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hrtiu · 4 years ago

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Do No Harm

Written for the 2020 @starwarssecretsanta, this is for @part-timewizard. Featuring Kix and some good ‘ol Blyla, I hope you like it! I think it might be my favorite thing I’ve ever written, so thank you for the inspiration! It’s also pretty long so you might want to read it on AO3. Happy holidays!!!

TW for some medical gore, non-graphic, star wars-y violence, canonical character death, and a vague mention of suicide

It’s not as sad as it sounds, I promise!

32 Years After the Battle of Yavin

The ordnance was supposed to be deactivated, but they’d all known that equipment this old was bound to be unstable. Salvaging the cargo was a calculated risk, and one that should have been mitigated by Kix’s experience with GAR resources. Unfortunately for the crew of the Meson Martinet, Kix was a medic, not a demolitions expert.

“We’ve got a hull breach in the cargo bay!” Reeg said, his large yellow eyes whipping back and forth as he looked from one monitor to the next.

“Kriff!” Quiggold said. “Well at least the goods can’t blow the rest of the ship up if they’ve been sucked out into space.”

“We should get to the escape pods!” Reeg said.

“No.”

Captain Ithano’s monosyllabic response was enough to completely shut down that line of thinking for the whole crew. Everyone, Kix included, looked to their sanguine leader for a long, silent moment. Then Sidon turned from them and took up his position in the pilot’s seat, his mask betraying no concern for their imminent demise.

“Well, you heard the captain!” Quiggold said. “Batten down the hatches! Lash anything that can move down!”

Kix jumped to attention, his soldiers’ instincts kicking in. He’d only been on the Martinet for six months, but he’d picked up his duties quickly and it didn’t take any additional prompting for him to rush to the engine room to secure maintenance tools and parts.

Kix tried not to think too hard about how impossible a landing Sidon was about to attempt. The Martinet’s captain had a knack for getting out of impossible situations, and as a crew they’d already decided to put their fates in his hands. There was nothing for it now except to prepare and hope.

“Everyone get in your seats!” Quiggold yelled from the cockpit. “Brace for impact!”

Kix sprinted for his seat in the common area, strapping in and holding his harness with two hands. They hadn’t yet entered atmosphere as far as he could tell—now it was just a waiting game.

Reveth clicked in next to him, her eyes wide but her jaw set.

“You ready to die, Kix?” she asked, her words full of bravado but her eyes betraying fear.

Kix gave her a humorless smile. “Already did it once. What’s there to be afraid of?”

The ship jolted as they passed through the upper atmosphere of a nearby planet—Felucia, if he remembered correctly. Their breached hull had compromised the ship’s insulation, leaving them at the mercy of the burning heat of atmospheric entry.

Sweat dripped down Kix’s neck and his grip on his safety harness tightened. A thrill of fear raced down his spine, and a feeling so unfamiliar to Kix that he almost didn’t recognize it accompanied it: he felt alive.

Kix let out a harsh bark of laughter and Reveth shot him a wary look. “You alright there?” she shouted over the roar of their rapid descent.

“Yeah!” he shouted back. And he was. Ironic that now that his life was in real danger of ending, he’d finally started to care if it continued.

The searing heat gradually ebbed and the ship ground with effort as Sidon attempted to wrestle it into a controlled descent. Kix greeted the twins of powerlessness and mortal danger like old friends, his mind calling back to dicey drops and aggressive assaults of decades past. This was something he understood.

“Getting closer!” Quiggold yelled from the cockpit.

Reveth’s breathing grew loud and labored, and Kix looked over at her, his instincts to assist and comfort overriding the sense of emptiness that had accompanied him since his awakening.

“It’ll be alright!” he said, loud enough for her to hear but somehow still imbuing his voice with the practiced compassion of a medic.

Her frightened eyes latched onto his, seeking solace in his peace. This is right, a voice from his past whispered. This is what you were meant to do. The voice was his own, from when he knew who he was and what he stood for.

BOOM!

The Meson Martinet made impact.

---

19 Years Before the Battle of Yavin

Bly dropped his head back behind the seat of the Separatist shuttle, letting it clunk hard against the durasteel wall. The distance between them and Maridun grew in proportion to Bly's sense of security. He closed his eyes, going through the steps General Secura had taught him for cooling down after battle. His breathing slowed, his racing mind calmed, and gradually the adrenaline of fighting for his life left him. His body was utterly spent, and now he could finally afford to let himself feel it. They were safe.

“Are you feeling better now, Master?” Commander Tano asked General Skywalker, the two of them seated next to each other across the shuttle from Bly.

“Yeah, not 100%, but close.”

Commander Tano let out a sigh of relief. “Don’t scare me like that.”

General Skywalker chuckled. “Whatever you say, Snips.”

The young Padawan’s concern for her Master was palpable, and Bly couldn’t help but remember her and General Secura’s conversation from earlier.

As a Jedi, it is your duty to do what is best for the group.

Bly couldn’t agree with that sentiment more. It was their job as clones, too. It was why he couldn’t afford to stop to memorialize Cameron, Lucky, or Flash. It was why he didn’t have time to mourn the loss of almost the entirety of the 327th. It was why he was prepared to lay down his life anywhere, at any moment, for the cause. General Secura understood that. It was one of the things he respected most about her.

His wandering mind recalled his feet pounding the earth, running away from the Separatist weapon as fast as his body could manage. Then he was flying through the air, a slender, strong arm wrapped around his waist. His heart was in his chest, but he knew he’d make it. He had absolute confidence in his General.

The shuttle docked on General Skywalker’s flagship, jolting Bly from his meditations.

“There’re rooms for you and Commander Bly in the officer’s quarters,” General Skywalker told General Secura, and she nodded her thanks.

They disembarked, and Bly followed General Secura to the rooms Skywalker had indicated.

“Are you alright, General?” he asked. She didn’t look injured, but things had been pretty rough-and-tumble on Meridun. And if she was hurt General Secura was likely to ignore it as long as possible.

“I’m fine,” she said shortly. “Let’s debrief before rest and recuperation.”

“Yes sir.”

He walked behind her through the halls of the Venator, blaster held at ready despite their relative safety and his aching arms. General Secura marched ahead of him and he could sense her mood. He doubted anyone else would be able to tell, but there was a weight to her step and a tension in her shoulders that spoke plainly to her anger and frustration. Bly’s grip on his blaster tightened. It took a lot to shake General Secura.

General Secura reached her room and punched the control panel with more force than necessary to open the door. Bly stepped in after her, wary of what was to come.

“Take a seat,” she said, gesturing across from her as she pulled a chair out from behind a large desk at the back of the room.

Bly obliged, setting his blaster down first and slowly sitting down. He waited for General Secura to start the meeting with her typical no-nonsense efficiency, but instead she set her elbows on the table and rested her forehead in her palms, her eyes closed and her shoulders tense.

Well, he supposed he could get the ball rolling. “Meteor Company is on leave in Coruscant. We can work with them until our fleet is rebuilt.”

“Rebuilt with what?” she said, her voice muffled by her hands.

“Pardon?”

“I said, rebuilt with what?” General Secura said with more force, moving her hands away. Bly nearly flinched when he realized there were tears in her eyes.

“The shipyards are already at work on new Venators, and there are the next generation of trainees from Kamino-”

“Rebuilt with men,” General Secura said forcefully. “Nearly the entire battalion was wiped out. A battalion made up of men. Men who were my responsibility.”

Bly floundered for a moment, unused to seeing his General so conflicted. She was his anchor in the madness of the war. What would he do if she was unmoored?

“They were my brothers, and this loss is… difficult to bear,” Bly said, feeling strangely disjointed.

He was gutted by the death of the clones in his battalion, but at the same time he felt an odd sense of disconnect. Maybe it was some anti-social characteristic inherited from Jango Fett, maybe it was genetic engineering courtesy of the Kaminoans, but either way he didn’t feel the sorrow residing in his heart in the way he intuitively knew he should.

“My apologies, Commander Bly,” General Secura said. “I’ve been so focused on myself when this must be so much harder for you.”

Bly shook his head. “No, I mean… They were my brothers, so I know they understood their sacrifice. Myself and every other clone in the GAR is prepared to sacrifice ourselves for the Republic. It’s like you said, it’s our duty to do what’s best for the group.”

“That’s what I told Padawan Tano, and I believe it. But there’s a difference between not allowing personal attachment to cloud your judgment, and just standing back while tens of thousands of men die.”

“We did all we could-”

“But it wasn’t enough!” General Secura said, rising from her seat and slamming her fist on the table.

Bly fell silent, thinking there was no response he could give that would help. General Secura stared at him for a long moment as her frame shook with anger and frustration. Gradually, the rage melted and gave way to a deep, abiding sorrow. She sat back down again, her customary grace and stillness returning to her.

“Bly, I swear to you today that so long as it does not endanger civilian lives, I will do whatever I can to protect you and your men,” General Secura said.

“Ma’am, that’s not neces-”

“Yes it is! Each and every man who died in Quell mattered to me. You matter to me. It’s one thing to stop missing my Master too much. It’s another thing entirely to casually dismiss the deaths of my men. If that’s what it means to be unattached, then it’s not worth it to me.”

Her declaration shocked Bly into silence. Nothing was more important to General Secura than the Order, and he couldn’t imagine her turning her back on one of its precepts.

“General,” he ventured cautiously, “You’re distraught, and that’s understandable. But perhaps that’s not the best frame of mind in which to decide to leave the Order.”

“I’m not leaving the Order,” she said firmly. “I’m only recognizing that, as a Jedi, I have multiple ideals that, should they come into conflict, I need to prioritize. And my promise to you—my promise to myself—is that I will always prioritize compassion over detachment.”

Bly’s throat tightened. It wasn’t often a clone was told that he mattered, and for that sentiment to be coming from someone as beautiful, as kind, as gracious as General Secura? Even Jango Fett’s cold heart couldn’t help but be moved by something like that.

“I’m honored, General,” he choked out.

General Secura’s features softened and she rose from her chair, walking around the table to put a hand on Bly’s shoulder.

“I need someone I can trust, Bly,” she said. “I need someone to guide me and push back if I’m not thinking clearly or if my decisions are rash. I need someone to help ensure that this never happens again.”

“I can be whatever you ask of me, General,” Bly said staunchly.

“Please. Call me Aayla,” she said. “What I need is a friend.”

---

“Execute Order 66.”

General Skywalker and Commander Tano stood in front of Kix, their backs to him. Next to him, Rex, Fives, Jesse, and Tup slowly raised their blasters, expressions grim but determined.

“No! Wait!” Kix called out to them. “It’s a trick! Don’t shoot!”

But it was too late. All four of his brothers opened fire, catching their superiors—their friends—completely off guard. Skywalker and Tano both dropped in an instant.

“No!”

Then, to his horror, Kix’s hands raised his own blaster. As he watched on, eyes wide and mind unwilling, his fingers squeezed the trigger three, four, five times, sending burning blaster bolts into their prone bodies.

“No!”

Kix thrashed in protest, and pain exploded from his legs and chest. He opened his eyes, frantic, but he didn’t see General Skywalker or Captain Rex or anyone else he’d just imagined. Dreaming, he’d only been dreaming.

Kix’s hazy mind still had no idea what was going on and he knew his body was in bad shape, but so long as the nightmare wasn’t real, that was alright with him.

“He can’t come in here, he’ll endanger my other patients.”

“Lady, he’s easily the most injured person here. Who the kriff is he a danger to?”

Voices sounded above and around Kix, noise buzzing in and out of his fuzzy head. He tried to sit up and a firm hand pushed him down.

“Just relax, friend. Don’t move too much,” came Reveth’s voice.

“That thing was made for violence, and I won’t serve him,” the voice said. It was female, but Kix didn’t recognize it. That wasn’t really unusual. He didn’t recognize most of the world he’d awoken to several months earlier.

“That thing is my crewmember,” came Captain Ithano’s raspy voice in harsh rebuke.

“Are you a doctor or not? I thought you weren’t allowed to refuse to help someone in need,” Quiggold added.

Kix’s blurry vision slowly cleared and the sight of blue skies, thick vines, and glowing fungi greeted him. The ordnance, the explosion, the crash—it all came back to him. They’d made it to Felucia, at least mostly in one piece.

Ugh. Thought I’d never have to see this blasted planet again.

“Fine. Bring him in. But as soon as he’s well enough to stand, he’s out of here,” the unidentified woman said.

Kix craned his head up, catching a clouded glimpse of a middle-aged woman with a stern look and odd, blue-ish hair.

“Suit yourself lady,” Quiggold said, and suddenly Kix was moving again.

---

It was past 0300 and the lights of the Venator had been switched to the flickering dim of the night cycle hours ago, but requisitions flimsiwork didn’t care how little sleep Bly had been getting lately. He signed off on a request for more medical personnel—there never seemed to be enough—and set his datapad down for a good stretch. He was closing in on the end and sleep was in sight, but there were still a few things left to do. There always were.

Bly’s office consisted of a small alcove open to the main hallway just off the bridge, and though he would have appreciated some privacy he understood that space was at a premium on a military vessel. The only person onboard who got a private office (or a private cabin, for that matter) was Aayla, her office connecting to Bly’s through a small door at the back. The layout made Bly feel like a glorified secretary at times, but he accepted it since it made it easier to get ahold of the General.

Bly checked what was next on his to-do list. Oh yes, order more munitions for the AT-TE division. Bly braced himself, then settled in for another round of tedium.

“Ahh!”

A loud gasp sounded from behind Bly, and he whirled around in his chair. It was coming from Aayla’s study. Without a second thought Bly jumped from his seat and sprinted through the door separating him from his General.

“General! What’s wrong!”

Aayla looked up from her desk, a hunk of mysterious food hanging from her mouth and a look of surprise on her face. Whatever was going on, she was definitely not in danger.

“Bly! I’m sorry, I was just reacting to this broadcast.”

“What broadcast? Is someone under attack?”

“No…” Aayla said, her lekku flushing a deep blue.

It was then that Bly decided to pause and actually listen to the broadcast.

“But how could Gorges be the murderer? He wasn’t even at the depot when Mr. Waxillium died!”

“He may not have held the blaster, but he set events in motion to cause the death of his supposed good friend, Mr. Waxillium. Didn’t you, Gorges? You were the one who told Mr. Waxillium to go to the depot that night, weren’t you? You were the one who gave Jasna the blaster, weren’t you?”

“You can’t prove a thing!”

Bly’s brow furrowed, the audio from Aayla’s transceiver only confusing him more. “What… what is this?”

“It’s a transceiver drama,” Aayla said with a sheepish smile. “It’s my guilty pleasure, I’m afraid.”

Bly pursed his lips, unsure how he was supposed to respond. It was difficult to imagine Aayla having any guilty pleasures, and he had no idea what a “transceiver drama” was supposed to be.

Aayla’s smile wilted the longer Bly went without responding. “You… don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

She grimaced. “It’s Aayla, especially when we’re not talking business.”

Bly coughed. “I’m afraid not, Aayla.”

It was still so hard to call her Aayla. He’d managed to start thinking of her as Aayla in his head, but actually saying the words aloud? As if they were friends? As if they were in any way on equal footing? It was a struggle.

“Transceiver dramas are pieces of fiction that are broadcast over transceiver for entertainment. They’re just… fun stories to listen to,” Aayla said. “I don’t listen to them often, but I’m partial to the mysteries.”

“Oh, I see.”

“You never listened to any dramas? Or watched any holos?”

“Only for educational purposes, si-” Bly cut himself off with a curt shake of the head. “Aayla.”

“Well that just won’t do,” Aayla said, standing and pulling a chair from the corner of her study to rest next to hers. “Come, sit and listen with me.”

“I still have some requisitions-”

“Come on, Bly. Everyone needs to relax sometimes. It will help you work better tomorrow.”

Bly still hesitated for several heartbeats, though he knew he’d always end up doing what she asked. He sat carefully in the chair, as if it might eat him alive for slacking off, and slowly eased into the back cushion. Aayla watched him with an amused expression.

“You won’t know what’s going on in this one, but another starts up right after this. You’ll love it—there’s a detective who’s looking for the man who murdered his wife, and he’ll stop at nothing to find him…”

Aayla excitedly described the plot of the upcoming show, her eyes glowing with pleasure as she delved into the twists and turns of the detective’s search. Bly had never imagined that she had such a carefree side to her, never envisioned her indulging in melodramatic entertainment, but he was thrilled by the discovery. She looked so relaxed and at ease, and there was a simple happiness to her habitually world-weary demeanor that Bly desperately wanted to see more of.

The new show started and, despite the mess of names and plot points swirling around in his head, Bly soon found himself sucked into the story. He gasped when Aayla gasped and added to her theorizing when a new clue was discovered. It was fun, an emotion that Bly barely recognized.

Aayla gave him a piece of whatever she was eating and Bly inspected it carefully, discovering after some study that it was dried meat.

“Try it,” Aayla said.

Bly gave the hunk of meat an experimental chew. His tongue was met with an intensity of savory flavor that he’d never imagined could exist, and his eyes widened. “That’s good!”

Aayla chuckled. “A lot better than what they serve in the mess, I’d wager.”

“Definitely.” Bly paused to chew the meat, not expecting it to be so tough. Then a thought occurred to him. “Wait a second, I thought Jedi were vegetarians.”

Aayla looked at him blankly then burst out laughing. “Certainly not! Take Master Yoda, for example. His species is carnivorous. If he was vegetarian he’d starve.”

“Oh…” Bly said, heat rising to his cheeks. “Well I… how was I supposed to-?”

“Shh! We’re missing the next clue!” Aayla said, still trying to hold back her laughter.

Bly slouched into his seat with an undignified pout, and Aayla leaned over and patted him on the arm. The motion should have felt patronizing, but By couldn’t bring himself to resent anything that resulted in her touch.

The drama continued, ending the episode on a cliffhanger with the detective about to be captured by the Hutt crimelord. Advertising played and Bly sighed, bracing himself to get up and finish the requisitions forms.

“...There’s another episode after this one, if you’re interested,” Aayla said with forced indifference.

He really shouldn’t. He was constantly running short on sleep—he needed to finish his work and hit the bunk as soon as possible. He opened his mouth to say as much, then noticed the hopeful tilt of Aayla’s brow.

“Sure, I could stay for one more,” he said.

What was a few more hours of lost sleep?

---

Kix came to in an aged hospital bed, both legs in splints and his chest aching from what could only be broken ribs. For half a moment his eyes sought Coric, or Rex, or someone else who could tell him what was going on. Then he remembered.

Kix sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back onto his pillow. Maybe it didn’t really matter that much where he was or how he’d gotten there.

Reveth stirred at Kix’s bedside, her eyes widening as she noticed Kix.

“You’re up!” she said, sounding almost cheery.

“Yeah,” Kix said, struggling to sit up without hurting his ribs.

Reveth jumped to her feet and lent Kix a hand, stacking a few pillows behind his back so he wasn’t staring at the ceiling. They were at the far end of a long room and he was lying in one of several beds partially cordoned off by screens and curtains. The familiar sight of medical equipment provided Kix with a sense of comfort, though the equipment was old and the furnishings dingy.

“How long have I been out for?” Kix asked.

“Just a day. The doctor says you’ll be all better pretty soon.”

“Any other injuries?”

“Us in the common area got it the worst. I had a concussion and a broken wrist,” she said, raising up the bandaged appendage. “Everyone in the cockpit was fine.”

“And the Martinet?”

Reveth grimaced. “She’ll fly again, eventually. Progress is slow because there aren’t any major starports nearby. Kriff, we’re lucky this clinic is even here. I think the doctor is one of those do-gooders who goes to the ass-end of nowhere to serve the needy.”

“Hmm…” Kix said, recalling the way the doctor had at first refused to treat him. She hadn’t seemed particularly charitable then. “How angry is the captain?”

“Ehhh…” Reveth hedged.

“Am I dead? Or just kicked off the ship?” Kix asked. Sidon Ithano was a fair captain, but even he couldn’t just look the other way when a crewmate led them to treasure that ended up tearing apart their ship.

Reveth waved a hand. “The captain seems tough but he’s softer than you’d think.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d avoid him for a few days if you don’t want another broken limb. But he’ll get over it.”

Kix tried to sit up taller but his ribs protested. He fell back into his pillows with a grunt. “Thanks for the advice.”

“It helps that Reeg thinks he can salvage the explosives from the other cargo bay. Only by the grace of the Force did they not blow up in the crash.”

Kix raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Reveth shrugged. “Probably. He said he can extract the titanoid from the charges without setting them off if he soaks everything in moletan first. Still sounds risky to me, but it’s his leather hide.”

Kix nodded thoughtfully. The deconstructed charges wouldn’t be quite as valuable as they would have been whole, but much safer to transport. And that amount of titanoid should make their excursion profitable enough that Sidon probably wouldn’t decide that Kix had to pay for their losses.

“Oh yeah, and your box of stuff was in cargo bay two as well,” Reveth said, reaching for a crate under her chair and kicking it over to Kix.

Kix leaned over the side of his bed with a wince, confirming for himself that the crate really was the one he’d recovered from the crumbling Republic medical center a few days earlier. It was this modest collection of possessions that had brought Kix to back to the old base; the explosives had just been a monetary justification for the trip. The entire crew of the Marinet had understood that, which was why Kix’s concern for Sidon Ithano’s ire was real. They’d risked carrying dangerous explosives onboard just because Kix had wanted to recover a tiny box of worthless personal effects.

Reveth grabbed the crate and set it on Kix’s lap.

“Thanks.”

“So what’s in there?” Reveth asked, leaning forward to see. “What was worth all the trouble?”

“Not much, really. Just a few odds and ends,” Kix said vaguely.

Reveth looked doubtfully at him but didn’t press.

Kix opened the box and pulled out the first item, a medal he’d been awarded in medical training on Kamino. Medals didn’t interest him much—he still remembered the swell of pride when it had first been awarded him, but now it seemed more like an empty method of placation. He dug further, rummaging around his Phase I helmet, a field medicine guide for venomous creatures and poisonous plants, a musty pair of gloves. He finally found the old pauldron he was looking for,the faded blue painted over with designs of starfighters and explosions—the result of an energetic, easily-distracted mind.

He held the pauldron up to Reveth. “My friend painted this. He sacrificed himself for our company, crashing an enemy fighter into their ship to break a blockade.”

The gently mocking angle that always seemed to tilt Reveth’s mouth disappeared. “Sounds like he was a great man.”

Kix nodded, putting the pauldron carefully back in the crate. “He was.”

He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do with all this stuff, but the idea of it left to turn to dust on some distant, abandoned base was unacceptable. Despite the crash and despite Captain Ithano’s anger, Kix was glad he’d gotten it back.

The door at the end of the room whooshed open, and the doctor Kix vaguely remembered from before walked in.

“Hey doc! He’s up!” Reveth called.

The woman walked across the room and fully opened the screen that marked Kix’s territory, her nose scrunched up like she smelled something foul. Now that Kix got a better look at her, he realized she was a Twi’lek hybrid. Stubby lekku extended from the back of her head down to her shoulders, barely visible through a shock of thick, blue hair. Her skin was a distinctly human hue of tan.

“He’s conscious? Good,” the woman said, looking Kix up and down. Her eyes narrowed disapprovingly at the crate that still rested on his lap, and without comment she picked it up and pushed it under his bed. “How are your ribs?”

“Broken,” Kix said.

The woman nodded. “They’ll hurt for a while. Some nysillin will help, but time is the best healer.”

Kix groaned his agreement. The splints on his leg looked good and the room, though out-of-date and spartan, was well-maintained. Whoever this woman was, as a man of medicine Kix could respect her.

“Well, try to get some sleep,” the woman said, making some notes on her datapad. “You’ve got a punctured lung, a few broken ribs, and two broken legs, but considering the state of that ship of yours, you’re in pretty good shape. I’ll be using some bacta on those legs and you should be able to get around fairly easily in a day or two.”

Kix closed his eyes again, performing a mental self-examination to confirm her diagnosis. It all checked out.

He opened his eyes again. “I’m Kix. Who are you?”

The woman pursed her lips like she didn’t want to tell him. He remembered what he’d heard when they were bringing him in. That thing is made for violence.

“You can call me Dr. Bosc,” she said eventually. “Pleased to meet you.”

---

“Bly! I need you to get over to that ridge and bring down those turrets!” Aayla shouted over the din of blaster fire and mortars.

“On it!” Bly shouted back, motioning for two ARC troopers and two heavy infantry to follow him and sprinting out from behind cover.

Bly. Bly. Bly. She never called him Commander anymore. Everything would be so much easier if she would.

His team made short work of the turrets, moving with the grace and efficiency Bly drilled into them day in and day out. It was that skill that would hopefully keep them alive.

Until the day Aayla had broken down after Maridun, Bly had just assumed he’d end up dead before the war was over and hadn’t thought too much about it. Now he thought differently. He wanted to live and he wanted desperately to ensure that every man under his command lived too, no matter how impossible that sounded. It was harder to live this way—harder to maintain hope every day only to have it dashed by the devastation of each casualty his battalion suffered—but Bly could live with the pain. Anything was better than the empty detachment of resignation.

Other things had been different, too. Now that he’d convinced himself he’d live beyond the end of the war, he’d started thinking about his life after. And that was dangerous, dangerous thinking for a clone like him.

“Get down!” Quark yelled.

Bly barely had time to throw himself to the dirt before a hail of blaster fire tore through the air. He crawled through the gravelly earth to the base of the turret they’d just destroyed, using the low platform on which it rested for cover. His team stayed pressed to the ground for several minutes while Bly looked for an opening, but it was no good. A whole company of battle droids had followed them up the ridge, blocking their way out.

“General Secura,” he said into his comm, “We’re pinned down on the ridge. Requesting backup.”

“On my way,” came her snappy response.

I didn’t mean you had to come personally, Bly thought. She surely had more important places to be on the battlefield. He knew she had more important places to be—he could hear that from the comms.

“Sir! They’re flanking us!” Broadside yelled, and sure enough, a squad of clankers was coming up the other side of the ridge, boxing them in against the steep dropoff beyond the turret.

“Damn,” Bly said. “Alright, we’ve gotta go over the edge. Clankers are worse at covering terrain.”

“Sir?” Broadside said, alarm evident in his voice. “We’ll be totally exposed!”

“I know, but this is our only chance. I’ll try to provide covering fire as long as I can.”

“Sir-”

“That’s an order, soldier!”

Broadside saluted sharply, then pulled his WESTAR M5 from its harness around his back and handed it to Bly. He and his fellow ARC trooper attached their grappling hooks to the base of the turret, lashed themselves to one infantryman each, and started a rapid, precarious descent down the steep face of the ridge.

Bly grabbed the M5 and switched it to burst mode, then unleashed a spray of blaster bolts on the advancing droids, trying his best to draw fire away from the exposed troopers. After a minute or two of concentrated fire, he chanced a look down to check on their progress. Three troopers were dashing back to the safety of the rest of the battalion, while a fourth lay broken at the bottom of the ridge.

“Karking hell,” Bly hissed. He’d lost another one.

A blaster shot singed a glancing blow off the top of his helmet, and Bly put a halt to his self-recriminations. One of the ARC troopers had helpfully left his grappling hook attached, so Bly grabbed it with two gloved hands and barrelled headfirst down the steep incline. He let his momentum carry him, his feet finding their next hold by instinct and sheer luck, and in less than a minute he was at the bottom. His hands tangled in the wire of the grappling hook, and in the split second it took to free himself, a high-powered blaster bolt nailed him right in the ribs, cutting straight through his plastoid armor.

Bly was on the dirt, face up, waiting for death, when a pair of arms grabbed him under the elbows and dragged him away.

“You’re not dying today, sir!”

The chaos of battle sounded around him, but Bly had very little sense of what was going on. Then the unmistakable whirr of a lightsaber cutting through air and metal filled his ears, and he started to believe that he might make it out alive.

The trooper dragged him into a somewhat sheltered alcove, and suddenly Aayla was by his side.

“What happened, Bly?” she demanded, her elegant features hovering tense and fierce across his field of vision.

“Clanker nailed me,” he managed to get out. “Forgot to duck.”

She narrowed her eyes at his attempt at humor, then sliced the chestplate right off him with several expertly-placed cuts of her lightsaber. She let out a sharp hiss at the sight of the wound, and Bly couldn’t bring himself to tilt his chin downwards to look.

The sound of fighting grew near again, but Aayla didn’t seem to notice. She knelt over him and carefully placed both hands just around the searing pain emanating from his ribs and closed her eyes, her breath coming in deeply through her nose. Nothing happened.

For several long moments all Bly could hear was the not-so-distant crackle of blaster fire and the slow, even breaths of his General.

“They’re closing in on our position, sir,” a clone voice called out, and Aayla cursed under her breath.

The hands on Bly’s torso pressed down with slightly more force and Aayla gritted her teeth. He could practically feel the force of her will urging his body to knit together, but nothing happened.

“Why oh why can I never heal when I need to?” she muttered, her accent growing thick with frustration.

The sound of blaster fire drew closer, and the shuffle of nervous clone feet reached Bly’s ears. Expending nearly all of his remaining energy, he forced a hand up to grab Aayla’s wrist.

“Aayla. You told me to tell you when you’re being rash.”

The harshness of her expression held for a moment, then melted into resignation. She looked up to some trooper outside of Bly’s field of vision.

“Broadside, I want a medevac for Commander Bly right now.”

“Yes sir!”

She placed a hand on either side of Bly’s face and pressed her forehead to his, her breath warm and comforting against his face. “Don’t die on me, Bly.”

He muttered something about promising and that he’d be fine, but his vision was already starting to blur. More friendly arms lifted him up and onto a stretcher of some kind, and suddenly he was moving again.

All he could see was the sky above him, fixed and immovable as terrain warped and shifted in his peripherals. His thoughts were muddled and confused, but they always seemed to end up returning to the same fact: he was in love with Aayla Secura.

---

It took four days for Kix to be able to put weight on his legs again.

“It would have been faster if I could spare more bacta,” Dr. Bosc said as she helped him out of bed. “But my resources are limited.”

Having watched her clinic operate the past four days, Kix had to agree. Dr. Bosc was the only medical professional for miles, and she was regularly inundated with patients seeking treatment for a variety of maladies ranging from eye infections to traumatic brain injuries. Kix imagined the unpredictability was also difficult to manage—some days were slower and other days she was entirely overwhelmed.

“I understand, doctor,” Kix said, gripping Dr. Bosc’s forearms firmly to steady himself.

Dr. Bosc gave him a curt nod, then stepped backwards, urging him to test his newly-mended legs. Kix took a tentative step forward, his leg shaking slightly under his weight but ultimately holding firm.

“Looking good there, Kix!” Quiggold called from his seat in the corner, and Kix thanked him with a small smile.

At least one member of the crew had come to visit Kix every day, which he appreciated. It still wasn’t close to approaching the feeling of having his brothers at his back, but Kix was beginning to feel a genuine camaraderie with his crewmates. It was one of the only things about his new life that gave him any measure of comfort.

Dr. Bosc led Kix in several wobbly loops around the clinic, past a Felcuian laid up with a high fever, a Human with a broken leg, and a Weequay woman suffering from dementia. The clinic had really filled up in the past day or two, and Kix had to give it up for the doctor for juggling all her patients with no help.

They passed by Dr. Bosc’s desk, where stacks of paperwork and prescription orders towered, some teetering precariously close to the edge. The only other thing on the desk was an odd sort of T-shaped wooden totem with a chain of connected wooden ornaments dangling off each end.

“Now that I’m mobile I could lend a hand with your clinic, doctor,” Kix said.

Dr. Bosc shot him a contemptuous look out of the corner of her eye. “No, thank you.”

“I’m a medic. I have training. And it looks like you could use the help,” he said, looking pointedly at the desk.

“No,” she said, leaving Kix to balance on his own for a moment to straighten out the stacks most in danger of falling. When she was finished she picked up the totem and placed it in the neatest corner of the desk, careful to keep it safe distance from the edge.

She returned to Kix, and he pursed his lips but said no more. If any of these patients died because their doctor was too stubborn to accept help…

They finished their final loop around the room and Dr. Bosc helped Kix back onto the bed. Kix started to get settled back into his pillows, but Dr. Bosc disappeared into a storage closet and returned with a set of crutches.

“Good job,” she said, handing the crutches over. “You’re discharged.”

Kix held the crutches and blinked up at her in surprise. Surely she wasn’t serious.

“He can barely walk, doc. He can stay another day, can’t he?” Quiggold asked.

“Does this look like a daycare center to you?” Dr. Bosc said, gesturing to her other patients. “I said he could stay until he could walk. He can walk now, so he’s no longer welcome here.”

Quiggold got to his feet. “What is your problem, lady? If you have a problem with Kix, you have a problem with all of us.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dr. Bosc said, her golden-brown eyes flashing in anger.

“It’s ok, Quiggold,” Kix said. Then he turned to the doctor, curious to understand the mystery that had been eating at him since his arrival here. “My friends know what I am because I told them. How do you know what I am?”

Dr. Bosc glared. “Because you look exactly like my father.”

Kix froze, his brain short circuiting. Father. Father. You look exactly like my father.

“What?” said Quiggold.

Kix’s fingers tightened around his crutches, his knuckles turning white. “Your father was a clone soldier?”

“Yes,” Dr. Bosc spat. “So I have firsthand knowledge of the violence and deception hard-coded into your DNA.”

Deception? Violence Kix could understand, but deception?

“Well hey there, that’s uncalled for-” Quiggold started.

“It’s alright,” Kix said, struggling to his feet. “I’ll see myself out.”

Kix hobbled to the exit as fast as his busted limbs would let him. If this woman really was the child of a clone, then she probably had some justifiable grievances. Her father was likely a very limited part of her life, and perhaps he’d been more than simply negligent. But that did not mean that Kix was about to sit here and listen while this woman disparaged millions of his dead brothers.

Quiggold followed after him, lending him a hand once they were out of the clinic and guiding him through the musty town to where the Meson Martinet had landed.

“What was that all about?” he asked. “Is she really the child of a clone?”

“I don’t know,” Kix said shortly. “It’d be a strange thing to lie about.”

“I guess that makes you her uncle.”

Kix leveled a flat look at Quiggold, and he raised his hands in self defense.

“Hey, just an observation!”

Kix entered the cracked-open shell of the Martinet’s living quarters, stubbornly ignoring the ache in his leg though his medical expertise told him he couldn’t afford to.

“Just hand me an arc wrench so we can fix this ship and get off this miserable planet.”

---

“Get back!” Aayla yelled as the blast doors to the control room burst open.

Bly reflexively ducked for cover, knowing better than to hesitate when it came to his General’s orders.

They’d been pushing to take out the Separatist base for days now, and they’d finally reached the control tower where intelligence told them the Separatist general would be. The nearness of their goal only reinforced the need for caution in Bly’s minds—those who led from the back often fortified their positions with the toughest security.

Bly used his viewfinder to sneak a peak over the duracrete barrier he’d claimed for cover, his alarm spiking as he realized why Aayla had warned her men away.

Aayla was locked in heated battle with the bald, malicious Sith assassin, Ventress. The dark Force user was wielding her twin sabers to great effect, and though Aayla was a famed duelist, her skills were clearly being put to the test.

“Hold your ground,” Bly repeated over the comm to his troops. He understood that they all had the same instinct he did to rush to the General’s defense, but Aayla had given Bly very specific instructions should this exact situation arise.

“If I meet another Force user in battle, I want you and the men to steer clear, you understand? Those abilities are above your pay grade and my opponent will not be above using you as sentient shields to get to me.”

Bly understood this in theory—had agreed with her, even—but putting it into practice now was a different matter.

Bly had seen Aayla spar thousands of times, frequently against other Jedi. She was undoubtedly more technically skilled than Ventress. But as Bly kept watch over the duel through his viewfinder, it became clear that Ventress had a ferocity—a raw, hateful power—that the General lacked.

Back pressed against the duracrete, Bly’s fists clenched as he watched the duel progress. He fought the instincts that screamed at him to intervene, to assist, to defend—over all of those urges was the ultimate tenet of obedience.

The duel had moved its way down the hallway and away from the blast doors, and Aayla was now backed up against a wall of transparisteel with nowhere to go. There was a fatigue in her shoulders that Bly knew well, and she didn’t hold firm against Ventress like someone who knew they were going to win. Something snapped in Bly’s mind, and a decision was made.

“Everyone else, continue to hold your ground until I or the General say otherwise,” he said into his comm.

A chorus of “Yessirs,” followed him, and he leapt over the barrier and sprinted towards the duelists. When he was still a good 30 meters away, he pulled out his rifle and aimed carefully. All he needed to do was distract the assassin for a brief moment, enough to give Aayla an opening.

The shrill whine of blaster fire tore through the air as Bly opened fire, squeezing off five shots in rapid succession at Ventress’s back.

Ventress whirled around, dodging and deflecting with sinuous grace. None of Bly’s shots struck true, but that hadn’t been the point. He’d wanted to get her attention, and he’d succeeded.

Behind Ventress, Aayla noticed her opening and lunged, but Ventress was already gone. She was sprinting full-tilt towards Bly, a sneer on her lips and murder in her eyes. Bly kept shooting at her, using his knowledge of Aayla’s movement patterns to predict where the assassin would dodge. One of his bolts singed her arm, but that only enraged her even more.

In an instant she was on him, his blaster tossed to the side and her hand around his throat. Bly resisted the urge to close his eyes, memories of what had happened to Colt passing through his mind. At least it would be quick.

“You dare to attack me?” Ventress hissed, her voice low and smoky.

Her fingers tightened around Bly’s windpipe, squeezing the air from his lungs. Bly summoned up the last of his breath to respond to her.

“Always.”

Ventress’s sneer turned vicious, and her fingers tightened further, completely starving him of oxygen and summoning black spots to his vision.

“Get away from him!”

The fingers around Bly’s throat disappeared and his body crumpled to the ground. Bly’s hazy world tilted sideways, and through his distorted vision Aayla pounced on Ventress with the ferocity of a gundark.

She slashed downward onto Ventress’s head and Ventress lunged sideways to avoid the strike. Then Aayla swung her blade around for a second strike, faster than lightning, this time aimed at Ventress’s midsection. The Sith assassin jerked backwards, but only far enough to avoid a killing blow. The tip of Aayla’s saber dragged a searing slash across Ventress’s torso, and she howled in pain and fury.

Aayla pressed her advantage, moving in on Ventress, but Ventress simply leapt away, switching off her lightsabers and disappearing out a nearby window.

Relief flooded Bly’s cloudy head, and he closed his eyes, letting himself relax. His blessed rest was interrupted when a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Bly? Bly, can you hear me?”

Bly opened his eyes, the beautiful sight of a healthy and whole Aayla Secura greeting him. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then get back to the med tent ASAP.”

“Sir, I can fight-”

“Now, Bly.”

Aayla directed a trooper to help Bly to a medic, and several hours later found Bly waiting in his blacks, still foggy and dazed, in the corner of the med tent along with the rest of the non-critically injured.

The comms told Bly that their operation was over, and not long afterwards Aayla herself marched into the tent, looking tired and angry. She scanned the room, finding Bly quickly and coming to fetch him.

“Debrief in my office. Now,” she said

The harshness of her tone cleared Bly’s cloudy mind, and he jumped to attention, following after her like he always did. They entered the tent that served as Aayla’s office in the field, and as soon as the flap closed behind them, she rounded on him.

“I was very explicit about what to do if I engage an enemy Force user, was I not?”

“You were,” Bly conceded.

“And yet my orders were not heeded.”

“All due respect, sir, I followed your orders until it looked like following them might get you killed.”

“It was a direct order, Bly.”

Anger bubbled up in Bly’s chest, a foreign feeling to him, especially when it came to Aayla. “I made a judgment call! You told me you needed not just a Commander, but a friend. If we’re going to be equals in any way, you need to trust my judgment.”

Aayla took a step towards him, her whole body tilting forward like she was still on the battlefield. “Well I don’t trust your judgment when it puts you in mortal danger!”

“I’m a soldier, Aayla! It’s my job to be in mortal danger!” he said, his voice rasping as his vocal cords reminded him of the abuse they’d been put through today.

Aayla stopped herself from saying more, though she was practically vibrating with anger. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the tactic successfully calming her after several breaths.

Bly eyed her warily, though when she opened her eyes again there was a calm resignation there that assured him their friendship would survive. There was something else in her bearing, though, that gave him pause. Not hostility or anger, but something charged and weighty. It made Bly nervous.

She took another step towards him and lifted her hand to his chest, her fingers not quite touching though Bly could swear he felt the impact. She raised her hand further and pressed her fingers tenderly into the skin of Bly’s neck, and any remaining frustration from their argument was instantly erased.

“Are you alright?”

He swallowed, and he knew she could feel the muscles in his throat constricting under her fingers. “I’ll live.”

“You’d better. Hold still.”

Aayla closed her eyes and hummed in concentration, her entire body calming and entering a state of perfect stillness. The air buzzed with energy, but the flowing, peaceful energy of the ocean rather than the frenetic energy of lightning. Bly had never felt so complete.

Her hands remained on his neck, and under her touch his skin warmed, then the ache gradually lifted, the tenderness melting away.

Bly expected her to step away, but she stayed close, her hand sliding down his neck and landing on his shoulder, one thumb resting along his collarbone.

“I know you’re a soldier, and I know that means you’ll always be in harm’s way,” she said. “But if you died to protect me? If you died because of me? It would kill me, Bly.”

This couldn’t be real. Aayla was so much more than Bly was. She was more powerful, more beautiful, more important. How could he matter so much to her? Bly stared hard at her and shook his head, willing thoughts of kissing her, of loving her, out of his unworthy brain.

“That’s… silly,” he said lamely, not knowing what else to say.

“Why would that be silly?” Aayla asked, her beautiful hazel eyes going wide with confusion. She was still so close to him he could see the subtle shift in color of her irises. He’d never been close enough to anyone besides his brothers to see that before.

Her body leaned further and further into his as he floundered for an answer, his training on Kamino providing absolutely no insight. “I don’t matter that much,” he said eventually. “I’m just… Bly.”

She smiled, the motion crinkling the cerulean skin around her eyes. “Exactly.”

Her nose brushed his, but she didn’t move any further. She just stayed there, breathing the same air as him, teasing, taunting. For several tense, protracted moments Bly resisted. This was definitely not the kind of relationship he was supposed to have with a superior officer. This wasn’t the kind of relationship he was supposed to have with anyone.

Then Bly looked down into Aayla’s eyes again, and the love and affection there overwhelmed him. His brothers loved him, but this was a different kind of love—it was warm and fierce, possessive and generous, selfish and selfless all at the same time. She was so close to him, and she wanted him. Who was he to deny her?

Bly surged forward, catching Aayla’s lips in his. She gasped a little, as if she hadn’t actually believed he would kiss her, but she recovered quickly. She held his face in her hands, her thumbs stroking across the golden tattoos on his cheeks, and her careful, tender kiss made him feel like the only thing that mattered in the galaxy.

It was Bly’s first kiss and he had no idea what he was doing, but he thanked Jango for whatever instincts kept him from making an utter fool of himself. He sensed some uncertainty from Aayla, too, though she was better at hiding it. He decided not to worry too much and to just do what felt good and natural, so he slid his hands down to her waist and pulled her flush against him.

She sighed, the action heaving her chest against his, and he tightened his hold. Aayla slid her hands into his hair and deepened their kiss, her mouth moving against him with greater purpose and intensity.

Even though she was brave and strong and could kill him in a second if she wanted, she felt small and vulnerable in his arms. He wanted to envelope her completely, to protect her and love her and be her place of rest. He wanted to do some other things to her, too, that felt less pure but still mutually desirable.

One of Bly’s hands crept up her waist, his thumb hesitating at the bottom of her ribs, and the other moved to cup the back of her head under her lekku. She moaned and the sinful sound demanded retaliatory action. Bly took several steps forward, backing her into her desk, and he pressed himself against her hard. Her fingers tightened in his hair and her mouth opened, her tongue meeting his.

“General Secura! ARC trooper Broadside here with a status report!” a voice called from just outside the tent.

Bly and Aayla shot away from each other like two identically polarized magnets.

“Come in,” Aayla called, fussily sitting herself behind her desk and trying to distract from the azure blush to her cheeks.

Broadside came in and saluted sharply. “Sir! No more Separatist forces found in the area. Casualties are high and our medical resources insufficient to treat them. Requesting backups from the 361st.”

A slight frown crinkled her beautiful brow. “Of course. Stitches should have requested it even if I’m not there—there’s no need to wait.”

“We’re not allowed to request medical aid without your permission, sir. Stitches was looking for you for a while but couldn’t find you.”

Aayla’s flush deepened and she looked down at her desk, shuffling a few pieces of flimsi around pointlessly. “Well he has my permission now. Dismissed.”

Broadside left the tent and Bly stood awkwardly in the corner while Aayla rested her elbow on her desk, all signs of the happy, eager woman of a few minutes ago gone. Bly knew what she was going to say before she even said it. Hell, he even had to agree with her.

Aayla’s eyes flicked up towards Bly. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

---

The first person to show up to the Martinet looking for Kix had a broken toe.

“I went to see Doc Bosc, but she told me Mrs. Xelaut is having a baby today and to come back tomorrow. It really hurts and I don’t want to wait that long!” the young Tholothian boy said, balancing precariously on his good foot just outside the Martinet’s main port.

Kix showed the kid mercy, letting him inside and finding him a chair. It had been two weeks since their crash landing and the crew was still in full-on rebuild mode, working long hours and getting creative with their supplies to put things back together with limited resources.

“I dunno, kid. I think the good doctor might not like it if I start treating her patients,” Kix said, his hands on his hips.

The boy’s face fell. “I’m not going to stop seeing her. I just need someone to wrap up my foot, and she’s busy right now!”

Kix studied the boy’s hopeful face, trying to weigh out exactly how much trouble he’d cause by lending a hand. Then his eyes fell to the foot the boy kept hovering a few inches off the ground so as not to jostle it. His shoe was off and his big toe was swollen black and blue. Kix’s jaw set. He was a medic, and it was his responsibility to treat the injured, no matter what anyone else said.

“Alright then,” he said, helping the boy to his feet. “Ship’s got a small medbay. I can get a biocast for you and get you some meds that will take the edge off a bit.”

The boy whooped and Kix couldn’t help but smile as he provided a steady arm for the boy to balance with while hopping through the ship. A half hour later and the boy walked out of the ship with a pair of makeshift crutches, a tiny biocast for his toe, and a smile on his face.

Word spread quickly of Kix’s services, and soon locals who couldn’t find a spot at Dr. Bosc’s clinic were showing up to see Kix at the Meson Martinet on a regular basis. Quiggold grumbled and Captain Ithano silently disapproved at first, but they changed their tune once grateful patients and their families started making an extra effort to get them the supplies they needed to fix the ship.

At first it was only one or two people a day, and sometimes nobody at all. Dr. Bosc was an excellent physician, after all, and most of the time she could see her patients as soon as they needed. But then a nasty bout of the flu made its way around town, and soon there were five, ten, fifteen people coming round the ship a day.

Leveraging all of his scrappy field medicine skills, Kix jury-rigged together a tent with some cots and set up a clinic outside the ship. Captain Ithano’s patience was limited, and Kix figured the more he could keep patients from getting underfoot during the repairs, the longer the Captain’s good graces would last.

The flu was a particularly nasty strain, but thankfully as the ship’s doctor Kix had insisted that the whole crew get vaccinated for a wide variety of ailments several months ago, so none of them fell ill. The rest of the town was not so lucky, and soon it seemed every family had been affected one way or another.

By day four of the outbreak, Kix was more tired than he’d been since waking from cryo-sleep. He was constantly inserting IV’s, taking temperatures, changing sheets, getting bedding, and preparing bacta capsules. He was so busy that it took him awhile to realize something strange: he was happy.

Each discharged local felt like a personal victory. The relief writ clear on his patients’ faces when he told them he could help filled, at least partially, the hole inside of Kix that his brothers had left behind. He was in his element, using his skills and expertise to assist those in need.

That newly-discovered happiness deflated when he saw Dr. Bosc marching up to his tent clinic with narrowed eyes and balled-up fists.

“I need to speak with you immediately,” she demanded as soon as she was within hearing distance.

“Certainly,” Kix said, first making sure his patient was comfortable, then leading Dr. Bosc away from the tent where she wouldn’t cause a scene.

“How can I help you, doctor?” Kix asked once they were a reasonable distance away.

“You know exactly why I’m here,” she accused, her tan features taking on a reddish hue.

Now that Kix knew her father was a clone, he could see the resemblance. The lekku were obviously not part of her father’s legacy, but her light brown eyes, thick, dark hair, and the way her mouth set in a wide, flat line all reminded him fiercely of his brothers.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be specific, doctor. I can’t imagine why anyone would be angry at a medic providing medical treatment.”

Dr. Bosc’s eyebrows rose, as if to question the audacity of his statement. Kix had to admit that raising her ire was somewhat satisfying.

“You are stealing my patients. What kind of a person takes advantage of sick people for profit?”

“I don’t charge my patients anything beyond the cost of materials. They are getting my time for free,” Kix said as calmly as he could manage.

“But money isn’t the only problem! These are patients who I’ve developed a rapport with! Patients whose medical histories I know! They’re happy you’re helping them now, but what happens in a month or two, when you’re not here anymore? Did you even think about that?”

“Yes, I did think of that, which is why I offered to help you over a week ago. But you said no. Then what was I supposed to do when people who couldn’t find a spot in your clinic showed up asking me for help? Turn them away? I swore an oath to heal the wounded and restore the weary, and I will not break it just to sooth your wounded ego!”

Dr. Bosc recoiled like he’d physically attacked her. She opened and closed her mouth soundlessly, her expression shifting between rage, guilt, and confusion.

“Maybe when you’ve figured out what you’re actually upset about we can talk,” Kix said.

He turned on his heel and walked away, trying his best to just leave it at that. He didn’t know what this woman’s father had done to her, but it didn’t justify the way she was treating him. It didn’t justify her judgment of all of the clones.

“Wait!” Dr. Bosc called from behind him, but Kix just kept walking.

She caught up to him and blocked his path, arms spread wide. “Just wait a second, ok? I’m sorry.”

Kix raised his eyebrows at her. “Is that so?”

“Yes, you were right. I haven’t been fair to you.”

“Fine,” Kix said, moving to walk past her. “Apology accepted.”

“No, wait, please!” she said, grabbing him by the arm. “I really am sorry, and the truth is… I could really use your help.”

“Really?” Kix said flatly. “Now you want my help?”

Dr. Bosc took a deep breath, then exhaled, her posture relaxing and her expression contrite. “Look, I have a lot of problems with my father, but that’s not your fault, and I apologize for letting it affect the way I treat you. I have resources you could use. Set up your tent outside my clinic, and together both our lives will be easier.”

Kix narrowed his eyes at her, attempting to gauge her sincerity. And even if she was sincere, would they be able to work together peacefully?

“Alright. I’ll move everything tonight,” he said.

He’d treated patients in the middle of open warfare. How hard could it be to get along with one middle-aged doctor?

---

Bly was back to calling her General.

He knew it hurt her feelings, but if he was supposed to forget the way she tasted , the way her body felt pressed up against his, then there was no way he could continue to call her Aayla.

They left the GAR headquarters on Coruscant together late one night, the details of their strategy meeting still buzzing around in Bly’s head. The war wasn’t going well. The GAR had seen some decisive victories recently, but it wasn’t enough, and there was no sign of hostilities ending any time soon.

“I’m shipping out tomorrow, but you should report to the Coruscant Guard in the morning. I agreed to lend you to Commander Stone to help oversee the training of a company of new arrivals from Kamino,” General Secura said as they approached the speeder that would take her back to the Jedi Temple.

Bly stopped in his tracks. “More training, General?”

General Secura turned her head back to Bly, her eyebrow raised. “Is there a problem?”

Bly’s jaw clicked. “No, sir.”

“Good.”

She opened the door to the speeder and slid inside. This was the part where Bly stood on the landing pad and watched while General Secura flew away, then turned back to the GAR headquarters and went to sleep in his tiny bunk in his tiny quarters. This was the part where he obediently listened to orders and did what he was told.

Bly slid into the back of the speeder after General Secura, shutting the door behind him and signalling the driver to depart. The driver shot General Secura a questioning look, and she first looked doubtfully at Bly, then nodded to the driver.

“Got something to say, Commander?” she said.

“You’ve got to put me back on the front lines, sir. It’s where I belong.”

“You’re just as much use to me here, Bly.”

“That’s not true and you know it. Please don’t do this out of some misguided attempt to protect me. This is what I want. This is what I was meant to do.”

A pained expression crossed General Secura’s face. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, and there’s no shame in it. I’m a soldier. I’m good at it. I enjoy it. Let me be what I am.”

“You are an amazing soldier, Bly, and I’ll bring you on this next campaign if that’s what you want. But are you sure… Are you sure you’ll never want anything else?”

The question gave Bly pause. “...I’ve never really thought about it.”

“I think that sometimes we have different purposes at different times in our lives. Maybe now you were meant to be a soldier, but some time in the future you can be something else. Maybe now I am meant to be a Jedi, but some time in the future…”

Bly stared at Aayla like she’d grown an extra head. Was she suggesting she might someday leave the Order?

Aayla shook her head and she rubbed at her temples. “Don’t listen to me, I’m just feeling… out of sorts.”

Bly had noticed. Before their strategy session the General had come from a meeting at the Jedi Temple, and he’d seen the tension in her shoulders and the distant look in her eyes.

“Is… something wrong at the Temple?” he asked tentatively.

General Secura looked sideways at him, her gaze hard and measuring for a moment before she relented. “Not wrong, exactly. I was just coming from the tribunal for Ahsoka Tano.”

“Oh.” Bly had heard about that. The young Jedi he’d first met at Quell had been accused of planting bombs at the Jedi Temple. It seemed unlikely to him, but you never knew. People could surprise you. “What was the result?”

“She was ejected from the Order.”

Bly remained silent. He’d known men who’d died in that blast.

“She wasn’t ejected because we found her guilty. She was ejected in order to stand trial in a GAR court. She hasn’t been found guilty yet,” General Secura clarified.

“I’m sorry. She seemed like a really good kid.”

General Secura sighed. “I don’t know if she did it. Maybe we’ll never know. But if one thing is clear it’s that something isn’t quite right within the Order. And I worry for Ahsoka and the other young Jedi. I worry what they’ll face in the years to come.”

The idea of the Jedi Order being less than perfect was entirely foreign to Bly. The Order was beyond reproach, it was the source of leadership for the entire GAR, the font of their moral authority. That General Secura would confide in him her doubts was both incredibly unsettling and a sign of immense trust.

“Well… You are a part of the Order. So I know it must be good,” he said, his eyes flitting shyly up to meet hers.

She smiled a soft, sad smile and rested her hand atop his on the leather seat between them. “Thank you, Bly. And thank you for… understanding.”

She didn’t elaborate, but Bly knew what she meant. He felt the same way. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for understanding the things that are important to me. Thank you for understanding why we can’t be together. Thank you for understanding me.

“Of course, Aayla.”

---

Dr. Bosc and Kix got used to working together surprisingly quickly. They were both medical professionals used to setting aside the minor problems to focus on the life-threatening ones, and cooperation was an absolute necessity due to the severity of the flu season.

At first Dr. Bosc was constantly checking over Kix’s work, grilling his patients about his bedside manner and double-checking that he’d given the right medication at the right time. It grated on Kix’s patience, but there was no place for ego on the battlefield, and he refused to let his irritation with her harm any of the people coming to the clinic for help.

Kix also felt the urge to be on his best behavior to prove Dr. Bosc wrong about clones. It rankled him that he cared what she thought, but he couldn’t get himself to let it go. It wasn’t fair to have to serve as an ambassador for all of his kind, but then again he was the last living clone. He was quite literally the only representation of who they were left in the galaxy.

Over time Kix’s consistent competence combined with the sheer amount of work to get done meant that Dr. Bosc stopped hovering and gave him more and more freedom to treat his patients as he saw fit. His grudging respect for her grew as well, as he witnessed her medical knowledge and the kindness and compassion she showed to everyone who stepped through her doors. Everyone but him, of course.

After another week of taking temperatures, replacing fluids, and administering medicine, the flu outbreak finally abated and the deluge of patients slowed to a trickle. Kix packed up the tent and temporary cots, but he kept on helping Dr. Bosc at the clinic. Work on the Martinet was progressing slowly, and Kix felt more useful assisting at the clinic than guessing at the right wrench to hand Reveth on the ship.

“Kix, can you get the maternity med unit ready for me?” Dr. Bosc asked one morning not long after the wave of flu patients had ebbed.

Kix looked up from the sterilizer he was using to clean their bio-injectors. “Another one?”

Two women had already delivered at the clinic since Kix had arrived—both Felucians. Kix had been busy with the fever patients at the time so he hadn’t assisted with delivery, but he’d seen the women walk out of the clinic the next day with their tiny, rotund babies.

Dr. Bosc shrugged. “Felucians have a cyclical mating season. And seasonal mating-”

“-means seasonal birthing.”

“Exactly. And I’d appreciate it if you lent a hand on this one since we’re having a slower day.”

“Sure thing,” Kix said, finishing up with the sterilizer and going to get the maternity med unit out of storage.

“I won’t need help with anything too complicated.” Dr. Bosc said when Kix returned. “All you’ll need to do is-”

“Actually I’ve delivered a baby before. She wasn’t Felucian, but my understanding is the process is pretty similar.”

Dr. Bosc’s eyebrows rose. “Really? I didn’t realize you were trained in that sort of thing.”

“We focused on field medicine, yes, but we got a rough overview on everything else, too.”

“And when did you run into a woman in labor on the battlefield?”

Kix gave her a secretive grin. “Oh, it’s a long story.”

Dr. Bosc frowned, but any further questioning was halted by the arrival of the expectant mother, her round eyes wide with fear and her hand clenched tightly against her very pregnant belly.

They got to work, ushering the woman to her bed and giving her painkillers while explaining how the long process would go. Kix had only just gotten her settled when a panicked voice shouted out from the entrance.

“Hey! I’ve got a badly injured kid here!”

Kix and the doctor whirled around and a disheveled man staggered in carrying a young boy in his arms. The boy’s leg had been mangled almost beyond recognition and was covered in blood, his face ashen white as he clutched tightly to the man’s shirt.

“Oh my goodness!” Dr. Bosc rushed over to him and directed him to the nearest bed while Kix ran to get some bacta and a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.

“We were out on the combine when his leg got stuck on one of the beams and…” the man who’d brought the boy in said, choking off into sobs.

Kix grimaced as he tied the tourniquet tight and examined the leg. Some white was visible through the red, and his skin was torn to shreds.

The Felucian mother shrieked from somewhere behind Kix, and he jumped. He’d forgotten her in the rush.

Dr. Bosc put a hand on his shoulder. “You handle the kid. I’ll come over to lend a hand whenever I can.”

“You sure?” Kix asked. She’d been fiercely protective of her most serious cases so far, feeling ultimately responsible as the founder of the clinic.

“Yeah. You’re much better at trauma than me.”

Kix nodded, then turned back to the kid. “Alright. Now we’re going to stop the bleeding, then see what we can do to save the leg. What’s your name, kid?”

The kid was shivering, his eyes wide and his skin clammy with shock. “K...K...Kin.”

“Well that’s almost like my name! I’m Kix,” he said as he set bacta patches on the pieces of skin that wouldn’t need sutures to heal. “You’ve been very brave so far, and I know you can do this, alright? We’ll get through it together.”

“O...Ok.”

By nightfall the boy was resting peacefully in his hospital bed, a bio-cast over the entire length of his leg and a stuffed convor tucked under his arm. A tiny Felucian baby slept in a bassinet in the corner while his mother rested on the med unit. Kix and Dr. Bosc checked one last time to make sure there was nothing more their patients needed, then they both retreated to the storage room and nearly collapsed onto the futon at the back of the room.

“Ugh, what a long day!” Dr. Bosc said, stretching her arms wide and cracking her neck.

“I thought things would get easier after flu season,” Kix said.

“That’s the life we signed up for. At least every day is different.”

Kix’s mouth quirked upwards into a weak smile, and he shrugged his shoulders. “Better than the battlefield.”

Dr. Bosc leaned back in the futon and eyed Kix appraisingly, her stubby lekku fitting just over the backrest. “You’re a good doctor, Kix. Kin would have lost his leg if not for you.”

Kix’s smile grew into a smirk. “I’m a medic, not a doctor.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “That kind of certification only matters on a planet like Coruscant. Out here the only thing that matters is your ability. And by that measure you more than qualify.”

Kix didn’t need her approval. He hadn’t even really wanted it. But there was still something pleasant about knowing that working with him had increased her respect for him. “Thanks, doc.”

Dr. Bosc twisted her hands together nervously, and Kix noticed for the first time the blue shade of the palms of her hands. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to trust you. But I do now. Thank you for helping me.”

Kix laughed and let his head fall back over the top of the backrest. “Well, what else was there to do?”

She chuckled softly, and Kix closed his eyes, a deep fatigue setting into his bones. During the war this was when he would have busted out the stims, but Dr. Bosc didn’t have many of those and he didn’t want to keep them from people who really needed them.

“How are you still alive?” Dr. Bosc asked, the curiosity strong in her voice.”You should be much older. You should be dead.”

“I was in cryo-sleep,” Kix said, stifling a yawn. “From right before the end of the war until a year ago. It’s… a long story.”

“For another night,” Dr. Bosc said, getting to her feet with a groan. “You can sleep here overnight if you want. On the futon.”

“You just want me to take care of the baby when she wakes up in an hour.”

“The thought had crossed my mind…”

Kix wanted to say no. He wanted to get up and walk down the hill to the Martinet and collapse into his tiny bunk. ...But it was so far away.

“...You get first shift,” he said.

“Deal.”

---

Tomorrow might be the last day of Bly’s life.

That was technically true every day, but the possibility felt especially distinct tonight.

Bly looked over the holo displaying the plans for their assault, the blue glow of the projection appearing so benign compared to what it all might mean for him and his men. Each of those dark blips on the holo represented a full company of battle droids, and each battle droid was more than capable of firing the shot that killed any one of his men. But the munitions factory the droids guarded was key to their victory, so tomorrow they’d launch their assault.

“Everyone clear on the plan?” General Windu asked.

Commander Fisk nodded smartly next to Bly. “Yes sir.”

Bly found himself distracted momentarily by his fellow commander, the man who had replaced Ponds. Fisk stood with one arm behind his back, just like Ponds always had, and Bly wondered how much a clone’s Jedi General influenced his personality. He wondered if Fisk felt like just a replacement to the ever-stoic General Windu.

“Bly?” General Secura asked.

“No questions, sir.”

“This is likely to be a long, difficult battle,” General Secura continued. “But our victory will protect the lives of millions of Republic civilians, and help our other GAR battalions, too.”

General Windu nodded his agreement. “We’ve got a tough day ahead of us tomorrow. Rest up. Dismissed!”

Fisk and General Windu left the bunker they used as a portable command center and Bly turned to follow them.

“Hold up a moment,” General Secura said from behind him.

“Sir?”

She was standing behind the holo, the Jedi robes she rarely wore draped loosely around her shoulders to ward against the cold of the frigid planet. Her hands twisted tightly in front of her and she bit her lip. “Tomorrow… could be a bad day.”

She was as radiant as ever, her beautiful azure skin glowing luminescent through the lights of the holo, but there was something heavy and serious about her demeanor.

“Yeah. But… we’re prepared,” Bly said, trying to find some words of comfort.

“We’re as prepared as we can be, yes. But even so, many men won’t live to see tomorrow night.”

Bly set his jaw. “We’ll both do everything we can to save as many lives as possible. That’s what we do.”

Aayla stepped out from behind the holo, wrapping her arms around her midsection. “I know, and I’m not pessimistic. I believe in our men, and I believe in the Force. But there’s something I want to give you before tomorrow.”

“Give me?” Bly asked, confused. He wasn’t really in the habit of owning things.

“Yes. I was waiting for the right time, but considering the dangers, I don’t want to miss my opportunity waiting for the perfect moment.”

She took another step towards Bly, but he stayed put by the door, ready to escape if he needed to. It had never been easy holding back his feelings for Aayla, but lately it’d been getting harder. She’d been closer, more familiar, always aware of him in a way that thrilled and tortured him. But he had to stay strong, for both their sakes.

General Secura noticed his caution, a look of hurt briefly flitting past her face. She stopped with a healthy distance between them, and she forced her hands to her sides .

“As soon as the war is over, I’m going to leave the Jedi Order.”

Bly’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking it over for some time now, and I’ve made my decision. I can’t leave now, not with the Republic and the 327th depending on me, but once the war is over I will renounce my vows.”

“But… why?”

She pulled something from a pocket in her robes and stepped just close enough to reach out and hand him a small wooden cube. He turned the cube in his hand, its smooth surface interrupted by precisely carved designs. Three sides depicted a yellow rectangle, identical in design to the tattoos on his cheeks. The other three sides were painted with diagonal blue stripes.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Among my people there is a tradition. We pass down a wooden totem from mother to daughter, and when a woman gets married she adds a piece to it representing herself and her partner. As a Jedi, I never expected to participate in this tradition, but now that I am leaving the Order…”

Bly froze, his eyes still trained on the wooden block in his hand. The golden-yellow of his tattoos, the deep blue of her skin.

Aayla closed the distance between them, setting her hand on his and closing his fingers around the cube. “When I leave will you go with me? Will you be part of my family?”

The textured sides of the cubes felt sharp and distinct under his hyper-sensitive fingers. It was like watching his own life from above, from the side, from anywhere else. Because how could this be real? How could this be happening to someone like him?

When they had kissed before it had made a strange sort of sense. General Secura was under a tremendous amount of stress, and though she talked tough and didn’t let it affect her command, she’d always had a soft spot for her men. Under those conditions he could understand her momentarily forgetting herself and misplacing her emotions onto him.

But this? Taking the time to carefully consider and then choosing him?

“I don’t understand,” he said, the understatement of the century.

Her head tilted to the side and her eyes softened as she stepped even closer to him, resting a hand on his cheek. “Oh, Bly. Why should it be so hard to believe that I love you?”

He melted at her touch, all of his defenses instantly neutralized. He closed his eyes and turned his cheek into her palm, the hand that wasn’t holding the wooden cube coming up to rest on the back of her hand. Still, he could not speak.

“You’re the best man I’ve ever met, Bly,” she said, her voice now a whisper, “And I would be honored to spend the rest of my days with you.”

A decade of training on Kamino, thousands of meetings about discipline and regulations, even the very structure of his DNA weighed against him, holding him back, pulling him down. Then he opened his eyes and looked into her powerful, fierce, compassionate, beloved face, and he found the strength to speak.

“Yes!” He gasped. “Yes, I want that. I want you. Aayla Secura.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight, a feeling of breathtaking, unbelievable joy taking hold. His cheek rested on her lekku, and her fingers anchored into the lines of his back.

“When the war is over, we leave together,” Aayla said, nuzzling gently into his neck. “No matter what anyone says.”

“Together,” Bly agreed.

---

It took two months, some elbow grease, and a lot of creative use of scrap, but eventually repairs on the Meson Martinet were finished.

Quiggold insisted on a going-away party, both to celebrate the Martinet’s repairs and to thank the locals who had generously lent a hand. Reveth and Captain Ithano were against it, but Reeg was excited for any excuse to drink and Kix thought it might be nice to spend one last evening with Dr. Bosc, so the three of them outvoted the rest.

A generous spread of grilled fungi, nysillim soup, and other local delicacies filled up the small counter space in the ship’s mess, and the crew crowded around the table with Dr. Bosc, several local scrappers, and a farmer Reeg had grown close to. It was the Martinet’s way of saying farewell to the town they’d called home for two months.

The conversation was friendly and the food comforting, and Kix found himself relaxing, his mind called back to similar camaraderie in the mess hall and simpler times.

“And then Reeg came home with a power converter he bought off a Jawa, and he was surprised it didn’t work!” Reveth said, crowing with laughter.

“That power converter did work. It’s not my fault you broke it!” Reeg protested.

“Back me up here, Kix,” Reveth said.

Kix leaned back and laughed, feeling light hearted for the first time in what felt like ages. “It was busted from the beginning and you know it, Reeg.”

“Don’t listen to him, the hole in his head has turned his brain to mush!” Reeg said, his eyes glowing the particularly vibrant yellow that always accompanied an Arcona who was well in his cups.

Kix gave Reeg a mostly playful shove. He didn’t mind some good-natured ribbing, but Reeg’s joke hit too close to topics Kix would rather leave alone.

“I noticed that incision, Kix. What happened there?” Dr. Bosc asked curiously between sips of wine.

Kix grimaced. He’d thought his hair had grown back enough to cover it up, but he supposed it was inevitable that a trained eye like Dr. Bosc would pick up on it.

“Just a minor procedure. Not a big deal,” Kix said, eyes trained on the wall across from him.

“Not a big deal?” scoffed Reeg. “I’d say removing a mind control chip in your brain is a pretty big deal!”

“What?” Dr. Bosc asked, alarmed.

“Really, Reeg. Cut it out,” Kix warned.

The table fell silent, and Kix looked down at his plate and unenthusiastically pushed his fungus steak around. Out of the corner of his eye Dr. Bosc kept shooting him worried looks, like he might break out into a violent rage at any moment. Great. And I was just finally getting her to trust me.

“Doc, there’s really nothing to worry about,” Reeg said, noticing Dr. Bosc’s disquiet. “Good ol' Palpatine had a finger in every clone’s brain, but Kix figured out how he was doing it and had the chip removed.”

“I don’t know what you’re-” Dr. Bosc started.

“Got them to do all sorts of things they wouldn’t have done otherwise. How else do you think the Republic got every clone to summarily execute the Jedi without so much as a hearing?”

Kix’s grip on his fork tightened, whitening his knuckles. He really did not want to talk about this. The clatter of metal on ceramic echoed around the mess, and Kix looked up. Dr. Bosc had dropped her fork, and she looked about two seconds from throwing up.

“Doc, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Reeg said.

“Would you shut up already? Haven’t you done enough?” Reveth hissed.

Dr. Bosc shot to her feet, face sickly pale and eyes wide, and fled from the table without so much as a goodbye. Kix stared after her for a long moment, completely at a loss as to what to do.

The rest of the table fell silent and Kix swallowed, turning back to his plate. He started to take another bite of his fungus steak, but a cough from Captain Ithano forced his gaze upwards. The Captain was lounging comfortably in his chair, but his arms were crossed and his masked head tilted sideways. He caught Kix’s eye and jerked his head towards the door. Kix got up and started out the door after the doctor. The Captain wasn’t the kind of person you said no to.

Outside the ship, Felucia’s legendary night sky painted the heavens. It was a little cold, and Kix rubbed at his arms as he followed Dr. Bosc to a small clearing not far from the ship. She stood in the middle of the clearing, looking up at the sky with an oddly blank expression on her face.

“Hey, Dr. Bosc, I can leave if you want, but I wanted to make sure you’re ok-”

“Is it true, what Reeg said?”

“Is what true?”

“That there was some sort of mind control involved in the execution of the Jedi Order?”

Kix shifted from one foot to the other, unconsciously scratching at the still-puffy scar above his ear. “Yeah. I was in cryo-sleep when it happened, but I found out about it beforehand. I wanted to warn the others, but the enemy learned I knew and captured me. As far as I can tell, none of my brothers had any ability to resist when the order came through.”

Dr. Bosc stayed turned away from Kix, her oval face tilted up at the full moon. Kix maintained a respectful distance between them, though the shimmering reflection of moonlight on Dr. Bosc’s cheeks suggested she might be in need of comfort.

“Do you know why I hated you at first?” Dr. Bosc asked eventually, her voice cracking slightly on the words.

What did she mean? Kix had thought it was because her father had treated her poorly. “I’m… not sure.”

“My mother was a Jedi General, and my father was her second-in-command. When they sent me to my uncle and aunt, they said that they loved me, that they loved each other. But only a few months later when the Republic accused the Jedi of treason, my father killed my mother. Shot her in the back without a second thought.”

Kix’s heart stopped, and he stared at Dr. Bosc as if seeing her for the first time. Her stubby lekku extended just beyond her blue, curly hair. The palms of her hands were tinged with color like she’d been writing with a leaky indigo pen. She was tall and elegant, her doctor’s hands moving with a warrior’s grace.

“I came here to Felucia because this is where it happened,” Dr. Bosc continued. “I don’t really know why. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, or maybe I just wanted to understand why it happened. But now, maybe I finally have an answer.”

“Your father didn’t willingly kill your mother. That I can promise you.”

“That’s what I’d like to think, hearing what Reeg said about the chip in your brain. But I don’t think I’ll ever really know. How can I know what he was thinking?”

“Is your first name Ayy?”

She froze. “How did you know that?”

“Wait here,” Kix said, then he rushed back to his bunk on the Martinet, locating the crate of personal effects he had stowed underneath it. He rummaged around, then found what he was looking for at the bottom of his crate.

He turned around only to find Dr. Bosc waiting in the doorway to the crew quarters. Kix walked over to her and handed her the object, placing it carefully in her hands. She opened her fingers slowly, revealing a small wooden cube with yellow rectangles on three sides and blue stripes on the other three sides.

“There’s something I should tell you,” Kix said.

---

Bly thanked the Force and whatever gods there were that he was there when Aayla collapsed.

“Ahhh!” she moaned on the hard durasteel floor of her office on the Venator, her hand grasping at her abdomen.

“What is it?” Bly asked, alarmed. Aayla was tough, and he’d seen her take blaster fire to the back without flinching.

“I’ve been having these pains all day, but I took some stims and painkillers and brushed it off. But now- Ahhh!” she cut off with a sharp cry.

“Aayla? Aayla??” Bly crouched down by her side, unable to get her to her feet. She clutched tightly to his arm.

“Find a medic, please,” she said between gasps.

Bly rushed out of the office, and blessedly one of the first men he saw walking the halls had the red medic cross on his arm.

“Medic! Yes, you there! I need assistance immediately!”

Judging by his blue painted armor, he was one of the medics on loan from the 501st for training. If anything that might be for the best—Bly preferred as few troopers as possible see their General in her weakened state.

“What’s your designation?” Bly asked as he punched in the code to get back into Aayla’s office.

“CT-6116. Kix, sir.”

The door whooshed open and Bly and Kix rushed to Aayla’s side.

“What happened?” Kix asked.

“I don’t know…” Aayla said through gritted teeth. “My stomach… hurts.”

Kix pulled off his helmet and set it on the ground, a grim expression on his face.

“Could be appendicitis. Let’s get her to the medbay-”

“No!” Aayla said. “No… Just… Find out what’s wrong first. Here.”

Bly shot Aayla a confused look, but she just shook her head. Not now.

“If you say so, sir. Commander, help me get her onto the couch.”

Together they lifted Aayla onto the couch in the corner of the office, and Kix stuffed a few pillows under her shoulders to keep her head elevated. Kix knelt by Aayla’s side and began asking her a series of rapid-fire questions and Aayla answered as best she could between gasps and moans of pain. Bly hovered uselessly overhead, shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to the other.

“Commander, would you go to the medbay and bring me a portable med unit?” Kix asked.

“Right away,” Bly said, understanding that Kix was probably just trying to get rid of him but wanting to be useful all the same.

When he came back with the med unit, the door to Aayla’s office was shut and locked. He knocked on it, and Kix opened it only long enough to pull the med unit inside. When Bly tried to walk in after him, Kix shook his head.

“It’ll be just me and the General here for a bit, Commander.”

“You can’t order me-”

“General’s orders, sir.”

The door shut in front of Bly’s face, and he blinked uncomprehendingly at it for a long moment before going to his desk and sitting down. The longest thirty minutes of Bly’s life passed and Kix opened the door and motioned for Bly to come in. Aayla lay in the med unit, hooked up to various sensors and drips, but looking much calmer and at peace.

“So do you know what’s wrong? Will she be alright?” Bly asked.

Kix nodded to Aayla. “She can probably answer that better than me, sir.”

Aayla opened her eyes and reached a hand out towards Bly. He shot a sideways glance at Kix, but took her hand in his.

“Bly,” Aayla said, her eyes full of a strange mixture of fear and delight. “I’m in labor.”

Bly’s brain stuttered to a halt. In labor? Aayla? Aayla kept talking in front of him, but he heard her words as if through water. Did this mean she was about to become a mother? Did this mean he was about to become a father?

“Bly! I need you to focus!” Aayla’s sharp voice cut through the haze.

“Yes sir!” Bly barked.

Aayla let out a weak chuckle and squeezed Bly’s hand. “I know this is strange, but we have to figure this out. We won’t have much time if we want her to have a good life.”

“Her?” Bly asked.

Aayla nodded towards the medic. “Kix says It’s a girl.”

“How have you been pregnant this whole time, and nobody ever noticed?” Bly asked.

“I suspected... But I was so busy, and it seemed impossible…” Aayla said.

“It helped that Twi’leks bear smaller children, and on top of that this one’s premature. It’s still pretty surprising that nobody realized, though. We can only hope that the child will be healthy,” Kix said.

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Bly that his child might be in danger, but as soon as the words left Kix’s mouth a fear he’d never before experienced took hold of his heart. How strange, that a being he hadn’t even known existed mere minutes earlier had such power over him already.

“I’m about to get to the hard part. I want you here with me,” Aayla said, her fingers tightening around Bly’s.

“Of course,” Bly said, kneeling by her side.

“The silver lining of such a premature birth is that labor will probably be relatively easy,” Kix said, moving down to Aayla’s feet and helping her get into position. “That being said, a lot can go wrong, and the General has requested that we bring no other medics in unless absolutely necessary. Be ready for anything.”

Bly held Aayla’s hand and offered her encouraging words while the 501st medic coached her through her pushes. He felt powerless to offer any real assistance, but Aayla seemed to take comfort in his presence, so he tried not to let his feelings of inadequacy show. Aayla was beautiful and fierce, her warrior spirit showing through in spite of the sweat and blood and roars of effort.

When the child finally came, Kix wiped the mess of childbirth off and handed her to Aayla, her tiny pale form shaking from the shock of her grand entrance into a new world.

She was gorgeous. She had wispy, blueish hair and tiny lekku nubs on the back of her head, and her delicate hands faded in color from a pale tan to a greyish blue. She cried and cried, but to Bly they were the miraculous sounds of a brand new body working, and he’d never heard something so melodious in his life.

“She’s so small…” Aayla whispered. “And pale.”

“She’s quite a bit smaller than the average Twi’lek newborn, but her vitals are good,” Kix said. “And newborns are always born looking pretty pale. She’ll get her color soon enough.”

Aayla held the little girl out to Bly, and he took her delicately in his hands, handling her like a live grenade about to explode. Her tiny face scrunched up and her cloudy grey eyes blinked open and closed as she turned her meandering gaze on the room, her eyes never quite focusing on anything. Bly held a finger out to her, and her tiny digits wrapped around his index finger, her grip surprisingly strong. Bly’s heart rose to his throat, and he didn’t know what to say.

“She’s perfect,” he choked out eventually, handing her back to Aayla.

Tears were coursing down Aayla’s cheeks. “She is,” Aayla said. And for five perfect minutes, they simply basked in that fact.

The little girl’s crying stopped, and she blindly snuggled into Aayla’s chest. Aayla looked up at Bly, the tears of joy in her eyes turning cold and full of regret. “And now we have to find a way to keep her safe.”

“She doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger, but this ship doesn’t really have the facilities to care for a premature newborn,” Kix said.

“And if anyone finds out where she came from, I’d be decommissioned, you’d be kicked from the Order, and who knows what would happen to her,” Bly said.

“I have family on Hosnian Prime who will take her in,” Aayla said, arms cradling her child even as they talked about sending her away. “I can issue the order to Kix now, give him whatever authorization he needs. I’ll send them word and ask that they watch over her until the war is over.”

“Until the war is over…” Bly repeated. He’d only just met this child, but he might not see her again until the end of this seemingly endless war.

Aayla hugged the child to her tightly, and she started to cry a tiny, mewling cry.

“We don’t have any other choice,” Aayla said.

“I know,” Bly said, resting his hand on Aayla’s shoulder. “But… we should enjoy what little time we have with her now. What should we name her?”

Aayla held the little girl out in front of her, careful to support her neck, and looked into her adorable, slightly-smooshed face. “How about Ayy? It means star.”

Bly smiled. “I love it.”

They had thirty minutes with her. That was all. Then they handed her to Kix, who’d made a makeshift bassinet for her that he could use to transport her without drawing too many questions. Kix left them in Aayla’s study, and Bly held Aayla as she lay crying in her med unit until she fell asleep.

He knew it was for the best, but it felt wrong on a deep, visceral level to be sending their child out there into the universe without anything to help guide her way. If Bly had held any reservations about leaving the GAR after the end of the war before, those reservations vanished with the birth of his child. Anything that kept him from being in his daughter’s life was not worth the sacrifice.

An idea occurred to Bly and he jumped up from the med unit, kissing Aayla on the forehead and murmuring to her that he’d be right back before leaving the office. He jogged down the halls of the Venator to the shuttle bay, where he knew Kix would be headed with the baby to catch the first available flight off the ship. Hopefully Bly would be able to catch him in time.

Kix was already halfway up the gangplank to the shuttle when Bly found him.

“Hey, Kix! Wait up!”

Kix looked back, his hands still carrying the piece of cargo that looked like a simple crate but actually held Bly’s newborn child.

“Yes sir?” he asked.

Bly fished around in his utility belt for something, an object he kept with him at all times. It would be hard to see it go, but he wanted Ayy to have some piece of her parents to keep with her, so she’d always know that they loved her. He found the small wooden cube and placed it in Kix’s hand.

“Will you give this to her? Or to her caretakers, to give to her?”

“I’ll see to it personally, sir,” Kix said.

He knew it wasn’t a good idea. It would look strange to anyone watching, and might bring up questions. But Bly didn’t care. He knelt down next to the crate Kix was carrying and set his hand on it, leaning forward to rest his forehead against its cold metal surface.

“Know that you’ll always be loved, Ayy.”

---

“After I left General Secura and Commander Bly, I went straight to your aunt and uncle on Hosnian Prime. They took you but they wouldn’t let you keep the cube. They said that to other Twi’leks, it would be obvious what it meant. It would be too incriminating,” Kix said, sitting next to Ayy on his narrow bunk aboard the Martinet.

She fingered the cube in her hand, silently studying its painted surface. It had rested, untouched, in the vacuum of space for most of its existence, so it didn’t show any of its fifty years’ wear.

“They were right. This was definitely meant for my mother’s kalikori,” she said.

“Kalikori?”

“You know, the figure on my desk? It’s a wooden totem that Twi’lek families keep. A sort of genealogical record.”

“Ah,” Kix said, remembering. “Well I’m glad I could finally return it to you. I’m sorry it took so long.”

Ayy’s fingers curled around the cube, and her expression hardened. “Brain chip or no, if he loved us how could he have killed her?”

Kix pursed his lips. This was the hard part. How could anyone who hadn’t experienced Order 66 themselves truly understand? How could Ayy come to know the intentions of her long-dead father’s heart?

“You know that we were manufactured, right?” he said eventually.

“Yes… On a planet called Kamino.”

“That’s right. The Kaminoans created us to be the perfect soldiers. They tweaked our DNA, gave us specialized training, and even included a sort of failsafe. A chip in our brains that, when called on, could override our individual agency and force us to follow certain commands.

“I’ve read accounts from fellow troopers who were part of the destruction of the Jedi Order. It was an impulse that was impossible to overpower, completely inescapable. And afterwards, most troopers didn’t even realize what they’d done. Only a very few were able to break free, years later.

“I know it might be hard to believe but… I don’t want you to have to go through life believing your father willingly killed your mother. None of us had a choice. None of us ever had a choice, really.”

The sound of laughter coming from the mess of the Martinet penetrated their quiet bubble, and Ayy closed her fingers around the small cube and shut her eyes. She bowed her head, and for a moment Kix wondered if she was meditating, or praying, or somehow trying to commune with her departed parents. He wondered if it was working.

“Did you keep the chip after you had it removed?” she asked eventually, eyes still closed.

“Yes, in storage in the medbay. You can examine it, if you like.”

“I would like that.”

She leaned back against the cold metal wall of the ship and folded her arms, her eyes distant and contemplative.

“What were my parents like?” she asked. “My uncle and aunt didn’t really know my mother very well, and they didn’t know anything about Commander Bly.”

“I didn’t know them as well as I knew the people in my battalion, but from what I saw, General Secura was very disciplined and dedicated to the Jedi Order. She understood the sacrifices required of war, and prioritized the mission over individuals, including herself. Bly was the same, and he was also extremely loyal to General Secura. To be honest, I was shocked that they were involved. They were alike in a lot of ways—the last two people I would have suspected of breaking any rules for personal reasons.”

“Really?” Ayy asked, eyes alight with curiosity.

“Yeah. When I was helping with your delivery, and I realized that Bly was the father?” Kix shook his head at the memory. “Well I guess it’s just a testament to how much they loved each other.”

“Perhaps....”

She held the cube up to her face, examining it carefully with her golden-brown eyes. It was amazing how much things could change. He’d seen her as a brand new infant, only minutes old, with eyes a cloudy grey and skull still soft and malleable. There was something gratifying about having seen her then and now witnessing the woman she had become.

“Why is your name Bosc?” Kix asked. “If you’d gone by Secura I would have realized much sooner who you are.”

“My uncle and aunt’s cover story for me was that I was a distant cousin. They were trying to protect my mother, trying to prevent anyone from realizing who she was. And then after she died they heard rumors that the Empire was hunting down anyone related to the Jedi, so they kept it a secret.”

“And they were the ones who told you about your mother and father?”

“They heard about her death, but it wasn’t until later that they found out it was my father who’d pulled the trigger. When I was older, I looked up his service record. I thought I might find something to help me understand. Or I thought I might find that there was a mistake—that it was someone else who’d actually killed her.”

“Did it help?” Kix asked.

“Not really. He was a model soldier, even more decorated after the fall of the Republic than before...” she trailed off, her eyes going distant as she stared into the wall opposite Kix’s bunk.

Then her brows furrowed, and she grabbed Kix’s arm in a vice like grip. “You know what he did after the war?”

“...What?” Kix asked.

“‘Above and beyond the call of duty,’ it said. ‘Exceptional bravery,’ it said. He was killed in combat not very long after my mother, rushing an enemy’s fortified position without backup.”

A terrible sense of dread built in Kix’s chest as he realized what Ayy was suggesting, what his brother might have been driven to by the dissonance between the screaming of his heart and the chip in his brain.

“The man I knew wouldn’t have been able to stomach how the war ended, even if his mind wasn’t his own,” he admitted, his gut tying in a knot of mourning that resurfaced any time he stopped working long enough to think about his lost brothers.

Ayy’s grip on Kix’s arm tightened until her nails dug into his skin, and her jaw clenched and unclenched as an understanding of who her father was and what he had done slowly dawned on her. She bit her lip, and a single tear slid down the bridge of her nose—a strong, arched nose that could have been copied right off her father’s face. Kix thought of how the older cadets had comforted him each time he’d failed in training, and he reached the arm she wasn’t holding over to her and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

The dam broke, and Ayy collapsed onto Kix’s shoulder, her sobs quiet but powerful. The physicality of it all was unfamiliar to Kix, but he wrapped his arms around her and held on tight, hoping that his simple proximity might help in some measure.

As his brother’s daughter cried in his arms, Kix noticed something strange. The knot in his stomach, the twisted coil of sorrow and regret and thousands of lost faces, slowly began to ease. The coils loosened and some pieces even slipped free, and he realized that Ayy Secura was perhaps the only person left in the galaxy who might mourn as deeply as he for his lost brothers.

“It’s not fair,” Ayy said, her voice hoarse from her tears.

Kix nearly barked in gruesome laughter at how well she’d summed up the past several years of his waking life. “No, it’s not.”

He pulled back from her, holding her shoulders so she could look him in the eye. “But they have some small scrap of justice, now. Something I think would make them happy.”

“What?” Ayy asked, wiping at her eyes and looking to Kix for guidance as if she wasn’t almost thirty years’ his senior.

“You know that they both loved you. You know where you come from.”

The corner of Ayy’s mouth turned up into a smirk that Kix had seen a thousand times on the faces of his brothers, though the skin of her lips had a distinct blue tinge to it.

“In the GAR we used to always say we were brothers. Same heart, same blood. You’re part of that brotherhood now, Ayy. So long as you want to be. Always.”

Ayy’s smirk turned into a full blown smile, and she wiped at her eyes again. “I’m glad your ship blew up over my planet.”

Kix laughed, though the more he thought about it he had to agree with her. Before coming to Felucia he’d begun to doubt that there was anything of importance left for him to do in the galaxy. Now he realized his brothers had left behind a great work for him to continue, and a legacy to protect.

That night he walked Ayy back to the clinic, and they talked about everything Kix remembered about Bly and Aayla as they strolled through the humid night air. When Kix ran out of things specific to her parents, he told her about the GAR, about his brothers and the Jedi who commanded them, about their camaraderie, skill, and passion.

When they reached the clinic, Kix lingered a long while. He didn’t know how good his odds of coming back to Felucia were, and it was hard to say goodbye to the person who felt like the last vestiges of his old life in the galaxy. In the end he didn’t have to say goodbye, because Ayy invited him in to help her with something important.

Kix followed Ayy to the corner of the clinic, unsure what to expect, but Ayy’s intentions became clear when she reached for the kalikori still standing watch from her desk. She pulled the wooden cube Kix had given her out of her pocket, and skillfully inserted it into an empty link in the chain of one branch.

“I used to have a fake one here, for the people who were supposed to be my parents,” Ayy explained as she worked. “But once I decided nobody cared who I was I took it out. It felt wrong.”

She stepped back and revealed the updated kalikori, the blue-and-yellow cube hanging between an intricately carved unpainted block and another block below it with symbols Kix recognized as both traditionally Twi’lek and Human. The kalikori was complete, the gap in her family tree filled.

“Thank you, Kix. I hope our paths cross again,” Ayy said.

“Me too.”

The next day as Felucia disappeared in the rear window of the Meson Martinet, Kix’s thoughts turned to the future for the first time since he’d awoken. He was ready to move forward now, doing what he always did. Healing.

Epilogue

Kix hadn’t meant to join another army, but somehow or other his wanderings brought him into the Resistance. He no longer fought, instead spending his days in the Resistance base’s medbay on D’Qar treating freedom fighters and researching improved procedures for restoration.

He never found out how she found his holonet address, but one day he received a message from a far-away friend on Felucia.

Dear Kix,

I realize that I never apologized for how I treated you, and I’d like to do so now. You’ve made my family whole. You’ve helped me be proud of myself and where I came from—both halves. In many ways you’ve given me back my parents. I wish you well in all you do, and know that you will always have a place here if your journey ever takes you back to Felucia. I am proud to have an uncle like you.

With my whole heart,

Ayy Secura

#swsecretsanta2020 #star wars #the clone wars #fanfic #tcw #kix #blyla #aayla secura #commander bly #holy crap this is a long one-shot #i honestly love this story so i hope you love it too

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scenariosofkonoha · 4 years ago

Text

For the Country| Tobirama- Arranged Marriage AU

Part 7/15

Part 1| ... | Part 8

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3k

Chapter Summary: Kagami and Tobirama go to the market and Kagami takes about y/n’s role in the Uchiha clan. Tobirama goes on to talk to y/n about taking Kagami for his team, but this is met with hesitation. Things get spicy after this chapter lol jk i forgot i added a fluff chapter in between this one and the spicy one

***

“Why are you so insistent on finding an orange?” Tobirama inquired as he looked down to the child who was pacing along his side, a child who was truthfully leading the way down the market trail.

“Because,” Kagami started as he tightened his grip on the basket that was already filled with various vegetables. “It’s for y/n. For training me with my eyes. She really likes them but they’re hard to find around here, you know?” he replied as he lifted his chin above the produce to better see his elder.

“But why are you giving her a gift for training you? Most students don’t.”

Kagami gave a small frown, confusion overcoming his expression. “‘Cause she didn’t have to?” He offered, uncertainty weighing down his voice. “You know she’s got a lot going on with you and the hospital and the village and the clan and everything else,” he listed off the various dealings she seemed to have a hand in. “She didn’t have to train me, but she is, so the least I can do is buy her an orange.”

Tobirama nodded. For as ornery as Kagami could be, there were times like this where he seemed much more mature than he should be. Putting his hands in his pockets as they continued down the street, Tobirama continued to ask his questions. “And how’s that going? Training?”

It was then that any uncertainty Kagami had been harboring vanished. With a squinty eyed smile, the young Uchiha gleamed. “Really good. She’s always been a good teacher, and her Sharingan’s strong- Madara trained her after all. Besides just being my sister, there was a reason I wanted her to train me.”

“What?” Tobirama frowned, confusion flooding in. She had never mentioned anything of her Sharingan, or her training. Up until recently, he had only seen it activated a handful of times, all of which occurred during a mission before their marriage. The only uptick in instances of its appearance was due to her training of Kagami. Narrowing his eyes, Tobirama prodded at the comment. “She never mentioned that she was trained by Madara?”

Kagami stitched his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?” he asked before offering clarifying information. “She was always Madara’s favorite when she was growing up. He trained her and our older brother, but he always said she was the most likely to survive. When she got older, she kinda shifted away from him, because he’s just… you know…?” Kagami failed to find the right word, but looked to Tobirama like he knew. “But she’s just not like that, and she ended up acting like a mediator for a lot of stuff.” Kagami shrugged as he admitted to information he thought his sister had already given.

Tobirama was silent for a moment as he tried to process the information that had just been given to him. From what he had gathered over the nearly two years that all this had started, she always made her relationship with the clan leader seem as if it were nothing more than that: a superior and a subordinate. The fact that Madara and her used to be closer wasn’t fitting within the structure Tobirama had built within his head.

Immediately reading into this silence, Kagami quickly threw in an additional tidbit to help placate his words. “Now they just kinda fight at meetings.” he added, turning his body to help project his words. “Uncle’s super strict and likes things the old way, but she tries to be flexible with us and the village, and it’s messy. She always stands up for the younger members at the meeting and how things are moving in the future. Most elders in the clan won’t listen to us, but they listen to her…” Kagami offered another truth that he probably shouldn’t have shared.

Diverting his gaze from the Senju, Kagami’s voice was quieter. “She’s done a lot for us… I’m sure you and the rest of the village would hate us even more than you already do if she hadn’t done the things she has…”

The sharpness left Tobirama’s face for a moment as he saw the child speak more as an adult. There was almost a sense of guilt pooling within him as he came to know that even Kagami knew of his distrust. But more than the guilt of that, there was the alarming amount of sense that came into the many facets of his wife. That was why she was always so insistent on going to clan meetings. Even if she did not legally carry their name anymore, she went to fight and argue with the elders of her clan for within her generation and the following. From the sounds of it too, if she hadn’t been there, things would probably have been much different, but to what extent, Tobirama probably would never know.

Knowing he should probably offer some support to the child, particularly because he mentioned him specifically, Tobirama tried. “Kagami…”

But his attempt was stopped by the very piece of fruit that started all of this. Acting as if nothing had just happened, Kagami diverted the conversation as he crossed over the street to the vendor. “Look! I found one!” Kagami perked up with a small laugh, ignoring any sense of pity that Tobirama would have given him.

Must have been a sibling trait…

***

Gingerly placing a blanket over the pile of sleeping souls, the Uchiha was helpless to the smile that was across her demeanor.

“How hard do you train someone so that they fall asleep on the floor?” Tobirama questioned, something that was almost resembling a joke, but there was a real inquiry in it.

Stepping away from Kagami and the two cats that were cuddled alongside him, she looked over to her husband. “Oh, nothing he can’t handle.” she offered as she walked into the kitchen, joining Tobirama. “Besides, sleeping like a rock has always just been one of his quirks.” she admitted, her smile still present.

Tobirama nodded as they both sat down at the small table and poured tea.

Cupping the drink in her hands and pulling it in, she gave a shrug as she mused. “I’ve questioned if it’s just a trait of being a child of a village. You don’t need to be on constant alert, so you get to sleep without worry.”

“He was born before the village formation though?”

“True, but kids his age don’t remember any of it.” she corrected. “And I’m glad he can hardly remember a time before the village...” she admitted, her voice softer this time. “He’s so kind and unburdened by the past that he can actually see a future…” she spoke, more to herself than to him, but the words were still there for him to hear.

Sitting in the darkened room, Tobirama was halted by her comment, a heaviness weighing it down. There was that same despair he had seen earlier in the day, a despair that Tobirama had never really felt.

Biting down on her lip, she looked down to her cup before matching Tobirama’s gaze. Inhaling as if the words hurt her, she tried not to show the weakness within her. “I know when you think of our family, your mind goes directly to Madara and Izuna, but…” she trailed, her eyes quickly darting to the mass of blankets in the room next to theirs before continuing. “There are ones like Kagami, and please don’t let them limit him…” she spoke, her voice close to a beg.

Setting his cup down, Tobirama exhaled, not sure how the next moments were going to go. “I wanted to talk to you about that. About Kagami.” he replied, constantly analyzing her behavior to try and predict her reactions.

A small frown came upon her face as she filled with concern. “Yes?”

Tobirama had thought of this for a while, but particularly in the month that Kagami had lived with them, time where Tobirama had been able to see Kagami train and succeed. Tobirama knew what he wanted, he just needed permission. “Hashirama is insisting I have a team that I train from genin on up. ” he started, his voice strong as he were voicing a proposal to the village.

“I’m listening, but I don’t like where this is going.”

This was about how Tobirama expected this to start out. “Y/n. I want him as a student. I think he’s capable and he listens and he has potential.” Tobirama admitted, offering compliments that normally wouldn’t be given. “Potential that’s unique, and can be cultivated for what this village will need.”

Shaking her head, she denied any of it. “No, Tobirama. He’s still a child.” she was firm. “And he’s got at least another year in the Academy before he can even attempt the genin examination.”

“But he doesn’t need it; he could pass that test right now.” Tobirama refuted. “He’s already ahead of all his peers and most of the year above him. And with you training him with the Sharingan, that puts him even further ahead of the others in the Academy. It would be a disservice to him to keep him in there.” he continued his counter. “You would be limiting him.”

Placing her cup down and folding her hands on the table, she continued her defense. “He’s a child, and we don’t need child soldiers anymore…” she insisted. “Stop trying to take away his childhood.”

Tobirama sighed. “Those aren’t my intentions, but I’m being realistic. We’re going to be in a war probably within the next 5 to 10 years with how tensions are rising with the other villages. That gives us time to train the young ones now, so they don’t have to go out as child soldiers like we did.” he said, his voice harsher than it had been previously as told the reality of the future.

She placed a hand over her mouth to hide her expression as she looked away from him. He had a point, but it was still not something she wanted to come to terms with. It wasn’t the fact that they would be in another war; it was the fact that in the next one, Kagami would have to fight in it. Shaking her head again, she chose to not make eye contact. “No, Tobirama. I’m.. I’m not having this conversation.”

“Why not?” he prodded. “Do you want him to die because he couldn’t reach his potential?”

“Of course not!” she snapped back. “Why would you ask such a thing?” she gritted her teeth.

Though he was unforgiving in his advancements. “That’s what’s going to happen.” he retorted. “I’ve already thought this through, y/n. You’re right, he’s balanced and unaffected by the Uchiha hatred- just as you are. If he can train under someone outside of your clan, strengthen skills he wouldn’t be able to if were to be trained within the clan in addition to you training him with the Sharingan, he’ll be prepared to go out in the field when the time comes.”

She was frustrated by the sound logic. Letting her head fall forward onto her hand, she shrugged. “I can’t. No.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t, okay?” she repeated.

Narrowing his eyes, Tobirama knew better than to believe she was declining this just because she could. “I know you have a reason. Why?”

She fell silent.

“Y/n-”

“Because the other three had died by Senju hands, and now you're expecting me to willingly give up Kagami to you all!” she nearly hissed as she threw a hand out. “I just can’t give this approval without it feeling like I'm delivering him a death sentence.” she confessed, her eyes glossy now, constantly fighting back tears. Last thing she wanted was to cry in front of him, but this was one of her weak points.

Tobirama just listened for a moment. Even though their union had been working, the distrust was still there, and it was strikingly evident in that moment. She hid hers better than he did, but in that moment, she couldn’t deny it. “Y/n.” he tried to regain control of the conversation.

“What do you want?” she breathed out, trying to compose herself.

“I don’t want him to get hurt either,” he said. “I can protect him until he can fully protect himself.”

Straightening up at this comment, she looked at him almost bewildered. Never did she think she would hear these words from him, and as she sat there, hearing these truths, she was finding it difficult to process.

“I get that he’s the baby. He’s the one you can still protect, but you won’t be able to forever, so might as well make it so he can protect himself early on.” he stated harshly, trying to make her see past her sentimental inhibitions. “I can get this order sent out tomorrow, and it will be done, but I want your permission on all this.”

She shook her head. “Even if I say, ‘yes,’ the clan won’t approve it….”

He looked unphased. “If it’s a village order, they’re not in any position to refute it.” He delivered the truth. “I don’t care what your clan has to say. I’m asking for your permission.”

“Why mine?” she asked, almost scoffing at it. “I’m not the leader.”

“But you’re the one who cares.” he snapped. “Madara’s not going to protect him. He tossed you into the marriage without a second thought. Do you think he’s really going to protect Kagami?” Tobirama was curt, continuously delivering the blows.

She closed her eyes as a sigh escaped her. He was right, and that left her cornered.

“I’ll ensure his safety...”

Gritting her teeth, she nodded. “I’ll approve it….” she nearly whispered. “And I’ll defend it in the clan,” she affirmed, her voice increasing as she met Tobirama’s gaze.

“Thank-”

“But you have to swear, on your life, that you will protect him.” she gave the ultimatum.

“I will.”

#omg that one line from kagami killed my heart.#let me know your thoughts #kagami #kagami uchiha #tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama fic #tobirama senju fic #naruto #naruto fic

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tigerkirby215 · 4 years ago

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5e Poppy, the Keeper of the Hammer build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Joshua “HUGEnFAST” Brian Smith and Jason Chan. Made for Riot Games.)

Uh so basically I played Poppy for the first time like last month. And I really enjoyed her. So here’s a Poppy build I’m writing a month in advance. I know Doran’s & Dragons have done a Poppy build but again our views differ slightly and while I think their build is good (and I got some inspiration from it) I’d like to put my own spin on the build too!

By the way check out their Kayn build! To this day my Kayn build is still one of my favorite builds (I just really like Horizon Walker ngl lol) and their build takes it in a similar yet unique direction.

GOALS

Shieldy~ - Poppy may just be a yordle with a hammer but she’s also got a shield to chuck at people.

You; sit - We’ll need stuns and slows to hold the line against legions of foes.

No getting through me - We’ll need to be able to hold the line and annoy any and every champion with a dash.

RACE

Poppy is a yordle which means holy shit I get to use something other than Variant Human. We’ll be going with a Stout Halfling for Poppy to give her some sturdiness as well as some yordle magic. You’d normally get a +2 to Dexterity but thanks to Tasha’s we can put that +2 into Strength instead. You also get +1 to Constitution thanks to your subrace, as well as Stout Resilience for advantage against poisons and resistance to poison damage.

As a Halfling you are Brave for advantage against being frightened, and have Halfling Nimbleness to move through the spaces of creatures that are one size larger than you (which considering that you’re Small is most creatures.) But of course the main appeal of Halflings is their Lucky trait, letting you reroll Natural 1s as the light of both Demacia and Bandle City guides you.

ABILITY SCORES

15; STRENGTH - You swing a hammer that’s about the same size as your body which the strongest men (and women) in Demacia can’t lift.

14; CHARISMA - Poppy is a cute little bean. So cute in fact that not even Vayne will shoot her; and Vayne shoots everyone! (Daily reminder that Vayne sucks and Vayne mains suck #FuckVayne)

13; CONSTITUTION - Poppy is a tank and along with the +1 from our race this will give us a nice health buffer.

12; DEXTERITY - Poppy isn’t the most mobile in-game but she still needs to be able to quickly bodycheck people into walls.

10; WISDOM - Poppy is a little daft and far too humble for her own good, still searching for the legendary hero to wield the mighty hammer.

8; INTELLIGENCE - The hammer which she still doesn’t realize can only be swung by the legendary hero, despite the fact that she swings the hammer around constantly.

BACKGROUND

Officially Poppy wanders around Demacia searching for the one true hero. But unofficially she was trained by captain Orlon as a Demacian Soldier. Thing is neither of the skills really fit Poppy (well Intimidation doesn’t, and we’ll be getting Athletics from other sources) so take Persuasion and Survival to get folk to try out your hammer, or to survive long nights alone on the roads of Demacia. You can keep the Land Vehicles and Gaming Set proficiencies though! (Though Smith’s Tools might also fit if you want to be Blacksmith Poppy.)

Of course your Military Rank will still help. Demacian soldiers recognize your heroic deeds (c’mon guys really it was nothing) and are willing to lend you some military supplies if needed, or let you wander around their camps looking for someone who can pick up your hammer.

(Artwork by Esben Lash Rasmussen. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - FIGHTER 1

Starting off as a Fighter to be a simple, practical yordle. Fighters get two skills from the Fighter list: take Insight and Perception to search far and wide for that legendary hero.

You get a Fighting Style at level 1, and I am actually going to suggest Superior Technique from Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything. This will give you a d6 Combat Superiority die to use on a single chosen maneuver from the Battlemaster subclass. Anyways take Quick Toss to chuck your Iron Ambassador as a Bonus Action.

My recommendation for Poppy’s “shield” would be to ask your DM if you can get a Javelin that does bludgeoning damage, since the Javelin can be thrown slightly further than the other weapons. If they say no a Light Hammer works fine for bludgeoning damage, though you’re going to have to deal with the fact that Light Hammers cost 2 gold for some godawful reason. Or you could just accept that Javelins are going to do piercing damage because damage types really don’t matter much in 5e.

Also as far as your choice of weapons Poppy technically wields her hammer in both hands but as a Halfling you can’t use Heavy weapons effectively. (I’d consider Orion’s Hammer more of a Maul than anything.) Since you’re forced to use regular weapons anyways you may as well wield a Warhammer in one hand for a d8 of damage and a shield in the other for +2 AC. If you really want to bring the hurt feel free to actually chuck your shield at the enemy and then swing that Versatile weapon with a d10 hit die instead!

And finally for some lane sustain Second Wind will let you sip from your refillable potion to heal for a d10 plus your Fighter level.

LEVEL 2 - FIGHTER 2

Second level Fighters get Action Surge, letting them give 110% so you can make sure to get Orion’s hammer into the right hands. Basically you can take another action and bonk your foes twice!

LEVEL 3 - FIGHTER 3

3rd level Fighters get to choose their Martial Archetype and if you want to smack people into walls then Battlemaster is for you! (Which yeah: that’s why we took Superior Technique for more maneuver die!) Anyways Battlemasters are Students of War and while I’d love to honor the legendary hero Tulok the Barbrarian by talking Calligrapher’s Tools Poppy does have her Blacksmith skin so Smith’s Tools make more sense. If you didn’t get them from your background anyways.

But of course the main feature of the Battlemaster is their Combat Superiority: you have four five (yay Fighting Style!) Combat Superiority die to use on a variety of Maneuvers. You have Quick Toss still of course but you now get three more options. For stuns and slows of any sort Trip Attack will let you knock people over. If you want to knock people into walls first (or more realistically off a cliff) then Pushing Attack will let you bodycheck them with your small yordle body to send them a full 15 feet back! And if you want to set up for your teammates to be heroes then Distracting Strike will keep eyes locked on you so your allies can hit the enemy with advantage.

LEVEL 4 - FIGHTER 4

4th level Fighters get an Ability Score Improvement. We’re going to fix our Strength as well as a lot of other things thanks to the Squat Nimbleness feat. Along with the +1 to Strength your walking speed increases by 5 feet (Poppy may be immobile but that’s no reason not to move 30 feet), you get proficiency in Athletics (see told you we would!) and you have advantage to escape grapples.

LEVEL 5 - FIGHTER 5

5th level Fighters get an Extra Attack, so you can hit them with both the left and right side of the hammer! And if they’re still up? Action Surge to hit them two more times! "Well, that wasn't the hero."

LEVEL 6 - FIGHTER 6

Ability Score increases are nice. Feats are nicer; take the Sentinel feat to stop foes from running away with your Steadfast Presence. Put simply: enemies can’t dash move away (even if they Disengage) as your opportunity attack will reduce their movement to 0. And if they hit one of your friends you can whack them right back!

(Artwork by Pan Chengwei. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 7 - PALADIN 1

Hope you didn’t think the character that can swing a magic hammer so hard you’re sent to the opposite side of the map wouldn’t have magic! First level Paladins get Divine Sense to help search for legendary Celestial heroes or evil Fiends and Undead, who are probably being fought by heroes! You also get Lay on Hands for some refill pot healing that you can share with your friends.

LEVEL 8 - PALADIN 2

Second level Paladins get to choose their Fighting Style. To armor up we’ll be going for good ol’ Defense for +1 to AC.

Why nothing for our weapon? - Depending on your choice of Poppy you’re either going to be running your hammer two-handed or swing it with one hand. In either case either the Great Weapon Fighting or Dueling fighting style would help. But since I designed this build with the intent of you swapping between stances and the fact that Great Weapon Fighting kinda sucks as a fighting style I didn’t want to take a Fighting Style that would restrict how you use your hammer. Put simply Superior Technique does far more for us as a Fighter, and Defense is universally useful while the other Fighting Styles are somewhat situational.

With explanations out of the way you also get Spellcasting. You can prepare a number of spells equal to half your Paladin level (rounded down; IE you can prepare a new spell every 2 levels) plus your Charisma modifier.

Compelled Duel will be another way to keep enemies in your Steadfast Presence.

Shield of Faith will serve as, well, your shield. Pop it on top of a shield to really stack up that AC!

Thunderous Smite will serve as another way to bring the hammer down on your foes, knocking them back and knocking them prone.

Of course you could just ignore all that in favor of Divine Smite, letting you bring down the hammer to do 2d8 Radiant damage, plus an additional 1d8 Radiant per spell slot above 1st level. If the enemy is an Undead or Fiend, the might of Demacia will let you do an additional d8 of damage!

LEVEL 9 - PALADIN 3

Third level Paladins get to choose their Sacred Oath: to be the tank that your team needs go for the Oath of Redemption as you seek to redeem yourself to your friend’s last wishes. Redemption Paladins get the Sanctuary spell to keep an ally safe from being dove onto, and Sleep. "I could really go for a nap."

The main feature of a Paladin Oath is their Channel Divinity of which you have two: your first one Emissary of Peace will let you put on your kindest smile for +5 to Persuasion checks for 10 minutes. Alternatively if a friend is hit you can hit that foe right back with Rebuke the Violent! You use your reaction to force a Wisdom save on the enemy who hit your ally or smack them with Radiant damage equal to the damage they dealt! And if they succeed? Well they still take half damage! This ability has no damage cap so you can smite a dragon with your hammer after it breathes fire on your allies! Just remember that this doesn’t work on yourself, so be sure to put others ahead of yourself... but maybe still stand in the frontline...

You also get Divine Health, because no legendary hero is going to want to talk to you if you have the sniffles!

LEVEL 10 - PALADIN 4

4th level Paladins get an Ability Score Improvement that we’re going to ignore in favor of yet another Feat! The Charger feet will let you Dash and knock someone into a wall, doing extra damage with your hammer and knocking an enemy back.

You can also prepare another spell but we’re going to wait for...

(Artwork by Shuohan Zhou. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 11 - PALADIN 5

5th level Paladins get an Extra Attack... which you already have. Well you’re no legendary four-attacks-per-turn hero after all; just a yordle with a hammer.

You do get second level smites spells though! Redemption Paladins get Calm Emotions to... calm emotions, and Hold Person to keep an enemy stunned for your allies to fight! You can also prepare the good ol’ Aid spell to make both you and your allies tankier, as your Steadfast Presence bolsters everyone in the party.

LEVEL 12 - PALADIN 6

6th level Paladins are Stubborn to a Fault, getting Aura of Protection for some passive magic resistance. You and allies within 10 feet of you get to boost their saving throws by an amount equal to your Charisma modifier. Unfortunately that Charisma modifier is only a +2 at the moment but it still helps!

You can also prepare another spell at this level: Warding Bond was added to the Paladin spell list thanks to Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything, and it will let you make a Knight’s Vow to keep your allies safe.

LEVEL 13 - PALADIN 7

7th level Redemption Paladins get Aura of the Guardian. If an ally within 10 feet takes damage you can use your reaction to take the damage for them instead. You don’t take any of the additional effects and this damage can’t be reduced in any ways. Honestly if locked in a melee it might be a better idea to just use Sentinel instead, but if an ally gets shot by an arrow you can stand in front of them to take the shot for them... You might have to jump a bit if they’re tall though.

LEVEL 14 - PALADIN 8

Hey look at that an Ability Score Improvement! We’re not going to be taking feats and will actually just increase our Strength by 2 to finally swing that hammer full-force!

You can also prepare your final spell at this level at least until you get more Charisma, so grab Lesser Restoration to Cleanse in a pinch. Is Lesser Restoration a little underwhelming by total level 14? No! Because paralysis will always be a danger. "Not like this!"

(Artwork by Rudy Siswanto. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 15 - FIGHTER 7

Back over to good ol’ Fighterland. 7th level Battlemasters can tell if someone’s hero material thanks to Know Your Enemy. If you spend a minute studying someone you can learn a variety of features about them, such as if they can lift your hammer. (Spoiler: they can’t.)

7th level of Fighter also means some more Maneuvers and this time we’ll be going into Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything for some of the new maneuvers from that book. Brace will let you opportunity attack when an enemy comes up to you, basically. (Might be good to hold onto your reaction for Sentinel or other things however.) And while it might be a bit late to try for grapples Grappling Strike will let you use your Athletics proficiency and high Strength score to grab some people! Even if your ability to grab people is limited because of your size who knows? Your DM might let you ride on them if they try to run away from you! I’d allow it to make grappling more viable for small creatures.

LEVEL 16 - FIGHTER 8

8th level Fighters get more Ability Score Improvements and with our Strength maxed out let’s finally put some points in Charisma. This will give you more Paladin spells don’t forget, so go back to your Paladin spell list and prepare a new one!

LEVEL 17 - FIGHTER 9

Level 9 Fighters are also Stubborn to a Fault, with Indomitable letting them reroll a failed saving throw once per Long Rest. With Aura of Protection you’ve honestly got a good chance on just about any save with perhaps the exception of Intelligence.

LEVEL 18 - FIGHTER 10

10th level Battlemasters see their Improved Combat Superiority die increase to a d10 for more some more damage as you swing that hammer around!

You also get more Maneuvers whenever you get new Battlemaster features: to keep enemies focusing the tank instead of your allies grab Goading Attack, because Menacing Attack doesn’t fit Poppy. If you’re swinging at an enemy with high AC however Precision Strike will make sure the hammer ends up somewhere squishy.

LEVEL 19 - FIGHTER 11

11th level Fighters truly learn how to swing their hammer with a third Extra Attack, or six if you Action Surge! "The hammer does most of the work, I just swing it."

LEVEL 20 - FIGHTER 12

12th level Fighters get our final Ability Score Improvement, and I’ll leave it up to you: more Charisma means stronger Paladin features, but the Tough feat will give you a 40 HP boost at the end of the build.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Careful, this packs a wallop - Smites and Maneuvers on three hammer swings means that you can really bring the smack.

If you're waiting for me to give up, you might be here awhile - Wow who would’ve guessed the character build to be tanky would be tanky? High AC (21 with basic Plate and a Shield, 23 with Shield of Faith) and good health, even without too heavy of an investment in Constitution.

Who knew there were so many heroes? - You’re also a very good team player, holding the line and sacrificing yourself for your allies.

CONS

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, uh... hammer! - Dump stats are never fun. Low INT hurts even with Aura of Protection.

That's okay; I'm playing the long game - Feats are fun and all but so are good stats. I’m just saying Charger is a nice feat but so is a good Aura of Protection.

I sure do a lot of walking - All your abilities run on limited resources, and while thankfully the vast majority of them come back on a Short Rest your limited spell slots only come back after a proper sleep. You’ve gotta spend your mana effectively so you don’t caught without a hammer.

But for a simple gall with a not-so-simple hammer you can do everything you need to find that hero. Keep it polished and make sure nothing gets dented until you find the light that Demacia needs to wield your friend’s final gift! Just make sure you avoid any fields with lollipops; they have eyes I tell you...

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

#dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #League of Legends #League of Legends Poppy #hammer #dnd fighter #dnd paladin

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years ago

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9x01: I Think I’m Gonna Like it Here

Errm, we forgot a season opener episode...so here’s 9x01 for your enjoyment :)

Then:

Heaven’s doors closed, kinda

Now:

Sam and Dean are on the road discussing the fallen angels, and how they’re going to tackle this new situation. Well, Sam is. Dean keeps driving until he tells Sam they have a far more pressing matter than that, or Metatron, or Cas. “You’re dying, Sam.”

Indeed he is. They’re not in the Impala. They’re in a hospital and Sam’s attached to a bunch of wires and machines.

The doctor gives Dean the bad news that Sam has severe internal injuries and his recovery is “in God’s hands.” Lol, it REALLY is. And ol’ Chuck isn’t going to let one of his favorite characters die! He does like to see them tortured though. Dean loses his shit, because, at this stage in the game, God isn’t playing.

He goes to the chapel AND PRAYS TO CAS.

He tells Cas that whatever happened, they’ll work it out. “Please man, I need you here.” Dean looks up and is shocked that Cas isn’t there. AND I’M EMOTIONAL. He has so far to go. But also, I feel so bad for him right now. Anyway, he gives it about 5 seconds before he puts out an open call to any angel willing to help.

Business angel, Tractor angel, and Helo all take the call.

Memory Lane Alert:

Sam continues to have a mental conversation with Dean in the Impala. Dean has a plan, and Sam just needs to hang on. Sam thinks he’s lying (and LIKE, is this his brain trying to rationalize death? Bobby shows up to argue yes.)

In Longmont, Colorado, on a lonely stretch of road, we find Cas. He’s walking and is overwhelmed with angel radio whitenoise.

For Cas Looks So Fucking Good In This Episode Science:

Also, a crazy driver that nearly kills him. The guy offers to give him a lift to a phone. Cas agrees, adding, “I would fly but I have no wings, not anymore.”

I need a moment.

Sam continues to deteriorate. I enjoy the snark in Sam’s mind that he saved Bobby from Hell. Anyway, Bobby and Dean continue to argue about whether Sam should or shouldn’t live. Bobby pulls Sam from the car and they land in a forest.

Cas’s ride drops him off at a filling station and gives him some money. Cas accepts it reluctantly, insisting he does eat. Meanwhile, a woman watches Cas from a car.

Cas reaches the pay phone, currently in use.

He doesn’t want to hurt the guy, but this is an emergency. The guy is very polite when he tells Cas to try and hurt him. Cas tries the old fingers to the forehead trick. Nothing happens. He tries the old whole hand to the forehead trick (isn’t that usually a smiting move? <nervous side-eye emoji>) The guy brushes Cas’s hand away and tells him that he’s going to finish his call, and then stab Cas. Cas walks away in a daze.

The woman from the car approaches him. She knows Castiel. She’s an angel named Hael.

A grief counselor comes to talk to Dean, but he’s not done fighting.

He realizes that he has the King of Hell in his trunk (not yet you don't ...I think I’ve used that joke before, but it never gets old.) Before he can get Crowley out of the Impala’s trunk, Business angel attacks. He’s looking for Castiel. Dean isn’t talking. Helo pops up and gets into fisticuffs with Business angel. He distracts him enough for Dean to stab Business angel in the back. Helo assures Dean that he’s here to help him, and then passes out.

Hael and Cas talk about the angels falling and life in Heaven. So many angels are afraid of this unknown new order.

Cas assures her there is nothing to be afraid of, and there is something better on Earth. Oh, you poor Humanity loving fool, Cas. He makes a case for Free Will.

Dean puts Helo in a ring of fire to interrogate him. His name is Ezekiel. And he is not here to hurt Dean or Cas. He’s here to help.

Sam and Bobby take a nature walk while Bobby chips away and Sam’s uncertainty of dying.

Dean brings Ezekiel to Sam.

Dean’s phone rings while Gadreel examines Sam. It’s CAS! Insert EXTREME HEART EYES HERE.

Cas briefly explains that Metatron tricked him, but Dean overrides Cas’s discussion of the angel apocalypse for a more pressing matter: Sam’s dying. Cas explains that he can’t heal him without his grace, but that also doesn’t matter! Ezekiel is a “good soldier,” according to Cas, so Sam’s in good hands. Dean warns Cas that angels are after him and he needs to get to the bunker, do not pass GO, do not trust anybody else.

The hospital shakes as another angel circles a vessel. Dean grabs a dry erase marker and starts scrawling angel warding all over Sam’s hospital room. He leaves Ezekiel there to heal Sam while he races through the hospital trying to clear it out.

Cas tries to extricate himself from Hael’s company. “This is your chance to help people. Help yourself.” Cas, you altruistic sunflower! Hael rewards this by whacking him across the head with a plank.

When he wakes up, Hael explains that she couldn’t let Cas go. She blames Cas for the fall but she can use Cas…

Dean confronts angels in the hospital, including the now-possessed grief counselor.

In Sam’s head, he arrives outside a cabin. Bobby tells him that the cabin will end his life and wishes him well when suddenly he is STABBED! Sam’s projection of Dean killed him. “Bobby was the part of you that wants to die,” Dean explains...uh...reasonably? He starts to punch Sam in rage, trying to get him to fight for his life. “I can’t help you if you ain’t willing to fight for yourself!” Sam...knows that. And...he’s not willing to fight anymore.

Sam heads for the cabin.

Real Dean is in his own pickle. Grief counselor angel hauls him around, demanding to know where Cas is or Sam’s gonna die bloody. Dean refuses to give up Cas. He’s bloody and exhausted, but blasts the angels out with a banishing sigil. He heads in to check on Sam. Ezekiel sits slumped in a chair. Between the banishing sigil and the warding, he’s incredibly weak and can’t heal Sam. There are “no good ways” to save Sam so Dean, being Dean, asks about the bad ones.

Ezekiel thinks he can save Sam by possessing him, but Dean knows that Sam would rather die than be possessed. Ezekiel brings Dean into Sam’s head so he can see how bad it is.

Dean witnesses Death talking to Sam. Death tells Sam that he played a good game! Sam asks for a boon from Death: he doesn’t want to come back. At. All. He doesn’t want anybody else to get hurt because they tried to save him. SAM BBY!

Dean “There’s Another Way” Winchester is appalled.

Cas is still trapped with an angel Heaven-bent on possessing him. He looks around at the tools at hand. An angel blade. An angel new to cars and driving. He puts on his seat belt. (Side bar: is this the first time any of our heroes has EVER put on a seat belt???) Cas hauls at the wheel, steering the car towards concrete barriers.

At the hospital, Dean unpacks the proposal. Ezekiel possesses Sam and they both heal together. When Sam’s better, Ezekiel leaves.

In a wrecked car, Cas wakes up from his second head injury in an hour or so. He unbuckles his seatbelt and stumbles out. Sprawled ahead of the car is Hael. She’s looking...really bad with her body snapped in some really unfortunate ways. Cas swears to help her - and all the angels. It’ll be his life’s work! “I’m one of you. I will never stop being one of you!” She tells him all the angels despise him. BRB weeping!

He tries to walk away, but she vows to reveal him to the rest of the angels if he leaves her. Cas kills her to save himself. So…...first day as a human? Not going super great.

Sam prepares to die. Dean stops him from leaving the cabin! (Dean apologizes to Death for not bringing cronuts. I forgot those were a thing!) Sam wants to know why Dean is even there. “You gotta let me in, man. You gotta let me help! There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.”

Sam says….yes to being saved. Dean transforms into Ezekiel and light fills Sam’s head.

Outside the hospital, Dean and Ezekiel walk and talk. Ezekiel reports that Sam’s in super rough shape. He also suggests that Sam not be told he’s possessing him. If Sam knows he’s possessed, he’ll expel Ezekiel and then die. Dean’s not happy with that plan, but he agrees to hide the truth from Sam. Adding icing to the cupcake of betrayal, Ezekiel promises to erase Sam’s memories of almost dying in the hospital. Oh dear.

Cas winds up at a laundromat. He’s bloodied and injured, and I guess these are just...normal laundromat experiences? It’s really sad! Unlucky Cas!

But I’m getting ahead of myself because the laundromat experience is also THIS. Lucky us!

Cas loads his clothing into the washer, but he has very little money. He steals clothing and uses his change to buy something to eat and drink instead.

In the car, Sam wakes up slowly. Dean asks him how he feels. Sam gets the dollar recap of the angels falling and NOTHING ELSE PERTINENT. Sam’s ready to jump back into the fight and Dean feels G R E A T about it.

Shirtless Quotey:

This one goes out to any angel with their ears on. This is Dean Winchester and I need your help

I would fly, but I have no wings

Let's go see the Grand Canyon, then

Anybody ever tell you you hit like an angel?

There ain't no me if there ain't no you

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 9x01 #I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #gadreel #death #supernatural season 9

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theonceoverthinker · 5 years ago

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A Good Night’s Sleeping Snag (Fair Game Week Day 2)

Summary: Clover and Qrow are sent off on a mission that pits them against both ferocious Grimm and the very worst of the elements that Atlas has to offer. When the latter of Qrow’s battles is compromised, he and Clover decide to work together to stay safe through some rather...intimate means.

AO3

A/N: So, apparently this is happening now. I’m making fics out of some of my favorite HC’s, and this was my first pick! I’ll admit that it doesn’t connect to today’s theme that tightly, but I’d argue that as Huntsmen, a mission like this can be kind of normal, and thus does hold some inherent domesticity, so there you go! (...I also realized I had to justify that more to myself than anyone because I am pedantic with no one more than myself! XD ) Also, tagging @fair-game-week !

Before we begin, I want to give a big ole’ thanks to my beta @whipped4qrow. Toko, I’ve been fortunate to have some great betas in the past, and enjoy the pun, but TOKO-ing out all of our thoughts on this fic has provided me with some of my favorite times working with one ever. Your advice and pickups were too helpful for words, and I can’t thank you enough!

-------

Grimm are the easiest part of Qrow’s incredibly complicated life and at the same time, the most annoying pests this side of Remnant.

The trouble is, despite his and his fellow Huntsmen’s best efforts, they’re always around.

Of all the things to stick around across humanity’s two lifespans...why did it have to be them?

Well, at least their existence means a living for him.

Less than an hour after Qrow’s first cup of coffee, a report comes in. There’s a small pack of Grimm making their way towards the communication’s tower. They’re as ferocious as Grimm tend to come, but it’s apparently not a job that will require more than two skilled Huntsmen to get it done.

That’s where he and Clover come in, according to Ironwood’s soldiers.

This mission has probably the most pre-departure preparation he’s ever received before a Grimm fight. He’s even given a large backpack of camping essentials to work with. Clover tells him the reason for that. Apparently, the part of the tundra these Grimm are making their way through is prone to strong wind storms and blizzards alike. These conditions are said to be too severe for a transport to get all the way through, and despite the dangers posed by letting even trained Huntsmen whether them, it’s still better to take the Grimm out now than to wait for them to get any closer to the tower -- something about the tower’s wiring.

Clover says that their mission is expected to run into the next day, and Qrow’s uncertain how he feels about that.

Qrow’s done overnight missions before, tons of them.

But he’s never done one with Clover before.

Sleep is...it’s personal in a way most things aren’t. He can control how he acts when he’s awake and what he divulges to the world. When he sleeps, who knows what can be told about him? Even to have someone sort of near him while he’s sleeping makes Qrow feel far too vulnerable for comfort.

And now, he and Clover are going to be sleeping in the same vicinity.

It bothers Qrow, both because of that sense of vulnerability, but also because even that threat of subconscious vulnerability doesn’t scare him where Clover is concerned.

Clover’s odd, but he’s someone Qrow likes having around. He makes missions interesting, if nothing else, and he even finds himself opening up to Clover every now and then, too.

Qrow guesses that just makes them both oddballs. Go figure.

But being oddballs along with someone else has proven to not always be a bad thing.

So really, who knows what this mission will bring?

They depart early the next day. Qrow’s decked out in a long thick-ish, black winter coat, and he can barely believe his eyes when he sees Clover enter the transport wearing the exact same thing.

Who knew Clover Ebi would ever be caught dead wearing something with actual sleeves?

Clover’s clearly aware of how much the change of clothes sticks out, shooting Qrow a not-too-serious, yet all the same present warning look while entering the transport, as if daring him to laugh.

Qrow laughs.

He laughs a lot.

He’s in stitches, though he’s certain the look Clover’s giving him is more to blame for that than anything.

It’s not that Clover looks bad in it -- quite the opposite, really. The coat fits him well, and while Qrow likes it about as much as he likes Clover in his standard uniform -- if not, a little less -- the different clothes are a nice change of pace all the same.

And Qrow -- never a monster -- doesn’t rag on him too much for it, even going so far as to compliment it after he’s gotten a good couple of quips in. Clover’s frown dissolves into a grateful smirk, and their usual banter proceeds as it always has as the transport takes off.

Still, gratefulness for the compliment aside, it’s apparently not enough to stop Clover from hastily removing the coat as soon as the automated transport gets far enough away from their other coworkers at the base to do so without scolding, prompting even more laughter from Qrow.

The trip between the base and the dropoff point is three hours. Clover tells Qrow they should sleep before they begin their trek, and Qrow honestly tries to, but he finds that he just can’t.

So Clover stays up with him. Qrow tells him he doesn’t have to, but he quickly learns that Clover Ebi may as well have his picture glued next to the dictionary’s definition of ‘persistence.’

If it wasn’t one of the kindest things done for him in recent memory, if not, ever, Qrow might be tempted to gag from the corniness of it all.

They fill the time with cards, exchanging interests and stories, and rifling through their camping bags. The Atlas military clearly likes to be prepared. They each have a few rations of disgusting-looking food, a steel canteen, an emergency flare, a flashlight, matches, some kindling for a small fire, and a sleeping bag, all adorned with the symbol of Atlas. Qrow teases Clover about it, but with a smirk, he just attributes the abundance of symbols to pride in their country.

Loud clunks grow in frequency and volume, signaling that they’re closing in on their location. Their transport isn’t equipped with a window, so all the two of them have to go off of to get any idea of what’s outside of it are Clover’s past experiences of the relentless frigid air and snow.

Those experiences turn out to be rather accurate. A harsh gust of wind that nearly blows an unprepared Qrow to the back of the transport greets the two of them once the doors separating them between themselves and the tundra open.

Qrow revises his stance and footing as to best handle the new expectations of his body. He puts more of his weight onto his feet, stepping harshly. Clover does the same, and within five minutes, they’re well off on their journey into the tundra.

()()()()()()()()()

Hours pass, but unlike previously, they’re impossible to fill with each other’s company. It’s all Qrow’s efforts to safely move step-by-step, and he knows while Clover would never admit it -- and to be fair, he wouldn’t either -- it’s the case for him too. It would be too much to focus on talking while keeping the snow out of their mouths as well, so silence rules them.

Even still though, there’s something at least a bit reassuring that Clover’s there, even if only his physical presence serves as an indicator of it. Maybe Clover feels the same way about him. He wouldn’t be surprised.

In fact, scratch that -- he wouldn’t even doubt it for a second.

The sky grows dark as they come upon a small cave that forms a half dome over the tiny piece of the landscape that it covers. They approach, but just as they near the entrance, Qrow feels the ground shake. Then, as if only to stop the question of whether or not that movement was just in Qrow’s head before it is even asked, howl after howl pierces through the winds.

Looks like they’ve finally found those Grimm.

Qrow grabs Harbinger, and he hears Kingfisher’s string whip as Clover pulls it out.

They take two slow steps towards the Grimm.

The Grimm take three quick steps towards them.

And then the battle begins.

Clover attaches Kingfisher to the top of the cave, swinging into one of the Grimm with a powerful kick. Just like that, it goes down.

Wasn’t this supposed to be hard?

But before Qrow can celebrate Clover’s victory, he’s forced to deal with a battle of his own.

Harbinger becomes a scythe and slashes two Grimm’s faces with the first swing alone. The second one does both of them in with a transparent slice.

It’s only as they disappear into nothingness that Qrow realizes that there’s one more left.

He turns and halts his scythe’s momentum mid-swing, but while he does get the Grimm, the Grimm gets its revenge just before it leaves the mortal coil.

Instantly, Qrow feels himself dropping weight by the pounds.

The only thing is though that he’s not injured.

With his free hand, Qrow feels for his backpack, only to find torn fabric and air instead. He turns in the opposite direction just in time to see the contents of his backpack flow in the tundra just before disappearing from sight.

Qrow looks behind him, and upon seeing no more Grimm, immediately takes off his backpack, which is now about as light as air.

Almost everything is gone. His canteen and a single ration remain, only bound to the pieces of fabric on his backpack still left intact by pure chance.

But everything else?

The flare, his matches, his flashlight...his sleeping bag?

They’re not just gone -- they may as well not even exist now for all the chance Qrow has of getting them back.

Just his luck.

And speaking of…

Clover approaches, telling him that the Grimm are gone. He gives Qrow a puzzling look upon seeing him standing so forlornly, but it only seems to take a moment for him to connect the dots. His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, but he doesn’t say anything, simply signaling that they should enter the cave. Despite his frustration, Qrow appreciates it. What honestly could he say? Clover’s the problem solving type, but some problems don’t have solutions.

Most of his bag is gone now, and unless there’s a crazy twist of fate that not even Clover’s luck could manage, none of it is coming back. There really isn’t much to say there, much less solve.

So they go inside the cave, just as the darkness of the cloud-filled night grows deeper.

Clover uses the matches and kindling in his own bag to light a fire, and he and Qrow sit across from each other.

Qrow wraps his arms around himself, feeling tatters in his jacket and feathers flying off into the tundra, just as most of his supplies did.

Grimm really are the worst pests this hellhole they call Remnant have to offer.

Crap. He’s freezing, and the night’s only getting darker and colder.

Though Qrow takes pride in his strength and endurance, a night in freezing temperatures like this would give anyone a case of frostbite they’d never forget.

For God’s sake! Even Clover’s unashamedly clinging to his own jacket!

If that isn’t telling of the direness of their situation, nothing is.

Qrow knows Clover’s going to offer him his sleeping bag, but he’s not comfortable at all with taking it. It likely wouldn’t even keep him warm enough, and there’d be no point in both of them freezing to death out here.

Speaking of, his sleeping blanket is the next thing Clover pulls out of his bag. It’s large and when it’s removed from his bag, it deflates like a balloon.

Clover begins to unravel the sleeping bag from its bindings, and Qrow can tell he’s just about to offer it to him, but as he unravels it, it begins to show that it’s far larger than expected. Surprised, Qrow and Clover look at it in disbelief, then at each other, and then back to the sleeping bag.

Now, out of room to safely spread it out, Clover drags the sleeping bag further from the fire and continues opening it. When it’s finally fully unraveled, they see that it is indeed rather large.

In fact, it might even be large enough to fit two people in it.

They’re both housing the same thought, and Qrow silently nods at the proposal Clover gives him with only his eyes.

There’s no room for debate – the cave provides shelter, but it’s minimal. If Qrow isn’t given more protection against the winds, who knows what will happen to him?

Qrow’s got too much to live for to refuse whatever will keep him alive.

Maybe one of those things is the very man he’ll be sharing a sleeping bag with tonight.

It doesn’t make the idea of sharing one feel any less awkward than it is.

But neither speak of that very awkwardness that this arrangement brings, least of all Clover. He’s as casual about it as he ever is about anything. Qrow’s sure Clover knows by now how much of a comfort that is for him. He can’t state enough how much he appreciates Clover for not making a big deal out of it.

There’s not much of a preamble before it’s time to get in the sleeping bag. They share a quick meal, consisting of one of the rations they have each and a few swigs of the water in their canteens. The entire time, Qrow feels his head practically buzzing, but pushes back against the sensation -- just enough to keep it at bay, at least.

When it’s finally time to get into the bag, with a wave of his hand, Clover offers Qrow the chance to enter first and get settled in. Qrow nods and crawls inside. Instantly, two feelings hit him: warmth and disappointment in the lack of warmth relative to his expectations. It’s fine, but he imagined the sleeping bag would make him feel just a bit toastier.

Of course, there’s no doubt they’ll both survive the night in its confines, but he has to wonder just how much of the chill will make its way through the flimsier-than-he-hoped bag.

But any further questions Qrow has about their resistance to the elements dies in his throat as Clover makes his way into the sleeping bag beside him.

Fuck, he’s warm.

He’s so, so warm.

It’s literally the difference between night and day, as if Clover’s sheer presence teleports them from the frigid hellhole that is Atlas to the sweltering heat of Vacuo.

And now, rather than worrying about freezing solid, Qrow’s more worried about melting into the ground, because if Clover Ebi provides him with so much as another degree of heat, he gives himself about a 50% chance of turning into magma.

Because of the strength of the winds and still-piling snow, the weather all but dictates for them to face each other as they sleep. Though there’s some space between their bodies, Clover’s arms can’t help but make casual contact with his own as they settle into their position. Clover tries to apologize for this, but Qrow casually dismisses the concerns.

How Qrow manages to do that would impress no one who has ever known him more than it does himself.

The distance between them, or rather, lack thereof, deprives Qrow of breath for a good ten seconds.

Physically speaking, they’re closer than they’ve ever been before. If they were to both push back as far as they could, they would probably have nearly a foot between them.

But neither of them do this, so they’re at most six inches away from each other.

There’s no hyperbole in saying that it takes each and every survival instinct Qrow has to will his blush away and resume normal breathing.

Qrow thanks Clover for sharing the sleeping bag, space for him or not. To this, Clover grins and drops a charming line like he always does, a line that prompts Qrow to give one of his own. For the next few minutes, they repeat the process, banter flowing between them like it has dozens of times by now.

It’s nice.

Eventually, their quips relax and they wish each other a ‘good night.’ Not long after that, Clover falls asleep.

Qrow’s anxious. He’s almost too anxious for words.

He supposes that’s a good thing, since he can’t say any of them with Clover so close to him.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Qrow was just barely getting used to the idea of sleeping in the same close vicinity as Clover.

And now they’re sharing a sleeping bag.

How does someone who barely feels like he can sleep in the same room as another person now do so while sharing a sleeping bag with one?

For God’s sake, Qrow can feel Clover’s hot breath on his even hotter face.

Everything feels intense. It’s like everything he imagined he was going to feel has been accentuated, but new emotions are now added to the pile. It’s not just worrying over what vulnerabilities he can unintentionally reveal to Clover in his sleep, it’s a more profound fear over how Clover will receive those vulnerabilities now that they’ll be literally shoved in his face, and how their relationship will change as a result of that, for worse...or possibly for better...

That fear releases an acknowledgement of blossoming feelings of every kind that Qrow’s not sure he’s ready to confront, not just yet.

But it doesn’t change the fact that they’re there nonetheless.

Why can’t this just go slow?

And why does part of him not want it to?

Damnit, he’s overthinking things, clearly an effect of his exhaustion.

Qrow forces himself to calm down. He hasn’t slept since before they departed, and he needs to start now. Otherwise, their return to the transport tomorrow will be impossible, no matter what he does in his sleep.

Slow, deep breaths paint Qrow’s nose with Clover’s scent -- strong, hot, largely composed of sweat but still uniquely Clover-smelling, and omnipresent due to their circumstances.

All the same, it’s good.

It shouldn’t be good.

It utterly bewilders Qrow that it’s good.

But it is, in fact, good, good enough that it helps Qrow settle down so that he can at last start to welcome sleep to his tired, tired eyes.

And what little Clover’s scent can’t accomplish in sending him off to sleep, Clover’s body heat wraps up with a neat little bow. Laying beside Clover, even in the tundra, is like laying beside a fireplace. If not for the now scarcely present view of the snow he still has, Qrow could imagine that they were anywhere while in this sleeping bag together.

So, lulled by the symphonic mixture of the harsh, abrasive winds and Clover’s loud, yet gentle snores, Qrow at last falls asleep.

()()()()()()()()

While quite a few sounds sing Qrow to sleep, neither are present as his crimson eyes make contact with daybreak.

Qrow doesn’t know how long he slept for when he wakes up, but it was clearly quite a long amount of time. A bright yellow hue from the sun sparkles against the snowy walls of the cave and any smoke from last night’s fire is long gone.

Clover’s awake. Without even turning to look at his sleepmate, Qrow knows this to be true. There’s a tension Qrow feels in Clover’s back that’s indicative of his regular posture.

He’s about to tilt his head and talk to Clover, but is stopped in his tracks.

How is he able to feel muscles in Clover’s back?

A stark realization hits Qrow. He hasn’t paid mind to his hands nor arms yet since waking up, but he has a worryingly strong suspicion as to where they are.

With all the lightness of a feather as to not clue Clover into what he’s doing, Qrow softly wiggles a finger on his left hand and a finger on his right.

Both touch a very familiar piece of fabric, one Qrow knows he’s also currently wearing on his person.

But unlike his coat, the coat his fingers feel is in an untarnished state, still just that little bit poofy.

He can feel his elbows and palms form gentle curves around places that make a lot of sense to form curves around.

His arms are folded atop Clover’s backside and his hands are perched upon the upper edges of his torso.

And now that Qrow notices this, he also notices that Clover’s belly and his own are ever-so-gently pressed together.

Oh Gods...

He’s holding Clover.

Screw holding Clover -- he’s full-on cuddling Clover.

Even from within the shock of sharing a sleeping bag with Clover, Qrow developed some semblance of expectations last night. Vulnerabilities and bad habits are hard to mask when one can’t control their actions. Qrow was mentally preparing for that. Maybe he’d accidentally whack Clover in the event of the nightmares he more often than not had. Maybe he’d toss and turn a lot in his sleep. Hell, he’s been told by his nieces and former teammates that he has a tendency to drool from time to time, so that wasn’t entirely off the table.

But of all the things he was willing to anticipate he’d do, at the very bottom of that list of expectations was to cuddle up to Clover.

That doesn’t change the truth though -- he did cuddle him all the same, and he still is.

Neither he nor Clover have consciously engaged with each other yet. Qrow begins to calculate how he can use that to his advantage.

With a fake yawn and a “reflexive” stretch, he could free Clover from his grasp without inviting any further awkwardness.

That’s what Qrow hopes, in any event, and it makes enough sense to be worth a try.

Qrow begins to shift a little in preparation of his plan, but is stopped in his tracks by something pressed up against his back -- two very muscular, and very familiar arms.

It only takes him half a beat to realize they and the hands attached to them are holding Qrow the same way Qrow is presently holding him.

Clover’s cuddling him too.

That realization is at once both a relief and a terror.

The discomfort he sought to escape with his plan is now simultaneously warded off and stronger than ever as his plan lies in ruins, and feelings he elected to ignore last night are just a little bit more insistent in their presence now.

Qrow quickly decides he’s only one man, and thus can only directly take on one of these Remnant-shattering revelations at a time.

As the fact remains that he and Clover are awake, and neither have addressed the other about this yet, he elects to at last do so.

Whether it’s the right choice or not, especially when he and Clover have each other to themselves in such a way, is a topic to be handled another day.

But all the same, Qrow swallows his shocked features and turns to face Clover directly, finally crossing the threshold of avoidance between them.

Clover looks shocked to see him make the first move, but upon studying Qrow’s relaxed expression for a moment, however artificial it is, relaxes himself as well.

There’s a certain sense of breathlessness between them in the seconds that follow, as if they’d both just climbed a mountain and not just woken up from an, all things considered, decent sleep. It all feels contradictory -- exhausting, and yet exuberant, calming, and yet vigilant. Mostly though, it all feels a bit awkward, and yet a bit comfortable too because they both feel that same awkwardness.

And within those contradictions, there’s something nice, something Qrow can’t explain. Maybe, like those feelings that now massage his brain, he doesn’t want to explain it -- not today, anyways -- but he’s content enough just living and relaxing in whatever it is that he and Clover are sharing.

After all, his worst case scenario just played out, and nothing bad happened between them.

It could be nice just to kick back and enjoy things for the little time they have right now.

A long moment passes before their wordless exchange is finally given voice, but it does happen. They do have a tundra to traverse today, after all, and they’ll get no closer to the transport home just lazing around.

Qrow would be lying if he said that he found prospect to be one all that awful.

But all the same, they greet each other for the new day, and he can tell that there’s just a twinge of reluctance in each of their eyes as they leave the sleeping bag. The chill from last night returns in the absence of Clover’s body heat, albeit less harshly now that the previous night’s storm has dispersed.

Looking ahead at today’s challenge, Qrow sees that the outskirts of the cave are bright with a blanket of shimmering snow that stretches as far as the eye can see. It’s beautiful, though the songs the winds sing expose the dangers hidden within that beauty.

It’s going to be a long day.

Still, he’s not alone with Clover by his side, and somehow, that fact makes all the difference.

After years of never even considering such a sentiment, it now permeates Qrow’s every step as he and Clover walk through the snow.

He could get used to a partnership like this.

#fair game #fairgameweek2020 #qrow branwen #clover ebi #rwby

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drunklander · 5 years ago

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Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 502

Watched this episode after winning Wynonna Earp trivia (fuck yeah, The Shit Tickets!) at a bar, put on by a queer af podcast, followed by going to see a queer af movie, and was all ready to get my Beauchamp fix... And it was like oh here’s a taste and a hint that we’re gonna end up in a story line similar to what we’ve already done multiple times, but now on to the menfolk.

For real though, this episode was like an OL greatest hits clip show. It had all the stuff we’ve seen before. A time traveler who wants to go home? Check. Rape PTSD? Check. A man being a dad to a kid who isn’t/might not be his? Check. That same man being the absolute worst? Check. Claire being reckless with future medicine? Check. Townsfolk questioning Claire’s medical knowledge in favor of the local Man of Importance? Check. Jamie trying to be on both sides at once? Check. A villain who seemed to have died the previous season and should have fucking stayed dead? Check.

We’ve literally seen all of this stuff before.

For a show that spent the first part of season two claiming to be a political drama and then last season claiming that they “weren’t political” I see we’re back to just leaning hard into politics that have direct parallels today.

No fucks left to give about the system Murtz is kind of my favorite Murtz. Like this dude spent his whole life living by a code and an oath and was fucked over by the system so many fucking times that he’s ready to just burn it all down. Curious to see how they walk the domestic terrorist vs. freedom fighter line with him for the rest of the season.

Got all excited about the bread title card because yay medicinal mold, but of course, the lead character was relegated to the B story.

Old timey medicine baffles me. Like the fact that bleeding someone was like a catchall remedy boggles the mind.

I feel rull bad for Mrs. Whoeverthefuck though. She tried.

Also, shit like this makes me be like, yo Claire, you sure you wanna stay here? Jamie’s really not all that and a bag of chips. But you do you, boo.

Speaking of Jamie, his hair looks really good. A thousand fruit baskets to the new wig person.

Lulz at Knox thinking the Gathering was about being loyal to king and country. Dummy.

Srsly though, Murtz Valmurtz is really getting under their skin. Is he like the *only* Regulator leader?

The convo between Knox and Jamie is literally as relevant today as it is in the 1770s. But yeah, the show IsN’t PoLiTiCaL.

The fact that fuckers think those at the bottom should be happy with their lot because “lol it could be worse” need to be punched in the face and taken out of power. Stat.

Also any time someone in power talks about civility as a reason not to rise up against injustice, I want to punch them. Because they deserve it.

I want to punch a lot of things.

This whole episode is very Les Mis, tbh.

Literalol at Claire covering dead guy’s face and not his body cavity before Bree comes in.

Aw Bree, why you gotta be a buzzkill? We were cheated of badass Doctor!Claire in S3. Let us have this.

Also, yeah, Claire, Bree’s fucking right. Which you’d think you’d know by now what with alL THE FUCKING TIMES YOU’VE BEEN CALLED A WITCH. AND NOW YOU’RE UPPING YOUR GAME TO LIKE NECROMANCY?!

Also the more she says no one will find out the more annoying it is because *clearly* someone *is* gonna find out and we’re gonna be back on the “she’s a witch!” “I’m not a witch!” “you literally have a dead guy in your closet!” merry-go-round again.

Today in most on-the-nose shots ever: How convenient that Marsali just happens to be doing some butchering right there, right then.

Petition for the show to go full Shondaland and just turn into a backwoods medical drama with Claire and Marsali, and all the others (cough the men cough) can fuck on off.

Tarring and feathering is like the old timey version of #AlwaysPunchAFascist but dialed to 11.

Oh the baggage behind Jamie saying redcoat man will someday wear his scars with honor that none of these fuckers know about...

Ok so clearly the English know that Claire’s a doctor so whenever shit hits the witchy dead dude fan, can we please have a quick resolution and not that dumb af “Claire goes to jail and of course her cellmate is a lesbian because Diana sucks at writing queer characters” nonsense?

Man Jamie is *not* subtle with this convo at the jail. Like Knox is right there and he’s just like hey buddies, I have people and we’re Scottish and y’know how we feel about protecting people vs. obeying the English.

I AM SPARTACUS FITZGIBBONS!

Aaand, naturally, the fuckwit preaching civility is the one to kill a man in cold blood. Rise up, motherfuckers. Rise up.

THANK FUCK ROGER IS A TERRIBLE SHOT BECAUSE IF THAT SQUIRREL DIED I WOULD LEGIT QUIT THE SHOW. RUN AWAY AND BE FREEEEEE YOU PRECIOUS LIL WILDERNESS FLOOFER!

Roger is, and I cannot stress this enough, the fucking worst.

He’s like look how shitty I am at being a soldier but then bitches about having to try to learn. And then he bitches about how dumb it is to shoot at squirrels as if being able to hit a squirrel wouldn’t make hitting a much larger thing, like a man who is shooting back at you, that much easier. And also, how the fuck does he think they get meat to eat? Shooting it, you twatwaffle.

And he’s like so fucking butthurt about being left behind. Like no shit, asshat. You’re bad at being in the past and have made no real effort and you whine a lot and are generally the worst. Of *course* you were left behind. Stop being emo about it and maybe actually try.

“He doesn’t respect me, Bree.” Yeah, no shit. Because you’ve done LITERALLY NOTHING to earn his respect. WHY ARE YOU SO TERRIBLE IT’S LIKE THEY’RE INTENTIONALLY TRYING TO MAKE HIM SUCK.

He also is like butthurt that his wife is a better shot than him when she gets the turkey he misses. How the fuck are we supposed to ship this. Ugh.

#BreeDeservesBetter

Oh Bree, sweetie, Jem won’t get hit by a car, but there are like eleventy million ways to die in the past. Just stick with the “you want to stay with your family” stuff.

Roger clearly doesn’t want to stay and is gonna pull a Fred and make Bree feel bad about wanting to all season, isn’t he. Fahkin’ doucherocket.

“I want to go but I’ll stay for you and look how magnanimous I am as I whine about it and make no effort to acclimate to the time.” Take your martyr card and shove it, Rog.

Shorter Jamie Fraser: “If you stand for nothing, Knox, what’ll you fall for?”

I’m already over Roger singing all the time tbh. Mostly because it reminds me that soon he won’t be able to do that anymore and we’re gonna be subjected to like half a season of him being more insufferable than he already is.

Wait, was Joan already born last episode? Or was there another time jump? Is Marsali preggers with baby #3? I lost track.

I love this scene between Claire and Marsali with my whole heart. Marsali especially.

CAN WE PLEASE JUST HAVE A WHOLE SHOW OF THESE TWO BEING ALL BADASS AND DOCTORY TOGETHER!?

Although, quick question, how fucking long is Claire planning to keep that un-embalmed body lying around in an un-refrigerated surgery/root cellar? Just curious...

Because you know someone’s gonna find it eventually and that’s gonna be a whole to do and I really need to stop being preemptively annoyed at plot lines that haven’t actually happened yet.

And with all this talk of plowshares and swords, I really am going to be singing Les Mis for days...

How long have these biddies been living on the Ridge? The fucking Leoch folks spent like a minute with Claire before they were like yep, she knows what’s up. These folks have apparently been here for months and are like loool, pass. They live in the fucking woods. You’d think they’d be more open to Claire’s brand of medicine.

Omg are they like the accidental antivaxxers of the Ridge?

#VaccinateYourFuckingKids

I mean, Bree, I think there’s some difference between Claire pretending to be a dude doc and telling folks to wash their hands and Otter Tooth.

Season 2 Claire and Otter Tooth on the other hand...

Ok so Jamie needs more men so that means next week is AHS: Beardsley Farm and then maybe (hopefully) instead of being like lol jk you can all go home, it actually goes right into the battle thing. Still not sure if they’re gonna do Roger getting hanged as the mid-season big thingy and then do the Bonnet nonsense in the back half or keep trying to do both of those at once.

Hey, Roger, pro-tip, next time you see Morag MacKenzie, maybe don’t fuCKING MAKE OUT WITH HER YOU FUCKING DUMBASS.

Claire’s totally right about how they should go back. Honestly, they should. But instead of talking with her like Claire is now with Roger, he’s just being all moody about how he’s bad at the past and wants to go back. You’re shooting yourself in the foot, broski.

Oh hey Husband the Quaker. And is that a fellow Quaker named Hunter with him? Are we gonna get Denny and Rachel this season?! Please and thank you that’d be great, I love them.

Murtz talking to his squad is full on Enjolras being like don’t worry fam, Marius will stand and fight with us. His place is there, he’ll fight with you.

The two very different but very similar ways Murtz and Jamie approach being Laird of their squads is fun to explore.

Bree lecturing Claire about changing the future by saving a few backwater hicks like Claire didn’t spend years trying to fucking change all of Scottish history is a bit rich. Like writers, we get it, you’re trying to be like oh snap, wait for the consequences of this bread!science! But like come the fuck on. We sat through all of season two.

“You’re a good dad, you know that?” Oh man, I’m getting that déjà vu about a shitty man getting kudos for being a good dad to a kid as if that negates all of his shittiness.

Oh hey, Bonnet’s back. Clearly we couldn’t have just let him die last season. Gotta drag shit on for longer than it has to. This is the [Outlander] Way.

If they were gonna keep him around as a villain, they shouldn’t have (in addition to all the other reasons) included him raping Bree. Jamie, Murtagh and Bonnet all making choices within and outside of the law to various degrees in order to make their living in the Colonies would be a really interesting contrast. But nope, gotta just go all in. BeCaUsE tHe BoOk.

Also I hate with the passion of a thousand fiery suns the Jemmy’s paternity stuff. Le sigh.

Remember in season one when the show was about Claire and she was in episodes for longer than 10 minutes?

I miss Claire.

#*#outlander starz #outlander 5x02 #drunj!der yells about outlander

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great-jenna-bake-off · 4 years ago

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Season 3 Episode 7: Jam Doughnuts

Over the course of this challenge, it so rarely happens that I’m presented with a technical challenge bake that I’ve actually heard of, let alone one I’ve eaten on multiple occasions. So I felt pretty confident going into this week’s bake of Paul Hollywood’s jam doughnuts (although I suppose I’d sound pretty silly ordering a JAM doughnut in an American bakery instead of a JELLY one). Still, this bake presented a few challenges. First, doughnuts are made with a yeasted dough, and I still don’t have a ton of experience baking with yeast, although I’ve picked up quite a bit over the course of this blog. Second, these doughnuts would need to be fried, and I’ve never personally deep-fried anything. But armed with Wilson’s Dutch oven, I felt pretty confident that I would be able to figure it out and not burn myself too horrifically with boiling oil.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/jam_doughnuts_90953

I love a recipe that starts off by dumping all the ingredients into one bowl, so I felt we were off to a good start here.

A big ol’ doughnut batter soup.

I used my hands to mix all the ingredients together until they formed a dough, which turned out to be incredibly sticky.

Got my dad to help with photography on this one.

Next, I added some more water and kneaded the dough in the bowl, at the end of which the dough was still extremely sticky.

Unfortunately I left my Kitchenaid stand mixer complete with dough kneading hook at my apartment and had to do the hard work with my own brute strength.

But my kneading adventure wasn’t over yet: I then had to knead the dough for 10 full minutes on a floured surface until it finally stopped sticking to my hands and formed an autonomous ball.

Kneading a wet dough like this is actually extremely soothing. I highly recommend.

Now it was time for the big proof. I put my little dough ball in a bowl and went on my merry way, hopeful that it would double in size after an hour.

Before…

And oh boy, double in size it did. This was where the recipe may have started to go off the rails a bit. When I returned to my dough an hour later, it was HUGE.

I have created a monster.

I figured that lots of volume was better than no volume, but still, I’ve heard the words “over-proved” through around enough on the show to know that Paul Hollywood does not approve. However, I decided a light airy doughnut was better than a dense one with no rise to the dough at all, and soldiered on. I divided my dough into ten pieces, even breaking out my scale to try to get my dough balls as even as possible.

Ten relatively even little doughnuts-to-be.

I then stuck my doughnuts under a towel and once again went on my merry way for an hour. But then, I returned to this…

This picture doesn’t really do justice to how huge these doughnuts were, but they were intimidatingly large.

I felt slightly like the Ghostbusters Stay Puft Man had invaded my kitchen.

Adorable, but EVIL.

I’m not sure why my yeast was so active during this bake, but it may have been because it was an unusually hot weekend here in LA, and my kitchen was pretty warm, which is conducive to yeast activity. (Do I sound like I know what I’m talking about yet?) Regardless, I had now devoted over two hours of my life to these doughnuts, and I was determined to see this thing through the end. So I whipped out my candy thermometer, dumped a ton of oil in the Dutch oven, and started heating.

Looks pretty professional!

At first, the temperature on the thermometer rose steadily, but around 300 degrees, I couldn’t help but notice that the heating seemed to have stopped. Why couldn’t I get my oil hotter than 300 degrees, I wondered? Well, when I pulled the thermometer out of the oil to investigate, I discovered this…

A crack in the thermometer just below the 300 degree mark.

So my thermometer was busted, and there was no way to tell how much higher than 300 degrees my oil had gotten. But in the spirit of the competition, I decided to make do with what I had. It was time to fry. As I attempted to separate my giant dough blobs and drop them into the oil, I understood why overproofing dough is problematic: My dough collapsed on itself the moment I tried to move it. Still, maybe it would re-puff back in the oil? I had no choice but to try.

They did in fact regain some of their volume in the fryer, thankfully.

As you can see from this picture, my doughnuts were quite brown, and that happened well before the 5 minutes on each side time limit suggested by Paul’s recipe. This leads me to believe that my oil was in fact much hotter than 350 degrees. In the hopes of not burning my doughnuts, I pulled this batch out quickly, after about 3 minutes. I then rolled them in sugar, which I hoped might hide the most egregious sins of my haphazard frying process.

I’ve seen rounder doughnuts…

For my second batch, I pulled them out of the fryer the moment they turned a perfect golden brown. I was feeling pretty good about myself until a thought arose in my head – what if these doughnuts are perfect on the outside, but undercooked on the inside? I cut one open, and sure enough, it was COMPLETELY RAW. I’m talking dough oozing out all over the counter. I neglected to take a photo because I was immediately overwhelmed with panic – this batch of doughnuts was already covered in sugar and resting from the fryer. How was I going to fix this? I decided to throw them back into the (now slightly cooler) fryer for a second fry, in the hopes that at the very least they wouldn’t be completely raw. I then pulled the mangled doughnuts back out and re-rolled them in sugar, only able to hope and pray that they would be somewhat edible.

Doughnut DISASTER.

Trying to put that particular crisis behind me, I moved on to the filling. I put some strawberry jam in a piping bag, which at least looked somewhat professional.

Ready for a jam transfusion.

But my woes were far from over. What is the logical point from which to fill a doughnut – the top, the bottom, or the side? If you answered “The side, obviously, why would you even consider any other options?” you are a smarter person than I. In my semi-frantic state, I decided to cut small holes in the BOTTOM of my doughnuts through which to pipe in jam, completely forgetting that gravity exists and would cause a significant portion of the jam to fall right back out again.

This was SO. DUMB.

By some miracle, some of the jam managed to stay inside the doughnuts, and I finally had something somewhat worthy of presenting to my judges. But first, would any of the bakers fare as poorly as I did for this challenge?

John clearly feels about the same way I do about this challenge.

The face of pure excitement.

Ryan declares himself to be a doughnut expert – in that he eats a lot of doughnuts.

Good one, Ryan.

James, meanwhile, actually IS a doughnut expert. Apparently, he makes doughnuts all the time.

That makes one of us, James.

Most of the bakers are surprised by how sticky the dough is, as I was.

SLIME.

The bakers meticulously measure out their dough using a scale.

This looks far more methodical than my dough-portioning step…

Then the doughnuts go into the proving drawer for their final proof.

Hope they don’t stick together!

And finally, it’s time for the “oily plunge”, as Cathryn calls it.

“Oh my great giddy aunt,” she says as she drops her doughnuts into the fryer.

Notoriously technical challenge-adverse Sarah Jane’s doughnuts are actually looking pretty good.

Look at that golden brown!

Ryan, however, is having issues. His doughnuts seem to have deflated slightly and are no longer looking beautifully spherical.

These look kind of familiar…

Finally, it’s time to fill the doughnuts with jam, which all the bakers do from the side, because they are not idiots like me.

That jam syringe does look very handy though.

However, even with the trick of piping the jam in through the side, most of the bakers find their doughnuts hemorrhaging jam. Guess I wasn’t so dumb after all!

The producers really went wild with a plethora of jam oozing shots like this one.

When asked to describe her progress this technical challenge, Cathryn goes with “doughnut doom,” which makes me feel slightly better about my own performance.

Been there, girl.

When the time comes for judging, Paul is far from impressed by Ryan’s doughnuts. He utters the word I am most afraid of during this challenge: “overproved.”

My fears have come to pass.

And yet, Ryan and his overproved doughnuts fare better than Sarah-Jane’s, which looked deliciously golden-brown but are in fact completely raw inside.

This is about what my second batch of doughnuts looked like before I put them back in the fryer.

In the end, resident doughnut expert James takes home the gold, preserving his reputation for frying excellence.

These look like they could be sold at Dunkin’ Donuts.

But now, it was time to see how much of a doughnut disaster had occurred in my own kitchen. First, let’s take a look at Paul’s batch:

Sheer perfection, as Mary would say.

And now, the moment of truth…

Not quite picture perfect.

Okay, so my doughnut isn’t quite a perfect circle, and it’s definitely a few shades darker than a perfectly toasty golden brown. Still, it looks… better than expected? Edible? Not like a complete abomination? But the real test would be feeding them to my esteemed judges.

***

Matt’s Review: This is one sticky pastry. Personally, I’m into it. I’d always prefer ooey-gooey syrup to hardened frosting, and this delivered in spades. I will say, there wasn’t as much nuance to the flavor, and it tasted pretty much the same throughout. But having said that… I went to take a quick nibble before taking the donut upstairs to dig in and ended up just standing in the middle of my kitchen stuffing my face like a monster. My roommate saw the whole thing. I’m not proud. Overall, I’d say this one wasn’t my favorite of the bunch. It didn’t have a perfect texture and the flavor wasn’t next level. But if you put another one in front of me right now I’d down it in about thirty seconds. There WAS a soggy bottom. I think I'm contractually obligated to comment.

Wilson’s Review: Outside is brown, with a nice glaze. Nice and crisp, but color makes me think it’s a bit overdone? Could be the donuts were in the fryer for a smidge too long. Cutting it open, crumb appears a bit compressed. Not as airy as one would hope. Texture and taste are good, but there seems to be a slight problem with the fill - It’s not evenly distributed, which changes the whole experience. Overall, has potential, but you really need to watch that fryer.

***

So in the interest of full disclosure, I will say that the doughnuts I gave the judges came from my first batch, which was fried through the center the first time and were not subjected to a second dunk in the oil. I’m not really sure what the second frying did to the texture of my other batch, but they weren’t raw anymore, and I fed them to my parents and my friend Amanda who seemed to find them somewhat pleasant to eat. So I’ll consider that a good save on my part. This was not my most successful challenge to date – in fact, I’d say it was one of my worst bakes yet. However, given all the difficulties I encountered on this bake, from rapid-proofing dough to a broken thermometer to my own jam-filling stupidity, I’m pleased that I ended up with anything at all to serve, and that it vaguely resembled a jam doughnut. I guess I’ll have to just try again until I end up with a doughnut that is Paul Hollywood-worthy, but at least I’ll be somewhat confident that I can eat the rejects in the meantime.

#jam doughnut #gbbo #paul hollywood #great british bake off

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 5 years ago

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1917

I’m not a big war movie buff, but I’ve been excited to see this film from the moment I heard the words “Sam Mendes.” Skyfall is one of my favorite movies of all time, and my hopes for this were SKY HIGH (get it? You get it). However, I know a lot of people think that the one continuous shot thing is a gimmick that obscures the larger story. And at this point, how much more is there to say about the nature of war? Well...

The themes may not be new, but we all need a good reminder now and again, and this one is wrapped up in the prettiest, most beautifully executed razor sharp package you could ask for. 1917 is the tale of two lance corporals, Blake (Dean Charles-Chapman) and Schofield (George MacKay) who are tasked with a nigh-impossible mission: to get a message across no man’s land and beyond the German lines to a group of infantrymen who are poised to attack at dawn (about 16 hours from now) because new intelligence confirms that those men are walking into a German trap. If they do not receive the General’s orders to stand down, 1600 men will be killed for no good reason at all, as opposed to the very good reason they were all there in the first place, you see.

What follows is a harrowing trip through the trenches, across no man’s land, and into the French countryside as the corporals try to reach the infantry in time and stop the attack, and save the lives of those 1600 men, including corporal Blake’s brother - and it’s all done as one long single tracking shot.

Some thoughts:

Goddamn Sam Mendes knows where to put a camera. I know it’s not all him, and that Roger Deakins’ cinematography is also to thank here, but just. GODDAMN. There are shots in this that are so gorgeous I want to compose poems in their honor. It’s a delicate balance between the camera disappearing so as not to call attention to the gimmick/the camera deliberately reminding you that this is happening in real time, that these moments are passing by quicker and quicker and the world is literally on fire and all we can do is just keep moving forward. I know it doesn’t work for some people, but great googily moogily did it work for me.

The tension in the film starts as soon as Black and Schofield enter the tent to receive their orders, and it doesn’t let up after that. Oh sure, there are quiet interludes, and there are moments when the horrors of war aren’t directly being pushed into your eyeballs, but even in the background the score, the lighting, every micro-expression that crosses our actors’ faces, they all remind you that time is a luxury and it is running out.

Speaking of, Thomas Newman’s score is great - unobtrusive but pulsing.

Having seen They Shall Not Grow Old (which, if you haven’t seen it, is an absolutely INCREDIBLE documentary), the recreation of all the trenches is so perfect and detailed, and you really get the sense of their scope and scale as Blake and Schofield are making their way through the labyrinthine tunnels.

There is a Very Good Dog sighting! Which is, in fact, period accurate, because there were lots of stray dogs that the soldiers took in and made friends with during their down time in the trenches.

For those of you sensitive to harm coming to animals, there is some pretty disturbing and graphic footage of some deceased horses and a deceased dog :(

Oh sweet jesus there’s some body horror for real, Sam Mendes is not shy about showing the horrors of war and the indignities done to the human body when there is so much carnage that we can’t honor our dead.

Did I Cry? I was doing ok. Things were, you know, upsetting but fine. And then the line “Talk to me, tell me you know the way” happened and it was raining buckets on my face.

I love these moments of surreality, like the soldier singing this haunting song, or catching glimpses of the photographs the German soldiers left behind. They’re beautiful and absurd and highlight just how outside of reality war is.

Every single British actor is in this and they’re all killing it. Colin Firth doesn’t have a ton to work with, but he gets in, he gets out, and yeah, I’d take a secret suicide mission from him too. Andrew Scott is fantastic - weary, defeated, and furious. Oh hello Mark Strong! Hello Mark Strong in uniform mmmmm. Ol’ Benny Cumbs coming in at the end, looking a little rough around the edges with that scar. He’s got the imposing war voice down, and his jaded outlook feels like the final kill in the world’s bloodiest horror movie. Then at last we have Richard Madden, who goes through more emotions in the 2 minutes he’s onscreen than most people have to in their whole lives.

Did I Cry? Part 2. I don’t even like kids that much, but I challenge YOU not to cry when a traumatized and bloody soldier recites poetry to a baby to get her to quiet down while her city is literally on fucking fire.

My MVP award of the movie has to go to George MacKay’s performance as Schofield though, for real. His task is not an easy one, and he carries a good deal of the movie on his shoulders, growing more and more haunted by the second. More than anything else about this movie, I will remember his face.

It’s not a classic war movie in terms of showing big battles or even being that bloody. Most of the carnage actually comes into play as decay, as things left behind to rot or get buried in the muck and the mud, or bloat lifelessly in a river. But it showcases the battle for our humanity when we subject human beings to the random, senseless cruelty of war better than any war movie I’ve ever seen. The whole time I was watching it, I was reminded of why Wilfred Owen in this English major’s favorite poem of all time. This movie will haunt me the same way the final stanza of “Dulce et Decorum Est” always will:

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

Notes:

Latin phrase is from the Roman poet Horace: “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.”

#120in2020 #1917 #1917 film #1917 review #sam mendes #george mackay #dean charles chapman #andrew scott #benedict cumberbatch #richard madden #colin firth #mark strong #movie reviews #film reviews

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witharsenicsauce · 5 years ago

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Chosen Stories From the War #17: Saving Colonel Zhang

(Content Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of gore.)

Tygan pressed a few random keys on his tablet as he looked over Yseult, the war hammer. The weapon glowed purple, pulsating ever so slightly in the darkness of the workshop. The three Chosen stood around it, leaning in closer as they watched Tygan work. He had called them here, after all.

“So.” He said, for the third time, and once again followed it with silence. The Darkstrider was poking around at some of the other machines while his siblings waited for Tygan to finish his thought, like the diligent little servants they were.

Finally, Tygan looked up. “Kon-Mai, this hammer seems to be made of a similar material to your sword.”

“Is it?” She raised a brow.

“Yes, and I was hoping you could give us some insight on the material process, to be frank. We still don’t even have a clue to understanding how your weapon works.”

Kon-Mai tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her tiny ear. “I do not know much, only that it is an ancient art, and involves the torture of living individuals, for the use of their bones to-”

“Thank you, Sister.” Dhar-Mon said, turning seemingly aqua-green. “That will be all.”

Gur-Rai chuckled at his reaction. “I suppose science isn’t always worth it, is it, Brother?”

“Well, perhaps if Vahlen were here...” Tygan muttered as he looked to Dhar-Mon, who was still focused on the hammer. “You said you wielded it in combat?”

“I did.” He hung his head in shame. “I deeply apologize if I have damaged your research, Doctor.”

“On the contrary.” Tygan pushed it toward him. “I’d like you to keep using it.”

Dhar-Mon looked puzzled.

“I would like more information on how the Elders’ weapons interact with their owners.” Tygan elaborated. “And you seem to be...attached. I hypothesize these weapons may ‘choose’ their owners, allowing them to utilize them to their full potential. Like Kon-Mai, and her sword that never misses.”

“That is a theory.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “Does it work with guns, too?”

“That, I don’t know.” Tygan broke off as the intercom screeched.

“Dhar-Mon Madron, Gur-Rai Madron, and Kon-Mai Mordenna, please report to the Commander’s Office. Dhar-Mon Madron, Gur-Rai Madron, and Kon-Mai Mordenna, please report to the Commander’s Office.”

“It seems we are summoned.” Dhar-Mon sighed, lifting Yseult and hoisting it onto his back, where the magnetic straps clicked and held it in place. It felt light as a feather on his shoulders.

Kon-Mai bowed to Tygan and turned, leading her brothers toward their Commander. They followed her in a line, Gur-Rai in the middle and Dhar-Mon bringing up the rear, like a mother duck and her ducklings.

Kon-Mai chuckled at the thought.

“Well, the gang’s all here.” Bradford tossed his clipboard onto Senuna’s bed as the Chosen entered the room.

“Shrinemaiden, Darkstrider…” He nodded to Dhar-Mon. “...Hieromonk.”

“Central.” Kon-Mai bowed to him.

Senuna stood up. She looked a bit worse for wear, like she hadn’t slept at all the previous night. “Remember when I said I would be sending you all out together soon?”

Gur-Rai grinned. “We’re gettin’ the band back together?” He plopped down on one of her couches, far off to the side, and put his feet up. “Hit me, Commander. What have you got?”

“Have you three ever heard of Shaojie Zhang?” Bradford asked as the Commander sat down across from the Chosen, rubbing some of the smudged eyeliner off her eye.

Both Dhar-Mon and Kon-Mai hesitated for a moment, but Gur-Rai jumped in immediately. “Ol’ Chilong? A naughty little Triad spy who defected to XCOM.” He nodded. “I’ve heard. What of him?”

“He’s alive.” Senuna seemed to almost sigh, but her voice trembled.

“We THINK he’s alive.” Jane clarified. “Our recent conversation with Nuwa Shen revealed that there is, in fact, a hidden ADVENT prison complex in the Khasi Hills of India. And she apparently has it on good authority that Shaojie Zhang is being held inside.”

Gur-Rai blinked for a moment, his eyes becoming unfocused. “...Never heard of that place...huh. Must be new…”

“Perhaps it is.” Kon-Mai assured him. “The Crimson Dragon is known to be very dangerous. ADVENT would want him under wraps.”

“Yeah.” Bradford said. “So that’s why we called you three...this operation is going to be dangerous.”

“Very dangerous.” There was a glimmer in Senuna’s eye. “Which is why you three are going down together~”

Gur-Rai let out a cheer and even Dhar-Mon seemed to look a bit happier. Kon-Mai chuckled at her older brother’s reaction.

“Look out ADVENT.” Gur-Rai said as he stood. “The boys—and girl—are back in town!”

“Well, Dhar-Mon, you’ll get to test out your new weapon sooner than you thought.” Gur-Rai noted as he strapped on his armor plates.

Dhar-Mon nodded silently, only barely acknowledging his brother, who then tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “What’s going on with you, Brother? You’re acting like Kon-Mai.”

“I heard that.” His sister hissed.

“I am fine, Brother.” Dhar-Mon assured him. “I simply...don��t have much to say anymore.”

“Alright, that’s DEFINITELY unlike you.”

“It is unlike how I was.” Dhar-Mon mused, pulling on the sleeves of his robes. “Before, I could not take a breath, lest I be praising the Elders.” He almost spat their name. “Now released from their hold, I find I have little to say.”

“Well, what’s on your mind?” Gur-Rai asked. “We could talk about that.”

“Indeed.” Kon-Mai said as she began plaiting her hair into several small braids. It had gotten longer in the weeks she’d been there, and now reached her upper back. “It is imperative we grow to trust each other as family, in battle and in conversation.”

“I’ll start!” Gur-Rai cried. “I found this amazing new book called ‘Blue Jesus.’ Picked it up because, well, we’re blue, so the title caught my eye.”

“Blue Jesus…” Dhar-Mon had heard that name, Jesus. It was spoken in whispers, by worshipers of the dead god. It was a name considered sacrilege by the Elders. Those who spoke it often died with the name on their lips.

“What is it about?” Kon-Mai asked. “I have been looking for new reading material. All of my favorite books were left behind at my stronghold.”

“So this kid, named Buddy, is friends with a kid whose skin is entirely blue. His name is Early.”

“Those are unusual names.” Dhar-Mon interjected.

“I do not think we have the right to criticize.” Kon-Mai chuckled. “Continue, Gur-Rai.”

“So, one day Buddy and Early are down at the river, doing the kind of stuff little boys do. And they find a dead baby.”

Kon-Mai made a face, a mix of terror, disgust, and almost crushing sadness. Dhar-Mon saw it before she could right herself, and she looked like Gur-Rai had just told her her own child was found dead.

“Hold your horses, Sister.” Gur-Rai raised his hand. “Because while Buddy runs to get help, Early touches the baby and brings it back to life.”

Now both Dhar-Mon and Kon-Mai looked at their brother in wonder.

“Back to life…?” Kon-Mai muttered.

Gur-Rai nodded. “Mind you, before this everybody hated Early and his family, because they were blue and that’s very strange for humans. But after Early brings the baby back, people change their tune very quickly. Some of them are nice to him all of a sudden. Some people treat him even worse.” His eyes narrowed. “Some people think he’s-”

“Jesus.” Dhar-Mon muttered.

“Yep. Anyway, I’m about halfway through and it’s a fantastic read.” He finished his sentence just as two other humans walked in and stopped, staring at them.

The three siblings turned and looked at the soldiers, one dressed in the blue and white uniform of a medical officer, and the other dressed in light armor and holding a hacking kit. They halted when they saw the three Chosen, and the medic seemed to groan.

“Well, the gang’s all here~” Gur-Rai smiled and crossed his arms. “I assume you two are coming along for the ride.”

The medic, a young girl with brown hair in two, Mickey-Mouse like buns, looked at the man to her right. He coughed, straightening up as if he could compare to the height of the Chosen.

“Shamil Naumov.” He said, pressing his hand to his chest to indicate that the name was indeed his own. “The Commander said you’d probably need a hacker, so...that’s me.”

Gur-Rai scoffed. “I doubt that. I can do your job in half the time it takes you.”

“Yes, Brother, but won’t you also be busy with your gun? Shooting down our enemies?” Kon-Mai gave him a look. “An extra set of hands may be useful.”

“Well, if the Commander insists.” He shrugged and looked towards the girl. “And what’s your name, beautiful?”

“...Vicky.” She said curtly.

Kon-Mai recognized that name. “Are you a friend to Malinalli?”

“Friend?” Vicky grimaced, then bobbed her head from side to side. “...I guess.”

“Do you guys know the objective?” Shamil began looking through his data pad.

“We are to rescue Shaojie Zhang.” Dhar-Mon said with conviction.

“Right. This is supposed to be stealthy but…” He eyed Dhar-Mon. “If things go south, don’t be afraid to make some noise.”

“Oh, we shall.” Kon-Mai smiled, bearing her sharp teeth. Vicky seemed to shudder.

“Okay.” Shamil perked up. “All aboard the Skyranger then.”

The Skyranger seemed to shudder as it drew closer to the sea of black trees. The sky had grown dark and cloudy, and there settled over the ship an air of foreboding.

The Shinemaiden huddled herself in the corner of the Skyranger, leaving space for the rest of her compatriots. Even so, three Chosen all crammed into a canteen was beginning to cause some claustrophobia. Dhar-Mon was running into the same problem as last time, and desperately wished he still had the ability to teleport.

“Are we there yet?” Gur-Rai called up to Firebrand.

“Ask me one more time and I’mma turn this cab right around!” Firebrand called back to him. Kon-Mai chuckled at her brother getting scolded, and Gur-Rai stuck out his tongue at her.

The plane dropped low over a dense area of wood and opened her doors. Gur-Rai got to his feet and looked out. “Tricky landing!”

“Be careful goin’ down!” Firebrand called.

Kon-Mai looked to Dhar-Mon, preparing to offer him a hand, but he smiled and shook his head to indicate he would be fine. She nodded to him and took a rope from Gur-Rai, skydiving backwards off the ship and swinging, Tarzan-style, into a nearby tree.

“Showoff.” Gur-Rai muttered as he slid down after her, Dhar-Mon following behind him. Their two human compatriots dropped to the ground behind them.

“What do you see, Sister?” Gur-Rai asked.

“To the north.” Kon-Mai said, her already raspy voice further distorted by their communicators. “The building is small. One story only. Pure white, yet the windows are black.”

“Any enemies?”

“The usual cannon fodder.” She chuckled. “...And that is all...strange...”

Dhar-Mon and Gur-Rai looked at each other. “This seems to be a trap.” Dhar-Mon said.

“Oh it probably is.” Gur-Rai smiled. “I’m counting on it. Kon-Mai?”

“Yes?” She drawled her voice a bit with the question.

“Take the east side.” Gur-Rai said. “And I’ll take the west. Dhar-Mon,” He turned to his brother “remember what you did at the UFO? Do that again.”

Dhar-Mon nodded. “These traitors shall feel the wrath of my power.”

Gur-Rai smiled. “Now THERE’S my big brother.” He patted him on the shoulder and leapt into a tree. “You two.” He called to the humans. “Stay behind Dhar-Mon.”

“We can fight too!” Vicky hissed.

“I do not doubt that.” Dhar-Mon annunciated as turned to her, staring down at her short stature. “But your kind are very…” He fumbled for the word.

“Squishy.” Gur-Rai cut in.

“Yes.” Dhar-Mon nodded. “In any case, I shall protect you.”

“I mean…” Shamil shrugged and chuckled. “I won’t argue with the guy holding the big whacky stick.”

Dhar-Mon scowled and turned toward the facility, keeping low as he led them forward. He could hear his brother and sister in the trees, moving from branch to branch. Only trained ears could detect such slight sounds. Those two were as quiet as the grave.

He stopped as he reached the treeline, holding his breath. “We are in position.” He whispered.

“Perfect~” He heard Gur-Rai chuckle. “Sister?”

“I am ready.” He heard the quiet shing of her blade.

There was a moment of silence. They all held their breath...

“Now!”

On his brother’s signal, Dhar-Mon stood, raising his hands, and a bolt of psionic energy crackled toward the soldiers, striking them each in a succinct line. One by one they fell. Those who did not fall turned on them with guns drawn, right as Dhar-Mon saw a flash of blue dart out from the trees. Then, the screaming began.

His sister’s blade flashed in the pale moonlight as she cut through the trooper closest to her, their body separating at the waist and flying in different directions. The other soldiers turned on her, guns drawn and ready to fire, and she smiled.

“Hello, boys.” She growled. “Is that any way to greet me?”

A flash of red, this time from the treeline, sent another trooper flying. Gur-Rai cackled as he watched their body ragdoll.

There were about seven soldiers left, and while they seemed to be realizing the hopeless position they were in, they were not backing down. As Kon-Mai shifted to move for cover, one of them fired on her. The bullet bounced off her armor, smacking her in the ribcage. She muttered a grunt as it struck her. It stung badly against her skin, but there was no tear in the fabric, and no wound in her flesh.

“Insolent fool!” Dhar-Mon bellowed, raising his arms as his palms began to glow. “How dare you strike her?!”

“I think they know we’re off payroll!” Gur-Rai said, just as a rain of bullets shredded the branch he was standing on. He leapt to another tree as that one disintegrated.

The bullet rain began, and both Shamil and Vicky dove behind trees for cover. Dhar-Mon also got low, sheltering behind the shrubbery. He felt a few hit his shoulder pauldron, but none broke the surface. Yet.

The firing began to die down as the troopers ran out of ammo, and Kon-Mai took her shot. She dashed out from behind the crate and plunged her sword through the back of her unsuspecting victim, then hoisted him up and catapulted his body into one of his comrades, knocking the other to the ground.

She smiled, but only briefly, because she was now out in the open, all guns trained on her. One particularly fast one turned on her and fired. It would have hit her in the face had she not raised her arm to deflect it. Her sword arm. The mesh deflected the bullet, but her arm went numb with the shock and she cried out, dropping her sword.

“NO!” Dhar-Mon sprang up and, ripping Yseult from his back, charged at his sister’s assailant. The hit was slow, and the trooper began to move to dodge, but as he did the hammer itself seemed to move on it’s own, correcting it’s course automatically so it plowed into the trooper’s head, cracking it like an egg.

With that trooper falling over in a bloody heap, Dhar-Mon focused his energy towards the next man, and with a glow of purple he could see their mind bending under his will. These troops had little fight in them, and the soldier easily picked up their gun and turned on their own men.

The Shrinemaiden lifted her sword again, testing her arm, and made a leap for the roof, where she was again hidden from sight. She heard the clink of a grappling hook as Gur-Rai zipped over to her, landing beside her.

“Close call.” He muttered, training his sniper on one. “Hey. You didn’t happen to bring that old shotgun I made you, did you?”

She sighed. “Yes, I did.”

“Now would be an excellent time to use it~”

“You know my aim with a firearm is poor.” She muttered, pulling Arashi from her back and copying her brother’s stance. “Do not blame me if I miss and reveal our position.”

“Sister.” Gur-Rai made a tut tut noise. “What did I tell you all those years ago?”

She scowled.

“Sister~”

“‘Sister, you will be the eye of the storm’.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I shall fire on your mark.”

“Good.” He raised a hand. “Three. Two. One!”

She took a breath, held it, and pulled the trigger, the recoil punching her in the shoulder. The bullet cut through a stack of crates, which upon being hit, detonated in a burst of flames. The splinters of wood exploded out in a swath of fiery debris, torching the three troopers who had been using the boxes as cover.

Kon-Mai glared at Gur-Rai, who was wearing the biggest shit eating grin she’d ever seen.

“You knew I would miss.” She said accusingly.

“Sister, I am simply playing to your strengths.” He gestured. “And look, they’re dead either way.”

She smiled, just a tad. He was right, after all. They were dead, either way.

“I have a clear shot for the door!” Shamil cried into the comm.

“I’ll cover you!” Gur-Rai looked through his scope again. “You look fine from up here.”

“Okay.” Vicky and Shamil made a dash for the front door. From the other side of the roof, there was a clang as yet another trooper was introduced to the business end of the Hieromonk’s weapon.

“Working on the door-” They heard it slide open almost immediately after Shamil plugged in. “...That was easy…”

“Too easy.” Gur-Rai looked at Kon-Mai.

“No doubt they are leading us to the trap, like pigs to slaughter.” Kon-Mai bit her lip. “Dhar-Mon.”

“I am here, Sister!” He shouted into his comm, causing slight distortion.

“We are moving inside. Take a position in the rear, I have a sinking feeling more shall join us.”

“As you wish.” He said.

Shrinemaiden and Darkstrider jumped from the building, landing on their feet gracefully in front of the open doorway. Kon-Mai peeked inside and scanned the hallway.

“The coast is empty.” She stood to the side and let Shamil and Vicky in first, Gur-Rai following behind. She waited for Dhar-Mon, who had called forth his psionic energy to his hands once again, and he nodded for her to go. With him close behind, they dashed inside.

The building was dilapidated, old and partially rotted. It looked more like a scene of a horror movie than a scientific building. Gur-Rai let loose a whistle. “ADVENT is really letting their best go unchecked.”

“This is disgraceful.” Dhar-Mon muttered. “What would have caused them to leave this place in such a state?”

“Diverting materials.” Vicky finally spoke up. “Maybe to the Avatar Project.”

No one said a word to that. It was a very plausible explanation.

“Where are we going?” Kon-Mai asked Shamil.

“My computer hates this place but…” He smacked it. “Okay. We make a right turn here, then another...then another…”

“Into the center?” She raised a brow. “Like circling the drain.”

“Hey if worse comes to worst, I’ll shoot out the ceiling.” Gur-Rai winked.

“Wonderful. That will work perfectly in our favor.” She rolled her eyes.

The quiet of the facility was nearly stifling as they descended deeper and deeper into the bowels. Each turn let them to another door, each door was harder and harder to crack. Each time the Chosen would stand guard for their human compatriots, and each time they were met with empty halls and deserted rooms. The silence was beginning to grow worrisome.

Dhar-Mon growled. “Where are the guards? Do they intend to do nothing to stop us?!”

“Oh, they’re coming.” Gur-Rai muttered. “It’s the when that’s bothering me.”

“Keep your eyes sharp, Brother.” Kon-Mai said, one hand on the hilt of her sword. “With each step we draw closer to our goal.”

Finally, they rounded one last corner, shrouded in darkness by broken lights, and came to a final door, sealed with magnetic energy and reinforced with layers of metal.

Shamil stared at it for a moment. “...There’s no keypad.”

They looked around. He was correct, there was no keypad in sight.

“How do we open this then?” Vicky scoffed. “Do we all stand in front of it and yell open sesame?”

“Well, it’s worth a shot.” Gur-Rai holstered his rifle and went up to the door, putting his hand against the metal. “That tickles…”

“What do you sense, Brother?” Kon-Mai asked.

“Psionic energy.” He looked back at Dhar-Mon. “I think this is your department, my brother.”

Dhar-Mon followed Gur-Rai’s movement, pressing five fingertips against the metal of the door and focusing. His brow creased and he winced, then jerked away. “It is fighting back.”

Gur-Rai raised a brow. “Wow, didn’t know it did that.”

“Allow me to help.” Kon-Mai stepped up, in between her brothers, and laid her free hand on the door as well. Closing her eyes, she let what psionic energy she possessed flow into her fingers, joining with her brothers. The three of them kept pressure on it, and while the door seemed to be fighting back, they could feel it being worn down, the magnetic field slowly dissipating…

There was a click. Slowly, with churning gears, the door dragged itself open, and the contents of the room were revealed.

“Holy fuck.” Gur-Rai gasped. Vicky rushed in immediately, followed by Dhar-Mon and his sister. Shamil and Gur-Rai stayed back, their mouths hanging open in horror.

“It’s him…” Shamil whispered. “What have they done to him…?”

The limp form of Shaojie Zhang hung by his wrists and ankles, strapped against the wall with metal cuffs and braces. His skin was deeply jaundiced and bruised and his joints were severely bloated, possibly from fluid or even rot. But the worst was his abdomen, ripped open to expose his organs, still desperately pumping to keep him alive. Tubes were burned into the open crevice in his body, writhing on their own as though they were feeding off him.

“Oh God, oh Jesus, they didn’t teach us this in bootcamp…” Vicky hissed as she looked in her medical kit. “What the fuck do we do?!”

The Hieromonk stepped forward and pressed his hand against Zhang’s neck, checking his pulse, and Zhang’s eyes suddenly flew open. Kon-Mai reached for her sword, but stopped. Zhang looked at her with terror in his eyes.

“It is alright.” She lowered her hands. “We are not here to hurt you.”

He tried to speak but it came out in panicked gasps, as though his voice no longer worked. He seemed to be writhing against his restraints with what strength he still possessed.

“We are with XCOM.” She showed the badge on her shoulder. “Do you see?”

He stopped struggling, but still looked between her and Dhar-Mon with undisguised panic.

“I do not think he trusts us.” Dhar-Mon said to his sister.

“He has little choice. We don’t have time to prove ourselves.” She growled. “Vicky.”

“I’m working, bitch!” Vicky snapped. “I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to untie him!”

“Let me try.” Gur-Rai jogged up. “I’ve been inside a few men in my day~”

Dhar-Mon made a fake gagging motion and rolled his eyes. Kon-Mai let slip a smile, and Gur-Rai cracked his knuckles and got to work.

“Let’s see here. Well that’s your appendix there, you don’t need that.” He slipped two finger’s into Zhang’s abdominal cavity. “This is gonna hurt.” He pinched off the appendix, and the tube attached to it, and yanked. It came out with a wet splat, and Zhang began to spasm.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Vicky screamed, and Dhar-Mon rushed in and put his hand back on Zhang’s neck.

“His heart races with the agony, Brother.” Dhar-Mon looked at him.

“Good, that means he’s alive.” Gur-Rai licked his lips. “One down, four to go. This next one's on your liver…” He reached back. “Sis, you got your dagger?”

“I do not like what you are planning.” She said as she pulled her dagger from her belt and handed it to him.

There was intense silence, broken only by the ominous chattering and clicking sounds of the old walls as Gur-Rai slipped the blade of the dagger in between the fleshy organ and the teeth of the tube that held it in place. Zhang’s entire body tensed up for a moment, until Gur-Rai managed to wriggle it in just the right way that the teeth came loose, and the tube fell out and onto the floor.

“Hell yeah.” He let out a breath. “Almost done, Bud.”

The creaking in the walls grew louder for a moment, almost sounding like scraping. Kon-Mai looked around, drawing her blade again. “Something is amiss.”

“Put that thing away. It’s scaring him.” Vicky scolded.

Kon-Mai bore her teeth. “Very well. I shall allow us to remain unsheltered, like sitting ducks.”

Vicky made a mocking gesture with her hand and turned to look at Shamil. “Shammy! You have your pistol?”

“Yeah…” He sounded distracted.

“See? Shammy has the door. We’ll be fine.”

Zhang wailed in pain. Two of the tubes dropped to the floor, along with a piece of flesh.

“That one didn’t wanna let go. One more…” Gur-Rai grimaced. “And...fuck.”

“What…?” Kon-Mai peered over her shoulder.

“It’s on his heart.” Gur-Rai sighed. “Fuck. Okay. This is fine.” He twirled the dagger in his hand. “They don’t call me the Helsinki Heartbreaker for nothin’!”

“I have many questions.” Kon-Mai sighed, peering in closer to watch her brother begin his work.

“It’s just like replacing the RAM in a computer.” He hissed. “Gotta make sure not to bend the casing.”

There was a sudden, loud shriek from the door, followed by gunshots in rapid succession. The Chosen all jumped in surprise, Kon-Mai grabbing her katana. “Who goes there?!”

“Shammy!” Vicky called. The lights flickered for a moment, and they saw Shamil’s figure stumble towards the door.

“Shammy! Are you ok?!” Vicky rushed towards him but Kon-Mai grabbed her.

“Wait-”

“What are you doing?! Let me go! Sham-” She broke off.

Shamil’s mouth moved, but no words came forth. He stumbled inside, fell to his knees and hit the floor, green ooze spilling from the wound on his neck. As his body spasmed once and fell limp, a shriek came from the hallway so loud it could shatter bone.

“CHRYSSALIDS!” Kon-Mai pulled Vicky behind her and rushed to the door. “Gur-Rai, hurry!”

“You can’t exactly rush open heart surgery!” He snapped. “Dhar-Mon, go help her!”

“You need assistance here!”

“If Vicky would DO HER FUCKING JOB maybe that wouldn’t be the case!” He growled back at the human medic, who had abandoned the mission and ran to Shamil.

“Move, Child!” Dhar-Mon ran to Vicky and grabbed her arm.

“Let me go! He’s alive, I know it!”

“His corpse shall be a feeding ground, soon enough!” Dhar-Mon tossed her towards Gur-Rai. “Come, and save the man who still has a fighting chance!”

“Fuck you, you big dumb bohunk!” Vicky spat. “You don’t get it because you’re not human! You don’t know how to love like we do! I bet you’d sacrifice your own siblings if you had to!”

Dhar-Mon’s eyes grew dark, as did the room around him. “Do not speak such dark language to ME, little wretch! It was not I who let him die!”

“VICKY, COME DO YOUR FUCKING JOB, OR I WILL JAM MY GUN UP YOUR ASS AND PULL THE TRIGGER!” Gur-Rai shouted.

“FUCK OFF, YOU ROTTEN FISH STICK!” She ran for the door, grabbing Shammy by the arms and beginning to drag him, slowly, towards the door. “I’m getting out of here!”

Dhar-Mon looked at Gur-Rai.

“Toss me her medkit.” He muttered.

“You will need help.” Dhar-Mon protested as he handed it off.

“I’m not the one facing down a Chryssalid. Go help Kon-Mai.”

Dhar-Mon nodded and ran to the door. The Chryssalid was still in the outer hallway, and Kon-Mai seemed to be holding it back with her blade, but with each attack it drew a bit closer to her, each strike was a little more sure. And to make matters worse, the walls were clicking again.

“They have brethren coming to join the fray.” Kon-Mai grimaced. “Kill one, and another takes its place!”

“Then we must retreat!” Dhar-Mon lifted his arms, purple energy glowing at his fingertips.

“They block the way!”

“Stand before me, Sister.” He looked at her. “And be ready. I have an idea.”

She blinked, then grinned, her teeth glistening in the light. “I understand, Brother.”

Dhar-Mon moved behind her, and Kon-Mai kept her blade out, waiting for the Chryssalids to come scuttling out of the walls. One by one, more joined the fray, littering the hallway, clawing at each other to get through…

Dhar-Mon reached out with his mind, and Kon-Mai felt his power seep into her body, entwining with her neurons and synapses, flowing into her blood. She turned her sword upside down and jammed it into the ground, cutting through the concrete. Pulling back, a purple wave rose before her.

Kon-Mai’s blade sliced through the concrete floors, the wave of psionic energy building and building. Then, with a demonic smile, she ripped the sword out of the ground and sliced across her path, propelling the mount of energy into the Chryssalids, who were all lined up nicely in her path. Their bodies flew, crunching on the ground as they bent under her Harbor Wave.

She looked back at Dhar-Mon, who let his arms drop and wiped his forehead.

“Are you well?” Her smile disappeared into a look of worry.

“That was nothing.” He smiled. “The pathway is clear, all we require is-” He broke off as Vicky began to scream.

“FUCK!” Gur-Rai yelled as he looked back at her. “The corpse!”

Kon-Mai gasped. “Vicky! Get away!” She rushed in and grabbed Vicky by the arm, pulling her back as Shamil’s corpse exploded, a Chryssalid of monstrous proportions clawing its way out from inside him.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” Gur-Rai twisted the dagger, and the claw around Zhang’s heart finally popped off. The restraints around his limps loosened and fell away, and he collapsed in Darkstrider’s arms.

“Dhar-Mon!” Gur-Rai called, struggling to keep Zhang from falling over. “I NEED YOU!”

“I am busy!” Dhar-Mon pulled his hammer from his back as Kon-Mai dashed toward the Chryssalid. It was huge, as tall as the ceiling and larger than the one’s they’d encountered in the hall, and despite the great height of the Chosen, it easily dwarfed them. However, Kon-Mai was not deterred.

“I shall hold the monster!” Kon-Mai shouted. “Take Zhang and run!”

“We’re not leaving you!” Gur-Rai spat, looking around. He laid Zhang on the ground and patted his head. “Hang tight, my dude. I’m gonna blaze a new trail.” Determined, the Darkstrider drew his gun.

Dhar-Mon dashed in as Kon-Mai slipped on Shamil’s blood, her leg twisting as she hit the ground. The Chryssalid went to stab her, but it’s claw was knocked away by Dhar-Mon’s hammer.

“BACK, YE FOUL CREATURE!” He commanded, his voice booming. “BACK FROM WHENCE YOU CAME!”

Kon-Mai crawled away, her leg screaming with pain as she got up, but she shook it off and dashed around behind, slicing through one of the Chryssalid’s appendages as payback. It screeched, writhing in agony as the digit fell limp beside it.

“GOT IT!” There was a boom, the room shook, and Gur-Rai waved them over to where he had blown a hole in the corner. “Secret tunnel, right here!”

“Then go!” Dhar-Mon grabbed Vicky and shoved her toward Gur-Rai. “I shall carry Zhang!”

Kon-Mai blocked the creature's stabs toward her brother as he darted around it’s legs, carefully picking up Zhang bridal style. The poor man was barely conscious, but he was alive.

“You shall be home soon enough.” He assured him, following Gur-Rai into the tunnel. “Kon-Mai!”

As Dhar-Mon called her name, Kon-Mai dropped her defense and sprinted for the hole in the wall, the Chryssalid on her heels. She dove inside just as she felt it smash into the edges, just a bit too big for the opening in the wall. Looking forward into the darkness, the five survivors ran.

“Gur-Rai.” Kon-Mai grunted. “I believe we’re lost.”

“We’re not lost.” He insisted. “I know exactly where we’re going.”

“Oh?” She muttered sarcastically. “Then where are we?”

“We’re in a secret tunnel.” He looked back at her, smirking.

“You dare jest when a man is dying?” Dhar-Mon sighed. “That is typical of you, Brother.”

“Hey, if I can’t laugh, all I can do is scream.” He stopped. “...Left or right?” He looked down at Vicky, who was walking silently beside him. “What do you think, left or right?”

“I don’t care.” Vicky snapped. “One of my fucking friends is DEAD!”

“Okay, and you’ll be joining him if we don’t get out of here.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “Sis, what do you think?”

Kon-Mai stood still and listened for a moment. “...Right.”

“Right?”

“Yes. I hear air moving through that tunnel.”

“Well then, right you are!” Gur-Rai snickered at his own joke and led the party down the right side.

Kon-Mai looked back at Dhar-Mon, still carrying Zhang. “How is he?”

“Alive.” Dhar-Mon muttered. “I fear how long that will be true, though.”

She fell back and looked over the man. Even in the dim light, she could see the horrifying extent of his injuries. It was a wonder how he was even alive in the first place. His eyes met hers, and she tried to offer him a smile.

“We will be home soon, my dear.” She said as softly and motherly as she could. “If only we had a blanket, something to keep him warm…”

“I have one…” Vicky muttered. “In my medpack.”

“We had to leave the medpack.” Gur-Rai snapped.

“Maybe if you didn’t take it-!”

“Maybe, and this is just me spitballing here.” Gur-Rai turned on her “Maybe if you did YOUR JOB, and HELPED ME instead of messing around with a corpse, we WOULD have the medkit!”

“SHUT UP!” Vicky covered her ears. “You don’t understand! None of you fucking understand!” She glared at him. “You can’t understand, because you’re fucking ALIENS, and you can’t love anything!”

“Stop…”

The soft whisper came from the man in Dhar-Mon’s arms. They all looked at Zhang, who couldn’t even look at Vicky as he spoke.

“Stop…” He said again, his voice no more than a whisper.

Vicky and Gur-Rai looked at each other, and Kon-Mai glared back at them.

“Stop.” Zhang said again. As he opened his mouth to speak, he gasped for air, coughing.

“Just rest.” Kon-Mai whispered, rushing to him and lifting his head slightly in her hand. “Please, rest.” She looked back at Gur-Rai. “He is fading, quickly.”

“...Let’s just keep moving.” Gur-Rai mumbled.

The tunnel began to widen out, the walls once again taking on the white facility color, although they were significantly more dilapidated than above. As they walked, the white ground became filthy, and it soon became clear that it was not rocks they were stepping over, but bones. They passed ancient corpses of human figures, some wearing labcoats, some wearing trooper armor, some wearing nothing. Their conditions ranged from full skeletons with dried meat still clinging to their bones, to bleached and crumbling, and all of them crawling with bugs and snakes. Zhang’s eyes followed them as they walked beside them.

“Who were such unfortunate souls?” Dhar-Mon mused.

“Doctors…” Zhang whispered. “For me.”

Dhar-Mon stopped, adjusting Zhang in his arms so the man’s head laid on his shoulder. “Were you so strong?” He chuckled.

He felt Zhang nod weakly.

Dhar-Mon stopped briefly, looking down at Zhang. “You were?”

Zhang met his eyes, and to Dhar-Mon’s horror, those eyes began to take on a purple glow. He felt that familiar tingling of psionics, and suddenly he understood.

“HEADS UP!” Gur-Rai called. “We found our exit!”

Dhar-Mon power walked over to his siblings, as the tunnel began to fan out, the walls becoming rock, then dirt.

“Be wary.” His sister reached for her blade. “I hear something on the wind…”

Gur-Rai fell back a bit, and Kon-Mai took point, crouching as she moved toward the shred of light coming from above them. “I see the moonlight…” She hissed. “But there is movement…”

“Careful…” He warned her gently, and drew his own weapon. “Don’t want another Chryssalid atta-”

His comm suddenly exploded in static. “Come...Menace 1-5! Com...where the hell...you?!”

“Is that Bryni?” He said with a smile. “Good to hear from you, Dollface~”

“Good...alive! Got...ang?”

“You’re cutting out.” He said. “Wait until we’re outside.”

Kon-Mai led them out, the tunnel widening into the mouth of a cave, and they emerged into the forest. The Skyranger was flying in circles above them, and Gur-Rai waved his arms, beckoning her to let down the ropes.

“Firebrand, we need a stretcher!” He called. “Zhang’s looking pretty bad!”

…

“I don’t know how you did it.” Tygan as Zhang was wheeled by two of the nurses into he operating theatre. “With wounds like that? He shouldn’t be alive.”

“We have excellent teamwork skills~” Gur-Rai wrapped his arms around his sibling’s shoulders. “I imagine like this, we’ll be able to take the Elders down no problemo~”

“Do not get cocky.” Dhar-Mon scoffed. “We simply did what we had to, in order to save Zhang’s life.”

“Yes, well…” Tygan sighed. “The Commander is...not as happy as she could be. It’s been a while since we lost a soldier…”

“Shamil died with great honor.” Kon-Mai bowed her head. “Not once did he falter in his duty.”

“Vicky on the other hand…” Gur-Rai grimaced.

“Vicky is being dealt with.” Tygan bit his lip. “Don’t be too hard on her. That’s the Commander’s job. In the meantime, I believe Bradford-”

“-wants to see you.” A voice behind them said. “And you’d be right.”

As the three turned, Tygan followed the nurses into the theatre in order to start scrubbing up for Zhang’s surgery. Behind them, there stood Bradford, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“So I talked with the Commander.” He said. “Getting Zhang back...that was a big deal. And you three went above and beyond.”

“He is a good soldier.” Kon-Mai nodded.

“He’s also a good friend.” Bradford added. “We knew him before this war took a downward spiral and…” He sighed. “It’s good to have him back and relatively okay. The fact that you three brought him back to us…” He held out his hand. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

Gur-Rai reached out and shook Bradford’s hand, as Kon-Mai and Dhar-Mon bowed in return.

“Now, for your reward.”

“We get a raise.” Gur-Rai smirked.

“God, I wish. No.” Bradford straightened his back, standing at attention. “I hereby promote you three to the rank of Sergeant.”

Kon-Mai gasped in shock, and Dhar-Mon blinked in confusion. Gur-Rai, on the other hand, simply smiled and saluted Bradford in return.

“Central.” Dhar-Mon murmured. “Are you certain?”

“Positive.” Bradford smiled, and saluted the three of them. “For your excellent work in the field, and together.”

Vicky met the Commander’s gaze, then shivered and directed her gaze at the ground once again. In the darkness of the room, Senuna’s eyes cut through her like a beacon, glowing with unimaginable power.

“Your actions today were a disgrace.” Senuna hissed behind her fingers, which she held to her lips. “I put my trust in you.”

“I’m sorry, Commander…” Vicky lowered her head.

“You not only neglected your duty, but you fought with your own teammates and insulted one of my best soldiers.” Senuna stood. “Your negligence cost us Shamil. And it NEARLY cost us ZHANG!” She slammed her hands into the desk. “Do you have ANY IDEA HOW IMPORTANT HE IS?! What it would mean if he had DIED?!”

Vicky fell to her knees, hugging herself. “I’m sorry, Commander! I’m sorry!” She was screaming. “I’m sorry! Shamil was...I couldn’t leave him!”

“And yet you had to leave him either way!” Senuna threw her hands up. “But I suppose this is my fault. Vet your soldiers and all that. This is what I get for trusting you.” She turned on Vicky again, who had dissolved into a puddle of tears. “Get. Up.”

She lifted her head.

“I am stripping you of your rank.” Senuna said. “When we next land at the Houston Safe Haven, YOU shall be returning there!”

Vicky’s jaw dropped. “No, Madam, please-”

“From this moment on, you are no longer a member of XCOM.” Senuna almost snarled. “I never want to see you on MY SHIP AGAIN.”

“Madam, NO!” Vicky clasped her hands. “Please! All I wanted to do was help! I want to help!”

“Then get out.” Senuna raised her hands, aquamarine lightning dancing on her fingertips. “What I'm doing for you is a mercy: you have no idea the powers you have crossed this day.”

(Today, we see a side of Senuna she usually keeps hidden. We also got to see the Chosen finally working as a team, and I for one love it! Can’t wait t write more battle scenes with all three of them!)

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

#xcom #xcom 2 #xcom 2 war of the chosen #xcom zhang #shaojie zhang #xcom assassin #chosen assassin #xcom hunter #chosen hunter #xcom warlock #chosen warlock

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parkersvibes · 5 years ago

Text

finding out peter is spiderman

read part one here

a/n: omg guys. i got so much feedback from you all on part one so i decided to make a part 2. and yeahh i really hope you guys enjoy. if you do lmk and i’ll do a part 3 (:

(i also apologize if the read more doesnt work )))): )

warnings: fluff, a smidge on angst

pt 2. peter parker x stark!reader

• figuring out he was spiderman

• alright you’re a stark

• but no one knows that

• but you’re really intuitive

• so there were little things you started to notice

• after uncle ben died there was some weird shit (if you want a part ab comforting peter ab uncle ben lemme know. he deserves his own part)

• like how he stopped wearing his adorable glasses

•and i guess started almost bulking up????

• he got WAY taller

• and usually you’re used to seeing him shirtless but this one time you walked in on him

• holy mother of god

• IT WAS LIKE HE GREW ABS OVER NIGHT

• BECAUSE FRESHMAN PETE DID NOT HAVE A 6 PACK

• freshman peter also got winded walking up the stairs

• AND NOW HE’S RUNNING LAPS IN GYM LIKE ITS NOTHING ??

• must be nice

• but then things got more sus

• all of a sudden he was skipping class more

• leaving early

• cancelling study sessions and skipping movie nights with ned

• and you and ned were clueless

• you and ned started hanging out more

• MR. LEEDS IS HILARIOUS LEMME TELL YOU

• he was like this little ball of happiness

• you found out his real name is Edward

• HOW CUTE

• and WOW HIS MOM BEING FILIPINA MEANT THAT YOU WERE BEING FED ALL THE TIME OH MY GOD

• ngl pete got a bit jealous

• one night,,, when pete cancelled YET AGAIN

• ned asked you, “hey y/n?”

• “hm”

• “why don’t we ever hang out at your place”

• “i told you ned, my family is just a lot yanno. plus your family and may are really cool”

• “okay but how come you don’t have any social media under your name?”

• “wdym?”

• “like you go by ‘y/n Smith’ but everything that pops up on the internet isn’t YOU”

• “pfff i told you,,, i dont believe in that stuff”

• “y/n, you know you can tell me anything”

• you wanted to be honest. this was one of your best friends. and you’ve been lying to them about your family for over a year now

• “ned i just. it’s complicated”

• “like peter’s family?”

• “nonono, i’m lucky to have both of my parents- well i have a step mom. my real mom wanted nothing to do with me. so she left me on the steps of my dads house. never came back”

• “oh shit bro, i’m sorry”

• “nah don’t worry. my dad is really cool and my step mom... she’s awesome.”

• “what’re their names”

• NATASHA WAS GONNA KILL YOU IF SHE COULD SEE HOW BAD YOU WERE STRUGGLING

• “well- uh- my step moms name is,,, um. well her real name is Virginia”

• THE WORLD KNEW PEPPER AS PEPPER NOT VIRGINIA

• “and my- my dads name is ehm... st, steve???”

• natasha was gonna have your ass

• “y/n,,,”

• “yeah”

• “you’re a horrible liar”

• “PFFF WHAAAT? NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT”

• “dude you left your spiderman fan tumblr open on my laptop that one night,,, and i MAY have done some snooping”

• okay you mightve had a slight obsession with the webslinger. HE WAS COOL. and what better way to keep track of him without alerting your family,,, good ol tumblr

• oh god ned, HOW MUCH SNOOPING”

• “enough to know that you have a weird obsession with that spider guy and that your last name isnt smith”

• so you told him the truth. you were a stark

• and well,,, he reacted with

• “okay cmon,,, don’t lie”

• so you showed him your late night dance parties with Nat when she was feeling goofy

• and your random snaps of steve when he was trying to figure out how to work technology

• videos of you reacting to vines with bucky

(if yall wanna see domestic life with the avengers just lmk)

• which usually results with THE WINTER SOLDIER ALMOST PEEING HIS PANTS. and trying to reenact it with sam or the other avengers

• “heyheyehy y/n guess what?”

• “what bucky?” *is in the middle of doing hw*

• “FRESHOVACADO” *bolts out of the room before you throw something at him*

• only the two of you getting vine and meme references

• (meaning getting in trouble during meetings bc you’ll make eye contact and start laughing)

• OH HIS FAVORITE IS THE “country boiiii, i love you,,, 😛”

• anywaayyy

• ned was SHOOK

• “nowayohmygodyoureanavenger”

• “no ned,,, only when they need me to be”

• *led to him asking 100000 questions*

• “does Mr. America smell like old man”

• “what language does Ms. Widow think in”

• “how many shirts does Mr. Hulk own”

• “so do they wear normal clothes or are they always PREPARED”

• “does your dad have to walk a weird way when hes in his suit”

• “do they ever chafe in their suits”

• “yes ned. we’re stocked up on baby powder”

• which you didnt mind bc it felt nice telling the truth

• ned WANTED TO TELL PETER SO BAD

• “ned no, i don’t want him to think of me differently”

• he understood. but still defended peter and said that hed still treat you the same

• anyway,,, peter started showing up with bruises and stuff which had you v concerned

• “pete what’s up? you’ve been avoiding ned and i and you have skipped out on every movie night since sophomore year started”

• “t’s nothing. dont worry ab it”

• “peter cmon, it’s just me”

• you figured maybe it had to do with ben??? but you gave him his space. you just wanted to be there for him yanno. you didnt want him to shut you out

• “Y/N I SAID ITS NOTHING. FOR FUCKS SAKE CAN YOU LEAVE ME ALONE???” he snapped (and not in the good way)

• and this was on your way to class so the whole hallway heard

• ouch

• so you left him alone. probably more than he meant. but it hurt

• i mean he was your first friend here, and now he yelled at you to leave you alone

• ned felt awful at first. trying to comfort you and tell you it wasnt your fault

• but then he started acting weird. whenever you brought up peter hed be super antsy about it

• you- “i think he got into another fight or something”

• ned- “pFFT PETER? FIGHTING? no way,,, i got-i gotta go”

• so you figured that whatever peter was hiding, ned knew about,, which also hurt your feelings

• so you closed off

• and wow could the super family tell something was wrong

• wanda- “little stark, i can feel your sadness all the way to my room”

• sam/bucky/rhodes- “okay what’s the deal, we’ve played 5 rounds of fortnite and you havent once rage quit even though you’re doing terrible”

• tony- “kid, what’s wrong? everyone here can tell you’re not feeling great”

• nat- “cmon. ive given you 3 opportunities to kick my ass and you havent once complained about me going easy?”

• thor- “lady y/n what is causing you distress? not once have you smiled, i even wore my hair in pigtails,,, and that seems to always do the trick”

• and you gave the same response every time “‘m just tired” “lots of homework”

• they noticed you werent going out on weekends anymore

• so tony figured that your friend group and you were having some Stuff

• pep gave him an idea of meeting his new prodigy

• now tony knew it’d be kinda sus because peter went to midtown but he figured that if the kid kept his mask on it’d be fine

• “dad i don’t wanna see another one of your weird maid robots”

• “wha- no i want you to meet someone”

• “dad college isn’t for another 2 years. if it’s your friend from MIT-“

• then right before your eyes was the insect boy that youve been admiring through the internet

• needless to say

• your jaw dripped

• “y/n meet spiderling, spiderling meet my daughter y/n stark”

• *seconds pass*

• “i uh- oH- um- sp-spidERman, h-hi. biG fan of you- your work”

• *silence*

• you- “oH dad diD you hear th-that? moM is calling mE”

• tony- “what?? pep wouldve called on the interco-“

• spiderman- “y/n”

• you- SHOOK TO THE CORE BECAUSE YOU KNEW THAT VOICE. THAT WAS THE VOICE THAT SOUNDED LIKE HONEY BUT COULD CUT YOU DEEPER THAN ANY WEAPON IN YOUR HOUSE

• you- “p-peter???”

• tony- *shocked pikachu face* “you know each other???”

• you- “so-something like that yeah”

• peter takes off his mask

• “ohmygodpeterisspiderman”

• “ohmygodyourlastnameisntsmith”

• tony- “im gonna let you guys figure this out” *walks backward slowly*

*insert silence*

• you- “so this is what you were hiding, huh?” with a cold tone

• “IM HIDING? YOU LIED ABOUT YOUR WHOLE HOME LIFE TO NED AND I”

• *yelling at each other for another minute. even though you couldnt hear what the other is saying*

• you- *yelling loudest “I DIDNT WANT YOU TO SEE ME DIFFERENTLY OKAY”

• peter- “you really thought id do that?” (heartbreaking voice)

• you- “i- once i got to know you, i knew you wouldnt but i was scared. i didn’t know how to tell you. for once in my life i had found someone my age who liked ME for ME. not for my name or money or my dad. and i didn’t want to change that. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner”

• peter- “... i get what you mean. after ben died everyone gave me that look. except you and ned.”

• you- “why didn’t you tell me”

• peter- “everyone i love or ever cared about dies. my parents and then my uncle ben. so once i got my abilities i knew that the risk was even higher and i didn’t want to put you in that position. i wanted to keep you safe. but it seems like you know how to handle yourself” (referring to the fact that you grew up with THE EARTHS MIGHTIEST HEROS)

• y/n- “so how come ned found out?”

• peter *scratches back of neck* “well- he- i- May let him in my room and i happen to be crawling on the ceiling in my suit and he dropped the death star” *head hangs in shame*

• you had to giggle at that i mean CMON

• you stepped closer to him

• “pete you’re my best friend. you can tell me anything okay?”

• “no more secrets?”

• “no more secrets”

• and you both pinky promise and your thumbs “kiss” bc IF THEY ITS THE ULTIMATE UNBREAKABLE VOW DONT @ ME

• peter parker gives you the biggest hug that maKES YOUR HEART JUMP BC PHYSICAL CONTACT WITH A PERSON AS PRETTY AS HIM MAKES YOUR HEART FEEL A CERTAIN WAY

• but you wrapped your arms around his neck and enjoyed the moment

• wow he is really cozy

• * the avengers are watching from the cameras in awe*

• led to MANY questions at dinner

• and so everything went back to “normal”

• it wasn’t until you went to bed that night that you realized peter said the L word

• WHAT

• so much for no secrets

taglist: @silver-winter-wolf @emmmmszy @everythingaboutnothingsstuff @rexorangecouny @wishiwasanavenger @marjoherbo @nologinisoksothatsit @mindset-jupiter @hpnjrph @soup238

some favs/mutrals: @h-osterfield @starksparker @stuckonspidey @sunshinehollandd @keepingupwiththeparkers @hey-marlie @spyder-bites

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destiel-love-forever · 5 years ago

Text

15.2 Thoughts

I didn’t like this episode as much as the first, but it was still a decent episode. That Dean/Cas scene wrecked me, but... ya know... what’s new?

I suppose I’ll go with the same system as before, since you all seemed to like that!

Here are the things I liked (& my feelings didn’t mind):

Belphagor was more tame this week, but he still had some good zingers. My favorite probably being “It’s hell, not a spa day.”

Ketch! I love me some Ketch (plus, Dean’s angry little head shake and Ketch’s smug smile is so entertaining. Will Dean ever stop hating him? Probably not. I find that amusing... i dunno why)

Ketch’s “This is awkward” as he realizes he was sent to assassinate the same demon helping them.

Amara! Anyone who knows me from the past knows I HATED Amara, but this Amara I’m enjoying (for now at least). Between her sass & eye rolls, her yoga, & her enjoyment over Chuck’s misery, she’s awesome.

The fact that Rowena knew Jack The Ripper personally... like... of course she does. Gosh I love her.

Ketch being unimpressed with the ugly necklace because it doesn’t go well with his suit and fancy pocket square.

Poor Dean (but not really) getting caught between Rowena & Ketch’s new thing they’ve got going on.

Dean’s exasperated: “Oh come on, what is it with you two?”

KEVIN!! Though it was sad what happened to him, I loved seeing him!

Plus, the fact that Kevin has a ‘bad boy’ rep?

Kevin throwin’ out truth bombs like “Turns out God’s a dick”

Ketch & Kevin meeting: Kevin introducing himself as a former prophet, & Ketch saying, “Arthur Ketch, former assassin” but after Dean gives him a look, he awkwardly adds “Mostly.”

Ketch & Rowena, w/ Rowena layin’ it on THICK (she’s got good game), promising Ketch a “highly explosive” situation. Add in Dean cock blocking them, and it’s a grand ol’ time.

Amara putting Chuck in his place, no longer threatened by him. “Oh really? Because you’re God?” was SO SASSY.

Here are the things I liked ( but hit me right in the feels... hard)

Belphagor’s comment to Dean about being a ‘good soldier’ and going back to hell to do his job, and Dean’s face as he thinks of how that used to be him. Hell, might still be him, since he’s doubting how much free will he’s actually had all this time.

Cas & Dean avoiding each other for the first part of the episode, both in the ep. quite a bit, but never together

Poor Cas’ look in defeat after the guy yells at him, “You said you’d keep us safe!”

That WHOLE Dean/Cas scene. I could go on about it forever, but the highlights:

Dean being unable to even look at Cas when Cas comes in

Cas messing up “Dropped the ball” by saying “Dropped the puck” and Dean still correcting him like he always does, & Cas’ little eye roll “Ball...right.”

&& that LOOK Dean gives Cas before the growled, “Don’t.” So desperate. Lost. Vulnerable. For just a second, Dean wants to give in, but then he covers it all with anger (WHAAAT?? That doesn’t sound at ALL like Dean, right?)

Dean finally snapping/opening up to Cas, pouring his damn heart out, and Cas yelling too.

Cas reminding Dean, “He killed Jack” & Dean doing that little ‘lick his lips, look away, bite his bottom lip as he looks back and nods’ thing he does when he’s too emotional/doesn’t know what to say or do.

Dean being upset about realizing he never had Free Will, & it hits SO CLOSE to home for these two, because that’s what it was all about. That’s what Cas rebelled for. That’s what they fell in love over. & Cas saying, “But that doesn’t mean it was all a lie.” & Dean’s, “Really?” - followed by that intense stare down.

Cas saying they did well with the life they had & Dean once again doubting if that’s true. And the PAIN in Cas’ sad blue eyes when Dean says that just kills me.

Dean storming away, and Cas dramatically saying his name last minute to get him to stop. Dean pausing, hanging his head. Cas saying, “You asked what about all of this is real” as he turns around to look at Dean, & Dean looking back at him. The two of them locking eyes as Cas says, “We are.” & Dean having to look away. Has to leave.

** Interesting ** that there seems to be a parallel between Cas/Dean & Rowena/Ketch all episode. Dean telling Rowena that she shouldn’t get involved/it’d be a bad idea, just before his scene with Cas. Later on, Dean watches Rowena as Rowena watches Ketch getting put in the ambulance, then gives Rowena a broken smile when she catches him watching.

Kevin saying “I love you guys” & Dean’s sad smile

The Chuck/Sam connection. That’s... interesting. Foreboding. Most definitely not a good thing.

When Dean tells everyone if it doesn’t work it was nice knowing all of them, his eyes flicking to Cas for just a second

I am most DEFINITELY fixing this in my CODA asap.

Thank you for coming to this week’s TED talk.

#supernatural 15 #season 15 #15.2 #spoilers #season 15 spoilers supernatural #happy #sad #angst #fluff #funny #heartbreaking #dean #cas #destiel #sam #belphagor #rowena #ketch

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marvelousmarvelimagines · 5 years ago

Text

Wait

Pairing - Tony Stark x Avenger!Reader

Summary - Tony Stark’s relationship with Steve Rogers has always been rocky at best, but when he starts noticing all the time that you’ve been spending with Steve Rogers, time you could have spent sleeping with him, he starts to get a little more jealous than normal. He’ll never admit that though. Will he?

Request by @wannaone-svt-scenarios

Word Count - 7,488

Warnings - 18+ Smut and Language

Not many things could distract Tony Stark when he was working.

You were one of them.

Tony loved watching you work. Your body seemed to move around the mat without thought, like it was all one fluid motion just streaming from your consciousness. You never hesitated, never stopped, never pulled your punches. You were like a vapor, no one could ever quite get a grip on you. Even in his Iron Man Suit, Tony had never felt as powerful as you looked right now.

Then there was the whole sports bra and leggings and covered in a sheen of sweat thing that was insanely attractive.

The only thing Tony didn’t enjoy so much about you sparring was having to watch you spar with Steve. He didn’t know why it always had to be Steve. He knew others had offered to work with you, but you had always insisted on him. It had even gotten to the point to where Tony had offered to spar with you in the Iron Man suit, but still you had refused. While he knew it was good training for you, Steve was the best hand to hand fighter of them all, that didn’t mean he had to like watching Good Ol’ Captain America trying to get his hands on your bare skin.

Or that.

He had been so engrossed in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed when you pinned Steve, a triumphant smile on your face as you straddled him. He said something to you, shaking his head, and you laughed, a loud laugh that Tony could hear all the way from his not quite a hiding, but yes a hiding, spot.

Within seconds, he reacted, stepping out into the room with an obnoxious and noisy clearing of his throat. “Am I interrupting?”

“Always,” You replied, sounding annoyed, but the smile you gave him was anything but. It was the smile you only ever seemed to have for him and had him forgetting about the other man in the room. He relaxed at it, his muscles that he hadn’t even noticed were tense, eased and he let out a breath while you helped the super soldier to his feet.

“Did you need something, Tony?” Steve asked, wiping those hands that had just been all over you on his sweats.

“Y/N,” Tony replied, and his pause after saying it might have been intentional. “I finished your suit modifications.” He added.

You raised your eyebrows, but nodded. “Your lab?”

“Right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Now?”

“It’s very important and urgent.” Tony replied.

A knowing smirk flashed on your face for a brief moment before you turned back to Steve. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight, Steve.”

Tony waited until you reached him, sending the Captain a quick salute before putting his hand on the small of your back and walking with you to the elevator.

“You know Tony, it’s interesting . . . I don’t remember needing any modifications to my suit.” You said as you both walked into his lab, and Tony locked the door behind you both.

“Did you not?” He asked, no longer able to resist, he took your ponytail and used it to tug your head to the side, planting his lips on the silky skin where your neck and shoulder met.

“Nope,” You murmured, Tony felt you leaning backwards against him and used that as an invitation to wrap his arms around you, his hand stroking the bare skin of your stomach, slick with sweat. “So that makes me question your intentions of bringing me here.”

A little nip at your neck had the cutest squeak leaving your lips. “Are you implying my intentions are anything less than honorable?” His mouth moved up to nibble at your ear lobe. “Because if so, you are absolutely correct.”

You turned around at that, your hands resting on his chest and sliding down way slower than he would have preferred before stopping at the button of his pants. “Good, because I have some less than honorable intentions of my own.” You replied before giving his growing erection a squeeze.

The way you looked up at him under those lashes was so damn sinful. It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. “God, you’re hot.” Without another word, he gripped your ass, hoisting you into the air so you could wrap your legs around him. Your lips found his within seconds, tugging his bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth, your hands finding new purchase in his hair. You pulled on the strands and his hips thrusted into yours, while he squeezed your ass tight. You knew how much he liked that. Your answering moan was more than his body could take.

Frantic hands began shoving as much off the tables behind the two of you that you could reach, sending objects and papers crashing to the floor, but neither of you cared. He never did when it came to this. His focus was on you.

He placed you on the table after it was cleared, and began working on getting those tight leggings off your body. “Damn it, why must these things be so hard to get off?” He grunted with the effort, needing to be inside of you as soon as possible.

“Why do you think they look so good? They’re tight as hell,” you replied, tugging on his shirt. “Off,” you instructed.

Normally, Tony didn’t like being given instructions, but for you he would make an exception. He slid his shirt over his head while you shimmied out of your pants, kicking them to the floor. A smirk found its way to his lips as he noticed the red lace you were now sitting in. His favorite pair. You had planned this. “You little minx.” Tony told you, snapping the band with his finger.

“You gonna do something about it?” You challenged, raising your eyebrows at him as your hand rested on the scarring of his chest with a gentle caress that didn’t match your teasing words.

“Oh plenty of things. Would you like a list?” He asked, his hands trailing up your sides at an agonizing pace until he reached your sports bra, tugging it over your head and somewhere behind you. He didn’t care where. He was too busy staring at the view before him, bare and perfect, you were a site he’d never get sick of seeing.

“I think I’d rather have a demonstration.” You replied, biting your bottom lip as your eyes traced over his own body.

Tony needed no further encouragement, dropping to his knees in front of you and pulling your legs apart. He kept his eyes locked on you, watching the way your chest moved up and down with your heavy breathing as his lips came closer and closer to where you wanted him. He used one of his fingers to move your thong to the side pressing a soft kiss against your folds as he did. Your hand found his hair again, running through it and encouraging him as he slicked a slow stripe up your folds. The action caused you to whimper in need.

Tony Stark was confident about a few things in his life and knowing just how to make you orgasm was one of them. Just like everything else he did, he was thorough and accurate, moving his mouth just where it was directed to, using the noises you made and tensing of your muscles as his guide until you came apart, your hips thrusting into his mouth.

There would never be anything more attractive to him than the sight of you coming undone because of him.

By now he was painfully hard and couldn’t wait a second longer. He shoved his pants and underwear down, and in one smooth motion slid into your warmth. You let out a moan, slipping an arm around his neck, still shaking with sensitivity from your last orgasm. “Fuck, Tony,” you groaned, holding him close. He pulled back just enough to meet your lips in a kiss, his fingers leaving bruises on your hips as he held onto you. He stilled for a moment, letting you get used to the feel of him. You were so tight, a perfect fit and always eager for him. He could tell by the way that your hands tugged him closer, leaving their own marks on him while your lips messily fought for control, breathless and eager to keep him near you. He responded just as eagerly until your hips started rolling against his, urging him on.

“You ready babe?” He murmured against your lips, always wanting to make sure you were comfortable.

You nodded and without any more hesitation he began thrusting, his mouth moving lower to place tender kisses against your breasts, the sensation causing your chest to arch into his mouth. He took his time with you, his thrusts slow and purposeful as well as his kisses until you were whimpering underneath him, begging for a release which after a few more minutes of torture he gave you with a hand between your thighs, and a few hard thrusts deep inside of you. his own orgasm triggered by yours and he rested his forehead against yours while the two of you caught your breath.

Once the both of you were relaxed, he pulled out of you, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail behind your ear with a smile before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You let out a satisfied moan at the sensation, closing your eyes and laying back on the lab table while he went to go grab a washcloth to clean you both up. You watched him through heavy lidded eyes as he paused on your underwear, sliding them down your legs and holding them up. “I’m taking these.”

You pouted, your lips still red and kiss swollen. “Why?”

“Because you obviously can’t be trusted with them.” Tony replied as he pulled his pants back up and tucking the thong into the back pocket. He gave you a playful slap on the thigh as he climbed up to join you on the table, handing you his shirt to slip on.

You smiled and put it on, curling into his side and letting your hand draw circles on his chest. “Well, if that’s the case, I need to take all of your pairs of jeans.” You replied.

Tony quirked an eyebrow at you. “Jeans? Really?”

He couldn’t believe it as a slight flush that wasn’t from your previous activity formed on your cheeks. “Your ass looks great in them. Also, I like you a little messy.” You admitted.

From then on, Tony made sure he was wearing his jeans more often.

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

It was the kid’s suggestion. He loved the movies even though he acted like they were too old for him. But Peter wasn’t the only one, strangely enough the metal armed hobo did as well. Neither one of those would have made Tony put these movies on again, no, the fact was, you loved them too.

You laid down on one end of the couch, eyes glued to the screen as you watched Luke conversing with Yoga about his training. Tony knew that you had seen these movies at least one hundred times at this point, yet you still looked as intrigued as he suspected you did the first time you watched them. It brought a smile to his face.

At least until Steve Rogers entered the room.

He sat down beside you without hesitation, and you smiled at him before twisting your legs to settle in his lap. He saw the fake annoyance on the super soldier’s face, but you continued to smile at him. He sighed, but made no move to push you off.

Tony focused his gaze back on the movie. After all, that was what they were supposed to be doing right? Team bonding and shit or whatever? Not having secret conversations on the other side of the room and whispering to each other - He grabbed his half full bucket of popcorn. “I’m getting more popcorn.” He announced, interrupting your conversation with Steve.

He wasn’t angry. He had no right to be angry. Why should he be angry anyway? You were free to do whatever you want with whoever you wanted. Tony had always told you that this was a no strings attached deal. So if you wanted to go bang the 100 year old virgin, you were free too.

“You’re very intent on that popcorn there.”

“Dear God!” Tony turned around, clutching his chest that was now pounding hard, glaring at the amused look on your face. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“No, but you almost having one was just a little funny to watch I’ll admit.” He turned away from you, ripping open the new bag of popcorn. “I saw you get up. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know, sensed something was off.” Tony stopped as he felt your hand on his arm, gentle and concerned. “Plus, I kinda wanted some alone time with you.” You added, and he felt your lips press against his shoulder, light as a feather.

His tense muscles relaxed and a smile formed on his face. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to get better control of yourself. There are innocent children and virgins in the next room, and you -” Tony turned around, wrapping you in one of his arms and pulling you against his chest. “Are being a terrible influence.”

“Hmm . . .” You leaned forward and whispered in his ear, your breath hot against his skin. “I can show you how terrible of an influence I am if you want?”

His hand slipped down to give your ass a squeeze. “Maybe you should show me, see if I can quell some of those bad habits from you.”

“Well, since the rest of the team is occupied . . .”

Tony didn’t waste another second, tugging you over to the elevator as you giggled. So what if you had your feet in Cap’s lap when he got to have you in his bed?

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

He wasn’t looking for you. No, he was looking for the very important part that he had been working with early in the morning before putting it down and forgetting it. He definitely wasn’t looking for you because Steve was missing too, and he wanted to make sure neither of you were hooking up.

When he found you both, he almost would have preferred that.

“I’m terrible.” Steve told you as he spun you around the room in a lopsided circle. There were several times he would have stepped on your feet if your reflexes weren’t so fast.

“You’re not so bad!” You were lying. Tony could tell by the sympathetic smile that formed on your lips. “I’ve danced with guys way worse than you, trust me. You’re a lot better than my prom date.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head at your words. “Prom date must have been pretty bad then.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” You replied, your smile turning genuine as he pulled back to spin you. “Where did that come from?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Guess I’ve got a couple of tricks up my sleeve.” Steve admitted, grinning down at you, and letting go of one of your hands again to spin you once more.

This time though, your eyes landed on Tony, your smile brightening at the sight of him, but he didn’t notice, his fists clenching around the part he now held in his hand at the sight of you in the super soldier’s arms. “Oh, hey Tony! Sorry, we didn’t see you.”

“Clearly,” He replied.

You frowned at his tone, lines appearing on your forehead.

“Did you need something, Tony?” Steve asked, letting go of you.

“Yes, actually, turn the music down. Some of us are trying to get actual work done here.” He told them, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Come on Tony, we’re just -” You started to explain.

“I don’t care. Turn it down.” He snapped, turning away and leaving the room before he could see your hurt expression.

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

You were struggling, he could see that. They all were. This mission had been rough, and some had been lost due to a circumstance that none of you could have foreseen. Of course since you had been at the center of it, and you were the one who had been overwhelmed, you blamed yourself.

Tony understood how you felt. He knew the slump of your shoulders, the slow tense and release and deep breaths that you tried to calm yourself down with. It was the techniques you had tried to teach him. They weren’t working though. When the quinjet landed and the rest of the team headed to debrief, you still sat there, your head in your hands.

He wanted to say something. He hated seeing you like this, beating yourself up over something you had convinced yourself you could have prevented. The thing was . . . he didn’t know how to. Working out stress and frustration with sex? Yes, that was something he could do and was good at. Depression and self hate? There were times when he struggled with that himself, so how could he help you?

So with a final glance at you, he left.

You never showed up at the debriefing, you never showed up to dinner, and you never showed up to your room that night. At least according to FRIDAY who Tony had check at 3:00 a.m. while he was still sitting in his lab, fixing parts of his suit that had gotten damaged in the fight. That last bit of information concerned him. Where the hell could you be? “FRIDAY, I want you to see if you can find her. Let me know if she’s still here.”

“She seems to be in the training room with Captain Rogers, sir.” FRIDAY replied.

Tony threw his tools down. That was it. He might not be good at comforting, but he wasn’t going to stand by and let his girl be reassured by golden boy Rogers. That was his job, damn it.

When he found the two of you, the sight of you made him pause. He had known you for several years, and he had never seen you as upset as you were right now. Your whole body was shaking, and the sight made his heart ache. Then he watched as Steve pulled you into his side and held you close. “I just wonder about this job sometimes, Steve. I’m not sure if I’m the right person for it.” He heard you say.

“It’s rough.” Steve told you. “Not everyone can do it. Especially on days like today. You can handle this though. You know how I know that?”

“How?” You asked him, and Tony had never heard you sound so broken before.

“Because you feel bad about what happened today. It’s when we stop caring that we have to start worrying about each other.” Steve told you, resting his chin on top of your head.

The both of you were silent for a moment. Tony knew he could interrupt. He could pull you away from Steve and try to do his best to comfort you even though he didn’t know how. There was nothing stopping him.

That was until he watched you curl deeper into Steve Roger’s side and tell him, “Thank you, Steve. I don’t know who else I could talk to about this.”

A multitude of emotions flooded Tony’s body at your words because he knew that wasn’t true. You could talk to him. You could tell him what was bothering you. It would have been just as easy for you to go find him than to find the super soldier. In fact, probably easier. But instead, you had chosen to talk to him, and come to him for comfort.

Looks like no one can resist the charms of Captain America. Not even you.

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

“All I’m saying is that I could get in there, be done in five minutes, and get out with minimal casualties.” Tony insisted.

“And how are you planning on getting past the multiple armed guards on the outside and the ones guarding every floor in the Iron Man suit without being seen? As soon as they see you they’ll flood you, Tony.” You tried to reason with him.

“I’ll be out of there before they even have the chance. With the lack of casualties, it would be worth it.” He said, hitting his hand on the table.

You were shaking your head before he could even finish his sentence. “Not if one of those casualties is you.” You told him in a soft voice.

Tony looked at you then. He could see in your eyes the pleading, the hurt, the confusion that he had been causing over the past few days. Ever since he had found you and Steve together, he had cut off as much contact between the two of you as he could get away with while living in the same building. Just the sight of you right now made him angry. The way you had come in and sat by Steve and started a conversation without even acknowledging his existence made him furious. Yes, he had been staying away from you, but if you cared about him, it shouldn’t be so easy to accept him not being in your life anymore should it? No, as far as Tony was concerned you and the Star Spangled Man could live a happy life together as long as you kept it out of his face. Easiest way to do that? Get himself out of here as much as possible.

“She’s right Tony,” Steve spoke up.

His teeth grinded together as he turned to look at Steve, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course you would agree with her. Considering how close the two of you are.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Lines appeared on your forehead, your arms mimicking his own.

He rolled his eyes. “I think you know exactly what it means. If not, maybe you two should have another three a.m. conversation to discuss it.”

Your lips whitened with the force you pressed them together, your jaw clenched. Tony had seen the look in your eyes many times, but it had never been directed at him before. It made him question for a moment whether he should have said that. “Are you fucking kidding me? Is that what this has been about?”

“Annoyed I caught onto your flirting?” Tony asked.

His words were met with silence as the two of you stared at each other, daring the other to speak.

“You know, at first this was entertaining, now it’s just awkward.” Sam spoke up, who Tony had forgotten was even in the room.

“Tony, it’s not -” Steve started to say in that stupid reasoning voice that he always tried to use in arguments, but Tony cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“Save you explanations, Captain. I saw it first hand.” He said. “You two sure did look cozy on those stairs.”

Apparently that was your snapping point. “Everybody get the hell out.” You said, your voice sounding so authoritative everyone scrambled out of their chairs without hesitation. The only person who hesitated for a moment was Steve, but as soon as you gave him a look, he nodded and left the two of you alone.

“Aww, the two of you are having silent conversations now. I’m impressed. I didn’t think Cap had the confidence to go for it. I guess the Star Spangled Man really does have a plan -”

You cut him off before he could finish his bitter rant. “I’m going to stop you right there before you make an even bigger idiot of yourself.”

“I don’t make an idiot of myself. The signs are all there. Everyone sees how the two of you are around each other.” Tony insisted, disdain leaking into his voice.

“We’re friends! We act like -”

“Oh please, I don’t see you all curled in Danver’s lap when she flies in.” Tony felt a little bit of satisfaction at the stunned look on your face before he continued on. “You know, I thought you had better taste, but I guess that’s just the sex talking.”

He watched as your face turned from utter disbelief to a look of realization, your eyes widening before shaking your head. “You’re jealous. You’re fucking jealous. Tony, we’ve talked about this shit with Steve -”

Yes, the two of you had discussed a few times Tony’s lingering anger at Rogers. How his father had worshiped him and would have kissed the ground he walked on when Tony wanted a speck of his attention. This was a completely different situation. The insinuation had Tony’s blood boiling. “Why would I be jealous? We were just fucking right?”

His words did not have the effect he was expecting. He was shocked as your eyes slowly filled up with tears. In all the years that Tony had known you, he had never, never seen you cry. Even when you had been with Steve that day, you hadn’t cried. Right now, you couldn’t hide it. You stepped backwards and tensed your arms, but instead of it looking defensive, it looked more like you were trying to hold yourself together. “Fuck you, Tony Stark. Just . . . fuck you.” You said, the words meaning to be filled with venom, but instead coming out hurt.

Never had someone looked at him with the amount of betrayal as you were right now. You started backing towards the door, and he started after you. He couldn’t . . . Why were you so upset? “Y/N, wait . . .” His hand brushed your arm, and you flinched like you had been shot.

“Get away from me,” You snapped brushing a tear away before taking off down the hall leaving him confused.

What the hell had you been so upset about?

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

It took exactly eight hours and sixteen minutes for Tony to realize that he had fucked up. Even he didn’t realize how bad it was until he went to apologize only to find that you were gone. Bags packed and nothing left. Not even a note.

“She went home last night, Tony.”

Tony turned around to face the last person in the world that he wanted to see at this point and time, “but this is her home.”

“Not this home. Where she came from. Her parent’s house?” Steve told him.

Tony sighed and put his hand to his forehead. He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. “She’s pissed.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Do you blame her?”

He chose to ignore that question. “If she’s so pissed why didn’t you go with her? You could go ahead and met the parents after all. Isn’t that the next step?” Tony snapped, but it didn’t have the same venom as his voice held yesterday.

“You know Tony, your father told me something once that stuck with me.” At the mention of his father, Tony looked up, equal amounts curious and annoyed.

“Was it about how he might have been in love with you? Because there were times growing up that I wondered -”

Before he could finish, Steve interrupted him. “‘The moment you think you know what’s going on in a woman’s head is the moment your goose is well and truly cooked’.” Steve put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Your goose is well and truly cooked, Tony.”

“Okay, maybe I was a little out of line, but the two of you -”

“Aren’t anything.” Steve interrupted again.

Those words made Tony freeze. “What?” He couldn’t be telling the truth. The two of you were so close. You were around Steve all the time - Okay, maybe not all the time, after all, you did spend a lot of time with him too. But there was also the fact that you were affectionate - Well, now that he thought about it, you weren’t any more affectionate with Steve than the others . . . In fact if he had to pick someone you touched and hugged a lot it would be -

“Listen, the only reason I’m saying anything is because neither of you are. Y/N and I are just friends. There’s never been anything between the two of us other than having easy conversation. In fact, most of the conversations center around one person.” Steve said, looking pointedly at Tony.

“Betty Grable?” Tony suggested half heartedly.

He shook his head. “She wants to be with you, Tony.”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “Then why did she go to you that night?”

“That’s something you’re going to have to ask her.” Steve replied, “but I know you want to be with her too.”

“And how do you know that Capsicle?” Tony asked.

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “Mostly because you came here to apologize, and I’ve never seen you do that before.”

He had him there.

“Just give her some space. Then talk to her. Once she calms down I think she’ll listen.” Steve told him, giving him a smile before he started to head back down the hallway.

“Hey, Cap!” Tony stopped him, and when he turned around, Tony nodded to him. “Thanks.”

“No problem, but for future reference, if you piss her off again, I’m getting the shield.” He replied.

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Haven’t we proved that the shield is no match for the suit?”

“Oh, it’s not to fight you with. It’s for you to protect yourself with. You’re going to need it if she’s after you.” Steve told him.

The scary thing was that he was right.

As Steve walked away, Tony moved into your empty room, sitting on the bed. All of this new information forced his brain to go into overdrive. There were some facts that he was now forced to accept. The first was that it wasn’t just sex between the two of you. It had started out like that, but it hadn’t taken long before it wasn’t anymore. From the moment you stayed in his room and helped him through a night terror, he should have known it was more.

The second was that you hadn’t thought it was just sex for a while now according to Steve. You had feelings for him. You, intelligent, kind, a badass, and way too good for him, had feelings for him.

Or at least you had, because the last thing he had to accept was the fact that he had, indeed, been jealous of your relationship with Steve, and had acted like an ass about it. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. You had never given any indication that you cared more for Steve than you did him except for that one night. The night he left you alone when he should have been the one comforting you. How could he blame you for going to someone else when he hadn’t been willing to step up? Then he remembered the look on your face as he told you the two of you had been fucking. You had been so hurt, and some part of him had known it would. He hadn’t cared at that moment though. All he had wanted was to make you feel as hurt as he did at the thought of you running off with Steve when he needed you so badly.

He was startled at the realization. He needed you. Tony needed you in his life to help keep him sane and to make him smile. He needed you to lay next to him and run your fingers through his hair until he was able to sleep. Tony needed to see you smile again.

“FRIDAY, plot a course for Y/N’s hometown.” Tony called out as he stood up from the bed, a plan already forming in his mind.

“Right away, Sir.” The AI responded.

Steve had told him to give you space, but Tony was never good at listening to authority.

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

Women liked extravagant gestures right? Grand and expensive things everyone could see and marvel at? Well, Tony was crunched for time, so a large bouquet of blue orchids was going to have to do. He hoped that they would be okay traveling in the bag he had attached to the suit.

“Sir, we’re approaching Y/N’s home.” FRIDAY echoed in his helmet.

“Thanks FRIDAY.” Tony said, zeroing in on a spot to land. With a carefully thought out superhero landing, Tony stood up and looked around. The house that stood before him was modest, the very definition of a white picket fence, including a porch swing. Not to mention the young child who was staring at him with huge eyes. Tony disengaged the suit, and it began dismantling back into his reactor.

The kid dropped the toy she was holding.

Tony made his way over to the little girl and bent down to her level, picking up the toy as he did. “Hey, kid. I’m looking for Y/N. Is she here?”

The little girl took the toy from his hand and stared at him for a minute before nodding.

“Amazing. Is she inside?” Tony asked, but before she could reply, another voice spoke up from the front porch.

“Mr. Stark, is it? I think you should go.”

When he looked up he found an older looking woman, gray hair braided down her back, her arms crossed over her chest and looking very defensive. Y/N looked just like her when she was pissed. “Mrs. Y/L/N, I presume?” Tony asked, standing up and holding out his hand to her as he approached.

As disgruntled as she looked, she shook his hand. “You would be correct. Guess you are a genius.” She replied, sarcasm that made him grin a little dripping from her voice. “Now, my baby girl doesn’t want to see you.”

“I know, ma’am, but I need to apologize to her.” Tony told her.

“I’m sure you do, but not now.” She insisted. “I don’t know what you did, but -”

“Mama! I could use some help with the cake. What’s going -” You froze as you joined your mother, and Tony froze as well.

The whole time that you had been at the tower, you were almost always in casual clothes, leggings and large t-shirts and tank tops with a ponytail unless you had a party to go to. In that case you were always dressed to the nines with extravagant updos and fancy dresses. Right now it was like seeing a new woman. Your hair hung loose in waves and clothed in a mauve sundress that showed off your tan skin. You were even barefoot. He had never seen you looking so carefree. Well, until you realized who was here. Before either of you could say anything though, the little girl he had been talking to ran over to you, tugging on the bottom of your dress. You picked her up and held her. “Yes?” You asked her.

“Isn’t that Iron Man?” The little girl asked.

You looked over at Tony for a brief moment before turning your attention back to her. “Yes, it is.”

The little girl looked at him again and then said, “I thought he’d be taller.”

“Me too, sweetie,” Your mother agreed.

Tony crossed his arms across his chest and stood up a little straighter, trying to make himself appear taller. “I’m of average height actually -”

He could tell you were trying not to smile by the way you bit your bottom lip. “Guys, could you excuse us for a second?”

“Now, baby, you don’t have to talk to him, I could go in there and get -”

“I got it, Mama. Thanks.” You said, kissing her cheek with a soft expression, one your mother didn’t have as she gave Tony another glance before taking the little girl from you and going inside, shutting the door behind them. After a second you turned to him, your expression changing, guarded, as you crossed your own arms over your chest. “What are you doing here, Tony?”

“You left, and compound policy requires at least two weeks notice -” At that moment, he remembered the flowers and reached into the bag over his shoulder to get them, “Oh, and I brought you -” He pulled out the orchids only to find a good majority of them crushed and missing petals. “These.” He finished lamely.

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“They looked much better earlier, I promise.”

“Why did you bring me flowers?” You asked.

“I thought that was standard with apologies.” Tony said.

Shaking your head, you walked down the steps towards him. “I don’t want flowers.”

“Well then what do you want? I’ve got the suit, I can get whatever it is and be back in -”

“I want you to admit that you were an idiot.” You told him once you reached him.

Tony let out a sigh, “I didn’t think you’d need an affirmation of that.”

“Oh, I really do.” You insisted. “In fact, I don’t even think idiotic can properly describe how you acted. Jealous, insecure, angry -”

You were right. Everything you were saying was true. “Y/N -”

“No!” You interrupted. “You wouldn’t let me say anything last time without interrupting so now you’re going to listen while I explain how big of an ass you were!”

Tony knew he deserved all that and more, so he motioned for you to carry on, though he was sure that you didn’t need or want his permission in the first place.

“All I was trying to do was keep you safe! I know your damn, self sacrificing, stubborn streak! If you had gone in there you would have gotten hurt, and God forgive me, I can’t stand the thought of that. And you took it as Steve and me teaming up against you! Then, oh then -” Your eyes locked on his, and he could see the fire in them, attempting to block the hurt. “The three a.m. conversation. You’ve always made it clear you weren’t my boyfriend!” You were so caught up in what you were saying you didn’t even notice as Tony grabbed your erratic moving hands and pulled you towards him. “I wasn’t about to bug you with my problems when you have more than your fair share of your own! Steve was there so I decided to talk to him! He’s my friend, and he’s always been nothing more! But did you believe me? No! You were too blinded by your own issues with him to see what was right in front of your face!” You finished, breathless at this point.

“You’re right,” Tony said once he was sure you were done.

His words startled you, he could tell, but you tried not to show that. “Yes, yes I am.”

“I was an ass, and all of the other things you called me.” Tony agreed. “To be fair, I thought I was losing you though.”

“Why would you care about that? We were just fucking, right?” You asked, biting your bottom lip and looking down to avoid his gaze. You even tried to take a step away, but Tony pulled you back before you could.

“You’re one of the smartest people I know. Do you really believe that?” Tony asked, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“You’re the one who said it.” You admitted.

“You do have a point. Only one way to prove it I guess.” Tony tilted his head and without hesitation met your lips in a kiss. It wasn’t like the normal kisses that the two of you shared, teeth and tongues clashing, no, this one was tender, his lips soft as they parted to slide across yours. While it was different, Tony was finding that he rather enjoyed it, and if your reaction was any indication you were as well. Your hands squeezed his tight before pulling them around you so your bodies could press together. Encouraged, Tony slid his tongue across your bottom lip, but at that you pulled away, shaking your head with your eyes still closed.

“You can’t kiss your way out of this, Stark,” You mumbled, but made no effort to move away from him.

“Is that a jab at my kissing skills? You’ve never complained before.”

You squeezed his hands again and opened your eyes to look at him, “What you said really fucking hurt, Tony.”

“I know.” Tony admitted, leaning forward to press his lips against your cheek. “And I’m sorry. I’m going to do whatever I can to make it up to you as long as you come home.”

“Like what?” You asked, and Tony couldn’t help but smile as you buried your face in his neck.

“Oh, I don’t know, fly you to Paris, take you ice skating, wine tasting in Tuscany, picnics in the park - you know, the usual date stuff.” Tony replied off of the top of his head.

“Date stuff?” You repeated, pulling back to look up at him. “We don’t date, Tony.”

Tony let go of one of your hands to brush some of your hair behind your ear, a fond smile on his face. “Yeah, about that, I think that should change.”

He did enjoy seeing you shocked. It wasn’t often that you were surprised. “What?”

“Clearly, I’m terrible at all relationships in general, so why should I let that stop me from trying a real one with you?” Tony asked, brushing his thumb across your cheek. Man he had missed how soft your skin felt under his fingers.

You leaned into his hand, “and who says I want to be in one with you anyway?”

Those words startled him for a moment before he saw the teasing smile on your face. “That was rude.” He responded.

“You were rude.” You replied, “and you’re going to get a lot more punishment than that for your ridiculous jealous behavior.”

“Punishment? You know I have those handcuffs -”

“Nuh uh, Stark, this is not the kind of punishment you will enjoy. No sex for at least a week, maybe two.” You told him.

He gasped. That one hurt, but he knew he deserved it. “Rough, but fair.”

“And you have to come inside because it’s my nephew’s birthday, and he loves Iron Man.” You added. “Forget that his aunt’s an Avenger . . .”

“Is that the one staring out the window and swatting at his sister I’m assuming?” Tony asked, amused.

You turned your head, resting your head on his shoulder and smiling at the two children who ducked under the sill at being caught. “That would be them.”

God he had missed having you in his arms. He hadn’t realized how much until this moment. You felt good, warm and soft, not to mention calming, and that wasn’t something he got to feel often. He brushed his lips against your forehead and whispered, “You know your mother hates me.”

“Believe it or not, that’s a good sign.” You replied. “It’s when she’s indifferent to you that you need to be worried.”

“Well then, I better go make an even worse impression.” Tony said, squeezing you tight for a moment before letting go of all but one hand. He started to walk up the steps to the modest home, but you tugged him back. He gave you a questioning look, but you just slipped a hand into his hair on the back of his head, standing on your toes until you met his lips in another kiss. It was slow and sensual and filled with promises and lazy movements. His hands drifted to your waist, his fingers spread wide apart so he could touch as much of you as possible.Tony could honestly say he had never been kissed like that before, and when you pulled away, he let out a disappointed groan.

You giggled at the sound and kissed his chin for a brief second. “I need you to know it was always you, Tony. You’re the one I’ve had feelings for this whole time. Never for one second has it been Steve, and it never will be. You know that now, right?” You asked, biting your kiss swollen lip in a way that had Tony wanting to pull your dress up right now if it wasn’t for the situation.

With the way you looked at him in that moment, all concerned and nervous that he thought you had feelings for Steve? Tony knew that you were being honest. As crazy as he found it, you wanted him. Not the ridiculously handsome super soldier with perfect teeth, but the hot mess of a human being that was him.

The thought made him smile. “Yeah, Y/N, I know.”

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #iron man #iron man x reader #tony stark imagine

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