loudly and you flinched, closing your eyes. 

"Okay, okayokayokay, I was h-hired. At the port." You rushed to explain, tripping over your words in your haste. "I didn't get a good look at him, he was all wrapped up like everyone else. He showed me this ship and I told him I would absolutely do it. I was p-promised two-part payment, half now and half on completion." 

You swallowed hard, daring to squint open your eyes. The Mandalorian hadn't moved a muscle, that T-shaped visor alone keeping you pinned with its unfriendly glare. 

"Um, I went to open the hatch once I got done with the hull and it, uh, wouldn't open," you stuttered. "Th-The man who hired me gave me the wrong code. So I tried a bunch of different ones."

A heavy sigh issued from the helmet. "Until you got the right one."

"Yes." You pointed down to the analog flight notebook hanging out of your hip pouch. "I've never been good at remembering codes. But the next thing I knew, I was attacked from behind!"

"Karga must have been waiting for you to get the door open." The Mandalorian muttered, lowering his rifle slightly. "Doesn't explain the beskar, though."

"Beskar?" You repeated.

He gestured downward and you followed his hand to the formerly wrapped bundle, now revealed to be a single ingot of beskar. The Imperial crest stamped into it gave you pause, the symbol by itself enough to make you uneasy.

"It was my...p-payment." You suddenly felt tiny. Everything you had heard about Mandalorians pointed towards them being an incredibly stoic and honor-bound society. Their beskar armor was revered, practically sacred; attempting to remove a Mandalorian's helm by force was akin to asking for death. Who knew where this beskar had even come from?!

You were in deep trouble.

A breath chuffed out of him and he carefully scooped the metal up off the floor, brushing away a tiny bit of grime. "Not anymore, it's not." He growled, re-wrapping the ingot in the cloth. You bowed your head in acquiescence, startled when two leather-clad fingers tilted your chin back up. "Your nose," He began, his thumb scrubbing at something crusted above your upper lip, "it's bloody."

"I remember getting whacked with that right after I opened the hatch." You grimaced. "Is it bad? It's probably pretty bad." 

"It's not great." Your attention was abruptly drawn to the side when you heard a soft cooing noise. A blaster barrel replaced his fingers under your chin even as you moved. "I wouldn't try anything." He warned.

"I'm not, I'm not." You whispered in reply, your whole body shaking. Gods, he was fast. Even with you just shifting on instinct alone, he easily outpaced you. "I heard-"

"I know what you heard." He spat. "As much as I'd love to throw you out the airlock, I'm sure I'd get more for you alive somewhere else."

For the first time, you noticed the sound of the FTL engines humming. Oh. He had taken off while you were unconscious. Honestly, you had probably been a nasty shock for him when he came across you all curled up in the cargo bay.

That soft noise caught your ear again, but this time you forced yourself not to move. The Mandalorian exhaled after a moment, taking a step back and holstering his blaster. "What I want to know is," He paused, like he was mentally mulling something over while he weighed the slab of beskar in his palm. "Are you any good with younglings?"

You stared up at his visor blankly. All the other stories you'd heard about Mandalorians, the seedier ones, came rushing to the forefront of your mind, leaving you a little flushed in the face. "I...I'm not too bad? I've got none of my own, b-b-but it's not like I have an issue with them?" Your reply was half a question in and of itself. 

"Good. Your job is to manage the child until I can find someplace to deal with you."

"'Deal with me'?" You squeaked. "I'd really like to go back to Nevarro, if it's all the same to you."

"You stowed away on my ship. Inadvertently or not, that's a crime I don't take lightly."

"Wait, b-but--" A reedy cry cut you off and you finally saw what was making all the noise. "Oh." You breathed.  

It was definitely a baby. A baby what, you had no clue. But a baby all the same. It was tiny, sporting enormous ears that dwarfed its green body. Huge black eyes shone in the dim light of the hold, and a minute hand with three fingers stretched out towards the Mandalorian from the comfort of its bassinet.

"I trust there won't be any problems?" The beskar-clad man across from you asked, seeming a little bemused by how quiet you had gone.

"What's their name? What do they eat? They're so small, I've never seen anything like it!" You babbled nervously, barely able to fight back the primal urge to pinch their cheeks.

"No name. It'll eat damn near anything. I've seen it eat live mudjumpers whole." The Mandalorian replied shortly. "Doesn't seem to eat regularly, though. Might be boredom motivated." The armored individual waited a beat before speaking again, the strap securing his blaster making a loud snap in the stillness he created, "Anything happens to it, I kill you. Understand?"

"Ab...absolutely." You nodded jerkily, wincing when your neck protested the motion.

"Good." He turned on his heel and pointed towards the alcove off to the side of the ladder. "Refresher is there. You do anything I don't like and you're getting slabbed. Full carbon treatment." He informed you brusquely. "You're not quarry yet. Don't make yourself quarry."

"Got it. Th-Thanks for not vaporizing me on sight. I'm sorry about," You gestured helplessly around you, "all of this."

"An apology from you means nothing to me." He informed you, not unkindly. "I'd rather learn who the person that hired you was, and why they were paying you in Imperial beskar."

"I had no idea what it actually was. I was so excited to get started, I didn't even look at it." You confessed. "For all I knew it could have been a rock."

"You're not particularly bright, are you?"

"I like what I do." You retorted before you could think twice about it.

He stayed by the ladder for a moment, and then stalked back towards you. You braced yourself, waiting to get blown to smithereens. Instead, he stopped a good two feet away and barked, "hand over your tools."

"M-My--"

"Tools. Any weapons. Drop them." His voice came out as a modulated snarl. "Now." Shakily you undid the heavy buckle at your waist, then struggled out of your shoulder straps and dropped the whole belt on the deck. You hesitated a second, something that he absolutely noticed. "Do I have to slab you or are you going to cooperate?" He inquired.

Your last ounce of bravery went out the hold at his threat and you hurried to unstrap the sheath attached to the inside of your calf under your pants. "Hang on, I just-" You plopped down on the floor, shoving your pants leg up around your knee. "Shit, c'mon please." You begged under your breath, tears pricking your eyes while the buckles refused to budge. "I'm sorry, I swear I'm trying-"

"Stop." 

You froze, watching out of your periphery as he crouched in front of you. Gloved hands miles more dexterous than your own made quick work of the sheath buckles. He was close enough for you to see your terrified reflection in his helmet, warped by the contours it bore.

"Breathe." He reminded you. "I haven't slabbed you yet. Don't give me a reason to and you'll be fine."

"Right, right." You choked. 

The blade came loose with one sharp tug and you heard him whistle. "What in the hell is someone like you doing with a knife this mean?" He asked incredulously, testing the heft of the nearly cleaver-sized weapon.

"I traded some rocks for it." You whispered. 

He huffed out a breath in what might have been an expression of mirth, rising to his full height to give the knife a practice swing. It sang as he ripped it through the air, a testament to his substantial strength. "Not sharp?" He sounded curious.

"It's for crushing." 

He twisted his wrist back and forth, lazily twirling the knife by the handle. "You'd rather maim than kill?"

"I'm not smart enough to make good use of a sharp blade." You recited the phrase you had heard aimed at you so often in your youth. He paused in his motions with the knife, his helmet visor slowly turning towards you as you continued. "It's too easy to get comfortable with hurting if you have a weapon that doesn't take any thought to use. Like a sharp knife or...or a quick blaster." Or a disruptor rifle, you added mentally.

He dropped back into a crouch in front of you, effortlessly balancing his weight on his heels. You swallowed hard, still unnerved by the proximity of a real, honest-to-gods Mandalorian. You had seen a few of them in your travels, but never up close and you had certainly never spoken with any of them. Their armor alone exuded a certain air that tended to dissuade attempts at conversation.

"Wise words." With a strange amount of care, the armored man replaced your knife in its sheath. "I'll hang onto it for right now. Don't try anything stupid and you might get it back." He muttered. Despite the featureless void of his visor, you got the impression that he was studying you intently. "Take care of the kid." A rag was thrust at your face. "Wash the blood off from under your nose."

…

Honestly, it was a relatively easy gig.

You quickly discovered that the child liked it when you sang, even if it was just nonsense words and babble. You made up a song on the spot about the dewback that jumped over the blue milk moon, sitting on the floor and serenading the giggly being while you cleaned yourself up with the warm rag.

They appeared to be maybe toddler age, just getting to the point where they were learning by putting everything in their mouth. You lost track of how many objects you eased away from them, finally resorting to relocating the hazards into an empty cargo net overhead.

There was one thing in particular that they seemed to love, a silver ball with a threaded hole in it. They rolled it back and forth on the deck, squealing excitedly when you got involved in their little game of fetch. At least they didn't seem keen on putting it into their mouth, thank the Maker for small favors.

You knew enough time had passed that you should be hungry, but the idea of asking for anything made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The child only ate when they were bored, right? Maybe you ought to adopt the same schedule.

Your mind wandered back to the Mandalorian as you engaged the tyke in a rousing game of peekaboo, their explosive giggles making you smile in spite of your lingering aches and pains. How had someone like him come across this baby? If he was a bounty hunter, as the empty carbonite slab hangers overhead would indicate, what was he doing with such a small child? 

"Well," you said aloud, "it's not as if kids are just convenient things that drop out of the sky when you're ready for them." You clapped your hands and the child mimicked you, bouncing a little. You set into a barely-remembered song from when you yourself had been quite young, "Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'..."

Your father had often sang while he cooked meals, pausing occasionally to throw you a grin. You imagined it must have made your parents' toil-filled days of farming a little more bearable. You vaguely recalled the sound of their voices, but the years between their deaths and the present day stretched long. All you had left now were half-impressions of your mother's fond smile and your father's songs, fleeting and bittersweet. 

You blinked away the memories when you felt the touch of a small hand on your sleeve, looking down at the child. They chirped at you, tilting their head to the side. "Hello, little one." You whispered, noting that their enormous eyes were half-lidded. "Are you sleepy?" They yawned in reply, making you smile slightly. It was almost as if they understood what you were saying! "Alright, let's go to sleep." 

After checking to make sure that they were still dry, you tucked them into their cradle. Then, you tugged the bassinet over behind a stack of crates, proceeding to curl up on the floor in your cloak. You kept one hand draped over the side of the cradle, smiling blearily when you felt tiny fingers take hold of your index. 

You had never had any issues sleeping in an unfamiliar environment and despite your rumbling stomach, tonight was no exception. You were exhausted and sore from the day's events and you were more than ready to put it all behind you.

…

Something was nudging your side. 

You frowned, flailing an arm out of the warm cocoon you had created with your cloak. The back of your hand hit steel, and then your palm landed on what seemed to be a boot upper. "Five minutes." You murmured, patting the leather and trying to recall where you were without opening your eyes.

"Get up." 

The ship detail. Getting hit with the beskar. Mandalorian. The child-

You thrashed your legs out of your cloak, suddenly more awake than you had ever been in your life. "Where is the baby?" You asked frantically, "I'm sorry, I-I just-"

"The kid is over there." The Mandalorian jerked his helmet to the side, indicating the cradle. "Still sleeping." He took hold of your elbow, pulling you upright. "Come on."

You straightened out your tunic and followed his silent form up the ladder to the cockpit, your heart pounding in your throat. You wrapped your cape tightly around you, your shivering having nothing to do with the temperature. Through the clear shielding you glimpsed the sight of tall coniferous trees, gray-green in the light of dawn. How long had you slept for?

He settled into the pilot seat, swiveling it backwards to face you after a moment. "Sit." He gestured behind you to one of the co-pilot chairs.

You did so, trying your hardest to hide how much you were trembling. He wouldn't kill you right now, would he? No, not in the cockpit. There would be blood everywhere-

"Hey!" The Mandalorian barked, gloved fingers waving in front of your eyes. "Focus. Are you cold?"

"N-No, not at all." You denied through chattering teeth, your back aching with the strain of holding yourself still. 

"Then why the hell are you shaking?"

"I'm terrified." You admitted bluntly. 

"Oh." He was silent for several moments, letting you panic inwardly. "Well, knock it off." He muttered gruffly. "I'm not going to do anything to you."

"You...you're not?" 

"No." You went nearly boneless at his exasperated grunt, feeling as though you had just run a marathon. "You're good with the kid. It's been quiet. No one trying to pilfer any of the shiny things I have to fly with, or touching important switches." 

"Glad to be of service." You replied weakly. 

"Don't make me change my mind." He growled, jabbing a finger at your face. "If I find out you were planted on here by the Guild to double cross me, I won't hesitate to blow a hole in your sternum. Do we understand each other, stowaway?" 

"Y-You drive a hard bargain." You squeaked, bunching your fists in your tunic. His hand remained extended and after a moment he impatiently jerked his chin down at it. "Oh!" You tried to subtly wipe your sweaty palm off on your thigh before you accepted the handshake, nodding stiffly. 

"If I double cross you, you can feel free to take your mean little knife and crush my ribcage with it." The Mandalorian rotated his wrist, the movement fluid and nonchalant. "Turn and turn alike." 

"I think you might have an unfair advantage. That knife is no match for beskar." You pointed out, almost delirious with relief.

"It's not about the tool, it's about how you utilize it." 

Your empty stomach suddenly decided to make itself heard, growling deafeningly loud. You flushed, wrapping your arms around your midsection.

"Stars, was that a Corellian hound?" The bounty hunter tossed a small pouch your way, the bag landing in your lap with a quiet crinkle. "Eat the rest of that. Today, we look for lodging." He ordered.

Your question of whether he would possibly consider returning you to Nevarro died in your throat and you bit your lip, struggling with the seal on the bag.

The jerky-like substance, traditionally made from the tough, bitter pulp of hubba gourds, served to take the hard edge off of your hunger and give your mouth something to do while the Mandalorian did his pre-departure walkthrough.

He halted by the now-full cargo net loaded with the flotsam and jetsam from the floor of the hold and turned to look at you, his head tilted slightly in question. 

"Baby wanted to mouth things, so I had to put them out of reach." You elaborated after swallowing.

"Little womp rat." The armored man grumbled, sounding strangely fond. The womp rat in question babbled from their crib, their arms outstretched in the universal sign for pick me up! The Mandalorian ignored them, continuing his sweep. 

He finally nodded, appearing satisfied with the state of things. You moved to scoop the child out of their crib, only to get stopped in your tracks by a very familiar knife sheath hitting your chest.

"Weapons on before we leave the ship." The Mandalorian muttered. "Remember our agreement. You can have your tools later if you prove yourself trustworthy." 

You took the knife back, wordlessly strapping the sheath to your calf once more. The weight was an immense comfort and you felt your nervous energy still for a brief moment. "Okay." You breathed, clenching your fists and then shaking out your tense shoulders.

The Mandalorian nodded towards the child. "Let him walk. He needs to use his legs."

While the boarding ramp hydraulics hissed and creaked, you dug around in your side pouch. You didn't have much in the way of actual credits, normally you accepted trades of goods or food. "Here, I...um, for when we get lodging." The seven credits looked pitiful even to your eyes, so you could only imagine what this obviously-successful bounty hunter must think of them. 

He waved you off, one gloved hand closing your fingers securely around the meager fistful. "Save them for a rainy season, stowaway." 

"B-But-"

"We still don't even know whether we will find lodgings here," He reminded you. "Hang onto them." 

"I'm not going to just scab off of you." You protested as he walked down the ramp. "I can work, I know ships inside and out and I can-"

"We can discuss it later." He said over his shoulder, the words muffled by his cape, "once I've decided you're worth the trouble."

You huffed out an annoyed breath, jamming the credits back into your pouch. "Oh of course, wouldn't want to trouble you with bringing me back to fucking Nevarro." You muttered. The child squealed, tugging on your pants leg and pointing towards the forest. "Yeah, we'd better get a move on." You agreed quietly. 

With mindfully-shortened steps, you set off to follow the armored man. At least he was shiny enough to be spotted easily in the sun-dappled forest.

Part Two

#Welcome one and all #welcome back to hell #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #eventual romance #mandalorian spoilers #this will be great I promise #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #how do I tag this #I'm so excited #enjoy! #pedro pascal #I love one man #and he wears beskar

[dailymallek]

Also went through another path with this story, It’s an AU where Mallek gets sent off planet like he feared, and ends up in a rebellion, 8 long years pass, and he returns home after the fall of the Empire.  Thank you for the ask anon, this was another fun piece to write for. I hope you all enjoy this piece.

- mod kai

The large vessel lands in the open fields, the doors open numerous trolls exit the ship. All of them looking worse for wear, some of them were okay, and others looked like death, and among them was a taller troll, dressed in a fancy outfit, a jumpsuit with blue trimming, on his back a metallic backpack, and blaster pistol attached to his hip along with a series of gadgets and tech. His hair had grown out a bit, and he had facial hair, his eyes were heavy, there was a scar across his face, it was old, he got it during his first years off-planet.

Mallek Adalov, information specialist made spy for the empire, after reaching adulthood was forced to leave his home behind to fight in the ongoing conquering of the universe, the war and battle had hardened him, he was no longer that punk kid trying all he could to hack the system, control the world and save himself from being forced to fight in the war. He saw so much destruction, suffering, making new friends and losing them, putting his life on the line every day, and just barely escaping with the skin of his teeth.

It had become too much for him, and he had enough of it, defying his orders and refusing to do his job, execution was awaiting him, but before he knew he was rescued and found himself in the middle of a rebellion, it may have seemed hopeless, unwinnable but at least with these rebels he could have some measure of freedom, he could focus on his hacking skills, improving greatly in the few sweeps, and after a long battle lasting 5 years, and aid from the other planets, after centuries of dictatorship, the horrors committed against her people and the universe, Her Imperious Condescension was defeated along with the current heiress.

Alternia was free, and now the process of rebuilding and reorganizing the world. After so many years, the surviving adults were finally returning home, the rebellion would be helping all the world still intact from the Condesce’s onslaught. The aliens were still cautious of the remaining trolls, but the trolls who were part of the alliance ensured them that they would take care of their world and aid in the restorations of the many worlds left scarred. The hierarchy of Alternian society was completely shattered, and they were left to pick up the pieces, they had to be prepared for the inevitable power struggle, between the loyalist and the rebels.

But none of that mattered to Mallek right now, he was free. Free to do whatever he wanted…

He eventually made it back to his old place, to his surprise it was still intact, with a few holes, crumbling walls, but still standing despite. He had made some spots and picked up some food, he had tried so many delicacies from the other worlds he ventured to, but it was nice to have something homegrown. The world around him was still in ruin, but all he wanted to do right now was sit on his old couch, and have a nice cold drink. He tries the door handle however when he touches it, the door just falls open, there’s a strong odor that fills his nose when opens the door.

“Smells like home…” He says to himself, entering his old hive. It was exactly how he left it, didn’t look like anyone had been here in a long time, he glances around the room.

He throws off his backpack and unbuckles his gadget belt, tossing them onto the green sofa, and sitting down beside them, a sigh of relief, he grabs a soda can from the bag he had been carrying in his hand, cracking it open and taking big gulps from the can. “Ah…” He leans back to the dusty piece of furniture, a wave of tiredness hits him, it was hard to believe that it was finally over and that he was back here after 8 long years of being off-world.

This would be the point where he’d turn on his TV, but there was a massive hole in that spot, giving a lovely view of the outside, he was really gonna have to get the repairs done to his hive soon…

“Wow, this place has certainly seen better days huh?” A familiar voice pulls Mallek back from his thoughts, the sound of a few footsteps walking over and around the mess. “It smells like death, you should really open a window or something.” Another voice, rather sarcastic and taunting speaks, which makes Mallek chuckle, he turns back to see three friends.

“Hey there.” Mallek smiles seeing Diemen, Galekh and MSPA reader standing there, all much older, the blueblood was still wearing a suit as always, Diemen was still short but he had grown twice his size, his hair was more shaggier, on his back was a giant RPG, and the small little alien friend he met all those years was still the same, wearing his old hoodie, they remained the same, barely aged but still looking worse for wear like the others.

The four of them sat there on Mallek’s couch, each of them holding a canned beverage, the four friends just sit there a silence between them as they just look the night sky, the city in the distant, it was rather peaceful looking, but there was that underline feeling, something that none of them wanted to address. The future…

“It’s really weird to be back here isn’t it?” Diemen was the first to say something, he was last one to have to leave Alternia, one year after Mallek and Galekh had to leave.

“Yeah, it’s all still here, it’s the same and yet different.” The blueblood responds as he had been to his old hive, as well, lucky for him, it was still more intact than Mallek’s place.

“I got so many weird looks from some other trolls on my walk to my old hanging spots.” Diemen chuckles before taking a sip from his drink. “It’s really odd for them.”

“I bet, they’ve never seen an adult troll before, it’s a spectale to them, everything’s gonna change…” Mallek says as he had gotten some strange looks, mixed with fear, awe, amazement and confusion from all the younger trolls.

“Honestly it was same when we went out there and met the adults who had been out there for a few sweeps.” The cerulean troll adds, it was interesting to meet older trolls when he was shipped out.

“Still, it would be best to keep a low profile with everything, being adults is one thing, but being members of a known rebellion who brought down the empire makes for targets huh?” The small alien says, as these three had been part of the large rebellion just after a few years in space.

“Yes, the other highbloods are in a chaos, the heiress and the empress are dead, a lot of the subjugglators have been arrested, captured or dead.” Galekh says, as the highbloods who supported the Empress are in disarray.

“Hey now, let’s not get so political and serious… We all know full well that things are gonna change, for better or for worst, and it’s not gonna be easy. But right now, let’s just have a few cold ones, enjoy a meal and be thankful that the long war is finally over, and a new era begins, or whatever.” Mallek raises his half drunken can as if it were a glass.

“To lost friends, and new beginnings.” Mallek says before chugging the rest of his can, crushing against his head and tossing it to the ground, Diemen and MSPA read mimic his actions, and Galekh just takes a light sip.

“I’m not doing that, but the sentiment is appreciated.” Galekh says fixing his glasses slightly.

“Hey Mallek, can I bunk here tonight?” Diemen asks his friend, the troll just looks at him, and glances around the room again.

“No worries, we’ll need to check the rooms… Don’t wanna give a space and the walls collapse on ya while you sleep.”  He teases his friend, as he had only ventured as far as his living room.

“Oh, if you’re offering rooms, I’d like one.” The alien raises his twig arm up like a kid.

“Okay, okay, you guys are welcome to crash here. What about you, think we’ve got enough room here.” Mallek is more than happy to accommodate Galekh along with the others.

“Oh no, my home is still in mint condition more or less, and there are some other things I must attend to before the night is up… I must be off now, please try not to get into too much trouble you three.”

“Yes sir.” MSPA salutes the tall indigo troll, who just smiles faintly at the other.

Galekh leaves the trio soon after and Mallek guides the others to the guest rooms, it’s all very dusty and cracked walls, and the mess left behind by a younger Mallek but there was a comfy spot or pile of junk to rest on. The three decide to share a room, still before the night ends they continue talking, making small jokes and tomorrow was a new day, and bright new beginning or the start of something more sinister, but for now Mallek was just thankful that those closest to him were safe and with him. Almost everyone, as the troll reaches into his outfit pulling out a small old photograph, it was faded but he smiles faintly at the image of him and the dear friend that he had lost...

#mod kai #mallek adalov #diemen xicali #MSPA reader #galekh xigisi #hiveswap friendsim #hiveswap #writing #fanfiction #ask #ask answered #bittersweet #canon divergent au #older au #anonymous

[themanicmagician]

Shipwrecked [2/4]

[AO3]

Summary: When Redd’s boat crashes upon the shore of Bastion Island, Tom reluctantly takes him in while he recovers. Tom despises Redd for his past deceit, but when he has no choice but to spend time with him, Tom is reminded why he fell in love with the wily fox in the first place.

Tom felt a knot loosen in his chest. Relief washed over him. Redd was awake and lucid, and feeling well enough to quip.

But then Redd kept talking.

“This is your bedroom?” Redd shifted, leaning his back against the mattress. He scanned the Spartan room, and his nose scrunched up in distaste. “It’s so....basic. Not your style at all.”

Tom hated the small speck of him that still yearned for Redd’s approval. He crossed his arms. “You’re hardly the expert on what I like.”

Tom’s words landed—he saw Redd wince—but the fox brushed it off, and changed tack.

“Where’d you sleep, then? Futon?”

“Couch.”

Redd patted the bed, and leered. “Could’ve shared with me. It’s plenty big enough. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Enough, Redd. You’re only here in my home because I possess common decency. Nothing more. As soon as your arm is healed, you’re gone.”

Redd clutched at his chest with his good arm, in mock agony.

“Oh babe, you can be so cold!”

Tom ignored him. “What possessed you to attempt to sail a ship, of all things? You don’t have any experience.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was simple enough to figure out.”

“Obviously it wasn’t.”

“Hey, the storm wasn’t my fault.”

“You could have died—and for what? Another stupid scheme of yours, no doubt.”

“I resent that remark. Scheme! Scheme, he says. I’m out here because I’ve developed a new business venture. The art on my boat is real.” Brief alarm skirted across his face. “Wait, what happened to my things?”

“They’re in Blathers’ custody.”

“That featherbrain can’t keep them. They’re real, you know. I had this whole plan. I was going to go island to island. Animals are so suspicious these days. They actually want to inspect the merchandise before they buy, can you believe it?”

“I don’t want to hear about this.”

Redd plowed on, as if Tom hadn’t spoken. “—and once they placed an order, I’d say oh, you can’t take it right away. I have to ship it to you.”

“And you’d mail them a fake.”

“I’d mail them a replica. The copies that I paint myself are flawless,” Redd bragged. Greed and delight glinted in his eyes. “You’d never be able to tell the difference. I’ll wager you 5,000 bells your pal Blathers wouldn’t, either.”

“I can’t believe you,” Tom snapped. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Why tamper with perfection?”

“You—ugh!”

Tom stomped out of the room.

Timmy and Tommy were right outside, evidently listening in. They jumped guiltily as Tom caught sight of them, and tried to look busy; Tommy folded a blanket and draped it over the back of the couch, as Timmy collected up used cups to put in the kitchen sink.

“I’m going out for a bit.” Tom told them, as he pulled on a jacket. “Stay here, and make sure he does too.”

The Nooklings chirped an affirmative.

May was cold and rainy this year, and today proved no different. Tom zipped up his jacket to ward off the worst of the chill. It was misting out, but not badly enough to justify an umbrella.

Tom didn’t have a destination in mind, exactly. He wasn’t going to Resident Services today. Isabelle was certainly capable of taking the reins for a day or two. Tom just needed fresh air, just needed to clear his head.

Redd hadn’t changed at all. He hadn’t grown, he hadn’t learned anything. He was still the same as he ever was—greedy, selfish, conniving. And utterly, absolutely, insufferable.

There had been moments, before, when he had lived on the mainland, when Redd frequented his town. He’d considered reaching out. But he’d never scraped up the nerve to do so. It wasn’t his responsibility either, he’d reasoned at the time. Tom was the wronged party. Redd should have been the one to approach, not him.

And now the decade-long silence between them was shattered at last, and Redd acted as if there had never been a massive fracture in their relationship, as if nothing at all had changed. No apologies, no remorse, not even a thank you for the rescue.  

“Mr. Nook!” Flurry trotted up to him. “I’ve heard the news. How is your friend doing today?”

He supposed there was no hope of keeping it quiet. Any speck of news spread through Bastion like wildfire. Isabelle, bless her heart, was an incorrigible gossip.

“Redd is doing much better today, thank you.”

“I wanted you to give him something from me. Just to borrow, powderpuff!” She took out a book from her pockets and handed it over. It was an old leather-bound book, a collection of fairy tales. It was worn with age, but evidently well cared for. “I don’t know if it’s to his taste or not, but I always read it when I’m sick and it cheers me right up!”

“Thank you, Flurry. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Redd wouldn’t, but Tom would never let the sweet hamster know that.

He continued his walk, and soon found himself on the beach. He followed the shoreline around the island until he reached the outcropping of rocks by Del’s and Lucha’s houses.

Tom knew what to expect, but the sight was still jarring. The hull of the boat was gouged on the rocks. Half of the vessel gaped open. The mast was snapped off at its base, and the sail, long lost to the tides. Tom stepped on the rocks to get a closer look. The remains of the boat had been secured to the rock by rope; Alex and the others, presumably, had been the ones to anchor it.

Tom peered inside the exposed hull. The boat was tilted at an angle. Barrels had rolled to one end of the ship. Several had smashed apart in the impact. Tom winced. How badly had Redd been thrown in the crash? Had he been above deck, or below?

There didn’t appear to be anything of value left inside the ship. The villagers had done well removing all the fragile artwork.

Enough of the boat remained that they wouldn’t have to build Redd a new boat from scratch, at least. The boat would have to be patched up for Redd to travel. The seaplanes weren’t built to transport someone from Bastion all the way out to the mainland.

Tom swept a critical eye over to the wreckage. Yes, they could rebuild it in several weeks, once the necessary supplies were gathered. He resolved to speak with Alex about it. If she could gather the needed materials, he’d reduce the price for her attic expansion as compensation.

He returned home with the intention to cook breakfast for the Nooklings and their guest. But as he removed his shoes in the entryway, he overheard Redd’s drawling voice. And the twins were conspicuously absent from the living room. He padded quietly over to the threshold of his bedroom.

The first thing Tom noticed was that Redd was now wearing one of his spare shirts. The floral patterned green and white flattered the fox’s fur. It was a size or two too large on him, and not his usual type of outfit. Something warm and possessive tightened in his stomach at the sight of Redd wearing his clothes.

Redd was back in bed, propped upright with the support of pillows. Timmy and Tommy were sitting on the bed as well, listening raptly to their guest. Redd was in his element as entertainer, gesturing enthusiastically with his unbroken arm as he spoke.

“...it was our third pitch of the day. Tom had persuaded me to paint wallpapers for high-end clientele, so the meeting was at this real swanky place. Very stylized lobby we waited in, minimalistic in style but in an expensive way, you know? Your Uncle Nook was sweating so much his fur looked a shade darker than normal. We were sitting there, waiting for half an hour after our appointed meeting time. And finally, finally, someone shows up. It wasn’t even the investor! It was some scrub, some assistant of an assistant. Tom was so nervous, he promptly bent over and spewed his lunch all over her expensive shoes.” Redd laughed.

Tom flushed. It hadn’t been his finest moment.

“But then, do you know what your uncle did?” Redd whispered, conspiratorially.

“What, Mr. Redd?”

“...Redd?”

The boys leaned in closer, eager not to miss a single syllable.

“Tom still managed to salvage the situation. He went right from wiping off her shoes to pitching her a new concept—scented wallpaper. Smells like lemon, pine. So if something like this happened again, at least no one would smell it!”

“Wow! Did they invest?”

“...vest?”

“Even better—they bought the concept and patent from us. All the reward, with none of the work!”

“Boys, wash up for breakfast.” Tom broke in.

The twins broke into beaming smiles at the sight of him. They sprang off the bed to crowd Tom, both talking a mile a minute.

“Uncle Nook, is it true that you won a manufacturing contract by arm wrestling the CEO of Cozy Couches?”

“—did you really start a new city fashion trend wearing your scarf as a belt?”

“—have three drinks named after you?”

“Redd likes to embellish.” Tom explained, exasperated. “Don’t believe a word he says.”

Redd pouted.

Once the boys reluctantly filed out of the room, Tom shut the door. He crossed over to Redd and offered him the book of fairytales.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.” Redd inspected the book. He grimaced at the faint mug stain on one of the pages. “Not a first edition. Far from excellent condition. You  really  shouldn’t have.”

Tom grit his teeth. “It’s not from me. A villager has loaned it to you. If it goes back to her with so much as a dog-eared page…”

“Alright, sheesh. Just messing around.” Redd set the book on the bedside table, evidently uninterested.

“Listen to me, Redd.” Redd looked up in surprise at Tom’s low, serious tone. “You cheated me. You deceived Lyle. But if you think—”

“Hey, Lyle wasn’t—”

“If you think,” Tom spoke over him. “For one second, that I’ll allow you to manipulate Timmy and Tommy, you’ve got another thing coming. I have resources now. More bells in the bank than you’ll ever see. If you ever hurt them, I’ll make you regret it. Are we clear?”

The boys were guileless, innocent. He would not stand for Redd swindling them.

Redd deflated, his previous energy visibly dimmed. His ears flattened back on his head. He looked away from Tom, and nodded.

~*~

“Where are we going?”

“Like I told you the last twelve times you asked, it’s a surprise.”

“I’m going to trip on the sidewalk and break my nose.” Tom grumbled.

“You won’t.” Redd promised, with a rumbling laugh. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It had been six months since their first meeting, in that sketchy motel. Ever since, they’d hardly left each others’ company. Tom’s ambition was to build a furniture and home goods store. It would be unique in its approach, in that stock would be limited, and rotate daily, so animals would feel compelled to go to the store every day, just in case there was something they needed. Redd, an entrepreneur himself, was on board. But before they could begin such an enterprise, they needed bells, and loads of them. They’d taken the past half a year to build up their finances together. They’d done so not through conventional jobs, but through countless pitch meetings, patent sales, and even art commissions. They’d amassed enough now that their dream was looking more achievable by the day.

Tonight Redd had tied a black bandana around Tom’s eyes and led him from their apartment. Tom’s heart was doing somersaults in his chest throughout their entire walk. Redd had been furtive, secretive the entire past week. He’d been planning something, and Tom had a big hunch on what it could be.

“We’re here.” Redd announced, at long last. He unknotted the bandana. The cloth fell away from Tom’s eyes, and he gasped.

It was an older two-story building, wedged in between a pair of larger, newer ones. It was built of ruddy red brick, with floor to ceiling windows for display purposes. Tom glanced around. They were in a nicer part of town. Not the wealthiest neighborhood by any means, but one fairly busy, that had animals with bells burning holes in their pockets.

“It’s ours.” Redd withdrew a keyring from his pocket. “If you like it.”

“You—how?”

Redd winked. “I have my ways.” He held out the keys and gave them a shake. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

Tom took the keys with reverence. He felt as if he were drifting through the clouds as he glided to the door. The front door key was newly cut, firm in his palm. Tom unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

“The register could go here.” Tom circled around the corner of the back wall, nearest the door. He paced around the cavernous empty room, imagining as he went. “Heavier furniture in the back as well. Some eye-catching, lighter things near the front that can be rotated daily. Things like wreaths, tapestries—oh, and what if we hang strings of lights from the ceiling? It’d create a real welcoming, homey look.”

He turned back to Redd for his input. His face was flushed with enthusiasm.

Redd had been watching him from the doorway with a complicated, unreadable expression.

Tom’s grin faltered. “Redd?”

The strange look fell away from Redd’s face, replaced by his customary smirk. He sauntered closer.

“Your instincts are excellent as always, Tom. I was thinking of a mural, too, for the back wall.”

“Oh, that’d be great! What are you thinking? A city skyline? Or something more nature-inspired?”

Redd’s arm slid around Tom’s waist with easy familiarity. His paw squeezed Tom’s side. Tom barely muffled his squeak. They’d been together for five months of the six, and Redd’s casual displays of affection still flustered him. Back home, no one had ever looked twice at the plain, chubby raccoon.

Redd’s muzzle brushed his ear. “We can hash out the details later. This calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”

~*~

The doorbell jingled overhead as Tom stepped inside the Able Sisters’ store. Sable took a single look at Tom before she was bustling him into the back room of the shop.

“Keep an eye out for customers, Mabes.” She called over her shoulder.

Mabel mock-saluted her eldest sister.

“Sit.” Sable all but pushed him into a rocking chair. He remembered this old thing from the sisters’ first home. The quilt draped over the back of the chair was familiar too, if a bit more threadbare than he remembered. Tom was struck by a wave of gratefulness that all of his dearest friends had been so amenable to picking up their lives and moving to Bastion with him.

Sable placed a gray kettle on the stove, and retrieved two mugs from a cabinet. The mugs were lumpy things, rather sloppily painted. Mabel had made them by hand when she was young. Tom had his own original Mabel creation stored in a cabinet back at his home.

“I wanted to speak with you as soon as I heard, but I had too many shirts to sew, I couldn’t get away. I know that’s not much of an excuse, though.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m handling everything just fine.”

Sable raised one eyebrow.

“I am.” He insisted. Redd had been subdued after Tom had warned him off about the twins. He ate the food Tom cooked without complaint, allowed Tom to check his injured arm without any protest, save the quiet hisses of pain he couldn’t quiet. They’d lived together in uneasy harmony for a week, now. Redd spent most of the day in front of the TV, or idly flipping through the book Flurry had lent him.

“How have you been?”

“Fine. Redd hasn’t been putting up too much of a fuss.” She was staring at him, too keenly. “What?”

She took a moment to muster up the words, paws twisting in her lap. “Tom...I don’t want to see you like that again.”

Tom waved his hand, as if to banish the ghost of that awful moment. “You won’t. He can never hurt me again.”

Sable’s doubt was palpable.

“I don’t care about him anymore. I don’t. And I...I used to hate him, I admit it. I used to loathe him. But I’ve moved on. I don’t trust him, and I pity him, but I don’t feel anything strong for him, hate or love, anymore.”

“You don’t sound as convincing as you’d like to be.” Sable said.

He was saved from having to respond as the kettle whistled. Sable rose to fetch their tea. She added the sachets, a drizzle of honey to her cup, three lumps of sugar to Tom’s—after all this time, she hadn’t forgotten how he liked it—and carried the mugs over.

Tom held his mug between his paws, waiting for it to cool enough to be drinkable. The pleasant scent of Earl Grey wafted up to his nose. He inhaled.

“If Redd tries anything, I’ll punch him in the nose.”

Sable, gentle, demure Sable, spoke with such a steely assuredness that Tom started. She smiled shyly at him.

“I mean it.”

“You’ll have to get in line. I have first dibs.”

Sable giggled.

~*~

Tom headed back home, feeling lighter than he had since this entire thing started. He and Sable swiftly left the topic of Redd behind them, and spent the better part of an hour catching up.

The boys saw him through the front window of the Cranny, and waved enthusiastically. He returned the gesture, albeit with less energy.

Tom then climbed the stairs and let himself into his home. Redd was no longer where Tom had left him that morning, slouched on the couch. The TV was shut off, the house almost eerily silent.

“Redd?” Tom eased open the door to his bedroom. The fox was absent, but the bed was neatly made. He checked the twins’ room, the bathroom—both empty.

Redd was gone.

#reddnook #ac #animal crossing #tom nook #redd #animal crossing new horizons #my fic #sable is the best #timmy and tommy continue to be adorable

[purplehairedwonder]

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 13

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 4261 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Robin, Sanji, Nami, Chopper, Usopp, Nami, Franky, Smoker, Tashigi, Sengoku, Sengoku’s goat ;) Notes: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he's 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he's repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Law slowly came awake, having slept the dreamless sleep he only ever had after draining himself to the point of unconsciousness. He grimaced before slitting his eyes open; his body ached, his mouth was cottony, and his head throbbed. As the fuzzy world came into focus around him, he realized he was on the couch. He frowned. When had that happened? The last thing he remembered was sitting with Luffy on the floor…

He threw a hand over his face and groaned as he remembered that Luffy was the one who’d found him during his panic attack. Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin were the only ones he allowed to see him like that; they’d seen him at his worst when Cora-san’s death was still a gaping wound, and his body was still marred with Amber Lead. They’d been there for the screaming nightmares and suffocating panic attacks. For anyone else to see him that way…

Well, Law hadn’t been able to afford such shows of weakness around the Family.

But Luffy had simply smiled and offered that he had his own demons as well.

Law swallowed, unsure of what to do with that bit of kindness. It settled uncomfortably somewhere behind his breastbone.

Taking a breath, he pushed himself upright and glanced around. Luffy was nowhere to be seen. Vergo’s body was also gone. That meant someone—likely Marines—had come in while Law was sleeping to remove it. The idea of being defenseless while Marines were in the room made his stomach turn. Yet they’d left him alone, undoubtedly on Smoker’s orders.

Shaking his head, Law grabbed Kikoku from where she’d been placed on the table and pocketed his Den Den Mushi. He had no idea what time it was—and there were no windows in this metal monstrosity of a lab to give him any hints—but if the Marines had removed Vergo’s body, there was a good chance the back-up ship had arrived, meaning it was morning.

Rather than aimlessly wander around the lab, Law reached out with his haki to look for the Straw Hats… and was immediately struck by the overwhelming presence of Luffy. After a moment, he was able to discern the chaotic energies of the other Straw Hats as well; they were gathered a few halls over. The Marines, including Smoker and his second, were on the other side of the lab, near the entrance. He could sense more Marines than he thought had been there previously, which seemed to confirm his suspicion.

Law left the control room and followed his haki. The closer he got to the gathered group, the stronger the smell of cooking food became—which made perfect sense when he found the crew in the dining hall.

“Torao, good morning!” Luffy called, waving his hand as though Law wouldn’t be able to pick him out from the small group. They were all seated at one long table that they seemed to have pieced together from several smaller tables.

“Straw Hat-ya,” Law greeted with a sigh, head already aching from the enthusiasm. Whatever time it was, it was too early for this.

“Sanji’s cooking breakfast. I hope there’s lots of meat!” Luffy said, eyes glazing over.

“Of course, you do,” the cat burglar said, rolling her eyes. She then turned and looked Law up and down without any hint of subtlety. “There’s coffee in the kitchen,” she said, lips twitching.

Law considered flipping her off, but coffee sounded amazing, so he simply nodded and headed back to the kitchen, where Black Leg was working. He raised an eyebrow at Law’s presence.

“Coffee?” Law grunted.

Black Leg nodded and broke off from the task he was doing—scrambling eggs, from the looks of it—and poured a cup of coffee.

“Take anything with it?”

Law shook his head, accepting the undoctored mug of precious caffeine.

Black Leg snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”

Law shrugged and took a sip. The bitter liquid burned at his scratchy throat, and it was heavenly.

“Any dietary restrictions?” Black Leg asked as he went back to the meal.

“No bread.”

Black Leg hummed. “Gluten allergy or just not a fan?”

“Gluten,” Law acknowledged around sips.

Black Leg nodded. “I can work with that.” He turned to another task but looked over his shoulder at Law. “Tell those idiots it’s almost ready, will you?”

Law took that as being kicked out of the kitchen, so he jerked his head in a nod and grudgingly returned to the rowdy collection of remaining Straw Hats.

“It’s almost ready,” Law relayed as he sat down at the end of the table, as far from Luffy as he could place himself. He could still feel a crawling sensation under his skin as he thought about the night before, and sitting as far away from its source while he worked through his thoughts seemed like his best bet.

“Was there meat?” Luffy asked, mouth practically watering.

“There’s always meat, you shitty piece of rubber,” Black Leg said as he brought several platters of food out from the kitchen.

After dropping off the platters, Black Leg went back to the kitchen several more times and returned with an impressive array of breakfast foods for the crew to share. The remaining Straw Hats, particularly those seated close to Luffy, seemed to have a well-practiced system in place to eat their meals while avoiding Luffy stealing from their plates, including knocking their captain upside the head when he got too close. Luffy merely grinned and laughed before returning to his own heaping plate.

Law managed to grab some eggs and fruit amidst the melee, and, as he ate, he considered how different the dynamic was from his own crew’s. Though, Law supposed with no little regret, he hadn’t eaten with them with any regularity in the last few years. Ever since Shachi’s injury, Law’s guilt had pushed him away from his nakama, and, when he did eat, he usually ended up eating alone or with the Family—Sunday dinners, for instance, were required for every executive who was not away on a mission. Though the Family was hectic in its own way, manners were still expected—and not just because their captain was also a king. Table manners had been preached even when Law had been with the Family at Spider Miles; just because they were pirates did not mean they were savages, Doffy had said, and they were expected to act like it.

That had made a lot more sense when Law had learned that Doffy was a former Celestial Dragon—many of his quirks had come into focus with that information, in fact.

It had also been revealing about Cora-san, though Law hadn’t been entirely ready to open that Pandora’s Box, despite knowing about it for six years.

“How did you sleep last night, Torao-kun?”

Law started, pulled from his thoughts by Nico Robin’s smiling face across the table from him.

“Luffy went looking for you last night after dinner, but then he didn’t come back until this morning,” she elaborated, still smiling.

The expression set Law’s teeth on edge. He narrowed his eyes, certain that she was screwing with him. “Fine,” he said curtly then deliberately took a sip of coffee, hoping to discourage the conversation. Still. Did that mean Luffy had stayed? He was obviously the one who had moved Law to the couch, and that was humiliating enough, but the thought that the other captain had stayed with him…

Law’s eye twitched.

But Nico Robin just kept smiling. “That’s good to hear. After all, we’re heading to Dressrosa today.”

Law put his cup down slowly. “Yes,” he agreed, not sure what she was getting at.

“We’ll need everyone to be at their best to face Doflamingo,” she said, expression never changing. “I’ve heard the rumors about him.”

“Until tomorrow, little bird.”

“He’s worse than any rumor,” Law ground out before pushing himself up and away from the table. He grabbed Kikoku, knuckles going white from his grip. He needed air.

“Torao?” Luffy called after him, but he ignored the other captain, practically fleeing the room.

Recalling the blueprints of the lab, he navigated the hallways to the front entrance and practically exploded out the door, stumbling onto the front stoop as he shoved the door open with more force than needed. He put a hand against the wall and sagged, sucking in lungfuls of icy air, the cold tamping down on the heat that had risen in his face and helping him to collect himself.

After a few more deep breaths, he felt his head clear, and he looked out over the island. He’d been so caught up in his own mind that he hadn’t noticed the Marine vessel being loaded in the port a few hundred yards away. He shook his head; he needed to get his shit together if he was going to deal with Doflamingo today.

Law leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms against his chest, watching various Marines scurry about like little insects whose nest had been disturbed while others barked orders.

After a few minutes of Law watching his men, Smoker climbed the steps and took a seat on the top step, leaving distance between himself and Law.

As the two watched in silence, several soldiers marched the chained Caesar and Monet toward the ship. Caesar continued making high-pitched protests—“Do you know who I am?”, “Do you know who you’re messing with?” and the like—while Monet remained silent. As if drawn to Law, she turned and their eyes met briefly, that look of betrayal still in her gaze. Then she was pushed along toward the ship and the connection broke.

Law exhaled, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath.

Once Doflamingo learned of their arrests as well as of Vergo’s death—he had more spies in the Marines than just Vergo, though even Law didn’t know all their identities—he would undoubtedly retrieve his subordinates and Vergo’s body. He would leverage his connections, and even the Fleet Commander couldn’t refuse the Gorosei.

Law could only hope he’d receive that news once Law and his nakama had escaped Dressrosa.

“What will you do now?” Smoker asked as they watched a string of Caesar’s men, buoyed by strange balloon devices, escorted to the ship by another group of soldiers. “Doflamingo will kill you if you return to Dressrosa.”

That… was not actually true; Law might wish he were dead if Doffy got wind of his betrayal before he and his crew could flee, but he would live until he performed the Perennial Youth Operation. Only then would he be allowed to die—for the sake of Doffy’s immortality. No, it would be his nakama (and Luffy’s crew, now that the crazy captain had decided to involve himself in Law’s affairs) who would pay the ultimate price. But Smoker didn’t need to know that.

Law raised an eyebrow at Smoker’s back. “Why do you care, White Chase-ya? I’m just a no-good pirate.”

“Maybe I don’t like being in debt to pirates,” Smoker retorted. “And if you die, I can’t pay it back.”

Law snorted. “Apologies if my impending death is inconvenient for your conscience.”

Smoker grumbled in response.

They sat in silence for several more minutes, and, surprisingly, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Smoker seemed to have come to some kind of conclusion about Law, and Law simply had too much on his mind to bother with antagonizing the vice admiral. And, if Law were being honest with himself, while he hated the Marines on principle for their part in Flevance’s fall, Smoker was one of the few who had ever shown even an inkling of honor; it was a very grudging sense of respect he found budding toward the vice admiral.

They watched the ship’s continued loading until the lab’s door opened once more, and the Straw Hats spilled out onto the stoop. Law noticed two more figures had joined the group: Kin’emon the samurai and a boy dressed in similar garb. A son? They had shied off to the side of the group on the other side of the doorway from Law.

“Oh, there you are, Torao!” Luffy said, spying Law off to the side. “And Smokey!”

“Straw Hat,” Smoker grumbled, pushing himself to his feet.

“Where are the children?” the cat burglar asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“Tashigi is with them,” Smoker said.

“Well, we’re not leaving until we see them off,” Chopper added, coming up next to his crewmate at the front of the group, doing his best to sound authoritative.

Smoker lip curled in annoyance, but he was saved from having to reply by the emergence of the captain and the children from a side entrance of the lab. The swordswoman, with a bright voice and wide smile, directed the children toward the ship. The children laughed and jumped around as they boarded the ship.

“Tashigi!” Smoker called.

The swordswoman looked up from her charges and took in the group standing next to the vice admiral. After murmuring something to the remaining children waiting to board, she headed over to the lab steps.

“Smoker-san,” she greeted.

“These idiots won’t leave until they know the children are taken care of. Tell them where we’re taking them.”

Long Nose and the cyborg protested at being called idiots, but the cat burglar and Chopper ignored them. Their eyes were focused on the swordswoman.

“We’re taking them to be treated by Vegapunk himself,” the captain replied, adjusting her glasses. “He’s agreed to look at the long-term effects of the drugs and work on a treatment. Once they’ve received the care they need, we’ll take them all home. We’re also in the process of contacting their families.”

“That’s a relief,” Chopper said, smiling.

The swordswoman looked at the cat burglar. “I meant what I said earlier; I will protect the children with my life!”

The cat burglar nodded, her expression softening. “I know. Thank you.”

The two women shook hands, and the captain glanced at her superior before heading back to the ship. The children were making their way onto the deck of the ship, calling at the Straw Hats with their thanks. Law was startled to hear even a few thanks hollered in his direction. Considering he hadn’t wanted to get caught up with the children in the first place, he didn’t think he deserved any.

Smoker shook his head and glanced back at the gathered group, eyes meeting Law’s one final time, before he headed back to the ship, corralling the remaining soldiers who had yet to board. The Straw Hats waved as the ship eventually pushed off from the dock and set sail.

“All right!” Luffy called out, grabbing the attention of his crew. “Let’s go! On to Dressroba!”

“Dressrosa,” Law grumbled.

“Shishishi,” Luffy chuckled. “Whatever. Let’s go take down that Mingo!”

He headed off in the direction of the Thousand Sunny, and the rest of the group followed—including Kin’emon and the boy, Law noted. He’d have to account for their presence in his plan. Luffy continued chattering on, mostly to Zoro and Long Nose, though he’d turn back every now and then to meet Law’s eye with a grin.

As they walked, the cat burglar came up next to Law. “I can navigate using the maps we found in the lab, but if you have a better way…”

Law reached into a pocket on the inside of his coat and pulled out an Eternal Pose for Dressrosa. It was the same one Doffy had given Law nearly a decade earlier in the North Blue. He carried it on every mission away from the island. For a moment, Law’s grip tightened on the wooden frame as he considered that there was a good chance neither he nor his nakama would ever leave that island again. Swallowing, he forcibly loosened his fingers and offered it to her. Her eyes lit up.

“That will make things easier!” She looked at the pose for a moment then glanced back at Law. “You said it should take half a day?”

“Yes.”

The cat burglar—Nami—peered up at the sky and narrowed her eyes consideringly before shaking her head. “We’ll have to get further away from the conditions on this weird island before I can get a sense of the weather.”

“Dressrosa is a summer island,” Law supplied. “The weather is rarely poor around it.”

Nami hummed thoughtfully. “That’s promising.”

Law hesitated before adding, “Avoid skies with clouds as much as possible.”

“Why?” Black Leg asked from Law’s other side. He took a drag on his cigarette and raised a curious eyebrow.

Law glanced at him before turning back to Nami. “Doflamingo can use his Devil Fruit to travel in the skies. He uses clouds to do it. If he has any suspicion that I’ve betrayed him, he’ll be out looking for me.”

“Will he have any suspicion?” Black Leg asked as Nami’s eyes widened.

“I… don’t know.” Law had played the call over in his mind repeatedly and still did not know if Doffy had been bluffing. Even if he hadn’t been, there was no telling how quickly he’d hear from his Marine spies about what had happened on Punk Hazard. “Best to assume he does.”

Black Leg pursed his lips but didn’t say anything.

Once they boarded the Thousand Sunny, the Straw Hats spread out to complete their respective jobs for setting sail. Law leaned back against the wall and was joined by Kin’emon and the boy as they stayed out their hosts’ way. Law and the samurai eyed one another. Law didn’t know anything about Kin’emon, other than, as a samurai, he was likely from Wano and that Doffy wanted him kept alive. If Kin’emon was from Wano, Law idly wondered if Doffy’s orders about the man came from Kaido but put the thought out of his mind; it didn’t matter to the task at hand.

Once the Thousand Sunny had pulled away from Punk Hazard and started toward Dressrosa, Law’s Eternal Pose pointing the way, the Straw Hats reconvened on the lawn in the center of the ship. They turned to Law.

“Tell us, Torao-kun,” Nico Robin said, speaking for her crew. “What awaits us in Dressrosa?”

Law took a steadying breath and started to speak.

-----

Two Days Later

Smoker found the Inspector General in his favorite spot, a perch overlooking New Marineford, absently sharing snacks with his beloved goat. He hadn’t been entirely surprised to receive a summons from Marine HQ after the prisoners he’d brought in and the damning report he’d filed about another vice admiral, but he thought this might be a bit more personal, considering the source.

“Inspector General,” Smoker greeted as he came to a stop next to the seated man.

“Smoker,” Sengoku replied, nodding at him.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Ah, yes,” Sengoku said, adjusting his glasses briefly. “I read your report about the events on Punk Hazard.”

Smoker’s original report had been heavily edited so that the official report had, much like the Alabasta report, given him far more credit than he deserved for what had transpired. It also whitewashed some of the uglier truths Smoker had learned about the base commander of G-5 and the experiments being conducted on the island. But Smoker had a feeling Sengoku was referring to the unedited version. Semi-retired or not, a man like Sengoku would have his ways of getting his hands on that document.

“Sir,” Smoker said neutrally.

Sengoku offered his goat a cracker before glancing at Smoker. “You don’t seem pleased at the accolades being thrown your way for uncovering a traitor so high in the ranks.”

Smoker snorted. “If you read my report, you know I didn’t uncover shit. Sir.”

Sengoku nodded, absently scratching behind the goat’s ears. “Corazon revealed Vergo’s true nature.”

So, he had read the unedited version. “Yes.”

“Tell me, Smoker,” Sengoku said, something careful about his tone that Smoker couldn’t quite place. “What were your impressions of Vice Admiral Vergo? Before this? You worked alongside him at G-5.”

“I thought he was a good leader and a good soldier,” Smoker admitted. “I respected him.” He’d had no reason to suspect the man; his reputation was spotless, and the men of G-5 admired him. It grated on him that he hadn’t noticed the rat. Surely there had been something amiss that Smoker had missed…

But, no. Vergo’s act had been flawless.

Sengoku nodded thoughtfully. “And Corazon killed him.”

“Yes.”

“And what did you make of that, Vice Admiral?”

Smoker frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The second in command of the Donquixote Pirates killing a particularly important spy for his own crew among Marine ranks. Surely that was surprising to you.”

Smoker, even in his unedited report, had skirted around what he’d heard about Corazon’s history. He wasn’t sure why he was keeping the man’s secrets other than the debt he owed him, but something hadn’t sat right in his chest when he’d attempted to make note of all he’d heard. He’d learned to trust his instincts over the years, and they’d told him he’d be better served holding onto that information. Even—maybe especially—the Marines were prone to politics, and Smoker knew that information could be leveraged. He found the fact distasteful, but it was true nonetheless.

But those same instincts were also telling him now that Sengoku was the right person to tell, considering his personal connection to the Donquixote Pirates. It was known amongst the longest-serving Marines that Sengoku’s adopted son had been killed by the Donquixote Pirates while on an undercover mission infiltrating them. Smoker had never met Rosinante, but he’d seen the plaque on the wall of fallen soldiers.

“There seemed to be bad blood between them,” Smoker said after coming to his decision. He didn’t have a full sense of what he’d witnessed between the two men, but he knew enough about long-standing grudges to recognize one when he saw it. “Going back a long way.”

Corazon couldn’t be older than his mid-twenties but had held the title of Corazon for half a decade. Only someone who’d been with the Family for a long time could have risen to second in command—Doflamingo only surrounded himself with the best, which was part of what made his crew so dangerous—so for Corazon to have risen so high so at such a young age likely meant he’d been with them as a child. It was common knowledge that the Family recruited children and raised them to be loyal soldiers, so that would not have been surprising.

The slightest twitch in Sengoku’s eyebrow told Smoker that he was on the right track. Considering the timeline, then, there was a good chance Corazon knew Sengoku’s son and might have answers about the circumstances surrounding his death, which had remained under high level security clearance in the years since. Most Marine lifers felt Sengoku had never truly moved past Rosinante’s death (though they’d never say it in the man’s earshot), but now perhaps he could get some answers—especially if Corazon was attempting to leave the Family and had no reason to keep their secrets any longer.

“I see,” Sengoku finally said, offering the goat another cracker. He offered the bag to Smoker wordlessly, but Smoker shook his head.

Smoker hesitated only a moment before adding, “Corazon let something slip during the fight.”

Sengoku simply nodded at him to continue, obviously recognizing Smoker had left whatever it was out of his report.

“I think he’s a survivor of the White City.”

Sengoku paled, though Smoker had a feeling it wasn’t for the reason most did when Flevance was mentioned. He’d been Fleet Admiral when commands had come from above even him to wipe out the country and everyone in it due to the highly contagious Amber Lead Disease that was killing entire generations.

It was genocide and a shame on any Marine with a sense of honor.

“There were no survivors,” Sengoku said finally, voice curiously choked off.

And even if anyone had managed to escape the slaughter, they should have died years earlier due to Amber Lead Disease. But somehow, Corazon hadn’t.

The more he thought about it, the more Smoker had a feeling it had to do with that Devil Fruit of his. The Ope-Ope no Mi was a miracle surgery fruit, after all.

“There seems to be at least one,” Smoker replied, remembering the fury in Corazon’s voice as he’d railed against what had happened to his family and his home, sheer rage taking over the normally composed man. It was clearly a slip he regretted making, considering the way his expression had soured once he’d realized what he’d said. “It sounded like his parents were doctors, but they were killed with everyone else when Flevance fell. Including a sister.”

Sengoku ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking his age. “I see,” he said after a long moment. He turned to Smoker and gave him a wan smile. “Thank you for telling me.”

The dismissal was clear, but Smoker had one more thing to add. “The traitor, Vergo, didn’t call Corazon by his title. He used a name.”

Sengoku raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“He didn’t use a surname. But he called Corazon Law.”

“Law,” Sengoku murmured, as though trying out the name.

Smoker left Sengoku with the name on his tongue, wondering what the former Fleet Admiral would do with the information but deciding it was above his paygrade.

Next chapter

#Tomorrow is my birthday #So a quick update is my gift to you #We're leaving Punk Hazard in this chapter y'all #Trafalgar Law #One Piece #One Piece fanfic #One Piece fanfiction #Caitlin's fic

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Stalemate.”

An update on the Burg war :) Hope you like. 

“Commander be advised, more Burg ships have appeared from warp.”

“Shit, how many.”

“I uh….they don’t know sir, but they say it has to be an entire fleet.”

“Damn it.” The darkfire banked a hard right and began angling upwards. McCaster did his best to get information on the battle proceeding above their heads, though most of the information was garbled and confused.

The dogfight above the Gromm city hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes, and while there were still burg drones about, the commander clearly trusted the other pilots to take care of this mess.

They had lost three jets over the course of the battle, which was a surprisingly expensive ad large percentage of their flight budget in the UNSC, of course he ws sure the commander was less worried about the monetary cost as much as he was worried about the cost of lives. 

Six pilots dead, and more sure to follow.

McCaster’s stomach dropped back against his spin as the commander cut the jet engines and switched to fusion. The switch was so quick that he only  had a momentary feeling of free fall before they were rocketed back skyward cutting through the atmosphere and breaking into the dark reaches of space, the eggshell blue of the sky fading about them until darkness and the vast universe beyond unfolded before them.

A universe that was now besieged by silent explosions and eruptions of short lived fire immediately snuffed by the vacuum of space. Debris flew in all directions, and even the commander was having a hell of a time keeping from exploding cutting this way and that, pulling maneuvers that shouldn’t have been possible  slicing between two parallel pieces of floating metal so close that McCaster could see the individual rivets running down its silver length.

Cutting past that, the commander pulled down bringing them in a stomach churning dive before moving back upwards, pressing them back into their seats.

Ahead of them chaos was unloading, the GA on one side and the burg on the other. Ordinance flew back and forth, and, as they watched,  stuck and unable to do anything to help, one of the burg ships cut around from the side and tagged one of the UNSC vessels, with a round straight to the port side.

There was a silent explosion, fire ripped through the inside of the hull as oxygen was quickly consumed. The ship listed heavily to one side.

“Fuck! Who was that! Get me a casualty report NOW!” The commander ordered.

McCaster rushed to do as told, but was having trouble with all the comms interference. As they watched, little pods began breaking away from the ailing ship, most of them coming from the breached decks as panicked crew-members fled to the escape pods.

One escape pod was completely annihilated by a passing piece of debris, popping like a popcorn kernel does in a microwave, ripping open and sending bodies flipping like rag-dolls out into the vastness.

McCaster grew sick just thinking about what dying like that would have felt like. Freezing to death as all the glasses slowly boiled from your blood. He hoped that they were all to dead to think about what had happened to them.

“That was the UNSC Esperanca, commander. Captain Silva is not responding, and all coms to the bridge crew have been cut. GA rescue teams are being dispatched casualties are estimated in the hundreds.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” The man continued to cure wildly, “Radio in to the harbinger.”

“Yes sir.”

He connected the coms link so the commander could speak freely, though he was rather concerned about the man’s ability to fly and talk at the same time.

They rotated to the side, executing a tight barrel roll and dive taking them out of the line of a fast moving group of space debris which threatened to pop their ship like a can opener and expose the two of them like a couple of sardines.

“Commander.”

“Tell me what’s happening.”

“The burg brought in a second surprise fleet to back up their first. The Burg command ship has landed planetside just outside the central city, and ground troops are making a march for the capital city. Captain Silva is in contact, and unharmed, but the ship is heavily damaged. Casualty report is up to 220 from all ships 150 of those being from Silva’s crew, and the death toll is rising as we speak. Sunny has dispatched marine drop troops to deal with the burg invasion of the capital city.”

The commander had to stop talking for a moment, as a burg vessel dropped in behind them. The commander cursed again rather violently before bringing them straight towards the debris field. McCaster hopped on the under-wing guns shooting away any piece of debris that he could manage flying as fast as they were.

Again, the commander proved his metal, cutting through the field with only inches to spare leaving the burg drone in pieces behind them.

A couple more GA ships popped into view.

“Get silva to fall back, have some of the GA vessels form a protective perimeter around their ship, I don’t want anyone else getting killed, have them fall back and wait for assistance. Do we know of any GA ship that is capable of multiple microwarps without overheating?’”

There was a long pause.

“Sunny says that the Rundi ships should be able to do at least ten before it becomes dangerous.”

“Alright, new plan, have the rundi ships alternate micro warp behind the enemy fleet, have them take a shot and then warp out, then have the next ship do the same but in a different location. Aim for one ship at a time if you can, or be random if it looks like they are catching on. Pair each of our fleet with one of the Rundi vessels and have them communicate with each other about the micro warps. Let's see if we can’t flank them. Try to hit them at the same time then use the rundi shields to block our unshielded vessels between bouts.”

“Yes sir.”

“And lieutenant?”

“Yes sir?”

“Can you hold the ship or do you need me to return.”

“I have it commander, you do what you need to do.”

“I have a better eye from up here.”

“Good, sir.”

The commander kept the line open listening to the general chatter of the battle. While they watched, the Rundi ships fell back into formation with the four remaining human vessels, while the tesraki ships pulled back to protect the limping remains of the Esperanca.

A body rolled past their window, face pale and cold in death.

The commander kept his cool though.

The burg Ships were still firing, but now the Rundi ships were taking the brunt of the attacks, their superior shields lighting up in shades of blue.

One of the ships vanished leaving it’s human counterpart open to fire, however as the Burg were gearing up to take a shot, the rundi ship appeared behind them. There was a pause as the ships seemed to be deciding what to do, during which time both the human and the rundi ships took that moment to take their shots.

It was a dangerous maneuver, for if either one of them missed the could potentially send their ordinance into friendly territory, but it worked for the time being, and an explosion rocked the leftmost side of the burg hull ripping three decks open to bare space.

Bodies were sucked out into the void and tossed like ragdolls into floating objects.

The rundi ship vanished and appeared back before the human ship just as the burg began to fire.

The rundi shields were not looking great, but another pairing was ready to dot the same taking the focus off the first ship for the time being.

“Commander, Commander.” The garbled voice rushed over the radio marred by the sound of explosions in the background, and shouting.

“Go.” The man ordered taking the ship into a steep incline locking onto one of the burg drones and erupting it into a ball of flame.

“Sir, This is Ramirez with the ground forces. The burg have deployed ground transport and artillery units and are advancing towards the city. We have made a protective perimeter, but our weapons arent going to do shit against those ground units.”

“Sending in air support. Hold tight Ramirez.”

He turned back to the coms and requested bombers to be deployed to the surface.

“What do they want with the capital city?”

McCaster wasn’t exactly aware of alien politics and so couldn't help but asking.

“The Gromm homeworld is the center hub for trade in the galaxy. Each of the home worlds has a warp disruptor that doesn't allow direct warp into a solar system unless authorized. The Gromm capital city holds the coding software that allows this to work, considering it needs access to almost all planets in Andromeda and, by extension, earth as well. We cannot let them get access to that information or else they can easily move in for an attack on any one of us. The rundi homeworld, the Tesraki, humans.” 

They cut around the side of the burg ship.

And the commander kept an eye out in the field for something he knew he wasn’t likely to spot.

“Conn, Conn, are you there, can you hear me.”

There was silence, and for a moment the commander thought the worst.

“Right here captain, though I would appreciate if you told everyone to stop blowing each other up for a few minutes. That would make my life much easier.”

He ignored the snark for the moment, “Have you managed to get close enough to hear them?”

“Mmm only close enough to get general impression. If I get any closer, I run the risk of getting exploded, and right now I am already at risk of being chopped in half, which I am not highly appreciative of.”

“What if we came, picked you up, and flew you past. Could you do it then?”

“I could probably manage that. Sending you my location now.”

McCaster hadn’t heard the conversation for obvious reasons, and so was confused as the commander pealed away from formation and started heading straight towards the burg fleet line. 

Luckily the larger ships didn’t consider one lone jet enough of a worry to actually fire at them, though the burg drones were eager for blood. The commander pulled some risky maneuvers, cutting through fields of metal, and maneuvering two drones to crash into each other.

He ordered McCaster to follow a beacon into the debris field, and with his help they were able to maneuver further in, slowing greatly and hiding their signature as they turned off the engine and coasted for a bit. They were going very slowly now, cutting through an eerie junkyard of mingled bodies and the skeletal remains of ships. A rundi corpse gently bounced off their right wind and went tumbling away into nothing.

McCaster was looking around for the beacon assuming they were after a ship of some sort, when there was a clatter atop the canopy. Of course there was no sound from outside, but the reverberations through the air on the inside of the canopy made him look up.

And immediately almost peed himself.

The black eyed- leering face seemed quite amused with his near panic attack, white ribbons billowing out from behind it, as it settled itself into place at the back of the canopy.

“Sorry McCaster, forgot to mention we were coming to pick up a friend.”

“Friend my ass.” he muttered under his breath, looking back at the still leering face.

They began a slow creep towards the burg ship, keeping low and below their enemy.

It was a strange angle , hard to remember that in space there was movement in almost any direction. Generally speaking all of the burg and GA ships were on the same grid level, so their approaching presence was hardly noticed. Burg drones hung about the outside of the enemy ship so this was about as close as they planned on getting.

“How about here, this is about as close as I can get you.”

“Mmmm, it may take a few minutes, there is only so much I can do between bouts of screaming. 

Their faces were lit a moment later by the fiery glow of another explosion, silent and dead in the vacuum of space.

Everything around them was eerily quiet.

“Well, shit.”

“Don’t give me that conn, tell me what’s going on now!”

“Might want to hurry up commander. This little space battle is simply a diversion for the real plan happening on the surface. Those artillery guns aren't just artillery. Some of the rounds have data nets on them, and may be able to hijack the pertinent information without them even getting into the city, if they land one close enough. I would wager to say you have ten minutes.”

“Shit!” 

What followed was sincerely the most insane and terrifying thing that McCaster had ever experienced. The commander flew like a madman, cutting duck rolling and spinning through the debris field with drones hot on their heels all while on the radio yelling for all air units to target their fire on the burg artillery. He probably would have ordered all the ships to break off and use orbital targeting as well, but they were too close to the burg city for that, and too close to the marines who were valiantly impending the burg efforts.

Luckily for them a single one of those data rounds would have to hit an exact target in order to work, but the closer they got the more likely  it would become.

Jets whizzed around the city shooting ordinance from the sky when they could.

The data rounds had to be slow in order to remain in tact for the flight down, so that was one advantage they had. 

All remaining bombers and jets were ordered down to earth, with the burg drones peeling off behind them.

The freaky alien, Conn let them go just as they were about to fall into orbit ribbons billowing out about him as they vanished into the distance rocketing towards earth at fenominal speeds. The fire licked up at their wings again, but this time McCaster knew what to expect.

He moved himself to the under-wing guns determined to help in any way he could.

They were approaching the ground fast, and an entire formation of aircraft rolled in one mass dogfight over the scene below as burg drones fought aggressively to protect their precious artillery units. The Burg command ship lobbed Anti-Air missiles into the sky causing one darkfire to erupt into a ball of flame.

McCaster though they were going to join another formation of jets heading towards the artillery units, but was surprised when the Commander continued their dive the ground approaching at a stunning speed.

This time he held himself conscious as the commander pulled out of the dive, at the last possible moment. They were going so low, that the power of their engines kicked up a trail of dust behind them knocking burg soldiers to the ground as they marched.

AA guns were useless against them as they careened towards the artillery line.

The wing guns fired repeatedly tearing up the ground, and sending burg bodies erupting in all directions.

The commander narrowed his sights, locking on, and then fired, before peeling off and pulling up. The right wing of their jet was so close to the ground, it clipped the top of a tall shrub sending plant bits in all directions, though it made no difference as the shrub erupted into momentary flames as the explosion reached it.

McCaster tried not to think about how close they had come to dying, and was reminded seconds later when a burg drone, which had been following them from their dive, rammed into the ground exploding just as violently and taking out a second piece of friendly artillery.

Burg bodies were thrown to the ground in the ensuing explosion, remaining cold and still.

One of their bombers was clipped hard in the wing, and went down with an explosion.

A white parachute opened after a moment only to be torn up by an incoming burg drone, with no qualms about shooting a man while he was defenseless.

The commander made sure it was the last move that drone ever took. 

Back towards the city more troop transports were dropping soldiers onto the front line. Marines, rundi and Tesraki soldiers were spilling from open pods setting up a defense line around the city. The Gromm were doing what they could to assist though their military technology was rudimentary at best.

“They almost have the nexus back online!”

As it turned out the Burg were well aware of this fact, at at least twenty incoming burg ships cut into atmosphere and were forced to descend to land, creating a defensible position around the burg command ship just as  as the nexus went back up

A large, translucent amber dome erupted about the ground where the burg ships were stationed locking them into place with their own shields.

The drones fell back to defend the position, leaving the exhausted pilots to circle around the perimeter unable to get close to the well defended position.

On rundi pilot made the mistake and was immediately shot from the sky.

Overhead, friendly forces had made a defensive perimeter of the Nexus and the remaining burg ships had fallen back leading everything to a standstill. They could do nothing about the burg ships already on the planet for fear of hurting the civilian population.

As for now, the battle had come to its conclusion as a draw, though the war was far form over. 

[capricornus-rex]

Could I uhm by any chance have a cal x reader where they're kids and meeting for the first time and the reader's a human who's been adopted by wookies? If not that's fine. Love your writing btw😊

“A Time Where Innocence Prevailed” | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: The young Padawan Cal Kestis joins his master, Jaro Tapal, to a campaign in Kashyyyk in order to give aid to the warring Wookiees against the hostile Trandoshans. During their trip, little Cal meets an unlikely friend that he’ll surely keep it in his memory for time immemorial.

A/N: I so love this prompt because this is the very first time I’ll be writing about smol Cal!! I can imagine all of the sweet, pure fluffiness that transpires in his adventures with Master Tapal and oh good god my Cal Kestis-loving heart will melt into the goopy mess that it is!!! A sweet little angel that must be protected at all costs! Thank you Anon for sending this beautiful prompt to me, I’m really glad you did give it to me because I wouldn’t have made such an adorable story! On a serious note, some of the italicized dialog lines will be the direct translation from Wookiee to the protocol droid’s Galactic Basic—I personally thought it’s redundant and looks like sentence filler to switch between Wookiees speaking and protocol droid when they’re basically saying the same thing to the Basic-speaking characters.

Also in AO3

Tags: Young! Cal Kestis, Padawan! Cal Kestis, Non-Jedi! Reader, Non-Force Sensitive! Reader, Child! Cal Kestis, Child! Reader, Young! Reader, Orphaned but then Adopted! Reader, Adoptive Family, Childhood Friendship, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories

Masterlist

“Good morning, General Tapal,” a clone waiting outside the ship greeted the Jedi.

“Good morning, Captain Prell. Are the preparations done for travel?”

“Yes, sir. We’re ready when you are!”

“Good,”

There was a long pause after their exchange. Captain Prell slightly bobbed his head to the side. Normally, he would find a little ginger boy tagging along behind the tall Lasat Jedi.

“Is something wrong, Captain?”

“Err… I was wondering where you little Padawan might be, sir.”

Jaro Tapal looked to his side and then angled to his behind only to find nothing there. He thought he had his Padawan walking close to him ever since they exited the Jedi Temple and walked to the open landing pad. He looked to the path behind him and saw his apprentice being held back by some of his fellow younglings chatting with him.

When the boy saw over his friends’ shoulders that his master was waiting for him, he quickly bade goodbye and came sprinting towards Master Tapal.

“Come along now, Cal, we mustn’t delay,” beckoned Jaro in his prim, baritone voice.

“Coming, Master! Sorry about that,”

“Watch your step now, child,”

“Watch your head, Master!” Cal quipped as he strode on the entry ramp of their shuttle. He was received with a throaty chuckle as Jaro himself enters the vessel.

They make for the cockpit and settle themselves on their seats. The ten-year-old was so small on the chair that he had about five inches of space on both of his sides! Even so, he made himself comfortable and leisurely swung his legs as they prepared for take-off.

“You ever been to Kashyyyk, kiddo?”

“No, what’s it like there, Captain?”

“Well, there’s sure a lot of trees,”

Upon the shuttle’s arrival through Kashyyyk’s stratosphere, Cal’s amazed, widened eyes could not fit the vast, green expanse of the planet; so much so that the color of the landscape has already taken over his natural jade-green irises. His mouth formed into a full O. The sight from above was breathtaking, and he wanted in on every inch they pass over the dense jungles and grand treetops.

The boy leaned forward, struggling to match his height with the windshield of the shuttle in order to get a better view—as if his perspective right now wasn’t satisfactory. He couldn’t control his excitement and hopped on his toes as they zoomed through.

Cal had unintentionally ignored Jaro Tapal’s gentle warnings to come back to his seat in time for the landing.

“Cal, come on now, sit down before the captain lands the ship,”

“The general’s right, kiddo. We don’t want you bumping your head when we land!”

Cal resorted to following both of them. He jumped back into his seat and watched the landing cycle commence. The clone captain flew into one spot in the forest that provided enough coverage from possible threats—especially the Trandoshans—then settled the ship in one section of a Wookiee settlement on the ground—for they are known to dwell in the higher levels of the trees.

A group of Wookiees flocked the landing area with great curiosity about their new visitors, tilting their heads and lowing in conversation with one another. Jaro Tapal and Cal—along with a protocol droid, named KP-475 or Kay-Pee, for translation—exited the ship; when they stepped out of their vessel, they’re greeted by the leader of the settlement, apparently subordinate to Chieftain Tarfful. When the Wookiee spoke in his native language and protocol droid obliged after every sentence.

“Welcome, friends, to our peaceful home. My name is Khevariik, leader of this village.”

“Khevariik welcomes us in their peaceful village,” the protocol droid relayed.

Khevariik offered shelter for Master Tapal, Cal, Captain Prell, and even Kay-Pee. The four obliged and followed the Wookiee—and his warriors flanked them as they walked on. They stayed in a bigger hut situated in one tier of a high tree trunk. Cal’s wonderment hasn’t run out as he discovers that the cottage were connected with sturdy wooden bridges made with the exact same kind of lumber where the Wookiee homes are built with; but it doesn’t stop there—the bridges appeared like an intricate network, connecting from one tree to another, some of them even connected to the higher levels that if one is to look down, it ought to be a fifty-foot drop!

“Watch your step now,” Jaro warned a jittery Cal.

The cottage was relatively larger than the rest of the cottages they spotted outside, Master Tapal assumed that it could have been some sort of council hall and he was correct. Khevariik situated himself at the northerly side of the room, across him sat Master Tapal and Cal—they were offered libations by Khevariik’s mate and they sincerely accepted.

As the Wookiee conversed with the Jedi Master and filled him in on their situation against the Trandoshans, Cal’s attention is elsewhere. He studied the interior of the cottage, how surprisingly well-lit it was—until he counted all the crude sconces on the parapets around and made sense of the brightness in the room. In the corner of his eye, he noticed a couple of the Wookiees seated along the wall shuffling and lowing in a reactive manner.

The boy gasps at the sight of you: a child, more or less in the same age as him. Similar to the Wookiees, you had ornaments adorning your hair—woven, patterned ribbons that snaked along the braid that crowned your head and beads fastened into locks of your hair.

Master Tapal caught wind of his Padawan’s reaction and unintentionally cut his conversation with Khevariik. The Wookiee leader mewled to acknowledge your presence.

“I saw the ship that wasn’t ours, so I figured to take a look,” you reason out.

“You understand them?”

You nodded.

“A human child?”

The Wookiee lowed a series of growl and yelps, to which KP-475 instantaneously translates.

“Khevariik says the child is part of the clan. The real parents have… erm…”

The droid trailed off, it needn’t to continue as it might offend you. You immediately turned the awkward, somber mood around, but only projected your bright, cheeriness to Cal.

“Hey, wanna come play with me?” you beamed to him, not waiting for his answer a second after you asked him. You looked to Khevariik and then to the tall, purple Lasat who is his apparent custodian. You repeated the same permission to both of the adults.

Cal then turned to Master Tapal, in subtext, he was pleading he’d be allowed to go with you. Before Jaro could even say anything, Khevariik allowed you but there was an underlying tone in his growl.

“Yes, I promise. I won’t stray too far!”

“Well, run along now. Just don’t wander too far off then,” Jaro finally caved in and patted Cal’s head, nearly messing up the top of his hair.

“Yeah!”

Cal scrambled up to his feet and immediately joined you on your way to the door—or lack thereof.

“I’m Cal!”

“Name’s [Y/N]!”

You took the lead, of course, and gave your newfound friend a tour of your home. Along the way, Cal bombarded you with a lot of curious questions—you didn’t mind though, because likewise, you had the same curiosities about him as much as he does with you. The path that you’re taking led to one of your personal playgrounds—spots that only you knew of, your precious secret hideaways.

“So, uh, [Y/N],” Cal grunted as he scaled up a short wall. “How did you end up living here?”

“Oh, well, my parents and I went to live here. But when I was, like, seven… some Trandoshan hunters got caught in a fight with my parents. Good thing the Wookiees are a friendly kind and they rescued me. I owed my life to Khevariik and Itaahka, his mate.”

“Must be hard, missing your parents like that,”

“Yeah, it sure is, but… I’m not lonely. I have another family—the Wookiees!”

For some reason, Cal was relieved that you weren’t in your lonesome—given that you’re being taken care of by the Wookiees—but he wondered if you were lonely because you’re not their kind. You balanced on a thick enough branch that crept along the tree trunk as Cal continued his questions in getting to know you better.

“It felt weird at first, though. Sometimes I see people like me talk to Khevariik, but it’s my first time seeing someone really like me—and that’s you!”

You hopped down from the tree trunk and landed right in front of him. Now, it was your turn to ask the questions.

“Do all Jedi children have that braid tail on their hair?”

“O-Oh, yeah but… I’m not called a Jedi—not yet, at least,”

“Well, what do they call you?”

“Kids like me—who are learning to be Jedi when they grow up—are called Padawans,”

“And that tall, purple person is the one teaching you how to be one?”

“That’s right! So… Um, where’ve you taken us, [Y/N]?”

Your eyes lit up. Cal didn’t notice the wall of vines and limp branches that hung downward until you swept them to one side—revealing a large hole in the wall; it appeared more to be the mouth of a cave, but when he peeked over your shoulder, he didn’t see a cave, rather he saw a slope.

“What’s through there?”

“Oh,” you started in a singsong manner. “You’ll see!”

You turned tail and let yourself drop into the slope. Your whoop of enjoyment echoed and then faded out, leaving Cal in the starting side while you’ve already gotten to the other end.

“Come on, Cal!” your faceless voice called through the mudslide.

Cal angled his entire body slight sideways, his knees buckled, and his ankles locked on. Clumps of damp soil flew and sputtered upon his wake as he slid down. The thrill eventually brought out the laughter in him, all the way until he plopped and landed on his bottom, over a soft carpet of grass.

It would appear that you’ve brought him into a thicket. You called the mudslide your portal to your secret hideout.

“Whooaaa…!” Cal gasped as his pupils widened, absorbing all the sights, lights, and colors that pooled the entire thicket. “This place… is amazing!”

“You think? I found it months ago and no one else knows about it—well, except for you!”

He slowly brought himself up to his feet, eyes still fixated at the entirety of the little paradise, and then dusted off the shreds of grass and dust that clumped on the hem of his tunic.

“Let’s keep this our secret, yeah?” you chirped.

“Of course! My lips are zipped!”

You hold out your hand in front of him, only your pinky finger is sticking out. Cal looked at your hand quizzically and then to you for some clarification.

“Pinky promise?” you initiated.

In response, Cal hooked his own pinky finger with yours, sealing the promise.

“Pinky promise!”

With your pinky fingers intertwined, the two of you shook on it as well—bobbing your tangled hands up and down until one of you withdrew. Your curiosity seemingly has no end, and you continued to bombard Cal with questions about the Jedi and how their way of life works differently from the one you’ve come to know.

He demonstrated his skill in using the Force—this was the very first time you saw someone move an object without touching them! Your eyes popped with wonderment, watching Cal manipulate a bunch of rocks simply by waving his hands slowly—to you, it felt like his arms were dancing—and he willed them to stack on top of each other until he made a small mound of them.

“Wow…” you sighed, staring at the neatly-arranged, miniature mountain of rocks that your new friend has made without ever touching a single one of them with his own hands!

The boy was rather proud of himself that he’s able to impress you, but you didn’t allow him to one-up you in your own home turf.

“My turn to show you something cool! You know how fireflies only light up at night?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, what I’m about to show you says otherwise!”

He followed you further into the thicket, the sunlight was gradually getting dimmer; it began to worry him when he looked back and noticed that you’re getting a bit farther from where you came from. You reassured him that you know this place better than the back of your hand. There was another enclave in front of you, sunlight still pooled through the canopy of the trees, shafts of light spotlighted in random parts of the forest, however a vast majority of the space remained untouched by the sun—not too dim, not too light either, it was the right amount of shade.

“What’s so special about a boulder?”

“Hah! It’s just not any boulder,” you boasted. With all your might, you hauled away the boulder and out comes an entire colony of Light Beetles—the more docile subspecies of Flame Beetles—and they filled the entire forest clearing, despite the broad daylight! They scattered around the air and lit up the clearing like live stars. The two of you were practically standing in their own field.

Truth be told, you seldom did this—because of the varying days and weather—but apparently today was a perfect day to show it to Cal, almost as if the galaxy permitted it, simply to humor your free and innocent spirits. The little, redhead boy spun around slowly, taking all in the sight of the Light Beetles fluttering and floating about in the dim space like a planetarium.

“This is so awesome! Look at that!” your new friend squeaked, and one Light Beetle hovered close to Cal’s nose—its natural bioluminescent light pooled on the boy’s cheeks and face, warranting a delighted giggle out of him.

On the other hand, you carefully caught the little buggers in your hand, let them fly free as soon as you unclasped your hands and watch them flicker their bulbous buttocks as soon as they realize they’re out of their temporary net. The two of you stayed there for a while, Cal almost forgot that they have a campaign to deal with—it’s just that this is the most genuine fun he’s had for as long as he can remember.

Both of you did all sorts of games to pass the time. As a matter of fact, you’ve played more games than you could care to admit that you and Cal lost track of time. The two of you regained your bearings and realized that you’ve taken long enough in your playtime when you heard a calling roar, followed by the sound of Jaro Tapal’s voice.

“[Y/N]! Cal! Come here!”

“Oop, there goes our fun!” you squealed.

Both youngsters hauled themselves back up on their feet, and walked up to a wall of vines. The two of you were fortunately able to scale the wall and have something to grab on, at least, until you’ve reached the top from where the Wookiee scout and Jaro Tapal have called you.

“Come on, it’s time for us to go,”

“Already?!” Cal objected.

Taken aback and surprised by his amplified fondness of the place, Jaro Tapal slightly angled his head to his Padawan and raised an eyebrow for good measure.

“We still have to report back to Coruscant to tell the Council of the situation here in the Wookiees’ home,”

Seeing that he can’t argue with that, Cal was left to go along with his master’s plan. Eventually, Khevariik personally saw Master Tapal, Cal, their clone captain, and the protocol droid to the landing pad; this time, you tagged along from the high level cottage to the surface level where their ship was situated in.

There was bitter taste in Cal’s mouth. He didn’t want to leave yet, the high of the fun was still coursing through his veins—as well as yours—Cal took a moment and walked back to you, standing in front of the cluster of Wookiees who lent their presence—besides Khevariik and Ihtaaka—to bid goodbye to their visitors.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye,”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll see each other again—and we’ll have the same tons of fun like we did earlier!” you chirped.

You spot him make a sniffle and heard him out, “Yeah, I guess. I’ll look forward to that, [Y/N]!”

“Great! Oh, before you leave…”

Cal noticed you unfastening one of the colored cords that added color to your hair. You leaned closer and tied it at the end of his Padawan braid.

“Here, something to remember me by once you leave,”

“Thanks, [Y/N]. I wish I could give you something in return,”

You shake your head and pursed your lips, “No need. I’ve had tons of fun with you—that’s more than enough. It sure was nice to have some company in my secret hideout for once and I’m glad it was you!”

 -----

BRACCA, 8 YEARS LATER

Cal—now a young man—stood atop the wing of a salvaged Venator, overlooking the scrapyard that his eye could see. The drizzle was gradually ending and the sun persisted to peek through the dense mixture of post-rain haze and the heavy, cumulonimbus clouds that loomed along the skyline of the landscape.

It was midday, he basked in the rising sun and its warmth as he dries himself from the rainwater that collected on his face. When the rays have beamed strongly through the clouds, Cal shielded his eyes from the light with his hand; the corner of his eye watched the bracelet on his right hand dangle in the wind.

He lowered his hand and gazed upon the band that was once so full of vibrant, dyed colors has now faded or grayed out from the grease and dust that Cal has been exposed to in the scrapyard.

“Here, something to remember me by…” the voice of your younger self echoed in his mind.

His free hand involuntarily went to his wrist, his thumb ran across the cord—the luster of the fibers have aged, the loose ends of the string have puffed out into messy tufts, and it ran coarse under the skin of his finger.

Behind his eyes, he reminisces and reimagines the rich, green vastness of Kashyyyk from a bird’s-eye view, the melodies of your laughs mingling together so well like music, the cold wind reminded him of the air that flew through his hair when he slid down that mudslide leading to the thicket that seemed so surreal even for Kashyyyk’s standards, and finally, the distant sparks of the mechanics’ and engineers’ tools reminded him of the twinkling Light Beetles that filled the clearing where the two of you stood to gaze at the wonder of those insects.

The whole memory warranted a private smile, as he remembers everything vividly, it’s as if it happened yesterday and the nightmare that is the Jedi Purge never happened at all.

I wonder when can I see you again, [Y/N]? Cal thought to himself, with the faintest pitter-patter of the remaining rain.

“Hey, Cal, you comin’?!” a male voice called to him from the safer surfaces of their work area.

“Yeah, Prauf, I’m comin’! Just gimme a sec,”

“Alright, well, I’ll meet ya down,”

“Sure!”

When Cal confirmed that Praud has indeed gone out of sight, he returned his eyes to the horizon, the wind combing through his fiery red hair.

“I hope you’re doing okay, wherever you are, [Y/N],” he muttered under his breath and a smile naturally came to him, as if reassuring himself that you’re in a good place, though he misses you so much and wishes that he can return back to the same bliss of his childhood with you.

#cal kestis #cal kestis fic #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x reader fic #young! cal kestis #padawan! cal kestis #non-jedi! reader #non-force sensitive! reader #child! cal kestis #child! reader #young! reader #orphaned but then adopted! reader #adoptive family #childhood #childhood friendship #childhood friends #childhood memories #anon #fic request #fic #fluff #fluff fic #anon prompt #anon ask #anon fic request #requested by anon #anon request

[shy-magpie]

RQG 158

liveblog under the cut

pre episode nonsense:

Roman Rogues was a delightful palate cleanser, but I am ready for the main campaign again. Hopes for this ep:

Bring on the Kobolds! (and Hamid figuring out how to behave ethically in a relationship with unsought but unavoidable power imbalance)

Azu please talk to someone about what you are feeling, not just take on everyone else's pain

is it too early for more on Dwarves since we're headed to Svalbard?

Cel's village pls, and everything we can get about how they fit in and how they feel about leaving. Yes we got a lot with "the Fete of Cel's village" but I want more. Also if it turns out Jasper actually ends up with a Kobold assistant like I've been joking about since the little guy we left in the onion room, I will laugh for a week.

Zolf: Zolf & mental health; Zolf & Wilde; Zolf & the guys who acted as his party during the 18 months; Zolf learning to see S4 Hamid instead of S1 Hamid with new spells; Zolf & Kobolds; and did I say Zolf?

_______________________________

Now on with the show:

Ah poor Alex sounds so down about the audio quality, its the first time doing something unusual without a lot of warning. I hope he knows we're happy to trade the risk of sound issues for knowing they didn't risk people and went remote before mandatory. I do love the intros. Oh nervous Alex, really we're not going to bite. Alex fishing for praise for not destroying Cel's village is a nice transition back to more normal energy, namely fear of GM!Alex. As a person he seems lovely, and with things like keeping the company going under lock-down safely I am happy trusting him with the cast's lives, as a GM? He has killed before, will kill again, and the worst part is it will be well crafted. Azu is putting everyone else before herself again. I know helping others is part of how she copes (seeking agency is valid) but I am serious about wanting her to lean on someone from time to time. Oh bless RQ they really do hold their quality up to the highest standards, is this the audio Alex was apologizing for? Oh Hamid, he really is trying to do the right thing by these poor traumatized Kobolds. "you do no damage". Eee! Tailor!Hamid!!! Tailor!Hamid! Tailor! Hamid!!! Over the armor hooded parka for Azu, using all his materials. Such a sweet kid. Zolf is "being outside & alone", he is so valid. Cel time! Cel won a cuddly toy red panda, Alex makes them roll for it. Cel has a night at home. Wilde calls meeting for party, sans Cel who is not summoned from their village. Hopefully that means this isn't terrible & actionable news, and not that Wilde doesn't see Cel as a party member. Earhart? Please Alex we've been ever so good! Einstein is off grid, might be intentional Earhart's ship was damaged, she was injured. They need to go to her. Wilde asks if Cel will be continuing with the party, everyone volunteering at once to get them is reassuring of their place in the party. I suppose I should also give credit to Wilde for not making assumptions about how Cel would make a major life decision. Aw goodbye Inn! Oh Barnes and Carter could go either way. Sounds fancy. Zolf still has that instinctual knack for leadership, decreeing he will do the necessary but less fun bit of packing, while Hamid does the people bit of fetching Cel. I missed whether Azu was going with Hamid, but we'll find out in a minute. Helen calls out Alex. Oh Hamid, Azu, and all seven Kobolds are going. Are they staying or not? Bless the kid, Hamid is telling Skraak the itinerary as information rather than leverage to make the decision he wants. Whether the other Kobolds come with or stay in the village, informed consent is important. Also by telling Skraak first they can figure out how to tell the others along with info on the plan rather than leave them scrambling to figure out what Hamid wants to hear. I love this village. Cel set up a sound system for the village band to do their spring cleaning montage to. Azu & Hamid are charmed. Oh Jasper made the sound system! Hamid praises Jasper for that and taking care of the village. God I love that Alex isn't doing that thing where the stutter goes away as Jasper's character arc progresses. Yes stress can make stuttering worse, but it isn't a flaw that means you won't progress until you fix it.* Hamid introduces the Kobolds as his friends. Is Alex going to let the names pass from WOG to canon? Nope fair enough, as soon as we get names he'll have to use them and we'll soon need character traits and its a whole "if you give a mouse a cookie" thing. Jasper resorts to giving them tea as a universal. Cel enlists the Kobolds in improving the sound system. "Burrow through the center of the Earth?" I love Cel's suggestions. Oh please can Cel help repair Earhart's ship please? Speaking of ships, a half dozen authors just opened a new doc. Hamid is so careful not to pressure Cel while still being welcoming. Roar, Alex!?! What enormous roar!?! Oh he would break there. He is getting entirely too much mileage from being out of throwing range of the cast.

~break~

Thwarted Hamid Cel hug? Oh its the Kobolds! Bless em maybe they'll relax when Hamid doesn't turn on them for messing up. Name! Names! Thank you Alex! Yes I was just resigning myself to it being reasonable for us not to get them as individual characters, thank you! Thank you! Meerk likes loud noises, canon! Cel invites the Kobolds to stay, Skraak suggests they bring in Kobolds from the island instead of Hamid's 7. Hamid sounds a bit frantic as replies, like he thinks he offended Skraak & the others. It was a good suggestion for more reasons than just shaking the new kids, no one thinks you were just dumping them. A runner is sent to the island. Skraak wants to them to stick with Hamid. Perception check on the morning of departure. They roll ridiculously well. Oh Wilde is still wearing his antimagic cuffs on his ankles. Bell bottoms to disguise them. Oh Wilde, what happened to our peacock? They walk to the fishing vessel where Barnes and Carter are waiting. Oh Azu helps the little ones wade. Hamid flies. Zolf punts. Cel turns into a dolphin. The Kobolds are either ferried by Hamid air or swim. So Azu doesn't get to help after all. Zolf is not a happy sailor "Like going back to the place your ex works". Helen says Aphrodite would fight Poseidon for Zolf. Yes Alex you trained them well. Aw Azu and Cel play while Cel is a dolphin. I love Alex's world building Yes Lydia! The Soggy X is a favored call back. Mood Cel I have to work to remember how long ago I've been somewhere. Aw Alex gives them a wonderful meal. Hamid loves Sushi! Hamid overpays, good lad. Horse riding time Japan is historically a gnome heavy area and caters towards smaller races. Alex's world building is great. Oh Alex is learning to give them proper down time. Hamid gives Azu the parka he made. He is so sweet. Zolf tells him that he already has cold gear. Poor kid takes it as a rejection. I honestly think Zolf was trying to get him to relax about not having made him one too. Its well made for a coat that goes over armor. He will make one for Cel. Azu picks Hamid up to hug him. Cel praises it. Oh Carter asks for one, Hamid perks up a bit. Hamid put pockets in Azu's. Zolf turns Hamid down again. Azu offers to share and Zolf remains a great conversationalist. Oh the Kobolds need coats. That should keep Hamid busy until they get to Svalbard. No one trusts the low stakes episode. *yes I still resent all the time I spent out of class with speech therapy, and I resent more people who knew it was hard for me to speak properly, knew what I meant well enough to correct me, and still interrupted me mid sentence as if an extra/wrong syllable was more important than the rest of the sentence combined.

#Rusty Quill Gaming #RQG Spoilers #RQG 158 #live blog thingy