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yourneighborhoodporg · 5 months

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The Guardian

Chapter 8: Blackened Water (Part 2)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, banter, migraines, a tiny reference to drugs, self-sacrifice ish, skechy neighborhoods, brief stalker (?), very concerned Obi :(

Summary: After this morning's incident in the Starfighter, you go on an afternoon run to clear your mind. Of course, your track of choice is the seedy underground neighborhoods of the outer Senate District— a decision that will prove to be full of twists and turns.

Song Inspo: Black Water — Of Monsters and Men

Words: 7.5k

A/n: All I’m gonna say is, hella foreshadowing and hella symbolism. I’ll let you decide what that means 🫡

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Series Masterlist

The thought was this: that all my life had been murk and depths, but I was not a part of that dark water. I was a creature within it — Madeline Miller

Your loosely booted foot smacked against the damp pavement, splashing apart shallow puddles that collected in the occasional crevice with each sprinting step as you made your way deeper into the alleys of the Senate District. The flickering, golden glows of periodic street lamps illuminated the path ahead, just enough to avoid tripping over scattered waste piles that dotted street corners. It forced your eyes to remain alert as you maneuvered around them and below the thick, interwoven cable squiring across miles-long under-street ceilings like an infinite den of snakes.

You glimpsed at your chilly sleeves without a hitch in your bounding steps. The slate-gray of your robe had soaked into a deep, inky black from the afternoon’s drumming rain. One that had already enveloped the region by the time you first launched this trek into the neighborhood’s bowels at hour’s dawn.

But dampened earth wasn’t your reason for keeping to empty passageways and abandoned tunnels. Coated in shadowed light as distant clatters atop metal rooftops trickled down into groans that bellowed from the surrounding walls.

No.

You were clinging to shadowy covers because, once again, you’d chosen to embrace that long-held, Hoth tradition of keeping a low profile.

And, having spent your entire existence hiding from the world, it’d proven to be a bit of a hard habit to break.

It haunted you as you flashed down each narrow passageway, eyes shifting like chosen prey vigilantly watching for their predator— an action that reflected your utmost desire to keep your Jedi identity concealed. Yet you continued to engage the Force, fueling nearly supernatural sprints down new corridors and twisting avenues. Movements that would usually garner unwelcome attention in any other zone.

But not here.

Not in the underground neighborhoods of the Senate District.

It was where you’d discovered the only way to engage the Force without revealing yourself in public. Through the obscurity of its gloomy locales that credibly camouflaged you from searching eyes.

But besides your decade-long custom of concealment, you knew that these days, it was still vital to remain cautious.

More than ever.

Ever since your arrival, you’d been engaging with more diverse characters every day. Most of whom were uninformed about your real purpose as a Jedi. The Council believed it would be safest to conceal your real identity, name and all. And even though that was quite the adjustment from the fanfare you were expecting, you still felt inclined to agree with them. At least at the Temple, individuals who’d become all the more threatening by learning your secret were weeded out before they could even reach the front door.

But not here.

Not down seedy boulevards or dimly lit backstreets that characterized the forlorn neighborhoods of the outer District, slinking with suspect figures whose watchful gazes peaked out of hooded wear.

Sometimes they’d observe you pass, bodies still with eerily calm attentiveness as they watched on. Others would wriggle far back into the cover of darkened crannies, their jittery silhouettes talking lowly with other, unseen beings of the shadows during their retreat.

Still, in spite of the uncertainty that surrounded this quarter, you took the risk.

It was necessary, you convinced yourself. Mindless movement seemed to work as some sort of binary treatment for your persistently taxing migraine. That was why, following this morning’s planet-side return, your first order of business was to be right here.

In this moment.

In a No Man’s Land of deserted corridors and limited natural light.

Despite the downpour which greeted you on an otherwise tepid day, that instant the Starfighter touched down at the Temple hangar, you knew exactly where you wanted to be.

By yourself. On the street. And running.

You thought back again to those fleeting seconds following your return from Anakin’s piloting lesson. How you were so quick to open the cockpit’s hatch with a click, the engines just barely starting to cool as you agilely hopped out, toes gracing the stone below while you made a beeline for the inner Temple.

All to facilitate your confident escape.

Yet despite your resoluteness in slipping away, you still felt a chilly twinge of remorse dip your stomach. Especially when the distant, resounding tick and whir of the fighter’s opening canopies subtly announced your flight companions’ perfect view of your departing form.

Of your decision to leave them behind without even a goodbye.

Guilt encircled your ears like curiously buzzing blood flies, forcing you to at some point realize that engaging in some mad dash of endorphins wasn’t your only motivation for this morning’s speedy retreat.

You did it because, if you knew anything, you knew Anakin.

Yes, you’d only met him a little over two weeks ago. But Maker were you beginning to grasp his mind as well as your own.

Recently, the two of you had been spending a lot of time together.

Or at least, many hours more than your Hoth upbringing supplied.

Intense sparring sessions, the occasional evening supper that would devolve into its more charming discourses when Obi-Wan joined halfway through. Not to mention those rare, yet revealing conversations with Anakin about his past. The most earnest of which transpiring that night above the garbage pit, when he revealed to you his mother’s passing, and let slip his pervading turmoil on the matter.

And in the end, it didn’t take long for you to recognize that the summation of all those wholehearted interactions, those sundry dialogues amidst quality time, was a sharper ear for his thought process.

For how his heart beat for others.

This morning in the Starfighter, you knew the instant Anakin heard your painful exhale that the cogs of his feeling mind began to whirl. Further propelled to miraculous speeds when you tersely instructed him to bring the ship back in seconds later.

Then, during the reentry, you knew how he was, in all likelihood, anticipating to relay those four, troubled words the moment you two stood face-to-face.

What happened up there?

Of course, throughout that entire, sedated descent, you knew he was thinking about what to say next. Particularly, which words to use if you tried blowing him off again with another two, dry syllables. A phrase that’d drifted from your lips as popularly as each breath during this past week and a half.

I’m fine.

All of this pervading his mind right up until your door unlatched behind him, shocking him out of his stupor, you imagined. Coaxing him to leap out of the cockpit just as swiftly as he heard you do from behind.

But you didn’t give him the chance.

You refused to even glance back to check. To see if he was about to chase after you.

You couldn’t.

You just flicked on your robe’s hood, tugging its gradually dampening form tightly around yourself as your footsteps abandoned the landing platform.

You didn’t even hear what he said next. That is, if he’d said anything at all when you entered the hangar bay. But whether that was due to the clamoring headache that’d momentarily incapacitated you or your pervading questions surrounding this affliction running wild, you didn’t know.

You just blocked it all out.

Deafened your ears to any immediate surroundings, like scattered hangar workers and hammering repairs, as you hastened your evasion of the ditched trio.

But, no matter the shame that tugged at your chest afterward, you were still confident in the reasoning behind your withdrawal.

As of now, you were still trying to investigate the cause of this harassment. And you recognized that until you found some answers, involving Anakin or anyone close to him would put The Chosen One in a land of uncertainty that you weren’t quite comfortable with.

And that just wouldn’t do.

Your striking heels continued to clobber the decaying trails of the outer District’s underground streets, bringing the chatter of leather on wet concrete into a strange harmony with the increasingly beating rain that danced upon the streets above. Centering yourself in another Force-amplified hurdle, you again reminded yourself of the important fact that influenced your decision to keep this secret. The conclusion that you knew would reduce any chance of complications to your duty.

It’s not his job to worry about you.

However, it was technically the responsibility of your ‘new Master.’

Maybe that’s why, at the end of last week— following four, stretched-out days of irregular headaches— you found justification in approaching Master Windu for counsel. Because no matter your efforts to quell this silent beast, through extended rest or quiet meditation, its burning onslaughts ferociously prevailed.

In other words, at some point, it became utterly clear that you required a much wiser opinion.

In many ways, you were confident in the stoic Jedi. And by that, you meant that you trusted him to keep the matter private. Even from those who associated with The Chosen One, and especially from Anakin himself. In fact, at the outset of your conversation, he assured you that he’d only divulge a discussion between Master Advisor and Jedi if it concerned the Council.

And you had no reason to believe it did.

You thought back to that chat while pivoting down another slick alleyway. This one grew narrower than the last, its spotted lamps decaying in luster and prevalence as you dug cavernously into the belly of the beast-like web of tunnels while your mind wandered.

Master Windu had already separately arranged to meet with you once every week. At least until the Jedi were called back to the battlefield, he was sure to clarify. It was time to be spent preparing you for what was to come in this mystifying conflict. To guarantee that its distractions wouldn’t impact the primary reason for your presence.

For your existence, really.

However, of the two sessions you’d already had, the powerful Jedi spent little time on combat training. Rather than correcting your form or educating you on Separatist capabilities, his focus was instead driven toward scrutinizing the closed doors to your mind. All during hours-long, joint meditation sittings in which Master Windu attempted to meticulously probe your life force with the gentle influence of his signature on your forehead.

Sometimes, the spells would last so long that, in the end, you were often left with the sensation of a phantom touch. Though it always faded eventually, so imperceptibly that it felt more like a shift in temperature than a disappearing force.

Although the two of you ended up making little progress, you still enjoyed these opportunities as a way to get to know your new Advisor. Exchanges regarding his unwavering faith in the Order’s ideals reminded you of your own lifelong commitment to a similarly demanding prophecy. The Master also seemed to share a kindred distaste for politics, conveying briefly his disapproval of the Jedi and Senate’s interwoven nature, hastily drawn at the outset of war.

Most importantly, however, the two of you shared a distinct displeasure for the Senate’s conversion of Jedi into generals. You’d been struggling with this concept of converting Jedi peacemakers into soldiers for weeks now, and it appeared that Master Windu held common sentiments. All in all, it was a moment that made the Order feel just a little less foreign to you after a lifetime of studying its older, more contrasting ways.

Perhaps that’s why, despite previous reticence about receiving a ‘new Master,’ you found yourself gradually opening up to the idea.

Besides, you could tell Master Windu was experiencing some kind of similar development.

You’d discovered from Anakin this past week that the wise man had long disapproved of Jedi who acted outside the Order. From that, you easily acknowledged that despite offering to advise you, the traditional Master likely remained biased against your nature.

In fact, you fleetingly surmised that the only reason he put his name in the hat was so he could keep a closer eye on you. On the Gray Jedi that came from a long line of counterfeiters against the Order he held in such high esteem.

Yet, as your sessions progressed, you sensed a subtle shift in the Jedi Master. How the crease of his brow subtly slackened with each passing hour. How his openness to your questions became faintly readable.

Though whether that was because he’d momentarily forgotten about your past or had become lost in his analysis of your mind, you didn’t know.

What you did know was that you appreciated the sagacious Master’s relatable convictions, allegedly burgeoning tolerance, and outright professionalism.

And that was enough for you to test the waters in requesting his guidance.

It was at the tail-end of one of these forums that you narrowly untangled these painfully strange migraines, focusing primarily on their unpredictability and continuance rather than each occurrence’s raging ferocity.

And in the end, you found the effortless flow of his counsel to be uniquely compelling.

“Meditate on these irritants. But do not only acknowledge their existence. Observe their nature. If you give these headaches a name derived from your inner impressions, it may aid you in identifying and extinguishing their source.”

So, you did just that.

In the days that followed into the start of your second week at the Temple, when that familiar pulsing tingle began to crawl across your hairline, you made a routine out of stopping whatever you were doing to search for a quiet alcove. Then, after locating a corner of the Temple free from distractions, you’d lower yourself into crossed legs, all to funnel your accessible energies into discerning the exact nature of this eccentric affliction. You’d reach out to the Force, drawing in its swirling ecosystem through tingling extremities, astutely wielding it to dive into the yawning depth of your inner being.

And for those few days, you explored branching elements of your mind, tracing each errant twig to sense its perception of the boundless, clawing twinges that relentlessly contested your focus.

It was arduous work. Attempting to observe the irritants’ nature would eventually lure you toward sensing its more distinctive effects. But at the same time, the action often amplified your tenderness to those countless cerebral spasms. They were still quite bearable, of course. But it certainly did nothing to speed along your investigation.

That was until the third day in. When you finally found a pattern.

Even now, you starkly remembered how the discovery permeated your body with untapped endurance simply from the realization’s excitement alone.

On that day, you were able to eventually comprehend that, while your skull’s outline felt the stitching thrums of the week before, the sensation was marginally dissimilar in its influence on your life force. Here, you still felt the indiscriminate, unpleasant taps against your spirit, but with a nearly imperceptible caveat.

You rooted out their tendency to unfurl on impact.

So, with the next pounding ache, you were empowered to recognize it again, snatching the sensation with agile fingers. The savage smack quickly plunged into scattered fragments, like drops of water thrashing apart from a violent impact with stone.

That was it.

It was like raindrops, pattering against your mind.

Yet, it wasn’t the refreshing sensation that you associated with such weather. Not that electrifying stimulation you felt in this very instant while you sustained your urgent, whirlwind dash down another curving passage harboring hints of gaseous fumes.

No.

Rain was vitalizing, giving life to despairing vegetation and beasts alike. For you especially, its cooling effect on balmy Coruscanti afternoons calmed your mind. It ventilated you in a chill that provoked cherished memories of soaring amid whispering snowstorms during those afternoon duels with Qui-Gon on Hoth.

Yet this was different.

These drops were draining. Heavy. They weighed down your soul. Blackened your connection to the Force through a permeating pain that enveloped the branches of your mind and sucked the sap of your thoughts.

Yes, blackened.

Master Windu said to give it a name. An association. And, finally, you felt confident enough to put words to this strange disorder’s influence on your inner being.

Black Water.

If you only knew what a mistake you’d made.

Somehow, following this identification, the migraines spiraled into a realm of greater frequency and brutality. They would linger in their pervasion. Graduating from hours to afternoons of ubiquitous discomfort. And then, when you tried to find familiar solace in the quelling nature of a meditative state, you harshly discovered that doing so now only magnified the pain’s potency.

You recalled it so clearly. How the shock of that realization jolted you at your very core, ripping you violently from your connection to the Force like a toy snatched from the hand of a youngling.

It was something you had never experienced before.

And it forced you to learn the hard way that for the time being, it was best to avoid meditation.

Instead, you found it easier to unearth the medicinal properties of attaching your mind to another matter.

And your poison of choice?

Running.

You weren’t sure why it lessened your cranial discomfort more than any form of meditation or training. Maybe it was the fresh air. Or the exploratory element. Or the dichotomy of the District’s underground shafts which swayed darkly on even the brightest of days.

Maybe it was because, in a way, sprinting combined the two Jedi practices. It did encourage you to physically tap into the Force for access to greater speeds, and simultaneously unclogged your mind of worldly distractions.

Still then, it was only enough to center yourself. Never to the degree in which the migraines’ kindling was fanned into embers.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t change the fact that mere minutes into this afternoon’s excursion, you were able to finally relish in the flood of relief that followed. One that washed over you as sprightly legs carried you into a mystic realm where stabbing pains were faintly dulled by the rule of constant motion.

The past week of experimental sprints into Coruscant’s veins had become your drug of choice. Providing additional relief just from the realization that occupying your mind would temper these moments.

Now that made you hum retrospectively. It was hard not to wonder if perhaps this notion subconsciously motivated you to join Anakin’s short-lived piloting class this morning.

You ruminated about those spiraling seconds in the cockpit once more. Even then, in the midst of intrusively distracting g-forces, you were powerless to ignore that your headaches still somehow stirred with new vengeance, threatening your theory on how to properly address the affliction.

You descended another set of echoing stairs, this time entering a residential tunnel that reigned sleek with standing water gradually leaking through cracked roofing. Though the hazard never assuaged your volant charge past the streams of identical, stonewashed doors on either side. Landmarks that supplied forward guidance as you thought carefully about the day’s earlier incident.

With another burdened exhale, you compared the fighter episode to all the others, quickly deciding that this morning’s occurrence was the worst to date. If you were being perfectly honest with yourself, it was the first time one of these vast headaches really threatened your ability to function in the moment.

And that spooked you.

Either way, it was clear in its aftermath, that it was time to return to old habits.

To what worked.

You swiveled left, the squeak of your twisting heel reverberating off the slender walls as you rushed down another flickering tunnel of rundown apartments. You were thankful that the potency of constantly coarse splits at your forehead’s center had eased into a duller pound, so much so that it permitted your mind to wander during this impromptu outing.

However, you weren’t expecting to become so consumed with inner musings to the point of becoming lost within a labyrinth of snaking neighborhoods, forgotten by the Senate District’s lavishly living surface inhabitants. In fact, as you glanced around the residential tunnel, you soon realized that you couldn’t even remember how you entered this quiet zone. One that didn’t follow any semblance of rational architecture to hint at a way out.

So, with no signage to guide you in your search for higher ground, you did the only thing you could do.

You followed the quivering lights, lodged every few meters into the decrepitly, sinking ceiling.

A luminescent road out of the darkness.

That was your plan for the last ten minutes, anyway, until a deep-toned snap zipped past your ears, reverberating across every door as it traced down either wall.

You ground to a halt, dribbling boots faintly whimpering as they fought the floor’s slickness in your attempt to reel toward the noise.

A few heavy seconds passed you stared back into the tunnel's murky depths, trying to discern the source of the sound while labored breaths rung out from your body and colored the eerily barren chamber. It was difficult to focus your vision, finding that the barely perceptible shapes hidden in shadowed corners were playing tricks on your eyes the longer you stared at their forms.

Another crack.

But this time, you could markedly tag its source.

Far down on the opposite side of the shaft, another brittle light in the ceiling’s row numbed like the death of a star.

Great.

You whirled back around, launching yourself into an energized bolt as you tried to escape the coming darkness.

In all sincerity, you should have assumed something like this would happen. You had found the vacancy of these quarterly halls odd. It was midday in a residential area so some activity was to be expected. Beings would usually be on their lunch break around now.

Yet, there were none around.

But the partial flooding? The unstable roofing?

You sighed, powerful legs carrying you blisteringly quick while you connected the dots ahead of the accelerating demise of weak, mechanical stars.

This underground neighborhood was breaking down.

It must have been evacuated.

And now?

They were cutting the power.

Drawing on the effortlessly fluid stability of the Force, you catalyzed your stride, hoping to get a better sense of where you were before being immersed in utter blackness.

Luckily, the opportunity to do so appeared to lie just ahead.

Fairly soon into your run, you noticed the fork in the road, pinned to the tunnel’s far reach. How the illusionary dead-end wall, in fact, split into two, opposing paths. All you needed to do was get there fast enough for a cursory glance of either end before the last light at your disposal became the limited glow of your grayed lightsaber.

You picked up the pace, the reflection of your form in the waterlogged stone flying like loose leaves trying to catch up with you as it too bolted from the ensuing pattern of light fixtures snapping off.

Soon, there were only a few left as you neared the hall’s end, impelling you to power one last thrust of your leg into the junction. You swiveled your head down both corridors as your heels squealed to a halt before the stone wall, catching sight of a larger industrial door just meters into the second corridor as the final fixture above cracked into nothingness.

But that was all you needed.

It didn’t take you long to maneuver your way toward the exit in the pitch dark, lugging open the croaking apparatus only to be met with an ascending staircase illuminated by the scattered, gloomy rays of a showery, Coruscant afternoon.

You jogged up the concrete steps before encountering a wide, open-aired avenue, dotted with as many road lamps as hurrying beings who scampered from industrial cover to cover in an effort to avoid wetting their clothes. The walls of buildings encapsulating this strip stood in an unornamented, brutalist fashion, which effectively limited their options. It was quite the contrast to the streets of the Entertainment District. But that was all you could really say about it. Your observations remained sparse as the continuous downpour did little to reduce the haze.

Pivoting to your right, you followed the road’s natural path, immediately feeling the cool sprinkles pelt your face as you slowed into a crisp walk. You tugged at your biting, saturated robe, bringing it closer to break the slight draft.

As you turned down a wider street doused in equal cloud cover, you decided that it was time to return to the Temple. If anything, at least to give your body a break. You’d been running for close to an hour, and those stretched lungs and burning legs were sure to thank you for the short respite.

Perhaps you could return to the Archives for some easy reading. Your headache had dissipated enough to certainly make that possible now. And you had to admit, you were feeling a bit behind on your knowledge of Separatist technologies.

It was only twelve minutes into your return hike when you began to embrace that peaceful rumination on future plans. Twelve minutes for your mind to drift to lighter musings. But also twelve minutes for those thoughts to be swiftly dashed from reality by a new intrigue.

There were many beings who dusted the streets. All of which you simultaneously kept a close eye on. Of course, special attention was dedicated to those who’d decide for a period to amble too close for comfort. But even then, it usually held no matter. As always, they’d eventually divert onto a path of their own as wandering, city walkers did.

An example was the being that had been sauntering ten meters behind you for the past five minutes. One you didn’t give much mind to. Until they were oddly quick to tread on the heels of your latest deviation from the main road. Which was…odd, but not enough of anything to concern you.

Yet.

You swiveled down another detour, this one more unusual than the last given the District’s layout. It was part of your usual route of choice, since it avoided most of the neighborhood’s major hubs, but still powered enough street lamps to guide you back to the Temple in the evening.

Or in this case, on a rainy day.

Either way, you knew from experience that this was usually when any unintentional tails would break off to continue their lives on a road to elsewhere.

Maybe they were returning home to a waiting family after a long intergalactic trip. Running late for a business meeting because of the rain. Or simply exploring the city’s landmarks with their free afternoon.

These were all activities you imagined civilians had the freedom to enjoy. Freedoms that you certainly fantasized about in your younger years. And freedoms that you later learned you’d have to sacrifice to protect.

You smiled thoughtfully to yourself. It always helped to have a gentle reminder of the good you were doing. These elements of peace you were maintaining. It even allowed you to take a relaxing breath as you continued along the path not taken.

Until the creeping stranger’s presence fully seized your attention by following you down this second detour.

You fought the urge to look back, despite their presence jumping to the forefront of your mind. If that being really was tracking you, you didn’t want to raise any suspicions that you’d caught on.

Not yet.

Even now, after back-to-back questionable activity, you still needed to make certain that your misgivings were accurate. Thinking about it, you would’ve sensed this individual before had they been following you during your run. So why would they suddenly trail you now? You hadn’t done anything topside to give your identity away.

Then, this might have still all been just a simple misunderstanding.

Right?

Only one way to find out, you told yourself.

Keeping an even pace, you scanned your surroundings, quickly catching a narrow alleyway that lay just a few steps ahead to your left. Narrowing your eyes through the gloomy lighting, you soon realized that its width would at most fit two and a half people stood side-by-side. In other words, this gap was sure to lead to a dead-end. One that any city dweller would know not to enter in a neighborhood like this. And one that any traveler would have the instincts to avoid.

From this, you comfortably concluded that a bona fide passerby would have no reason to follow you inside.

Unless, it was you they were after.

So, you swiftly ducked in.

You jogged a few meters down the pitch-black crevice, nimble toes putting some distance between you and the fissure’s entrance before briskly finding a secure spot from which to spin around and face it. You shoved at the midsection of your robe with the back of your hand, nudging it away to make room for stiff fingers to envelop the cold metal of your belted saber.

Your silent, hot breath fogged the cold air just below your nose as you waited out those few, tense seconds. A careful quietness encapsulated your form despite your prediction that this stranger would likely pass.

It was always best to be cautious, you reminded yourself.

But, of course, you had no such luck.

On high alert, thumb hovering over the hilt’s activation, you observed as the being sidestepped in after you, their face and figure obscured by the rift’s absence of light. Watchful steps characterized their form while they inched deeper into the crevice, head tilting side to side as they tried to discern their surroundings with blurry fingertips gracing the left wall to keep them centered.

Strangely, you perceived an air of delicacy from their cautious outline. A meaningfulness in each of their carefully selected motions. However, you still had difficulty in sensing their motivations. Whether it be malice or geniality, their presence felt too calm to point to either direction definitively.

And you were not one to take chances.

So, with the flick of the wrist, you snatched your saber from its resting place with a clink, unfurling that familiar gray glow as you stepped back into a lunge to whip the blade up before resting it inches from the figure’s face.

Instantly, its luminescence unveiled from the twilight a familiar set of bright blue, yielding eyes, accompanied by an auburn beard dewed by drizzles. The plasma’s heat had stirred the man to raise his hands calmly, feigning surrender as a curious expression tickled his cheeks.

You sighed, adrenaline evaporating from your veins while your blade dropped a few degrees.

“You’d think after a lifetime as a Jedi, you’d know it wasn’t a good idea to sneak up on one,” you voiced, raising a brow.

Obi-Wan lowered his hands, offering you an affable expression as you deactivated your saber and snapped it to your belt.

“I’m always willing to take a chance for a friend.”

You shook your head in mock disapproval while you moved to pass the Jedi, unintentionally brushing your upper arm against the weight of his similarly soaked cloak. It didn’t take long to reemerge on the outer end of the gap, cascading you in the brighter light of the still-overcast street.

“What are you doing out here?” You asked, vision centered on a pair of beings strolling near the far end.

“Looking for you,” he stated matter-of-factly while following your form out onto the road.

You leisurely turned, now able to better see his face as he phased into the muddled daylight, his hair sleek with water and eyes dulled by the hidden sun.

“Why?”

The relaxed Jedi paused before you, creasing his brows as he spoke tactfully.

“Anakin came to see me earlier.”

You looked away, choosing to draw your attention to the street ahead before leaning into a quiet stroll.

Though the Master was quick to follow, matching your pace as he glided beside you.

“He was concerned,” Obi-Wan continued, stitched gaze never leaving your face. “Something about a reaction you had during his piloting lesson today?”

The understatement tugged at the corner of your mouth, though your eyes remained tethered like anchors to the raindrops exploding into puddles below.

“Did he also tell you he took the fighter into an Aileron Roll with the gravity dampers off?” You emphasized, waggling your brows in a challenging, yet light-hearted manner.

His eyes widened for a brief moment, cycling through all the stages of what you could only assume was Former Padawan-related grief before capitulating into an expression of experienced resignation.

His gaze fell to the ground, mirroring yours.

“He did not.”

You breathed in deeply, absorbing the momentary silence flooded only by the pitter-patter of cooling raindrops. It had aerated the street of this morning’s blistering heat. And as a creature of the cold, it had the effect of alleviating your exercise-induced, clammy skin deliciously.

“Silvey,” Obi-Wan began gently. “Anakin isn’t the only one.”

You blinked toward the subdued Jedi who must’ve sensed the motion as he quickly met your gaze. Both pairs of cloud-shaded eyes locked for a moment, enabling you to stretch into the space before signaling for him to continue.

“I’ve also noticed that something is affecting you.”

You sighed.

You began wracking your brain for some excuse. Any excuse that you could throw out at this moment. All so that you didn’t need to explain your strange yet nuanced predicament to the man beside you.

You searched the falling droplets for answers, reminding yourself that finding a solution before anyone close to Anakin learned the truth was for the best.

It’s not his job to worry about you.

And that went for Obi-Wan too.

“Is it Qui-Gon? I understand his death may be fresh for you. I’d be happy to lend an ear—“

“No, it’s not that,” you interrupted.

Instantly, you recognized the falsehood in that statement.

“I mean…”

You shook your head at yourself, hoping to shake the right, jumbled thoughts into alignment.

“I can’t deny that he’s been occupying my mind more than most things…”

Your jaw hung loose as you tried to catch the words buzzing in jumbles above your head. But, for some reason, they just kept escaping through your clawing, slippery fingers.

“But that’s not…it,” you uttered.

You glanced back up at Obi-Wan.

His eyes had abruptly softened while he listened to your voice intently. Vision piercing your very soul as if he was hoping to look right through you.

And you weren’t sure why, but that penetrating expression suddenly took you off guard.

Your brain stumbled as you tried to refocus on the conversation. You supposed you weren’t expecting him to have had such an empathetic reaction. Right? Maybe you just hadn’t really made a point to notice how kind his eyes could be. At least, not before now.

But here? In this instant?

You could see their radiance so clearly.

Even among gradually strengthening raindrops that blinked into streams after colliding with the chiseled face of the Jedi before you. They did nothing to dissuade the thoughtfulness that shone from his features.

But then again, wasn’t that always the rule with Master Kenobi?

It was those same eyes that had shared with you looks of encouragement when you were first struggling to pass the thoughts of large crowds. Those same bright blue eyes that happily guided you to the Sparring Arena during your first full day at the Temple when you were terribly lost. Those same entertained eyes that would glance at you briefly after throwing a sarcastic remark at Anakin to lighten everyone’s moods. Those same, unwaveringly concerned eyes that trailed your figure every time you unexpectedly removed yourself from his company, always to deal with another burning onslaught of pulsing stabs that gradually became more pronounced on your features.

Those thoughtful eyes that were first to check if you were okay, despite the Master Jedi having taken the brunt of your full-speed collision, during that shuttle escape from Hoth.

Those unflinchingly kind eyes which, for some unknown reason, seemed to crack a chink in your conviction.

Enough to let out a sliver of splintering light.

Your feet stalled underneath you, bringing both you and Obi-Wan to an aimless rest as your heart raced. You curved fully toward the soaking Jedi, lips parted in thought as you searched for the words to begin explaining your situation to the man waiting ever so patiently.

You weren’t sure whether it was from the buildup to this long-held secret’s reveal or a side effect of your body’s fatigue. But the moment you glanced up, the moment your gaze locked once more with those two, perceptively azure orbs, you suddenly felt…

Very

Naked.

“I’ve been having…headaches.”

Master Kenobi’s head tilted slightly in disquiet confusion, subconsciously inciting you to tighten the robe’s wrap around your torso with crossed arms.

“Headaches?” He asked oddly.

“I think?” You dithered. “But they aren’t…normal.”

Exhaling, you redirected your gaze to the surrounding building’s upper structures and the gloomy gray of Coruscant’s atmosphere as you rammed through your next words, leaving behind any care of making sense as the wall you had so carefully built began to chip under his still engrossed stare.

“At first, they’d show up…randomly. Last for hours no matter what I did. Until I asked Master Windu for his input. He told me to give it a name the next time I meditated. He said it would help. That if I could pinpoint the feeling, it would root out the source of getting rid of them. So, I did.”

You shrugged.

“But, for some reason, it made everything worse. The times, the duration, the pain. And it doesn’t feel like a regular headache either. It’s-“

The bridge of your nose creased in thought as you drew imaginary lines from rooftop to rooftop with your eyes.

“Deeper.”

The silence that followed, no matter how short, felt utterly deafening. Even the quiet showers around you seemed to stall into white noise.

Until Obi-Wan sighed.

Pensively.

His furrowed brows never left your form as he raised a hand to tensely stroke his mouth for a moment.

“Is that what happened in the fighter this morning? One of these…headaches?”

Your gaze shifted back to his as you breathed.

“Yes.”

He hummed, resting his fingers upon the beard. “And when did they start?”

“About a week and a half ago.”

The Master Jedi allowed his hand to laxly fall, chin rising unexpectedly as his brows faintly furrowed. He’d now given room for his earlier concern to sparkle a bit brighter off ocean eyes that suddenly burrowed into yours.

“I’m taking you to the infirmary.”

Your stomach dropped, unsure if it was dragged down by your displeasure in making this situation a bigger deal than you believed it to be, or by the complete confidence with which the man before you voiced his plain alarm.

You began to question yourself. Were you misjudging this affliction? Were your symptoms really that bad?

Honestly, you thought, you’d had far greater scares on Hoth.

Qui-Gon’s gray hairs could attest to that.

And although most of your heart was beating a bit faster to the rhythm of these circulating thoughts, you couldn’t help but be enveloped by the small fragment that warmed at Master Kenobi’s caring sentiment. So much so, that it pulled you from your uncertainty before guiding your voice into a sweeter lull to address him.

“Obi—“

“This is not good, Silvey,” he interrupted firmly. “And I don’t like leaving such matters unresolved.”

You exhaled, shaking your head in disbelief as you backed down from his solid stance. Instead, you angled back toward the path ahead, resuming that same calm stroll with heavy feet. Again, Obi-Wan fluidly followed, his creased expression peaking at yours, which remained impassive despite your inner thoughts.

“I can’t.”

Master Kenobi dissolved into further unease as he acknowledged your response puzzledly.

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re right,” you began, neck angling toward him coolly. “I don’t understand what this is either. And it could be dangerous or it could be nothing. But what’s fact is that the more I involve beings from the Temple, the more likely this will all get back to Anakin. And I can’t have that.”

You huffed, sending a feeble kick to a passing puddle underneath you while building winds began to zip around the surrounding structure’s corners, nudging you both by the edges of your robes.

“I’m his Guardian, Obi-Wan. The last thing I should be doing is dragging him into unpredictable matters. He has enough to deal with right now, and I’m not adding to it-“

A sudden weight warmed your shoulder, guiding you to pause mid-stroll in the midst of finishing your thought. Still, you followed the slight tug, turning toward the man whose gentle hand rested assuredly by your throat like a sudden fire on a cool afternoon.

“So your solution is to travel through rainy streets in dangerous neighborhoods? Are you hoping to find the answer at the wrong end of a phaser?” He questioned sarcastically, retrieving his limb to gesticulate to your surroundings as a sudden chill nestled in its place.

You defended yourself, throwing back that same trickle of wit that briefly oozed from his figure with a cheeky grin. “Running has proven to help. Besides, I’d never pass up the chance to hone my combat skills. We are in a war, you know.”

You tried to suppress your chuckle at his unimpressed stare.

Still, you couldn’t help the gravity of the situation overcome you once more as his expression carefully hardened.

“And what if something happens because this wasn’t addressed sooner?” He argued. “I agree. Right now, it’s best to not tell Anakin. And I can make sure that he won’t find out. I certainly won’t tell him, and you can trust the doctors at the Temple to do the same. But you owe it to the Galaxy to at least sit through an examination. If the prophecy is true, we will all need you at your best.”

You exhaled, realizing fairly quickly that you were on the losing side of this battle.

“Please,” he emphasized.

You watched as Obi-Wan raised both hands, delicately resting each on your upper arms with their encapsulating heat.

Then, he leaned in.

Just a few inches, but enough to pervade your eyes, filling all the edges of your vision with his cautiously encouraging expression. He spoke lowly, in a deep, smooth tone as the hotness of his breath brushed across your wet cheeks.

“Allow me to accompany you to the Infirmary.”

The sensation of your throbbing heart had now reached your fingertips, shooting down your arms so boldly that you were surprised Obi-Wan couldn’t feel the beats through his steadied palms. Though his confidence in his ability to keep this matter private had eased your stirring veins slightly.

A quick checkup itself wouldn’t do too much harm, you supposed. As long as it remained just that. Still, this was all assuming Obi-Wan could keep you under The Chosen One’s radar until the matter was fully resolved. As you stared at his confident demeanor, you also had to admit that you’d been a bit concerned about how this exchange would end. For a brief second, you thought that as soon as you explained your affliction to Obi-Wan, he’d whip right back around to inform his former Padawan. He’d certainly known him for many more years than you, you surmised.

But that wasn’t the case.

Master Kenobi respected your motives. And he seemed assured enough to support you through these small sacrifices that you’d always need to make as Anakin’s Guardian.

As long as you were also getting the help you needed, it appeared.

But, deep down, you knew that wouldn’t always be possible. Save this exception.

Is that why telling him, even after all of these assurances, still felt so wrong?

No, there was no need to remind Obi-Wan of that reality at this moment. You were comfortable enough to let those blue eyes get the win they so strongly fought for.

Tugging on the seam of your robe, you spoke softly.

“Alright.”

And in return, the Jedi Master offered you a grateful, almost relieved, smile.

After presenting Obi-Wan with this small victory, you couldn’t help the sudden confusion that overcame your mind, born from a latent realization. A perplexing thought which transformed into one more question that you needed to ask before surrendering yourself to the trained hands of Jedi physicians.

“By the way,” you spoke up. “How did you find me? I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.”

The Master sent you a look so pointed that it blared across rooftops one undeniable judgment:

That he knew you were not going to like this.

“Apparently, Anakin was having trouble finding you for those unplanned sparring sessions the two of you enjoy so much. Mostly, because he hasn’t been able to sense your presence.”

He exhaled.

“His solution was to place a tracker in your robe.”

Your jaw dropped, a drop of rain catching your marginally exposed tongue.

“That little-“

“Don’t worry,” Obi-Wan announced in that thick, Coruscanti accent.

“I told him to turn it off.”

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queen-scribbles · 3 months

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An explanation, for people who haven't been following me forever and don't know the Jaaide incident:

Jaaide is my first/main Imperial Agent

This cutie. I was always intending to keep her single, figuring it would be easier to skip Vector's romance if didn't know how cute it was. Initially it was gonna be a headcanon romance with Sanju bc they really hit it off, but then, well. Theron. And I absolutely loved the idea of opposite faction spies falling for each other, so now I had a REASON to keep her single.

HOWEVER. The SWtOR romance mechanic being what it is, some romances one flirt is all it takes to lock you in. Vector is one of them. :)))) As I found out, around Hoth, where my options were a) be an asshole b) flirt c) be an asshole. Jaaide being... not an asshole, I took the flirt, thinking it wouldn't be a big deal. She and Vector are really close, it's just platonic/sibling rather than romantic.

It was a big deal. Got locked into the romance, kept turning down literally everything, finally breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't get any of his romance letters, figuring the game got the message, the romance was broken. She romanced Theron as intended, it's amazing(HIGHLY RECOMMEND SPY SHENANIGANS 100/10), and then she finished KotET and I did Vector's Alliance alert and uh.

His romance was triggered.

Cue screaming wailing distressed noises from me(somewhere in her tag there's an all caps post with a gif of Robin from himym crying under a desk) and dialogue skipping as I "broke up" with the guy she hadn't been dating but cared about a super duper lot.

SO. Finally getting an actual proper Vector-romancing agent through to see all that as it should be seen is a very good feeling. I have righted a wrong I never meant to commit against a fictional man. xD

#queen in space #i knoww it might be silly to care that much about it #but he's so SWEET and i had to crush his little heart and it traumatized me a lil bit #the character is fictional the emotions are real :)#jaaide arien

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tantive404 · 5 months

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Willeia fic idea. Double agent Leia and Tarkin as her handler and lover

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

That sounds…. so cool? 😍 And has a lot of potential! The intrigue, the drama… and of course the ultimate question of how Leia ended up in this position to begin with. Did Tarkin corrupt and manipulate her? And what motivated her to become an imperial agent? I’ll definitely have to write this AU; thank you anon!

Have a snippet as a sample of what is to come:

The Grand Moff drummed his fingers on the table before him, waiting for her response. His most faithful of agents… so promising and skillful in her manners… placed firmly in the ranks of the enemy where she would least be expected.

By all accounts, Princess Leia of Alderaan was the model citizen of the Empire. Youthful, bright eyed and eager to please. Quite a charming young lady, if he did say so himself. He had snatched her away from those treasonous influences of her early years, reshaped her into his image.

He was extraordinarily pleased with the results.

A tone rang at the door, and despite the discipline with which Tarkin typically conducted himself, his heart rate increased at the sound. He knew it could only mean one thing— she had arrived.

He pressed the button to open the door, letting her in. Dressed in a slinky, seductive black dress, she was quite the picture— and the Governor knew she must have worn it for his eyes and his alone.

Despite her girlish appearance, she still made a rather sweet attempt at behaving like a soldier, folding her arms behind her back and twisting her features into a stern scowl.

“Sir,” she reported. “I’ve managed to map the rebels’ latest battle plans. They’re preparing to relocate their base, out of concern that the Empire’s forces are tracking them. The Hoth system… an ice world in some far-off corner of the Outer Rim.”

“Excellent work, agent,” the Grand Moff smiled appraisingly from his seat. “And is there any suspicion directed toward you?”

“None, sir,” she answered— a sense of pride evident in her tone.

Satisfied, Tarkin’s manners relaxed— moving from the stern dignity of a military man to the tender lover Leia knew so well. The Wilhuff whose manners she had come to learn so intimately, the man behind the rank, reserved for her and her alone, in the stolen moments they managed to snatch between missions.

“Come here, Leia,” he whispered, patting his lap. Obedient, she moved toward him, perching herself lightly on his chair and turning to face him. She leaned in and gave him a sharp kiss on the cheek. Savoring his taste… the reassuring scent of linen and lavender which she had been left without for so many long months.

“Well, old man…” she spoke up in that playful, cheeky voice of hers. “Did you miss me while I was away?”

He stroked her hair fondly, his slender fingers entangling themselves in her braids.

“Of course, of course,” he purred. “You know how I worry when my good girl is missing, stranded among those rebel vermin…”

She giggled and rolled her eyes.

“Stars, Wilhuff, I’m not a child; I can handle myself just fine. You shouldn’t underestimate me…”

“Certainly, my pet. Far be it from me to demean the skills of my favorite agent…”

He pressed a kiss to her neck, causing shivers to break out all across Leia’s flesh. Secure in his grasp, she gazed out toward the stars, pondering what strand of fate had led her down this path. What strange incidences had brought them together.

She knew had been a time when they hated each other, when she was always at his throat… that the Leia from back then, so naive and full of hope, would have said she’d die before submitting to him. But that Leia felt like a stranger to her. So far away… as if it were a different galaxy entirely.

She wanted only him. Only him and a measure of peace and order for her people— the security he’d promised her when she first joined forces with him. She would remain safe in his strong arms.

She looked up at him, warm adoration in her eyes.

“Let us adjourn to my chambers,” Wilhuff said. “I know there is a great deal I’ve missed out on in your time away… I want to learn all about it…”

#asks #tarkin x leia #willeia #fanfic #new wip? new wip #nyahahahahahha thank you #i love willeia prompts 😍#leia organa #wilhuff tarkin

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sullustangin · 24 days

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New Chapter: The Imperfect Present

Rating: A highly suggestive T for this chapter, but nothing graphic.

Quick Quote:

“C2!” Eva called out. “I’m going to get to work on the coolant gaskets. Can you round up the hazard gear for that? And maybe call Akaavi back early. Hand is still wonky after that guy in the treasury.”

C2 shuffled around the corner. “Akaavi, Captain?”

“I can trust her to know the correct end of a servo-driver. Guss, I’m not so sure about, and I’d like to survive to the next maintenance cycle.”

C2-N2 stared at her, silent.

“Well?” Eva asked expectantly. Maybe she’d overtuned the ‘don’t speak unless spoken to’ settings on his board. It was hard to do, but apparently not impossible given how damn quiet C2 was suddenly.

C2’s tone became cautious. “I can most certainly retrieve the hazard gear, and I will be more than pleased to assist you, since you have programmed me to assist in such operations – ”

“Ah, sweet, guess I got more than I thought I did last month,” Eva cheerily interrupted him. “No need to call up anyone early from Port Nowhere, then. I’m happy that you’re less prissy than most Hollis droid – even with my programming, there’s still a certain amount of ‘stubborn’ baked into you guys…” Eva trailed off as C2 stood still in the curving hallway of the Thief.

“Captain, I cannot call back Akaavi Spar because she is not on Port Nowhere,” C2 told her calmly, but very, very seriously. “The ‘treasury guy’ incident on the King’s Ransom occurred 10 years, 6 months, and two days ago. Your hand is numb from a carbonite freezing.”

Eva tried to wriggle some feeling back into her fingers. “But—”

Flashes of memory –

“…but the freeze on Voss went fine – little touch and go for Guss, but that was me being petty for all the stuff he did on Hoth,” replied Eva, but even as she was saying it… “Voss was months after the King’s Ransom. After Akaavi and Guss had shore leave on Port Nowhere for the first time.” Eva felt the floor rise and fall in her head. “I shouldn’t remember that, if King’s Ransom just – ”

Eva shook her head as if something was out of place.

The fog wasn’t clearing.

She was in the wrong time.

#swtor #theron shan #swtor fan fiction #theron shan x smuggler #oc: eva corolastor #C2-N2

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honourablejester · 1 year

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Thoughts on Starfinder’s Pact Worlds Setting

So I went back and bought the Pact Worlds sourcebook as well, because the hints of the setting from the Core Rulebook were intriguing. I have not regretted it. There is an awful lot of fun stuff in here. I’m only partway through, but some thoughts so far:

The Sun is fucking cool. Even just the option that the sun is an interactable location in the system is fantastic. The Burning Archipelago is such a cool setting element and idea. I love Verdeon so much, this bubble city given over to horticulture and pleasure gardens in the surface of a star. A giant greenhouse with floating planting platforms, some angled straight into the sun’s burning light for extreme heat-thriving plants, and others angled outward into space for more shade-loving plants. Beautiful pleasure gardens, again, hanging inside a star. It’s fantastic.

Also, continuing the theme of solar horticulture, the NatuReal corporation with its orbital jungle boxes full of plant monsters and incredibly well-protected corporate HQ-slash-company-town in Fireside would make a great villain for an adventure. Investigating the oopsies in the jungle boxes and trying to figure out if there’s a more sinister pattern underlying what’s going dark (or a PC/NPC character who survived one of the ‘going dark’ incidents and wants revenge-slash-answers) could wind up with a party trying to do a heist on a fortified corporate HQ inside a fucking bubble city floating in the sun. Which, let’s be real, would be fun.

(If this has shown up already in an adventure, feel free to tell me!)

Verces is also really fucking cool. It’s not the planet I thought would be as cool as it is, but there’s a lot to work with on Verces. The whole tidally-locked thing, and the wildly diverse landscapes and timescapes that enables, are amazing. The perpetually night Darkside and the viciously sun-seared Fullbright, with the full cyberpunk equator-spanning city-belt in the middle, are a spectacular way to get a lot things going on on the same world. You’ve got full on (genuine, entirely literal) Mad Max, Warlords of Barsoom going on in one corner, cyberpunk terrorist shenanigans in the middle, and then John Carpenter’s The Thing on the other.

My horror-loving heart probably does love the Darkside best, naturally. This frozen evernight wasteland of ice and blood. The artificial lights of mining rigs and industrial platforms looming out of the ice and the darkness. The horrific creatures out on the ice who’ll bind you alive inside their bodies and slowly drain you of blood while you still live. The fucking cenobite monastery of terrifying ascetics who let frostbite eat their limbs so that they can be wired directly and bodily into starship drive systems. Verces’ Darkside is less Hoth, and more The Thing meets Event Horizon meets Hellraiser meets Chronicles of Riddick. I’m vibrating. It’s incredible.

(Sidenote: I’m not sure on the timing here, but is it possible the Starfinder writers were taking some notes from Sunless Sea/Skies? There’s a couple of things on Verces that give me definite Unterzee vibes. Lempro and the intis in particular give me Whither/Codex vibes. There’s a lot of influences apparent in Starfinder, I’m catching pieces of so many of my favourite sci-fi/horror/fantasy canons, so I’m just idly wondering)

The Diaspora may well be my favourite of all the Pact Worlds. If you want space. That full kind of working-class SF, roguish SF, asteroid miners and smugglers flying junkers and the wrecks of derelict starships, the Diaspora is for you. The Expanse, Alien, Event Horizon. Godfall from Sunless Sea. The Millennium Falcon accidentally hiding inside the maw of an asteroid worm. Magnetic Rose. Captain Harlock/Queen Emeraldas. If you want to find strange objects and eldritch mysteries floating silently in space. If you want space pirate outpost-cities hidden in asteroids. If you want starship nomads on mobile trade and repair outposts servicing miners and outlaws. If you want vast mining facilities hanging gently in space. If you want underground slave-liberation movements hiding in the ‘mountains’ (asteroids) away from civilisation. If you want vast ship’s graveyards inexplicably bundled around innocuous points in space. The Diaspora has it all. It’s incredible. I would play a whole game that was just dootling around the Diaspora doing odd jobs and stumbling into horrifying mysteries. If Paizo ever wanted to make a Starfinder video game, set it here. I will play it.

Within the Diaspora, The Hum is so fucking good. Look. Vast fields of wrecked and disabled ships orbiting around a weird anomaly in space that makes them lethal to go near is a trope, it’s a fucking good trope, I love it a whole hell of a lot. A madness inducing anomaly that pulls people in and makes it near-impossible to escape is a fantastic mystery to just put there. Can you do anything with it? Maybe not, not survivably, but it’s an excellent thing to just have be there, a known weirdness and danger to shipping, a piece of the lore of a place.

I also really, really love the Farabarrium. A ratfolk trade and salvage barge made from a salvaged warship that they just took over, there’s vibes of Star Wars Legends in there, but also just … Ysoki are one of my favourite races, and them just operating a stolen/salvaged mobile garage/gas station out of a repurposed dead warship in this backwater area of space does something happy for me.

The fact that the Diaspora has significant quantities of ysoki, dwarves and sarcesians, three species that are rapidly coming to be my favourites, also does not hurt its place in my internal rankings. There’s a lot of just good stuff in the Diaspora. Mystic rivers that flow inexplicably through space. Rat-run flying petrol stations. Vacuum-capable player races with solar wings. Monasteries that are not-so-secretly worshipping Nyarlathotep. Strange wailing insane asylums/prisons that drive people insane and may involve the King in Yellow. Dwarven asteroid-cities. Robot liberation movements. The Diaspora is such a perfect intersection of so many things I like. It wins. It has to win.

But I still have six planets to go, so maybe we’ll see. Heh. This is a very fun setting. Also, I suspect I may be showing my tastes in fiction over here.

#starfinder #ttrpgs #worldbuilding #science fiction #science fantasy #science horror #many references to canons i have loved #the sun verces and the diaspora come out on top so far #aballon is also cool though #let's see what's left

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ask-sad-ghost-piett · 2 years

Text

Posthumous Admiral's Log - Entry 26

Today is the day for the Annual Haunting and Torment of the Rebel Alliance. Grand Moff Tarkin gave us a very passionate speech about it after the muster call. He went into the usual about how we have to avenge our fallen Empire and make sure that the Rebel Scum and their progeny pay for their crimes for the rest of eternity.

He then explained to the gathering that we must throw any Rebel Scum spirits we capture into the Massive Amorphous Vortex of Doom and credited me, Jerjerrod and Needa for its creation. (Motti denied his involvement which is frankly the sort of typical nerfherder behavior I expected from him.)

I do hope that all goes well with the MAVD. Grand Moff Tarkin is already quite cross with me. Besides the initial castigation, he’s been finding other ways to punish me for the unauthorized creation of the MAVD. Lately, he keeps ordering me to fetch him caf at inconvenient times from very specific caf shops in the living world. I’ve been exorcised by five baristas in various Coruscanti caf shops so far and sustained terrible headaches after each incident.

About an hour into the meeting, Lord Vader manifested behind me. He didn’t say anything throughout the meeting. He simply loomed over me in silence, which is fine, I suppose. Someday, perhaps I’ll get used to it.

The plan for the haunting itself is straightforward enough. We’ve divided our forces among various locations where there are irritating Rebel Scum to be dealt with. Max and I are set to lead the haunting on Jakku, in hopes that we can stop the scavengers from dismantling our fallen AT-ATs and Star Destroyers. This is a very important task indeed. You see, when Rebel Scum rip apart the ruins of Imperial property, they damage the structural integrity of our after-life equivalents. I am not quite sure why this is. However, I do know that it is very irritating when the ceiling in the galley starts leaking because some Rebel Scum scavenger ripped out a piece of a Star Destroyer to make a sand sled.

We’ve tried putting signs up in the past saying “Please do not touch. Thank you! :)” on the ruins, but the scavengers simply stole the signs. (For the record, I didn’t think this would do any good, but Needa insisted we try.) So, we’ve decided it’s more effective to scare their souls out of their fragile physical form. We’ve yet to find anything terrifying enough to serve as a long-term deterrent, but I believe that between Max and I, we can at least keep them away for a few weeks.

I will admit, I do have another objective in mind during this mission. I’d very much like to impress Max by showing him how much havoc I can wreak on the Rebel Scum as a vengeful spirit. So, I hope this goes well. Perhaps this can even be a second date of sorts. After all, I used to fantasize that the Battle of Hoth was a little like a date for us, even if I only spoke with him over the intercom.

-Admiral Piett

#posthumous log #star wars crack #grand moff tarkin #veers x piett #admiral piett #ships in the admiral's fleet #imperial Halloween special

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idkijustneedasideblogbro · 10 months

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to better remember my bh main choices start-class rishi

Putting all this under a read more if i can get that to work so if ppl don't want to read or haven't done bh story yet but want no spoilers

mako = little sister

Character is opposite of me he is bi but not attracted to girls (will flirt with them tho)

Flirt with everyone but leave them before they want fade to black or sometimes even kisses

Currently thinks Gault is more useful alive than dead

Accidentally convinced Torian not to ask out Mako by not being supportive or unsupported

Has unrequited crush on Torian

Ships Treek and Blizz (their chaos combined could either save or destroy the world no telling which)

Hates Skadge and can't wait to be rid of him

Toed the line w/Tormen until he killed him in exchange for a pardon

Did directive 7 and let C5-M3 go free

Did foundry (made ds choice w/ revan? I think)

Let Torian make the decision about the guy who kidnapped him then regretted it and he just punched the guy and called it even (I head canon that bh didn't tell torian about the letter the guy's employer sent him about killing him for failure)

Considers Mako, Blizz, that one alien guy from hoth I forget his name, and the Mandalor as clan. (Sis, bro,bro, alor (thought ooo am I getting a dad at first but no)) maybe treek as well haven't quite interacted enough yet. And Torian hovers somewhere around feels like clan & bh would love for him to BE clan but it (likely) won't happen (headcanon that bh is contemplating trying to get mako & him together after all so he'll atleast be clan that way)

Let illum enemies live

Flirted with Cytharat (accidentally lets just headcanon that oops as flirting out of habit) and killed Hesk? Hask? (Can't read my own writing)

Flirted with Lana but then flirted with Theron to try unnerving him and oops bh kinda liked that

didn't give Thera Markon the clearance & security things she wanted because it sounded like she name dropped me to intimate her rivals(?idk if that the right word) and imply some kind of closer connection than just "my mom was his mentor for the great hunt & they flirted 1 or 2x."

In his fuck the empire phase since the start of The Tormen Incident tm (aka the I never wanted to work under him but I guess I won't pass him off too bad since it'll give a chance at revenge oh he'll no he didn't just choke Torian incident)

#Swtor #I do things #swtor bounty hunter #Tw cursing #cw cursing #Idk if I have to tag for cursing or how to tag it #How strict is tumblr about cursing these days guess well find out

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the-firebird69 · 1 year

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Watch "*** Scarborough Fair - Simon & Garfunkel Live" on YouTube

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The circular incident has not happened because he was not Darth Vader yet and he was general hoth well the one that's screaming and fires the starkiller. There's a lot more that proves the timeline and they're not in the museum yet and my mom is there her body and I don't know in the pictures if you can see if she's whole they say yes and that hasn't happened yet. As far as I know. And all the skulls look very similar it's Dave's bubba's head and Carol's odd eyes and they all look like that except slight modifications due to massive amounts of mutagen and they can mutate but really they look the same I hear that their kids and people are stealing the stuff like Joe Watts and boy that really says a mouthful. To the Pink Floyd song it's have a cigar I think they plan to do it to Joel and I don't say they're nasty and mean but I was also saying that they're kind of poor and they need people to help them get along and nobody wants to do that and so Satanist rhealm. I was thinking of this morning and my wife picked up on it he said she was there and it looks like my dad is trying to hold on to a football that Obama was using and if you look at the size of it it will be a clue. Now some people tried to make sure that the ship was down here and it's the Viking ship and it's in pieces. And that ship is from Pathfinder the movie and stars Trump I believe as the Indian who was actually my brother and their Vikings on board and it's a recreation and they're doing it I think because they're being made to because they want them to go through this stuff that people are putting them through and I understand that and I agree it really my life has been a mental hospitals and sitting around poor like these people are. Unfortunately I'm going through with them so I'm not really doing it and I'm hanging handing it off to Hera

Zues

Having a good time no it's a very sad song the folks memories and the information sad and what's going on is sad too they've been chased down and they're hunkering down we think and they have nowhere to go and now you want us to ride on them we think it might be a lot more difficult than you think to do anything but that's their area is mean New Hampshire summit Vermont and mostly a Canada and on the border a lot of people are up there trying to evacuate and they're wondering what's down there and they're not really in a position to look. They have a quartet on and with backup singers and this is also something that they're doing to you and they're letting the max I think they're having it done you used to have them perform and they were the greatest they're doing the people who called them friends and you back stab them at every turn every word out of your mouth and you made them look like Rich pigs like you look and we can't claim it but that's what we think they're doing and we think we know where

You're making a woman look half decent you're doing that to them too and it made life harder and you're wondering if you said no relationship at all and they're torturing the s*** out of you this morning Trump had no body his brain was put into a clone again of him and he looks a little bit like cheese man he's not feeling that great. We're doing to Mac and the clothes in the corners and mac and the clones and the foreigners are doing it to them they know they might not have a chance but they want to have a say let's say they're trying and you people are weak and your backbones weak and you put everything on us and you're not doing work and we can't stand you and also saying we didn't divide us some purpose that you did it out of greed and we believe they're still alive and they're wiping you out and we don't have any proof and they may have moved and we know what we think they left behind are our kids just like they did on Mars but we're not sure and there might be evidence there or you might just get wiped out. It's Arcadia where my husband went and played football with Obama and Arnie was there and he didn't notice and someone was bothering the s*** out of him and he figured it out it says I can't stay at home it would hurt you it looks odd and it would hurt you it's hard for you to figure out most people would never figure it out this is they want me to move out that's why so move out and it's not to harm you you know if we play a cool so he did it it worked and he said you're right that was hell and you came back and then went to your place and became hell and you said I know we're breaking the cardinal rule that you're welcome here and then Brad got a massive fight with you it wasn't them and they said what was that I said I have no idea then they figured out they want them out and said boy that's backwards. It doesn't sound right and he found out why so here's how it goes we've had a rough life we can't stand listening to you he's poor you're idiots nobody in his status level his situation should ever be kept poor and you know you're trying to extort stuff and you should know that it will kill you in the short or long run and it's killing a lot of you day and night and Jason Voorhees movie and Michael Myers movie those are our characters and we're having a lot of fun killing you so think about it I'm told that the rock there for about 700 miles by 400 miles and it goes in the ocean only 100 miles along the coastline it's about 3,000 mi deep and it branches off and it looks like a stump that petrified underneath it is a base you can tell the Giants have been around recently the top side you can see their footprints of crushed trees flat a mile long and about half mile wide it kind of looks like my husband's foot and it kind of looks like mine it's both of us

Hera

We're going up there to check we do hear what you're saying this is the place where you went with Jimmy d and I was there just call me the rooster he told the story right in front of me I said don't tell him that and you told it was will pierce and it was and went around for a long time and people are trying to figure out why and say they're trying to ride us against them and it's pretty smart cuz he's straightened it out this is what we knew they were doing they're trying to be helpful and we're not helping them and we did not help them like we should have and got very greedy they got hurt now we're getting hurt and it was wrong. This is where the Viking ship is from we have some pieces up there we need while we're up there I guess we're going to try and look down and we might be astonished surprised or it might be them it makes sense it's a huge hardened bunker and they don't have that many defenses or a way to do it. I'm saddened by the prospect it might be them and people would accuse him again of doing everything they're not doing everything we're doing it we're monitoring around doing it the matrix is run by Tommy F he's trying to cast it off again

Trump

We believe it's true all those clones say it's true and all threatening everybody with it and they're the ones shooting people and putting on the gear on and we follow them to it so we're going to get to it that we need those ships to go to Australia and we need Israel to be heated up in that Tower Black Tower movie and we're going up there to Arcadia for Christ's sake those could be Giants of his this could be something we've never seen this is no they're down in Baja and you won't have a mini Baja with my new recycled motorcycles and the light cycle and we're going to put that together we still have 2 hours

Mac daddy

He has a cigar company and it's called a tortugans and that's the name of the cigars it's very famous and people going down there now to get them well they say the cigars they say

Thor Freya

For christakia he could have kids and says they're pretty big they're hotshots but he's wondering what the hell's going on with them and if Tommy F got to them so we're going to figure it out

Olivia Paris

And I was saying something like my character and you pretend that he's vomiting saying oh good it's a lot for someone his age even someone who's right on top of all the high tech stuff and is the Pinnacle it's still a lot to see it all happening to everybody he knows is too much for some people it's not for him it's a lot okay and it's good we have Ken and we got to help him get repaired and he's friends with people who before they had surgery I mean he's a mutant as well he says and I am but he's a human but he's way out there like where they are they go party in the desert and all sorts of dumb s***

Jason I was there too he was getting pissed off so he stopped playing and watched and people are pushing him around a little and he had enough of it it was a smart thing to do cuz he was just about getting angry and violent and he decided not to I saw him do it too and he could have hurt people and I've seen him do it he throws an elbow and someone breaks her rib for Christ's sake it's fast very hard and he says he builds up like testosterone in the area and other things adrenaline and energy and lets her rip and I've never heard that.

We're heading up there and this is adding to it but yeah I see the football and I see what's going on it's probably the football that was used and we have not seen this yet no there's a lot of proofs and theorems coming out that it's not out yet it hasn't happened yet and the clones are getting nervous

Mac

Yeah my guys are getting nervous and we can't access up there and we don't know what's there and I'm moving out and we're going to Baja too

Tommy favino

It's time for us to move out and we're getting forces ready to go there

Thor Freya

Huge day this is a huge day the baha is going to go on and there's something else my husband's going to post it right now or so help me God

Hera

Zues

Lol hahahaha you hear me get it up there get it done Hera

#Youtube

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justsoohi · 1 year

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Playing Cards - They Stand Shoulder to Shoulder 5

Hiiro: um....

Mayoi: Uuuuhhhhh....! Excuse me, I'm sorry, I'm ssorryyyyy!!!

Of course, you wouldn't understand when someone suddenly says something like that to youuuu. It's creepy and weird!

Ahhhhh, I just want to disappear!.. I want to make a hole to get in even if I have to dig through this floor!

Hiiro: That's difficult, Mayoi-senpai. Digging through the dance room floor will only lead to the floor below.

Mayoi: What a serious response..

Phew, sorry. Thanks to you I've cooled down a bit.

Hiiro: I'm sorry too. I was painfully aware that I wasn't able to fulfill my duties as a leader because of this incident...

I caused trouble for everyone with my mistakes and failed to take action for the "unit" even after receiving the first advice.

That's why... I didn't expect you to say that you were happy to have me as a leader, I was taken aback unexpectedly

Mayoi: I-I knew I said something strange, for me to say something so arrogant......

Hiiro: It's not weird at all. From the bottom of my heart, I'm happy for Mayoi-senpai's feelings. I want you to know that.

Mayoi: thank you very much, I'm glad....

Hiiro: But, why did you say "regret"?

I don't think the word "regret" is related to what you just said.

Mayoi: that is....

(Once you've opened your mouth, you can't turn back. If I'm going to tell him I'm sure... now is the time.)

...in the summer. I received a sparkling message from hiiro-san "hold Hands"

I said it's a feature only available to leaders... Do you remember when hiiro-san was revealed to be the leader of "ALKALOID"?

<Recollection, "ALKALOID" in summer

Mayoi: (At that time, hiiro-san also seemed confused when he realized that he was the leader)

(To hiiro-san, we are—)

-Flashback-

Tatsumi: In my opinion, Hiiro-san, you should be our leader. You don't know much about the industry currently, but that means you can advance further than anyone else. You are the one of action.

Aira: I think it's good for us to have Hiro-kun as our leader because he can decide everything without hesitation. Though it also makes me a little angry because ES seems to consider me less capable than Hiro-kun, who is an amateur?

As long as it isn't physically impossible for you to do so, maybe you should take this role, Hiro-kun?

Mayoi: Yes. To be honest, anyone but me is okay. If I were appointed leader, I would die of a stomachache. Ugh, just thinking about it makes my stomach cramp.

Mayoi: Now that I think about it, I..

Saying that it doesn't matter who you are, or that you'll die if you were appointed leader, that's the worst, isn't it?

Even hiiro-san, you must've been anxious, wondering why you "the most inexperienced person in the group" was chosen!

Hiiro: ..............

Mayoi: This time, watching hiiro-san, who feels responsible as a leader and must work hard as one...

How selfish and self-centered I was at that time. I felt that I had said something irresponsible.

My heart has been aching for a long time.

I am also distressed that only hiiro-san is being blamed for the situation, even though we were in the office together.....

Even while I was helping with the application, I was really ashamed of myself to be around hiiro-san who was working so hard and trying his best

So I don't feel the same way as I did in the summer... I thought that if I didn't tell you here, I would be left with regrets.

Hiiro: .....That's right

At the time I didn't care at all. I don't even know who made the decision, because I'm a leader chosen by chance

Mayoi: Even if the beginning was a chance. Hiiro-san is our leader because he has so many good things to offer.

Hiiro: ....for example?

Mayoi: As Tatsumi-san and Aira-san said, you have the ability to take action and make decisions. And, what I feel in my lessons is that you have the ability to absorb any information I teach

Also, you're honest enough to be too straight forward, and have communication skills that you don't shy away from anyone.

You seem to be a hothead, but you also have the judgment to take a step back and think things through... fufu, It all comes out so easily for you, doesn't it?

Hiiro: Hmm... To be honest, I don't really get it myself.... If Mayoi-senpai says so, then yes?

Mayoi: Yes♪ I know my words are unreliable, but please be confident.

Besides, just as hiiro-san has the role of leader, we also have the role of making hiiro-san a leader.

Hiiro: Everyone is making me a leader....?

Mayoi: If we are among the things that hiiro-san has gained since becoming an idol.

We would like to be a part of your wisdom and knowledge and work together with you on what needs to be done and what needs to be thought about.

...However, even if I say it in a cool way. I'm not confident that I can be of any help...

Hiiro: That's not true! It can't be Mayoi-senpai

I feel reassuring because everyone is here, I am not educated to be a monarch, but I am willing to fulfil my role because of you.

I rely on Mayoi-senpai, Aira, and Tatsumi-senpai, and I always feel happy that we're together as a unit.

I am who I am because of everyone

I also want to become a better idol and leader. It's because I have friends

Tatsumi: ....Is it about time now?

Mayoi: Hiyyy!?

Aira: ..even though the results of the selection process had come out, I hadn't heard anything from Hiro-kun.. And It's time for the lesson, but the dance room is empty..

But then I could hear talking from inside. I've been waiting with Tatsun-senpai for a long time to see when we'll break in!

Hiiro: So you were listening to our conversation?

Tatsumi: No, as far as the content... It's a soundproof room ^^

What kind of fun stories did you two have?^^

Mayoi: T-T-That's..well...

Aira: Ah! rather, could that envelope on the floor be....!?

Hiiro: Umu♪... I'm sorry you had to wait so long. Now that everyone is here, I'll report back

We, "ALKALOID," will appear in Underland

Let's all work together to show the will of "ALKALOID" and make this a great show!

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inaam60 · 1 year

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#The Chinese spy balloon that traveled across the United States

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azems-familiar · 1 year

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WIP tag game

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

i was tagged by @ipreferfiction, i'm tagging @exlibrisastra, @voiceofthetraveler, and @prowlingthunder!

okay here goes:

- Wow The Voices Sure Are Loud Tonight (me, well i'm well, well i mean i'm in hell) - HP Revan :eyes: - man with terminal repression attempts fatherhood - horrible men - *fixes a tragedy through the sheer power of Dad* - in which wei wuxian's home life gets even worse - trauma! - amnesiac sith lord saves the galaxy - the Novelization - it's time to get ~sandy~ - the Hoth Incident

#things i'm tagged in #ahahaha these are fun!#okay the horrible men one isn't really my wip actually. i should probably not list it #but it's one of the docs i have open #i promise that none of these are actually as lighthearted as they sound

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zoruui · 2 years

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Word Count: 5058

Pairing: Commander Night x Reader

Summary: You hadn't planned on having a legion dropped upon your lap so soon after your knighting, and you never expected them to be the infamous 82nd of all units. With you as their newly appointed General, their leery commander is anything but pleased. You grapple with earning the respect of your men, but unbeknownst to both you and your commander, something beyond your control is beginning to fester.

Content/Tags: gender neutral jedi reader, slow burn (but like speedrun slow burn), unresolved tension, touch starved, hurt/comfort, developing friendships, enemies to friends to lovers (not exactly enemies really, night is just passive aggressive LMFAO) order 66

AO3 Link: x

CHAPTER 1-”the lion with a thorn in its paw”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

21 BBY

Your transport ship’s landing hatch extends with a hiss as it finally docks inside The Reaper.

This marks your first assignment as a fully-fledged Knight. It may not be your first time being dispatched without the company of your Master, but you can’t say you aren’t at least glad to have Rex and Cody along for the job. The mission is sending you all to a rather remote planet bordering the Mid and Outer Rim, on reports of a threat to a village with Force-sensitive younglings. It was by a stroke of luck that Cody was able to get a hold of the ever distanced 82nd Legion through a mutual contact for a joint mission. From what you’ve read off what little of their public and military records that are available to you, they don’t often work with other units, if at all.

“Keep the objective in mind, but make the most of your time with them. This is quite the rare opportunity,” your Master suggested good-naturedly before you departed her flagship. You thought it was an odd piece of advice, but you know Master Endivain wouldn't mention something without reason. You could only wonder what she meant by “make the most of your time with them” and why.

The vessel’s hangar bay is quiet, save for a few clones doing routine maintenance on their starfighters or transporting supplies. Cody and Rex follow closely beside you. You don’t consider yourself “ship-savvy” but if the outdated designs of the floor layout and equipment are anything to go by, even you could tell that this is an older model of assault starship. You rub your nose to stifle a sneeze. Perhaps the air cooling system has seen better days, as well- the cold chill that nips at your skin almost makes you wonder if you’ve somehow landed on Hoth.

“You doing alright?” Rex asks.

“Just a little chilly.” You offer a small smile and pull your heavy woolen robes closer around your shoulders. “Though I’m starting to think I should’ve worn winter gear instead.”

Cody says, “Well, if this campaign goes smoothly, you won't need to be here longer than you have to.”

“I guess we can only wait and see...” The texture of your robe is rough between your fingers. You were advised to stay behind aboard The Reaper, while Rex and Cody were to be called back to their own vessels after the briefing. They figured they’d visit if they had a little time to spare, since they hadn’t spoken with this unit’s commander in person for some time.

Rex speaks quietly, “I’ll be honest, I never thought we’d see the day where we’d have the 82nd as support.”

A rickety old mouse droid rushes past Cody’s feet and he narrowly avoids bumping into it. It beeps an apology before scurrying off. “Neither have I.” He mutters, “But these situations are their specialty and they’ve dealt with these specific creatures before. Either way, we can’t risk having a repeat of the Stalgasin hive. Not if they’re available this time.”

“Agreed." You nearly grimace at the memory. Ahsoka told you all about the incident. Some mind-controlling parasites sound like something that would be up the 82nd’s alley. You wouldn’t be surprised if it weren’t the worst they’ve had to deal with either.

It isn’t long until the three of you are approached by a trooper.

“Welcome, commanders. We’re honored to have you.” He salutes the three of you stiffly. “Sergeant Major Hull reporting.” He stands straight, his hair cropped neatly to standard regulations. A geometric tattoo creeps up from the collar of his undersuit and along his neck and jawline. The pauldron fastened over his right shoulder mirrors his rank.

You give a slight bow of the head, “Thanks for coming to greet us, sergeant.”

Hull nods, “If you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you to the bridge.”

“Lead the way.”

He guides you down the hangar towards the south wing and your gaze wanders back to the troopers you pass. The other clones preferred to call the 82nd “gravediggers” - a term meant to be delivered with callousness and bite. They aren’t the most “popular” unit, to say the least. A few greet and salute Rex and Cody, but otherwise keep to each other. They carry themselves differently compared to the 501st, who’ve been in your company for some time now. The clones under Master Skywalker’s command were fiery and headstrong, but these troopers felt inward. Not shy or cold or particularly unwelcoming. Just different, and comfortable among themselves.

Speaking of different, you can’t quite tell why but even their ship feels a bit strange. You noticed the moment you docked. You peer up at the towering ceilings and trace the slithering network of pipes and wires. It heaves slowly through its dusty vents, its old flesh patched with newer, unfamiliar panels of durasteel. The air this ship pumps through itself is crisp, cold, and sterile.

A lift is hailed and its doors rattle slightly when they open. Curiously, you ask Hull, “We’ll be meeting with Master Ollis, right?”

He presses a button and with a subtle whir of a complaint, the lift begins to ascend. “Unfortunately, the general has since passed. You’ll be meeting with the commander instead.”

You hum, “Mm, I see…” Ah. A frown tugs at the corners of your lips. If you can recall correctly, Master Mar Ollis was their third general to date. You only ever saw him in passing at the Temple during your early studies as a padawan, and never knew him personally. But the news of his loss is disheartening. He always seemed so sure and steadfast…

Soon enough, you arrive at the command bridge. The observation deck is dim and thrumming with a low chatter, the occasional beeping of consoles, and the residual drone from the bowels of the ship. The familiar expanse of space is dark and peppered with stars through the transparisteel windows.

“Here we are. Commander Night should be with you in a moment.” Hull departs with a salute, leaving the three of you to gather and wait by the holotable.

You lean against a weathered gray alloy packing crate and absent-mindedly fiddle with the soft leather details of your belt as you half-listen to Rex and Cody’s light chat. Understandably, you never had the opportunity to meet the commander in person before, but you’ve heard his name occasionally float around the 501st and the barracks back on Kamino. Especially among the younger cadets. Most of the rumors were either related to his apparently notorious reputation or why the Kaminoans appeared to dislike him as much as they did. But the cadets who were absolutely desperate for a true challenge actually looked forward to the rare instances in which Commander Night returned to supervise graduation tests and scout for new troopers. He was not described as someone who is easily impressed or pleased. And you don’t think he’d leave any exception for you, Jedi or not.

Master Endivain’s words echo in your mind. Try to make friends. How hard could that be?

Beside you, Rex knows a pensive face when he sees it. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, sir. The commander may have a bit of a...critical attitude, but he’s one of our best. Tough as a rancor and smart as a whip.”

You offer him a small resigned smile, “Thanks, Rex. I guess I’m just curious about who I’ll be working with. Not that the boys gave him… raving reviews. But you knew each other, right?”

“Back when we were cadets, yes. Fought together in the first battle of Geonosis actually, before he was transferred to a different unit.” Rex rubs at the back of his neck. “We fell out of contact after that.”

Cody dusts a speck off his pauldron, “Frankly, I don’t think we’d really be here if Hunter didn’t patch me through to the commander’s comm channel.”

Behind you, a lift finally opens with a hiss.

“Commander Cody, Captain Rex. It’s been a while, boys.” Night responds with a slow nod of acknowledgment. His voice, low, smooth, and measured, is warmer than you expected despite its gravel (at least, it sounds warm when he’s speaking with his brothers). His armor is stained a blueish, inky black- a stark contrast to the warm standard ivory. He stands tall with his hands clasped behind his back.

“You and your men are more elusive than we thought. I’m almost hurt you haven’t kept in touch all this time.” Rex says lightheartedly as he places his helmet on a crate beside the holotable and the three of them exchange their handshakes.

“We all have our places to be. But I’m glad to see you’re still kicking, Captain.” Night turns slightly and you notice the grisly, jagged scar that runs across his left eye and cheek, across the corner of his lips, and the bridge of his nose. A peppering of grey and light brown streak from his temples and the nape of his neck. His hair is well kept, but a rogue curl falls lazily over his forehead. And he looks exhausted . The dark circles are heavy beneath his eyes and there’s a tiredness in the way he moves. You realize now that what little official holopics or recordings there were of him never showed his face. Clones were men of a thousand faces, yes, but they were each undoubtedly unique.

You snap back to yourself when Cody introduces you and warmth rushes to your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Maker, where are your manners? It's rude of you to stare. You bow your head hurriedly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Commander. I look forward to working with you.”

Finally, Night’s attention settles on you. He didn’t pay you much mind when he arrived but now he looks at you as if you’re some stowaway that crawled onto his ship, or even a pebble beneath his boot. You can’t sense exactly what he’s thinking, not that you would pry, but you don’t need the Force to tell that he’s judging you. Nonetheless, he returns a slow bow of the head, “Welcome aboard, Master Jedi.”

Something tells you that may just be the best you’ll ever get from him.

With no interest in a reply, Night turns to the holotable and powers it on. “If you’ve all read the initial report, then we may begin the briefing.”

The initial report, crafted carefully by the 82nd’s senior researcher from recent ground reconnaissance, was generous with its information. It provided a relatively thorough map of the destination planet, Koseron 8, and their data on the invasive predators that have been terrorizing it.

At face value, the mission is an extermination job, but the two younglings that were reported missing are your top priorities. For now, you listen intently as a strategy is formulated. An image of the objective is projected above the holotable; a laurek - a rare species of carnivorous subterranean fauna previously known to be native only to a planet far into the Outer Rim. The beast’s body is long and segmented with a sickly pale leathery hide. Despite the insectoid fangs protruding from its jaws and long neck, its face is flat and eerily human. Its forward facing eye sockets are sunken and deep set, with lips curled into a sharp, toothy snarl. But its looks should be the least of your concern, what with the species’ insatiable appetite for midichlorian-enriched blood.

The projection fizzles out to display a slithering network of tunnels below the barren expanse of a desert. The laurek seemed to have made quick work of their new environment. But it’s a peculiar place for them to be, you think. From what you’ve read, they’re exceptionally sensitive to sunlight. Their skin could crisp up like rice paper on oil if they remained exposed to it for too long.

You ask, “If they’re vulnerable to sunlight, can’t we lure them to the surface, where they’re at a disadvantage?”

Night’s gaze flickers to you, as if reminded that you were even there, and his brow furrows just the slightest. “That used to be an option, but based on their recent movements and behavioral patterns during the day, we can only suspect that these have either grown starved enough to be desperate or somehow adapted to their sensitivity.”

Rex huffs, “I guess it can never be that easy.”

“Unfortunately, no.” Night switches the map to a series of data, graphs and charts, “The more we study them, the more unnatural the laurek on Koseron seem to be. Generally speaking, lasting evolutionary change takes thousands of years to develop. And considering that the earliest account of their sightings on this planet was barely 3 standard months ago, there has to be something else in play here.”

Cody crosses his arms and brings a hand to his chin, “I doubt just anyone would express this much interest in creatures that have a natural taste for Jedi. You think these could be some Seppie lab rats?”

“I believe there could be a high possibility of that.”

You didn’t like the idea of it. It could mean the Seps potentially have access to the locations of all recorded Force sensitive children. To even infiltrate the Temple’s vault would be beyond risky on their part. You speak up uneasily, “Evidently, the best case scenario is that this is an isolated incident or pure coincidence. If the Temple's vault was somehow breached without any of us knowing, then we’ll have a whole different issue at hand, and it’ll have to be escalated directly to the Council.”

Night nearly scoffs, “Of course. But currently, we do not have the intel to make any solid theories behind this yet, so we’ll anticipate and prepare for the worst. And that includes Separatist involvement of any degree.”

“How do you say we should approach this then?” Rex asks.

“Skinner will take a small portion of the squad and follow any leads on the missing younglings. The rest of us will deal with the laurek. These things are no greater krayt dragons, but they have numbers and are sturdy enough to be resistant to blaster fire and even lightsabers to a lesser extent. Taking them on one by one would be a waste of time and ammunition.” The map zooms into a specific area. “Fortunately, their tunnel system is within proximity of an active volcano and there are three paths that connect to a lava chamber where they dispose of their scraps, here and here. I’m sure you can tell where I’m going with this.”

Cody remarks, “It looks promising. Rounding up so many of them isn’t going to be easy though.”

Night’s gaze is on you again. “Then it’s a good thing we already have our bait.”

You blink. “...Pardon?”

The rest of the briefing is quick and concise and the plan is solid and straightforward. But the commander did not make it easy. Every fleeting interaction between the two of you felt like a challenge- like he was waiting for you to make some rookie proposition that he could pick at. You aren’t particularly chuffed about the role he dropped on you, in fact, you would’ve volunteered yourself for it anyway. It’s the most effective position that you could think to take. However, funnily enough, now you’d believe it if you were only brought onto this mission solely as bait.

As the meeting wraps up, the doors to one of the lifts slides open. Hull steps out with another trooper at his side and he clears his throat. “You’ve got another incoming transmission. It's the director.”

There’s a subtle and tired droop to his shoulders before Night accepts a tablet from Hull. He turns to the three of you, “If there are no further questions, this concludes the briefing.” The holotable is powered off and he secures his helmet over his face. “It’s good seeing you two again. We’ll make quick work of this.” He exchanges a parting handshake with Rex and Cody, sparing you nothing but a brief glance behind the shadow of his dark visor. Only when he and the sergeant head off into another office, does the tension roll from your back.

Something beeps on Cody’s commlink and he tucks his helmet beneath his arm, “Excellent, right on schedule. We should be on our way, sir. We’ll see you on the ground.”

Rex gives you a heavy pat on the back as he passes, “Hang in there.”

You shrug and chuckle lightly, “I’ll try. Safe travels you two.”

The other trooper, having waited patiently on the side, salutes Cody and Rex as they take one of the lifts back down to the hangar. He approaches you with an easy and pacified smile, though you feel it doesn't fully reach his eyes. His dark curls, parted through the middle, reach just above his ears. A faded Medical Corps sigil is branded on his shoulder pad.

“Chief Medic Hollow at your service. Hull said you’d need an escort to your quarters.”

“It’s nice to meet you, and that’d be appreciated, thank you,” you say politely.

He steps aside and lets you step into the lift first before joining inside. He leans against the wall opposite of you with an ankle crossed over the other and quips bluntly, “So, you’re the Jedi we’ve been hearing about? You look a little younger than the ones we usually get.”

Amused, you replied, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He gives you a cheeky, good-humored look as though to say ‘you do that’. The lift falls into a natural silence as his attention falls back on his datapad, save for the muffled drone of machinery. But a question still hangs at the back of your throat until you decide to speak up, “I hope this isn’t rude of me to ask, but - is he normally like that?”

He hums absentmindedly, “Who?”

“The commander.”

Hollow glances at you briefly from the screen of his datapad, “Ah, he gave you the ol’ cold shoulder?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘the cold shoulder’ per se but…” You start to fiddle with the end of your sleeve. Well, actually, maybe you would.

The lift comes to a stop and you follow Hollow out. He waves his free hand dismissively, “He’s like that with all the Jedi that come in here, but he means well and for good reason. Not to mention all the paperwork and meetings he’s been dealing with lately. I don’t know how he does it. Especially since his insomnia’s only been getting worse.” He shakes his head, “I try to get him to rest but let me tell you, he’s stubborn and a horrible workaholic. But hey, that’s what makes him commander.”

“That so?” You don’t know whether or not you should feel relieved that Night’s distaste towards you isn’t personal. You’ve never met a clone who had such an ill view of Jedi. There’s a lot you wish Hollow would unpack, but you choose to refrain from digging further.

“Yeah, I mean, y’know, I may be a medic but if it were me trapped with all those boring meetings, I don’t think I’d last a day.”

��You don’t say.” You fold your arms into the warmth of your sleeves.

At this point, the medic begins to ramble off about his day to day woes and a placid smile settles on your lips. His short tales of messy shenanigans with his brothers keep your mind from wandering back to your somewhat tense meeting with the commander and you laugh along with him. You imagine he and Kix would get along pretty well if they ever had the chance to meet. You don't even notice that you’ve reached your destination until he stops in front of the door to your quarters.

“And this is where I leave you.” Hollow gestures with a tilt of his head, “If you’re ever feeling peckish, the dining hall is three levels down. Make two rights and a left past a storage area and you’ll be on the right track.” He snickers to himself, “That is, if you’re craving vitamin slush.”

You give a soft laugh, “Sounds appetizing, I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for the help and company, Hollow.”

“Eh, no need to thank me. And look on the bright side. You play your cards right and maybe he’ll warm up to you eventually.” The clone smirks and gives you an easy, two-finger salute. With that, he takes his leave and you wave goodbye as he disappears back down the hall.

You tap the access switch to your quarters and think to yourself, ‘I hope so’.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The ship has been in hyperspace for a while now- about 13 standard hours to be more precise. Your private quarters isn’t anything out of the ordinary and is perfectly by the code. Clean, quaint, and minimalist with a meditation mat tucked by a small bunk. The refresher is modest and the crate kept by the desk holds a set of sleeping robes that are neatly folded, if not a tad big on you.

You’ve preoccupied yourself with rereading your notes from the briefing or meditating, but it doesn’t do much to help with the light itch of restlessness in the back of your mind. You slump forward on the desk and drum your fingertips on its surface, staring at your handheld holoprojector. You know your Master would appreciate an update soon, though you’re not sure how to go about a report- or where to start, for that matter.

You aren’t bothered by Commander Night. The galaxy is far too big and busy for you to worry about how one individual thought about you. And the lightsaber that hangs at your hip is not and never should be a tool that instantly commands someone’s respect. You suppose now, you’re more intrigued by him than anything. You pick up the holoprojector and idly balance it between the desk and your finger, watching the worn metal glint. You only hope his attitude doesn’t compromise the mission; if Rex and Cody’s faith in him is worth its weight, you trust that it won’t.

A low grumble from your stomach pulls you from your thoughts. With a heavy sigh, you lean and stretch out the tight muscles in your back. Maybe having something to fill your stomach would help you clear your head. Throwing your heavy robes over your shoulders and slipping into your boots, you lock the door to your quarters behind you.

You recall Hollow’s directions. Take the lift down three levels, make two rights and a left... As you wander, the sound of the heel of your boots on the metal floors echoes against the walls. Somehow, the ship seems drowsier than before. The illumi-panels along the hallway have dimmed slightly to paint the corridors a pale, dreamy blue. You hear the occasional beep of maintenance droids and the hushed voices of the few troopers on their late patrols. By now, you’ve grown a little more accustomed to The Reaper ’s low temperatures.

You don’t realize you’ve got company until you hear a low mechanical whirring beside you. An R5 unit, one you remember seeing briefly at the observation deck during the meeting. The black paint of its plating is faded and littered with scratches and deep dents. It continues forward without a word.

“I don’t reckon you’d like to join me for a quick bite, would you?”

The astromech doesn’t respond or address you for what feels like a solid minute or two. As if registering your question at last, it slowly turns its head towards you. Its lone red sensor light flickers and a glitchy beep gurgles from its loudspeakers.

You watch it move on ahead of you into a darker hallway and mutter to yourself humorously, “Huh. I guess everyone’s a critic.”

You make the last turn and the hall opens up to a larger space. The lighting is sparse here but you can see stores of supply crates lined into neat stacks. A few were put aside and cracked ajar, with some of their contents strewn atop their lids. Hollow mentioned a storage area, so you should be going in the right direction. You pass through quietly. Curiously, you approach one of the open crates and take a quick peek. Jetpacks, ascension guns, assorted survival gear…These must be some of the equipment being prepared for the mission.

“A bit late to be exploring, isn’t it, Master Jedi?”

You nearly jump out of your skin and whip around, “Oh! I'm sorry, Commander, I didn’t realize you were still up.” Night stands by one of the crates partially in shadow. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he inputs something in his datapad, and you realize he’s been here, double-checking their inventory for the mission.

“Likewise,” he replied dryly.

You shift awkwardly in your place. “You don’t always have to address me so formally, by the way. I wouldn’t mind, really.”

His nose turns up to the idea. “I’ll hold on to the formalities, thank you.” His back is to you as he continues inspecting a crate of JT-12s.

A few seconds of silence pass but they hang over your head like a thick canopy. Feeling bold, you decide to try your luck. “Would you want to join me for something to eat? I was just on my way to the dining hall.” You see his hand falter for a second while he types and you add, “It’ll be quick, I promise. I can even help you with the work too, if you’d like. I might as well be useful while I’m here.”

Night carefully places the jetpack back into the crate and pulls the cover back over. A cloud of dust kicks up and you stifle a mild cough. Patting down his kama, he drawled, “No need. I was just leaving.”

You aren’t surprised that he’s cutting the conversation short. Hollow wasn’t kidding when he said the commander was stubborn. A part of you nags that you should just cut your losses and leave this whole thing be, let sleeping akk dogs lie, but you wish he would at least just communicate with you. Something has got to give. Against your better judgment, you blurt, “Have I done or said something to offend you?”

This makes him pause. The space between the two of you feels wide and empty. “Offend me?” There’s a hint of cold amusement in the inflection of his voice, as if you’ve asked the silliest question. “No. You haven’t,” he says flatly and powers off his datapad, “Now goodnight, Master Jedi.”

With a frown, you press on, “Commander, if we’re going to be working together- if you could give me a moment-” You take a step forward and reach out to catch his wrist.

The moment your hand touches him, you feel the air thrum, then freeze like ice in your lungs. A flare of white flashes in your mind before a heaviness settles deep in the pit of your stomach. Night glares at your hand clasped around his clothed wrist. You feel an echo of distrust, melancholy, weariness, and a slurry of voices you cannot recognize. His gaze flickers back up to you. You don’t know why but a shiver shoots down your spine. Whatever you were going to say dies pathetically in your chest.

You release him and hold your hand close to your body, as if you’ve touched fire. Your cheeks feel flush with shame- you didn’t mean for that to happen. Night's jaw is set tight, but he doesn’t yell or lash out. You steel your resolve, though a vague tremble remains in your voice, like your heart has been pushed up your throat, “I…I apologize. But…I want to stand by my words because I feel it’s best to establish this now. If we’re going to be working together, then I don’t believe it would be beneficial for either of us to constantly be on edge like this-”

“With all due respect, sir,” Night's voice is quiet and measured, “I’m afraid you may be misunderstanding the conditions of this temporary partnership so allow me to make this perfectly transparent.”

He takes a step closer and this time you can’t help but waver. The small of your back bumps against the chilled metal of a crate behind you. You know you aren’t in danger, and physically, he’s no taller than any other clone. But his presence feels heavy, intense, and oppressive. Breaking eye contact, you swallow and focus on the mauve markings painted across his armor that glow faintly in the shadow of the broad line of his shoulders.

“All you require from me is my obedience and cooperation. I will obey your orders and lay down my life if you give the word because that is what I was bred for. But we will not be ‘friends’, nor will we even be acquaintances. Once this mission is over, we’ll part ways and that will be the end of it.” His tone is smooth and eerily calm despite the sharp venom in his words. However, the warning look that burns in his eye betrays the facade.

You know better than to continue to fight that.

Deciding you are no longer worth the trouble, Night’s posture shifts and he takes a small step back. He turns and says bitterly, “That should be one less burden off your precious shoulders.”

The commander disappears back down the hall, but you do not miss the way his hand- the one you nearly touched- flexes and clenches into a fist at his side. A dull throbbing still pulses behind your eyes and you rub at your temple. Well. That entire ordeal could have gone a lot smoother. You shake the headache off and make your way towards the dining hall alone. Maker, what were you thinking? You’re sure this isn’t what Master Endivain had in mind when she suggested that you ‘make the most of your time with them’.

But if this is where Night wants to draw his boundary, then who are you to protest? And it’s just as he said. Once this mission is over, you’ll part ways and that will be the end of it.

#star wars #tcw #clone trooper oc #clone trooper x reader #commander night #82nd legion #i crawl back from my male living space with this measly offering #literally took so long to clean up for no reason #EMBARRASSING #anyway #ride wit me #fly wit me #on this journey to order 66 angst #fishermandraws

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fanficwritersinterviewed · 2 years

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MCM, furiosophie

<<This post is a part of a longer conversation about fanfic writers, how they view fanfic, and their writing process. All views are the fanfic writers’ own, and whatever fanfic they choose to write is entirely their own decision. No judgement value will be placed on fic content. These conversations are meant to provide insight for other fanfic writers in whatever stage they are at in their writing life>>

Meet-Cute Monday (with furiosophie, @furiosophie)

AO3 Stats:

Pseud: furiosophie Pronouns: she/her (currently) Current fandoms: Star Wars Current pairings: Dinluke (Din/Luke), Dopeyluke (Din/Poe/Luke) How many total fic: 6 How many fandoms: 1 Total word count: 202,988 Longest fic word count: 103,615 Shortest: 2,148 Highest kudo count: 2,928 Lowest: 107

What's the story behind your pseud? It's a dumb pun I have with myself - my name is Sophie, I easily get furious about fandom shit and I'm dyslexic thus "furios sophie" with one s and no u.

You get furious? I am actually really surprised, I don't think I’ve ever noticed you getting furious before. Hahaha well I'm working on it. It's less furious, more very, very passionate. Like talking a mile a minute, forgetting to regulate my tone of voice, gesturing wildly, the whole deal.

How long have you been reading and writing fanfic? I'm not fully sure how long it's actually been but I remember asking my mom to print out fanfic at work that I copy and pasted into a doc so I could read it up in my room because we only had one pc at home, so I'd say probably 17 years or so? And I wrote my first fanfic at nine, I remember that very vividly because I wrote it in a notebook with some company logo on it and spent more time drawing the Star Wars logo on top than actually writing. Plus I had my mom proofread it so it would count as me doing my spelling homework.

It was set just before the beginning of Empire Strikes Back on the rebel base on Hoth and it was basically just a conversation between Leia, Han, Luke and the OC (original character) I created who used to be Vader's apprentice but had a change of heart and came to warn them about the imminent attack. Which I am aware is not super exciting but apparently my nine-year-old self really needed to write a fix-it.

No no! That's actually surprisingly involved for a nine-year-old kid, I'm impressed. Well my OC also rode a space skateboard and wore turquoise overalls so I feel that balances it out.

Ha!! Spectacular! Okay, so this furiosophie incarnation is your newest writing self, though you've been a few other people before this, right? I've had two other pseuds before this, yes. Kind of one for every phase of my writing: one for back when I was still writing in German during high school and one for when I first switched to writing in English during uni.

What was the inciting incident that led to the creation of this pseud?Honestly? I saw the Mandalorian season 2 finale, absolutely lost my mind when Luke showed up, went on tumblr to soak up any crumb I could get, got hit with a dinluke meme and thought "hahaha what a fucking dumb idea" and then three days later I found out that my note program apparently has a character limit because I had typed out the first 7k of “oh the things we left behind” on my phone. So I just resigned myself to my fate and created the new pseud. I had no idea what it would end up being. “ottwlb” was supposed to be three chapters, max maybe 30k. To put that into perspective - it had been roughly ten years since I had written anything at that point and the most I had written in one go was around 22k.

And it ended up being nearly 104k words. So what happened, exactly? What was it about this story that needed to come out of you and why? It started with the simple line of "Din thinks of the Jedi often. More specifically, he thinks of Grogu." That was the first thing I wrote down, and for a long while it was very much just an exploration of that thought I had since I first watched the movies which was something along the lines of "the Force and post-Return of the Jedi Luke must seem terrifying to others" until that turned into "if the Force and post-ROTJ Luke seems terrifying to others, how terrifying must that feel for him?" and I think that is where it clicked for me suddenly that I was processing a lot of my own complicated emotions around mental illness with some of this fic, that simple truth of "part of your mind is no longer your own.”

It’s funny to think, looking back, that I wasn't really aware I was processing anything with the story until I was in the thick of it. Like I knew I needed to process some shit-- I was one and a half years into recovery from severe burnout when I started writing-- but I didn't set out to do any of that processing through writing, it just happened. So this fic kind of became about accepting that sometimes the darkest parts of yourself just won't go away, that there is no absolution and no easy fix and that the only way through that is choosing to move forward. Or it's simply about two idiots taking 80k to kiss, you decide, haha!

If it’s not too invasive, do you mind talking a bit about what “severe burnout” means? Because before I met you I’d heard of burnout but it was always just a term tossed around when people got tired. I didn’t realize what it actually meant from a mental health perspective. Oh yeah sure! Though I'd like to preface this with simply saying that everyone's journey is different and this is just my personal experience. In retrospect it is not that surprising that I burned out eventually– I had been struggling for a while in my twenties because I had a very intensive job, moved countries multiple times, tried to maintain relationships with friends, etc., but burnout is something that creeps up on you slowly and is often very hard to catch in time. It started with insomnia, then came the constant health issues, then the irritability, then I lost all interest in things I used to love, was unable to write at first, then draw, then hang out with friends, then watch TV, eventually I stopped making dinner because it was too much of an effort to make and then, right in the thick of it, I was unable to take care of myself at all.

But that whole process happened over the span of nearly two years, and in my case really probably my whole life because my specific type of burnout was brought on by the fact that I grew up undiagnosed autistic. So it wasn't one big thing, it was me continuously over-exerting myself from a very young age. There is this concept of disabled/neurodivergent kids being "twice exceptional" which basically means that to excel you have to work twice as hard as your peers, once to bridge the gap of the base requirement of function and then once to actually thrive at school, or university, etc. and that ultimately led to me burning out. I actually had several unrelated burnouts throughout my life, the most severe ones after high school and university which, since I was seemingly functioning, were all treated as "you're just a little tired".

When you had that “a ha!” moment that your first fic was really about you processing what you’d just gone through, how did that inform your writing? I think the biggest plot point that was informed by that "a ha" moment was the choice to write chapter seven from Luke's perspective. Once I knew what I was doing it seemed impossible not to tell the story from his POV. I also kind of doubled down on the "being force-sensitive is a metaphor for being neurodivergent" thing because that analogy was just very comforting to me.

And “go and get your hands dirty”? Lmao. Very, very different vibe. I think dinluke kink week was going on back then and myomikan was drawing something for it so my idiot brain thought "you are incapable of writing smut why don't you also participate?" Which ended with me writing the first scene of that fic and then it just...I honestly don't know what happened, it was supposed to be max 10k. I had it all planned out, but apparently I am not only incapable of writing smut but also incapable of writing anything other than a slow burn. There really are no deep thoughts in that fic, which is probably why it was fighting me in the beginning, but it did end up being very helpful as a kind of sandbox where I could try out different pacing and character conflict that I struggle writing. I am still very on the fence about that fic, I know it had somewhat good reception but it is the one fic where I honestly can't tell if it works or not.

What's something in that one that you were intentionally trying out all the while knowing it wasn't your strong suit? The physical elements of it mostly. I am not joking when I say I am very bad at that, as well as the conflict based on miscommunication/a secret rather than outside factors, and the tension that comes with that. In “ottwlb” there is conflict but they are always a unit, while in “gagyhd” their turmoil is to some degree self-inflicted. Also parts of their relationship are genuinely unhealthy but in a sort of helpless way that stems from their trauma and upbringing which I really enjoyed exploring because trauma does not absolve you from being an asshole so my challenge was kind of to walk that line of "they are very dysfunctional but aware of it and trying to work towards being better."

Dysfunctional but aware. I think there’s a lot of us that can relate to that, lol!

#fanfic writers interviewed #furiosophie #fanfic #fanfic writing #meet cute monday

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smalland-angry · 3 years

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A Cold Awakening (Wrecker x reader)

This is my first time posting a fanfic on tumblr so be nice! I’m trying my best here. The reader is a female just cus I'm trying to get the hang of this. Hope you enjoy! Also I know what planet Orto Plutonia is from the clone wars, but I mostly just needed an icy planet that wasn’t Hoth for the plot. So don’t get on my case about accuracy *please*.

You cursed the force or whatever higher being existed for the situation you found yourself in on Orto Plutonia. It was supposed to be a simple mission, that just so happened to go horribly wrong. Hunter had you split up into groups to infiltrate a supposed separatist base, when a sudden snow storm changed things. You and Wrecker found yourselves stuck in a small cave on the icy planet, raging winds and bitter cold surrounding you. You can only hope the other boys have it a little better. You’re currently curled up against the farthest wall of the cave, teeth chattering and body shaking, regardless of the extra layers you had on. Wrecker was a good foot or two away from you, and could tell that you were freezing, while he was, a tad chilly. Even without his helmet on. The large batcher could handle the harsh cold temperatures with his heater of a body. He looked over at you and immediately felt guilty. He wanted to help you, but you were friends and he didn’t want you to do anything you were uncomfortable with.

“H-hey (Y/N), if ya want, you can sit beside me and I can share my body heat.” His hesitant voice brought you out of your thoughts. You could see a light pink tint across his cheeks but it was probably just the cold. Wrecker was your good friend, and right now being warmer than you were was the first thing on your mind. You tried your best to muster a smile on your semi-numb lips.

“T-t-thank y-you W-w-wrecker, I w-would ap-p-preciate that.” You were now shoulder to…arm with him. You always thought all the batchers were cute in their own way, but never thought of them as anything more than friends. So why are you feeling so awkward about being this close to Wrecker? You want nothing more than for him to hold you to make you warmer, but just the thought made your face hot. But he’s just a friend! I’m sure he’ll understand though…right?

His arm was so warm, and after much reassurance to yourself, you wrapped your arms around his large one and held it tight in an effort to absorb his warmth. You hid your face in his armor covered arm to attempt to hide your growing blush.

Wrecker watched as you held onto his arm tightly and hid your face. Looking at you, an unfamiliar warmth filled his gut. You were just so cute. Wrecker always thought you were pretty, but now that you were alone and so close to him, he wished he had this opportunity sooner. A light smile grew on his scarred face and a short chuckle escaped his cold lips.

“You okay there (Y/N)?”

Your eyes trailed up to his to find a warm smile on his face and a face playful glint in his eyes. You shoved your face back into the plastoid on his arm. There was something about the way he was looking at you that sent a million butterflies in your stomach a-flight.

Why is he looking at me like that?

“No I’m still cold.” You grumbled into his armor. A sudden boldness overcame Wrecker and he picked you up effortlessly in his hands and placed you in his lap. He couldn’t help but notice how tiny you were in his arms.

“Here! This way you won’t be so cold.” Your brain short circuited and you couldn’t find the words to reply. His arms were still holding your back and legs close to him long after he could’ve retracted. He’s just trying to help me and nothing else right? He’s so warm though I don’t think I care. You were suddenly aware of the warmth radiating off of him and lay your head on your shoulder and leaned in closer. So warm. The breathing beneath you stopped for a moment and you quickly realized that your face was nestled into his neck. Immediately you leaned off of him and apologized for getting too close. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“It’s okay mesh’la I don’t mind at all.” His eyes couldn’t seem to stay focused on yours and the tint of pink across his cheeks spread across his face. Wrecker brought his arms around you once more to bring you back against him.

“Thank you, Wrecker.” Your arms lay lightly against his plastoid covered chest. He was very thankful for the fact that his armor covered how fast his heart was beating. So tiny and soft and pretty.

The next morning you were found wrapped in his arms by Omega and the others. You woke up to their snickering to find Wreckers face much closer than you remembered it to be. Your eyes then found your friends above you chuckling to themselves and all the blood in your body rushed to your face. You failed to notice the exchange of credits from one trooper to another. Quickly you tried to squirm out of his arms, but the weight of his body kept you close. He was still asleep, snoring lightly. You looked back at the batchers not doing anything but watching.

“A little help guys?”

You completed the mission without fail, but since you’ve all gotten back to the ship, you’ve been a hot mess. That night you saw Wrecker coming out of the refresher in just his bottom blacks. Your eyes immediately went to his body of pure muscle and trailed up to his biceps that flexed lightly. God, did he always look like this? The redness of your face startled him, “Mesh’la are you okay?”

You couldn’t trust your voice so with an aggressive nod you quickly turned away and walked past him. That incident on Orto Plutonia did something to you. He was none the wiser, but the other batchers started to catch on. They all noticed how you stared at Wrecker as he was lifting gonky trying to show off to Omega. He was smiling and laughing with her about a joke you didn’t hear. He’s so good with Omega it’s so cute. Your eyes trailed to his large body. There were voices around you but you were too focused on your thoughts. His body was so warm and comfy. I kinda wanna sleep next to him again. His hands were so gentle. It was nothing like he usually is. Would he always be gentle?

“(Y/N) why is your face so red?”

Omegas soft voice woke you up from the daydreaming in your mind. Tech was piloting but Echo and Hunter could see what you were obviously staring at. Everything got quiet in that moment, the four of them staring at you waiting for an answer.

“N-no reason! I hope I’m not getting sick, I’m gonna go lie down!” You scurried away into the back of the ship in attempt to hide your embarrassment. You found the closest bunk and immediately threw yourself onto it and shoved your red face into the pillow.

What is wrong with me? Why am I suddenly thinking of Wrecker like this?

Unbeknownst to you, Wrecker was having his own internal struggle at the same time. Your usual attire consisted of a jumpsuit, which he was realizing hugged you in just the right places. As you walked past him the night before he couldn’t help but stare at the curve of your behind. Did it always look like that? Wrecker was entranced for who knows how long until he shook his head and went to change. That night while you were sleeping soundly across from him, he couldn’t help but stare at your peaceful form. The light breathing escaping your lips. How soft and plush they looked. What would they feel like? His eyes trailed down to your chest that was tight against a pair of blacks you used as sleepwear. His thoughts quickly took a different turn. How would they feel in his hands? Or pressed up against his bare chest as his hands wandered over your soft curves finding anything and everything that made you whimper and whine-

Wreckers face instantly blushed a dark crimson. He turned himself over to face the wall. He…he shouldn’t think of you like this. Unless…maybe you felt the same way? He tried his best to sleep that night, but his thoughts always came back to the same place.

After you ran to the back of the Marauder, Wrecker became instantly worried. You never did that before. As he dropped gonky and went to follow you, Hunter and Echo gave each other a knowing look.

“What?” Omega of course noticed the look they gave each other.

“We’ll tell you when you’re older.” Hunter replied.

You almost jumped when you felt a large hand on your shoulder. Lifting your head up you came face to face with the one person you really wished it wasn’t.

“Are you okay (Y/N)?”

Releasing a sigh, you sat up looked into your lap. You fiddled with your hands in anxiousness.

“Ya Wrecker, I’m okay. I just-“, when you lifted your eyes up to his, he was much closer than you expected. Another blush grew on your cheeks for the 10th time today. He was staring into your eyes with so much love and sincerity you couldn’t speak. Neither of you noticed how your faces grew closer with each passing second.

“W-wrecker I-“

This time you were silenced by him placing his lips hesitantly on yours. It was brief and left you wanting more. As he pulled back he seemed to realize what he just did.

“I-I’m so sorry (Y/N)! I don’t know what I was-“

It was your turn to pull him in by the armor around his neck and kiss him again. Wrecker immediately kissed you back. Feeling bold you opened your mouth slightly, inviting him to turn this innocent kiss into something a little more. He was intoxicating. You brought your hands up to his face and brushed over the scar that ran over his cheek. He groaned lightly and gently pushed you onto the bunk. His hands that wrapped around your waist held you like glass. Always so gentle. You wanted so badly to touch him without his armor, but you settled with running your hands up and down the plastoid on his chest with a whine.

“You two know this is my bunk right?”

A voice from behind you made you jump. You immediately broke the kiss and lightly pushed Wrecker off of you to try to make this situation look a little more appropriate.

“I’m so sorry Hunter! We’ll just um…go.” With a massive blush and pure embarrassment you took Wreckers hand and pulled him away with you. Once you were far enough away, you felt his breath on your neck against your ear.

“Guess we’ll have to finish that later mesh’la.” Leaving a light kiss below your ear, Wrecker left your side to join the others.

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