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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

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Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Names and Faces

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Word Count: 6,477

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It goes like this:

Nobody wants to separate Anakin from the children in his care until they know more about why he’s here. The gamble paid off, to some degree, and he thanks the Force that it did.

He hasn’t felt that cold in years.

He knows the logic of why the Mandalorians he’s fallen in with aren’t doing anything yet. He’s an obvious Jedi, and they don’t know why he’s here or what he’s doing. Hedging on the Mando’a and the cultural obligation to childcare hadn’t been anything close to sure, but it was... enough. He got lucky that these Mandalorians leaned on those obligations, at least to the point of keeping them all in the same room. He can sense that much, even before he opens his eyes, and he has to be grateful.

The looming hypothermia had probably nudged things in his favor.

Anakin opens his eyes to a guest room of a cell, something well-furnished and cozy, but definitely not meant to be something he can escape from. His saber is gone, and there are Force-nullifying cuffs on his wrists, and he’s pretty sure they’ve taken his--yep, vibroblade’s gone.

Fuck.

His body doesn’t want to move, and he’s still shivering a bit, but he’s mostly back to normal. When he sits up, he notices that there is, in fact, only one Force-nullifying cuff. They detached his arm.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep and tells himself it was probably medically necessary. Large pieces of metal aren’t great for maintaining homeostasis. He’ll get it back.

Probably.

“Ah!”

The voice makes him jolt, and his eyes fly open.

Two cribs, one much bigger than the other. Both are occupied. The larger one has bars, and through it...

“Snips,” he breathes, lurching to his feet and then crashing to his knees, about as graceful as a newborn eopie.

“Bah!”

“Just--just one second,” Anakin grits out, grimacing as he tries to pull himself to standing again. The fact that he’s down an arm doesn’t impact him much, but the shakiness of his legs is... a problem.

“Owwww,” Ahsoka coos with an exaggerated grimace, reacting to his pain with the innocent sympathy of a toddler. She looks, what, two? Maybe? He’s not sure if there’s anything particular about how Togruta babies age. She’s too young for words, clearly.

“I’m fine,” Anakin assures her, even as his heart sinks. She’s Ahsoka, clearly, he knows her in the Force and it can’t be anyone else, but her memories...

She recognizes him, but that’s not saying much.

He manages to get over to the chair next to the crib, but doesn’t trust himself to take her out right now. The snow and the mess of a fight before that haven’t been kind to him. Instead, he just sticks his hand through the bars and lets her grab at his fingers.

He can’t help but smile, really. She’s adorable, and she’s so damn happy to see him.

“Skyguy!”

“Oh, so you are talking,” Anakin says, part of him relaxing just a tad. “I was worried.”

“Mine,” she stresses, patting at his wrist.

“Yeah, your Skyguy,” he says. So she remembers... some things, at least. “And you’re my Snips.”

She squeals and yanks on his hand, just enough that the Force-suppressing cuff clanks against the bars of the crib. “Sky, Sky, Sky!”

Oh, she’s precious.

“You having fun?” he asks, filling the air with words faster than his head can fill with doubts. “Has everyone been nice?”

“Mmmmm,” she grumbles, falling to her butt with a huff. “Doc!”

“Oh, a doctor?” he asks, wondering at his own tone. He never expected to be one for baby-talk. “Was the doctor mean?”

“Cold!” she tells him. “Cold here!”

She taps at her chest, right where someone might check her heartbeat or breathing; the metal would be cold, and also necessary. He doesn’t fault anyone for it. Considering how poorly Anakin had fared, he’s just happy they’re all alive and mostly fine.

He doesn’t know what year it is. He knows he’s not in the year he should be. He’s vaguely aware of the name Jaster--one of the Mandos had said it while bringing him in--but he doesn’t know when Mereel’s reign ended and Fett’s began. He does know both are supposed to be dead.

Has Anakin been born yet? Has Ahsoka? Hell, has Obi-Wan?

Can he give out any real names?

A series of small, upset noises start coming up from the other, smaller crib.

He stands, but Ahsoka clings to his hand and refuses to let go. He can’t pry her off, not without his other arm, but he pulls away with quiet reassurances that he just has to check on... on...

Her brother, he says, aware that there’s more than a slight chance someone has the room bugged. He’s a Jedi in Mando custody. They aren’t stupid, and neither is he.

Obi-Wan’s the most likely to have already been born. Having the same name and face will draw attention, will cause questions, but... he can’t just rename his master like a recently-adopted pet. That’s just... wrong.

Anakin’s less shaky than when he first woke up, but he still has no way of safely picking up the kids. He reaches into the small crib, something twisting behind his sternum, and tickles under Obi-Wan’s chin.

The baby--the infant--looks up at him with wide eyes, too blue for the Obi-Wan he knows, but full of wonder and--

Love, the Force whispers through the cracks in the effects of the cuff.

“Love you too,” Anakin whispers, though he wonders if Obi-Wan would really feel like this as an adult again. Babies love easily, he thinks, and he’s the only adult that Obi-Wan knows right now. Maybe it’s just chemicals.

He stands there for longer than is probably a good idea, with the state of his body, but he can’t help it. Obi-Wan keeps grabbing at his finger and kicking with tiny legs, and sticking a tiny, tiny fist in his mouth as he tries watches Anakin.

It’s all Anakin can do to mutter a stream of meaningless nonsense as he struggles not to cry. He’s always had too many emotions, and right now he’s the only person these two can rely on. He’s the adult.

The door whooshes open.

“The medic said you were awake.”

He knows that voice. He closes his eyes and doesn’t turn, because there are a million feelings in his chest and he’s not sure which one is going to come out first.

“Sky?” Ahsoka questions, likely feeling his worry. “Issokay! Good!”

No, she wouldn’t have the mind to recognize why this familiar face she knows as friend is quite the opposite.

Anakin turns away from the crib, and smiles. “Mando.”

“Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the teenager in the door says. He’s not wearing his bucket, but the rest of his armor is in place. Anakin would peg him as younger than Ahsoka was, before. Not by much, but... fourteen, maybe fifteen. The face is painfully familiar, and stays utterly neutral as he answers the question Anakin didn’t ask. “We found your Ident card after you passed out.”

Cool, so, Anakin definitely can’t change his name.

“Are they yours?” the teenager that will one day create an army says.

“They have no one else,” Anakin tells him. It’s true enough. Still, he gets the feeling that’s not what Fett’s asking. “They’re family.”

Jango squints at him. “I was told Jedi can’t have families.”

Anakin’s mind flashes to Padme and the fantasies he’d long harbored of children born free, and tears himself away. He can’t think about that right now. He can’t think of who he’s--

“Jetii!”

Anakin’s head snaps up, and he realizes he’s shaking. Fett’s not neutral anymore, just... concerned.

“I’m fine,” Anakin spits out, and leans on the crib behind him. He can hear the little ones whimpering. He has to pull his thoughts in and bundle them up into something that won’t hurt the incredibly Force-Sensitive babies behind him. “I’m--I’m all they have. They’re all I have. Are the exact words important?”

Fett doesn’t grimace, exactly, but his expression isn’t pleasant. “I guess.”

Anakin waits to see if there’s anything else coming, but no. Just an awkward silence. He holds onto his frustration, but it still gets the better of him.

“What are my chances of getting my arm back?” he asks.

“Hm?”

Anakin waves what’s left of that arm, the tied-off sleeve flapping about. “My arm. If you don’t want to give me mine back, can I at least have some kind of placeholder? I can’t pick up the babies without worrying that I’m going to drop them.”

“I can ask the medics,” Fett says. He stares at Anakin for a little more, and then asks, “Aren’t you going to ask about our plans for you, or...?”

“If you wanted to kill me, you already would have,” Anakin mutters. “Right now, these two are my only priority. I’m more likely to keep them safe and alive here than I am if I try to break out. I can be patient. I would also assume they wouldn’t have been left in a room with me, alone, if any of us were in danger of medical complications.”

Fett flushes and turns. “I’ll tell buir you’re up and active. There’s a nurse droid in the hall, I can have it handle feedings until you get an arm.”

“Thanks,” Anakin drawls, aware that he’s a little bitchy right now, but not in any mood to temper himself.

He settles himself on the floor next to Ahsoka’s crib, lets her play with his hair while the nurse droid feeds Obi-Wan, and then feeds Ahsoka herself. Anakin thinks he could probably pull the droid apart for an escape attempt if it came down to it. He hopes it won’t be necessary. He’s barely existing in the moment as it is. The droid asks Anakin if he needs anything, and he... shrugs.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps some non-perishables,” the nurse droids suggests. “Ration bars, for if you are hungry before one of the Mando’ade returns.”

Anakin shrugs again. “Alright.”

He ignores the droid after that. He’s only mostly cut off from the Force by the single cuff. He can’t blanket his Master and Padawan in his own Force presence, try to make them feel safe and calm with the fact that he’s here and ready to protect them, but he can monitor them. He can meditate, even if it’s not the way he prefers to do it. He doesn’t have the strength for moving meditation right now, but a regular meditation... he can do that.

He needs to do that, because no other stress relief option is available to him right now.

Anakin lets himself feel the babies fall asleep, the two of them radiating contentment and warmth. He lets himself trust that, for the moment, he doesn’t need to worry. He lets himself sink into an absence of thought, and then the Force guides him deeper still.

“Anakin!”

His eyes fly open.

This is not the real world.

This is not the room-cell in the Haat Mando’ade base he’s managed to stumble across.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, a smile hidden in a beard and worn laugh lines about his eyes. The right age, the right size, reaching for him and--

There’s only a moment’s hesitation for Anakin to process, and then he sprints forward and yanks his Master into a hug.

“You’re good,” Obi-Wan mutters to him, rubbing his back as they both sink to their knees. There’s a click of bootheels against the empty white not-space that they’re in, and Ahsoka buries herself into their sides. Anakin pulls her in a little closer too.

They stay that for longer than is maybe necessary, but Anakin’s stress levels are sky high right now, and he needs this. A hug, even one that’s technically only taking place in his head, is important.

“Sorry, Skyguy,” Ahsoka whispers. “Thinking in the real world is... really hard right now.”

He pulls away from the desperate hug he’d started them off with, rearranges things so he’s leaning against Obi-Wan, lets Ahsoka lie down with her head in his lap, on her back and legs stretched out across the white nothingness.

“I don’t know what happened,” Anakin says. “I mean, Sith stuff, probably, but... we’re in the wrong year.”

“I’d wondered,” Obi-Wan admits. “I thought it odd that I couldn’t feel the clones, but I only have so much energy to think right now...”

“Please tell me there’s a way to fix it,” Anakin begs. “I can’t be the adult, Obi-Wan. I haven’t even been born yet, that’s how far back we are. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t just bang around making bad decisions without you there to pull me back and--”

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan tells him.

“We’re in the Force,” Anakin says, just a little hysterically. “We don’t need to breathe!”

“Actually, I think we’re in your head,” Ahsoka says. She’s pointing and stretching her feet like a dancer, but looks up to grin at Anakin like the little shit she is. “You’re the only one whose brain is big enough right now.”

“Hey,” Anakin complains, putting his entire palm over her face as revenge. She giggles and swats him away. “That any way to talk to the guy who taught you how to kill five guys in one move?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and runs a hand over her montrals, smiling when she wriggles and makes a little chirruping noise.

“She’s not wrong,” Obi-Wan says. “Though the phrasing was unfortunate, it does stand to reason that as the only person without the brain of a toddler, you’re hosting. Our minds can’t handle the strain of our own selves, let alone sharing space.”

“Infant.”

“Hm?”

“Ahsoka’s a toddler. You’re an infant. Maybe six months.” Anakin grins, just this side of brittle. He doesn’t want to joke about a problem he can’t fix, but what else is there? “You’re the literal baby of the lineage now.”

Obi-Wan sighs over the riot of Ahsoka’s laugh. “Of course I am.”

“It’s okay, Master,” Ahsoka assures him. “Skyguy’s gonna take care of us until we can fight again.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, grimacing slightly. “I am sorry for you being put in such a position, Anakin. It’s certainly not an easy one.”

Anakin wishes he could say that his immediate reaction isn’t a sense of hurt, a you don’t trust me, a you don’t think I can do this, a you’re disappointed someone else wasn’t here to handle things instead.

He wishes he could make that claim and have anyone believe him, but they are in a shared meditation, and in this moment there are very, very few secrets. He does not make the effort to hide his reaction in time, and Obi-Wan catches it.

Anakin turns away as Obi-Wan’s face fills with surprise and horror. “Anakin--”

“Can we just pretend you didn’t feel that?” Anakin asks, and flinches when Ahsoka pops up from where she lies and scurries around to hug him like a vise. “Can we just pretend I’m not--”

“Dear one, there are very few people I would trust as much as you in this,” Obi-Wan says. “Those who match up are largely the people who helped me raise me when I was actually this age.”

“Being completely reliant on your padawan isn’t--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, cutting him off there. “I can trust you to care for me in ways that don’t just come down to making me a useful general again. I already trust you to risk your life and safety and freedom to see us survive, given what little I remember of that storm.”

“You handed yourself over to Mandalorians you knew nothing about so we’d be safe,” Ahsoka mutters into the fabric somewhere over his ribs. “That could have gone really badly, and you still did it because you were worried about us.”

“We trust you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling Anakin to his chest and resting his chin on Anakin’s head. “We know you.”

“You don’t even know what happened in the storm,” Anakin mutters. “You were asleep.”

“I caught enough listening to the doctors,” Obi-Wan says. He runs a hand over Anakin’s head and through his hair. “You did well, Anakin.”

Anakin wonders why they don’t do this in real life. Obi-Wan doesn’t usually hug him, let alone cuddle. Maybe it’s because they’re all stuck in too much truth in this shared meditation, and the other two are currently stuck in child bodies that crave physical affection in ways they don’t realize they’re expressing in here as well. Maybe it’s the stress.

“What even can you hear?” Anakin mutters, still in Obi-Wan’s arms. Ahsoka giggles at him, nuzzling into his side in a way he doesn’t think she’d ever let herself, normally.

“We can’t really think in the real world right now,” she muses. “Only when we’re sleeping, and probably when we’re meditating once we’re bigger. If I try to think too hard, my head hurts worse than that time Ventress got me in the head with the back of her saber.”

“Everything takes up more space than it should,” Obi-Wan adds. “It’s... all of my senses are bigger and brighter and take up more of my attention, but they aren’t very clear, really. They’re just more. I can’t focus on anything, either, except... well, the feedings.”

Ahsoka makes an annoyed noise. “The whole diapers and bottles thing is really embarrassing, by the way. Only here, though, I barely notice when I’m awake because...”

“Because you’re a toddler,” Anakin says drily.

She huffs. “How would you feel if you were stuck like that?”

That’s fair.

“I don’t remember much,” Obi-Wan says carefully. “But part of me recognizes familiar things, even if I can’t quite make the connection.”

“Was that Fett, earlier?” Ahsoka asks. “Because I thought I saw a friend, and I pretty much forgot the face as soon as they left, but--”

“It’s Fett,” Anakin confirms. “But I guess that’s good to know? You saw his face and your baby brain just assumed it was one of the clones?”

“Pretty much.”

“And we know we trust you,” Obi-Wan adds, and tightens the hug when Anakin stiffens. “Anakin, I can barely understand the world around me at all right now. It’s like being on the painkillers that don’t knock you out but leave you saying only the most ridiculous things that come to mind. You have a general understanding of what’s going on, but all your emotions are too much and the room spins, you can’t stay on one track mentally, you can’t remember what you’ve done and what you haven’t--”

“You can’t control your bladder,” Ahsoka mutters, just a touch spitefully.

Obi-Wan grimaces and nods. “An unfortunate commonality in the experiences, yes. What I was aiming to address, however, is the fact that I only remember a very few things with any reliability. Most of my adult mind, so to speak, appears to be stored in a stasis form in the Force itself, because the infant mind can only handle the barest edges of who I am. But what that infant mind knows, and what I remember thinking once I have some sense of my full self in sleep, is that there is no one I react to as positively as you, Anakin.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Ahsoka interrupts, “but can’t because he’s trying to be a serene Jedi Councilor who definitely doesn’t break the code, nosiree, is that we don’t remember much about ourselves when we’re awake, but we remember you, and we know that we love you, Skyguy.”

Anakin stares at her, and then twists around to look at Obi-Wan instead.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka croons. “Stop being emotionally constipated. We’re literal babies right not, which sucks, but we’re like 90% emotion. Tell Skyguy.”

“Yes, er, Ahsoka was not incorrect,” Obi-Wan says, stroking his beard and refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. “I, that is to say, we...”

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka says, a touch sharper than she might have dared if not for the reversal of their ages.

“I do love you, Anakin, and it’s one of the only things my child mind knows consistently.”

The Force does, in fact, sing with the truth of this. It circles them like a delighted tornado of emotional reality, pulsing like a coat of positivity.

Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder and hugs him as tightly as possible.

“Oh! Oh dear, I--Anakin, really, this isn’t news.”

“Master Kenobi, you’re allergic to actually talking about your emotions. Let him hug you.”

“Anakin, I’ve raised you since you were nine, it would be nearly impossible for me to not care, why are you--”

“Master Kenobi, stop questioning him!” Ahsoka whines. “It’s affirmation time.”

“Ahsoka, have you been spending time with the mind healers again?”

“I was a teenager in a warzone and also Barriss bullied me into it for my own good.” Ahsoka shrugs. “I learned some stuff. You two should have gone, too. You were more karked up than I was.”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan scolds.

“What are you going to do, spit up on me? You can’t exactly make me run laps, Master.”

“Both of you shut up,” Anakin mumbles, and tries to push as much of his own affection as possible into a little ball of feelings that he can just drop on the two of them while he’s still in his own brain and not somewhere he can’t touch the Force. “Just--just shut.”

Apparently, Anakin’s feelings are a lot, because Ahsoka bursts into tears and Obi-Wan zones out so hard Anakin starts worrying about him.

They’re in a mindscape, a thing that he didn’t really think happened, but does. He shouldn’t have to worry about his--

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling him in tighter. “Why did you...”

“Skyguy, I don’t think you planned on putting in the part where you worry about nobody loving you back as much as you loved them,” Ahsoka says, raw and uneven. “Because, uh, we got that? Skyguy, that’s really wrong!”

Oh shit.

“No, you were... you were not supposed to get that,” he says, just a little strangled. “I am so sorry, that wasn’t--”

“Be our dad.”

Anakin stares down at his Padawan. She stares determinedly back.

“What?”

“Fett asked if we were yours, and you edged around the question by saying we were family, but he was asking if you were our dad. I’m guessing you didn’t want to claim that when we couldn’t agree to it, so I’m telling you now: do it. Adopt us the Mandalorian way or whatever. You were already my older brother, basically, this is just a step sideways in how we talk about it.”

He stares at her a bit more. He doesn’t have words, and his emotions are such a cyclone of conflicting thoughts that he’s surprised the Force hasn’t tossed him out.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be born, but if I am, then I need a name so I don’t have the same one as future me,” she says. She takes his hands, holds them tight and leans in close. “You’re going to be raising us anyway. The Force already made it clear there’s no fixing this, we tried asking while you were unconscious, it wants us to grow up the long way. You’re going to be our dad. Just make it official. Make me a Skywalker.”

Anakin sits up straight, looks her up and down, the determination and affection and--

He turns to look at Obi-Wan. “Master?”

“...yes, Anakin?”

“I know she said ‘we’ and ‘us,’ but I’m not letting anyone speak for anyone else. Not for something this important.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him, and then rearranges himself to something a tad more formal. He takes one of Anakin’s hands in his own. “Anakin, we’ve been family since you were nine. This is just redefining the terms. We can adjust as we go forward, but for all intents and purposes, the majority of the time, I will be that youngling in the cot. For all intents and purposes, I will be your child, and... and I would be honored for you to make that official.”

“Even if it breaks the Code?” Anakin presses.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Obi-Wan says, almost but not quite overriding Ahsoka’s, “This doesn’t break the Code.”

They both turn to look at her. She shrugs. “What? You guys are always arguing about it and Skyguy was married. I went and did some digging about what is and isn’t allowed. This adoption would be skirting the edges of some rules, since we should be taken to the creche to be raised in a communal manner, and official adoptions are discouraged for reasons relating to later padawan stuff, but since the Force is also insisting we stay with the Mandalorians, I think it qualifies as an exception and will be treated as such, retroactively, by the Council. You also won’t be able to take either of us as Padawan once that time comes. It does not, however, violate the Code in and of itself.”

“What the hell, Snips?”

“I’m impressed, young one,” Obi-Wan says, with a smile Anakin can feel. “I could have expected to see you in court in a few years, with an argument like that.”

“You knew I was married?” Anakin squeaks.

“Rex isn’t a very good liar,” she says. She then droops. “Or, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. He tried, at least, but I caught on. That was against the Code, though. Just so you know.”

Anakin runs a hand over his face, tries very hard not to think about what and whom he’s left behind. He can save that breakdown for later.

He chances a look at Obi-Wan.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response.

“You’re not mad?”

“I knew you and the Senator were close, considering all the kissing you did in the Arena,” Obi-Wan says drily. Anakin isn’t stupid enough to ask how he knows it’s Padme. “I didn’t know you were married, and am a little disappointed you didn’t at least tell me, or consult me before you did it, considering you were still a padawan... but no, I’m not mad. Even if I were--and I am not--we’ve time-traveled, so I’m fairly certain that qualifies as annulment. It’s a non-issue.”

Anakin pushes down the tidal wave of grief for people who haven’t been born yet, and just breathes instead. This is important. This is too important for him to just kriff it up.

“Names,” he says.

“I still want part of it to be ‘Soka,’ if you don’t think it’s too risky.”

Obi-Wan shrugs with a smile. “Almost every time I’ve posed as a Mandalorian, since my first mission with Satine, I’ve gone by Ben. It would be fitting that, now that we’re here and apparently staying, I take the name for real.”

Anakin nods. He closes his eyes, and breathes deep, and thinks that they may be among Mandalorians on a world of snow, but he has the desert in his bones and will never forget it.

“Ahsoka Tano, sister of my heart,” he says, hoping he’s getting the words right, and takes her hands in his. It’ll have more meaning here and now, where they’re both of full mind. He holds her gaze. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my daughter, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Sokanth Skywalker, she who slips through every hunter’s trap, and you are my child.”

She smiles brightly at him, and looks like she might cry. He presses his lips to her forehead. He turns to his Master. He hesitates, because it’s one thing to redefine his little sister, but...

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, father of my heart,” he says, his voice catching where it shouldn’t. He can do this. It’s weird but he can do this. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my son, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Ylliben Skywalker, he who hunts the monsters of the darkest nights, and you are my child.”

The man before him almost laughs, well aware of how absurd it is for Anakin to be the one adopting him, but keeps it limited to just a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips. Anakin presses his lips to his teacher’s forehead.

He pulls both of them in close. Padawan and Master. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

Daughter and son. Soka and Ben. His.

“I’m still gonna call you Skyguy,” Soka says wetly. “But Mas--um, Ben. Ben can call you buir, all the Mandos are gonna love it.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says. “I’m going to be telling you Tatooine bedtime stories, by the way. You’ll remember creche stories as you grow, but these’ll be new.”

“I do believe that would be appropriate,” Ben says, laughing just a touch. “I also think we should perhaps disband this, unless you have something else to address. You’re going to be dealing with two very cranky younglings soon.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have headaches after this,” Soka laughs, rubbing her face against his shoulder. “But it’s okay, we got what we ne--”

“No, shut up, what you do mean, headaches? You said that was only when you were awake!”

“I mean, we’d be sobbing after like three minutes if we were awake,” Soka says cheerfully. “This way, it’s been like... an hour or whatever between all the talking and the hugging and the crying and the feelings, and we’re just gonna be grumpy.”

“Oh my--wake up!” Anakin growls at both of them. “I’m responsible for you now, wake up.”

He ignores Soka’s laughter and drags himself back to wakefulness. Behind him, he feels slight confusion and pain mixed with love and delight. Ben starts fussing.

Anakin drags a hand over his face and groans. He gets to his feet, nods to the nurse droid, and steps over to the cribs.

“Can we put them in the same one until I get my arm back?” he asks. The droid obliges, moving Ben to Soka’s crib. She immediately crawls over to him and envelops him in a hug. She pouts up at Anakin, eyes going watery, and he drops into the chair next to her and offers his hand through the bars. She grabs it.

“You’re going to be trouble for a long, long time, huh?”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles at her. Yes, trouble in spades, his Snips.

He starts telling her one of the fables of Tatooine, the really sanitized ones meant for children her age, before they got to the slave stories and haunt-tales. She falls asleep for real, no Force Shenanigans, shortly after. Ben is dead to the world by that point, making small snuffling noises whenever the blanket tickles his nose.

Anakin knows he’s got the galaxy’s dopiest smile on his face. It’s fine.

It’s a few more hours before someone stops by. He’s used the fresher by that point, helped the nurse droid coax Ben through a feeding, and helped Soka play with the little stuffed eopie they’ve given her.

“They got names, aruetti?”

He looks up and over. “Yes.”

The middle-aged man ambles over, arms crossed. “Jango said you claimed to be all they had left.”

He is. “They’re family. I’ve had a few hours to think it over, now that I’m not getting shot at or dying in the snow. To any system that allows it, I’ll be their father.”

“No chance of returning them to their people?”

Anakin shakes his head. “Soka has none who would recognize her, and I already--I already babysat her regularly, and she thought of me as a brother. It’s an easy next step.”

“And the human?”

“I... the master-padawan relationship is often one that is compared to that of parent and child,” Anakin says carefully. “My own master was like a father to me, and Ben is... Ben is all I have left of him.”

There. Not quite the truth, but... technically not lying.

Ben makes a small noise in his sleep, fussing, and Anakin reaches through the bars to brush his thumb across the infant’s chubby cheek. He smiles helplessly as Ben whines and curls in tighter on himself, pressing a tiny fist to his mouth.

“You’re good,” Anakin whispers. “We’re fine, Ylliben.”

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” the Mando says. “But I do believe you’re doing what you can for those kids.”

“That’s all that matters,” Anakin agrees, finally looking away from his... his son.

Mine, the greedy krayt in his chest whispers.

“When are you planning on going back to Coruscanta?”

“I’m not,” Anakin says, standing and looking the man head-on. Anakin’s taller than him. That’s usually useful. “I don’t know why, but the Force wants me to stay here, or at least with the Mandalorians.”

“You want me to believe that you support my cause?”

“I don’t know your cause,” Anakin admits. “But I don’t like Death Watch, and I know you don’t either. Nobody on Coruscant is going to know to miss me, and the Force is warning me away from trying to go back. Whatever it is that needs doing, I’m supposed to be doing it here.”

The man steps forward. “Anyone tell you who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m Jaster Mereel.”

Good for you, Anakin thinks, and doesn’t say. “I’m pretty sure you already know my name.”

“I do,” Mereel says. “Wanna tell me how a Knight with a seemingly valid ident card claims nobody will know to miss him?”

“No.”

Mereel doesn’t even blink. “Try that again.”

“It means exactly what I said,” Anakin says. “The ident card is real. My training and rank are earned and deserved and bestowed by protocol. All of it was done at the Temple in Coruscant, but if you phone up the Temple with my name and face, nobody will know who I am.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why,” Mereel grouses. “What’s stopping me from calling them up anyway and asking them to come fetch your hypothermic ass?”

“...the fact that I already offered to help you?” Anakin manages. “I... I did say that part, right? That I’d help?”

“What’s stopping you from wanting to go back? And don’t give me any of that ‘will of the force’ banthashit.”

“I broke the Code,” Anakain says. The words sit heavy in his mouth, but one of his violations is lesser than the other, and-- “I married, and we’re not supposed to do that. She’s... not around anymore, but it still stands that I did it.”

The Tuskens weigh on his mind, suddenly and intensely. He hasn’t thought about them in ages, has always pushed those memories down, down, down, but--

“And they won’t take you back?”

“They might,” Anakin admits. They probably would, with his full title and everything, especially if he told them about the future. “But they wouldn’t let me keep the kids.”

Understanding flickers. “Not allowed kids?”

“It’s not... technically against the code,” he hedges. “But they’d find out about my marriage while investigating my past--” maybe, he’s not sure what kind of investigation they’d justify for a complete stranger of a knight, especially to confirm the future, but if they had a psychometric so much as touch his saber or arm, once he gets those back, there’d be a risk, “--and after already breaking the code by marrying, they’d be far less willing to bend the rules about the babies.”

He doesn’t realize how likely the risk is until after he says it, because he’s just been focusing on staying alive and following the Force, but.. they’d want the kids in the creche. He’s broken the code enough that any investigation they set to prove he’s legitimately a Jedi Knight that isn’t recorded and isn’t in the system is going to uncover something through the Force. They might not let him keep his family.

“What are their names?”

“I already--”

“Jango kept his last name,” Mereel cuts him off. “Did yours?”

Anakin looks the man in the eye, and then attempts to cross his arms in response, to mirror the pose and hold his ground. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten that he’s only got the one arm, which is really kriffing irritating.

“I gave them my name,” he says. “They’ll know where they came from, but they are mine.”

Yeah, no shit they’ll know where they came from.

Mereel’s face twitches, but the man is unreadable in the Force. Still, there’s something in the air... “So, those names?”

“Sokanth and Ylliben Skywalker,” Anakin tells him. He spells it out when the droid asks. He assumes it’s just for the medical data their droids are collecting.

“How well can you fight without your laser sword?”

“You mean unarmed?” Anakin asks, and then smiles brightly and tauntingly and waves his empty sleeve around. Mereel does not appreciate the humor. “Pretty well, but I do better when I have the Force, and am not still recovering from hypothermia. And I’m a fair shot with a blaster, but no specialist.”

Mereel eyes him for a moment, and then nods. “One of my snipers is Force-Sensitive. Never was enough to get more than some basic training in mental shields and the control to not hurt herself, but when we mentioned bringing in a Jetii, someone asked her what she thought. Came by the room while you were unconscious and said she thought you felt sad, angry, and desperate... but that she had a good feeling about where you’d be going.”

“Sad, angry, and desperate?” Anakin repeats, a little offended.

“You act like a veteran, kid,” Mereel says. He shrugs. “Damn near everyone that goes through some kind of war has all that going on. S’normal. You got Kamira’s approval, though, and that means a damn sight more. Keep your secrets for now. We’ll get there eventually.”

No we won’t, Anakin thinks. Out loud, he asks, “So, how much of what kind of work would I have to do to borrow a ship to Tatooine and earn enough to free a slave girl?”

#disaster lineage #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #jango fett #jaster mereel #time travel #mandalore #tatooine #de aging #babies #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies

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rphelperblog · 2 years ago

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Legendborn Book Quote Rp Meme

“Don't make your life about the loss. Make it about the love.”

“Who's the literary nerd? The quoter or the one who recognizes the quote?”

“But when your entire world is shattering, a little bit of magic is...nothing.”

“Have more than you show, speak less than you know”

“My mother’s life has stopped. Shouldn’t everything and everyone stop living too?”

“You are magic. Don’t ever deny that fire in you.”

“Magic. Real. Here.”

“Sometimes, you say the awful things quickly and without taking a breath because lingering is to painful.”

“Spit it out. We don’t have all night,”

“Sorry to interrupt, my liege! Please, proceed with thy gentle tonguing!”

“By the way, your hair is totally badass!”

“You need homeostasis.”

“what twist of the universe has set you in that path again?”

“‘Smart but a bad influence’ describes like half the student body.”

“Because my mother taught me that, in spite of everything, I must choose goodness.”

“Let the pain be part of you, but know that it is not yours at all.”

“Everywhere our skin touches leaves trails of sparks.”

I saw magic in his eyes. Dirty, dark, beautiful magic.”

“Gold runs in his veins.”

You want battle? I’ll give you war.”

“You’re an absolutely stunnin, murderous little creature.”

“She’s strong, but she’s exhausted.”

teach. The first one I learned is that when people acknowledge your pain, they want your pain to acknowledge them back. They need to witness it in real time, or else you’re not doing your part.”

“Like many true things, this is awful, and hard.”

“But sometimes you cope by wasting time, yes?”

“Legends are dangerous. Don't underestimate them.”

“Sometimes a crime is an act of heroism.”

‘I hate tiny parties—they force one into constant exertion.

“Did you just Star Wars me?”

“I New Hope’d you.”

“Of course not. But…This week you’re a zombie. You know what you need?”

“You gonna say Jesus?”

“Did you just… biology me?”

“This boy is not part of the plan. Not the beginning, middle, or anywhere in between.”

so much for a lost little girl who probably needs as much therapy as I do?

"No one needs as much therapy as I do.”

“Don’t make your life about the loss. Make it about the love.”

“Some truths only tragedy can teach.”

“And when your people die, you have to listen to strangers speak your nightmare into existence.”

“Sometimes, you say the awful thing quickly and without taking a breath because lingering is too painful.”

“It is always the gentle ones I fear for the most, those willing to bare their hearts, who grieve for others and feel happy for others’ happiness.”

“Everything has two histories. Especially in the South.”

“Love is a powerful thing, more powerful than blood, although both run through us like a river.”

“Why someone dies is not the same question as why they are gone.”

“The most important thing you can do in this world, the most necessary thing, is to survive it. You can't do anything for anyone else if you don't take care of yourself first.”

“With each step into the crowd, he becomes some new iteration of himself”

“Should I be relieved that you didn’t feel his desire to murder me?”

“Two faults. My race and my gender. But they are not faults. They are strength. And I am more than this man can comprehend.”

“How does this boy navigate my emotions like a seasonal sailor, finding the clear skies and bringing them closer, when all I seem able to do is hold fast to the storms?”

It’s not embarassing if no one saw you doing it, right?”

“My mother's life has stopped. Shouldn't everything and everyone stop living too?”

“Because death breaks our connection... death is not a thread. It is the sharp cut that severs us. Death separates us from one another, and yet holds us close. As deeply as we hate it, it loves us more”

“They that would be a leader, let them be a bridge.”

“power taken and not returned incurs a debt. And the universe, and the debt, will always come to collect, one way or another.”

“I recognize that sound. It's the sound of holding on to a cliff by the edge of your nails. The sound of barely containing a pain so immense that to look at it, to raise your own flesh and examine what's beneath, is to risk falling into a darkness you know you'll never escape.”

“she presses her love against my heart, and fades.”

“I listen to these people I don’t know use the past tense about my mother, the person who brought me into this world and created my present. They are past-tensing my heart—my whole beating, bleeding, torn heart—right in front of me.”

“don’t know if there’s a single Black person in this country who can say with 100 percent confidence that they feel safe with the police. Not after the past few years. Probably not ever. Maybe there are some, somewhere, but I sure as hell don’t know ’em.”

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paperburrows · 3 years ago

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Hero Complex

“Hurry,” the hero said, the jail door creaking open in their wake. “The guards will be wanting to report soon.”

“To you,” came the villain’s response, merry. As merry as it could get, at least, contained in a damp cell the hero’s legion had thrown them into not too long prior—and with no small amount of pleasure, at that.

Likely the same sort of pleasure that surged delicious under the villain’s skin, seeing the hero’s gaze darken in the half-light.

“You know I went through a lot of trouble, stalling them for you,” the hero pressed. The villain could have rolled their eyes for the haughtiness of it. “So if you could just do me a favor and get u—”

“I didn’t ask you to come here.” Just to enunciate the bite to their words, the villain slammed their back against the brick wall behind them. “You did it out of your own volition. Or maybe it’s the ridiculous hero complex you can never let anyone forget about.”

“Showing mercy is part of my hero complex?”

“Especially when it’s unwanted,” the villain answered.

The hero’s fingers closed down on the metal bars. The villain spied the faintest hint of a protruding vein along their arm. “Unnecessary defiance isn’t always a good look on you.”

“I’m not coming. Not unless it’s on my own terms. My own decision.”

“This whole prison system is state of the art.” The hero could never give up, could they? “You’d get caught before you could even know what hit you. And you’ll have to understand that there’s only so much that I can do for you, at that point. I barely convinced them not to kill you on sight.”

“Good.” It wasn’t in a vengeful villain’s nature to give up, either. “That’s one less thing I have to worry about you interfering with.”

A sharp inhale told the villain the hero’s patience was running thin. Thinning patience was a decent sign. Thinning patience meant that the hero could let go of this charade of theirs—or that this entire thing could come to blows. The villain had little qualms with either possibility.

And yet, much to the villain’s chagrin, the hero’s expression regained its homeostasis, long before the villain had enough time to enjoy the storminess of it.

The hero stepped inside the jail cell.

The jail cell suddenly seemed way smaller than it had already been.

“I’m doing this for you,” the hero said.

The villain couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at that. “No, you’re not.”

“I don’t want you to rot in here.”

“You seemed very well fine with that,” retorted the villain, “when you were turning the big, bad villain in. You thrived in the attention.”

“That’s until I realized what they were planning to do with—”

“That’s until you realized that your conscience couldn’t handle it.” The villain didn’t give the hero a chance to finish. The time for chances was long past. In the same way that whatever camaraderie the villain and hero had had was long past, too.

“You wanted peace of mind,” the villain went on, in spite of the warning glint in the hero’s stare. “And you saw me as some kind of bleeding heart. That’s why you’re here.” The anger to plague the villain struck as unexpected as the villain hadn’t braced themself for it. So, in tones hotter than the flames in hell:

“And the last thing I want to give you is peace of mind.”

Every moment the hero stewed in silence, was a moment the villain reveled in theirs. How dared this self-serving bastard come all the way here—after all they’d done—and pretend as though they were offering the villain a rare kindness?

No. The villain would never give the hero the peace of mind they so clearly coveted, the way they dropped low, held their fists before them, and met the villain dead in the eye.

“I’m not leaving until you’ve left, too.” The burning intensity in every syllable . . . The hero meant it.

The villain smirked, at that.

They, too, held up their fists.

“Then I guess you’re not leaving.”

#writeblr #villain x hero #hero x villain #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #angst #creative writing #story snippet #dialogue #my writing #mine

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dismal-noise · 4 years ago

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Let's Learn About Our Metabolism!

Recently I haven't been able to stop worrying about the dreaded "starvation mode", and that I wasn't doing enough to speed my metabolism up... So I looked into it, and I learned a lot of very interesting things! Mainly that a lot of the things I thought I knew about my metabolism was completely backwards, so let's talk about it! :)

NOTE: I AM NOT AN EXPERT! I just did some basic research and want to share what I found.

As always, all sources used are at the bottom of the post.

So,, what even IS my metabolism?

The word metabolism refers to the chemical processes that go on continuously inside the body in order to to keep you alive and maintain homeostasis. This takes energy to do, which is measured in kilojoules (kJ)

These chemical processes can broadly be divided into 2 groups: catabolism (breaking down food), and anabolism (building repairing our body).

So again: "metabolism" is not a SPECIFIC chemical process, but rather the term we use when talking about ALL of the chemical processes your body uses to keep you alive.

Wait but now I'm confused... I thought my metabolism is what controlled how fast I burn what I eat??

It is! It's just a bit more complicated. Your body turns food into energy, and uses that energy to function. Any extra energy the body takes in is stored (mostly as fat). Your body's metabolic rate (or total energy expenditure) is divided into 3 parts:

Basal Metabolic Rate (BMR)

This is the energy you use to keep all the body's systems functioning correctly (including breathing, keeping your heart beating, adjusting hormone levels, and growing/repairing cells)

Your BMR accounts for 50-80% of your body's daily energy usage, and seems to be what people are usually referring to when they talk about "speeding up" or "slowing down your metabolism"

Thermogenesis (Thermic effect of food)

This is the energy your body uses to digest food and drink, and to absorb, transport, and store nutrients.

Thermogenesis accounts for 5-10% of your body's daily energy expenditure.

Energy used during physical activity

This refers to energy used by physical activity. this includes planned exercise like biking, running, walking, swimming, etc; and all incidental activity like moving from room to room and even fidgeting!

This one really varies from person to person, but for a person who has about 30 minutes of moderate-intensity physical activity a day, physical activity accounts for about 20% of daily energy use.

So basically, a lot of people use the term "metabolism" when they are talking about how many calories their body burns just living when they should really be using the term "BMR".

And when people say things like "the daily recommended calories for an average adult is 2,000" they are saying that the average person's metabolic rate uses about 2,000 calories worth of energy a day! that's kinda crazy, right?

Ok cool, so can the "speed" of my Metabolic Rate change?

Yes! Kinda.

You see, Thermogenesis is out of your control, and your BMR can kinda be affected by different things you can do, but as far as I know the changes are not significant. And you can increase your physical activity to burn up more calories to, but I get the feeling you guys know that ;)

Your BMR is the only one of these that is both in your control, and not. It's calculated using your sex, age, hight, and weight; but is affected by things like starving (decrease in up to 15%), caffeine (small increase), and even the temp of your environment.

Unfortunately, there is no magic thing we can do to just make our bodies use significantly more calories for our BMR. We CAN try to maximise our BMR by doing strength training (muscle requires way more energy to maintain than fat), and by "high restricting" or planning some high calorie days to help prevent your BMR from slowing due to lack of food!

A quick note for my fellow nonbinary and trans peeps: There is plenty of research out there that shows that your "biological sex" matters less than your "hormonal sex" when calculating your BMR. this is because most BMR calculations look for lean body mass vs fat cause they require different amounts of energy to maintain, and women are more likely to have more body fat (there are many reasons for this, but I won't be going into it today).

So you can do a couple of things:

1) If you have not taking hormones, then you can calculate using your AGAB (assigned gender at birth)

2) If you ARE taking hormones, or are "fully transitioned" then you could calculate using "male" if your taking T, and "female" if you are taking E. If your microdosing or your transition is incomplete then you could calculate twice (once with male, and once with female) and average the 2 numbers

3) You could look for calculators that DONT include the gender question! they exist! The Katch-McArdle Formula for calculating your BMR does not have the gender question.

That was a lot, can you summarize it?

Absolutely!

TLDR: "metabolism" is an umbrella term for "everything your body does that requires energy.

Your metabolic rate (aka how much energy your body uses) is determined by 3 parts: thermogenesis, BMR, and physical activity.

Thermogenesis is out of your control

BMR is affected by your actions to an extent, but you can't "speed it up" to use more calories. It can be slowed down if your body feels it needs to conserve energy because you aren't eating enough, an it can slow down by 15%

Physical activity is totally in your control (for abled body people anyway, I know physical activity is different for everyone). The more you move, the more energy your body uses, and the more calories your burn

As always, I love you all, drink some water, and stay safe <3

-dismal

Sources (I encourage you all to read as they go more in-depth and are easy reads)

Metabolism - Better Health

Metabolism and weight loss - Mayo Clinic

Can you boost your metabolism? - Medlineplus.org

Nutritional needs, transfolk and biological sex - old blog post

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lizamango · 3 years ago

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Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 6/?

A/N: Hi loves! Long chapter ahead! Watched Shang-Chi this weekend and wowowowowow go see it if you haven’t!!

We are now in the AGE OF ULTRON phase; I wanted to finally start building the foundations of your friendship with Wanda this chapter!

And Agents of Shield cameos!

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies, @yaszx

Word Count: 2705

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Warnings: cursing, slowest fucking burn oml

Chapter Summary: You meet the Maximoff twins and the Avengers on your search for Sergeant Barnes.

Chapter 6: I’M NICE TO MEET

“Another bust,” I say into my comms as Fitz, Johnson, Ward and I exit the base, leaving knocked out or restrained HYDRA agents for the local authorities to find.

“Copy that,” Fury replies.

“You know, this is like… we’re vigilantes, right? This isn’t legal anymore? We have no jurisdiction anywhere,” Fitz says.

“SHIELD did what SHIELD wanted,” I shrug. “Now it’s our turn.”

“That’s true, SHIELD never followed the rules, not even their own,” Daisy added.

“Excuse me, did you forget that you were on the line with the Director of SHIELD?” Fury defends.

I chuckle. “You mean former right? Because Fitz has a point, if we get caught we go to jail too.”

“Well, good thing we still have access to a quinjet,” Fury says as he lands right in front of us.

“Very smooth,” we climb in as the ramp comes down and take a seat. I sigh, “gone are the good ol’ days.”

“I never even got to experience them,” Daisy shrugs.

“They weren’t that great for us. She had it good, being Level 7,” Grant comments.

“You’re Level 6! I’m still Level 4!” Fitz exclaims, offended.

“The system collapsed when SHIELD fell, I can make you unofficially Level 10 if you’d like?” I offer as I go to the mini fridge to take out a… “who ate the mozzarella and prosciutto wrap?” I say, closing the door and looking at everyone disappointedly.

“Wasn’t me,” Daisy and Grant say.

My eyes shift to Fitz. “I’m sorry, did it have your name on it? Because it didn’t so…” I pick up an apple and throw it at him. “Ow ow ow what the hell!”

“Behave,” we hear May through the comms.

“Sorry, May,” we all say as we take out seats, buckling up to meet Fury.

He’s typing away at the computer when we enter his makeshift underground office. It’s still hard to get used to being based here and not some fancy DC high rise.

“We’ve stormed two bases and found nothing. The Avengers have cleared four and they haven’t found the sceptre either,” Daisy recounts.

“There has to be something we’re missing,” Fitz says.

“We have two computer geniuses, tactile and operations experts and we can’t find a magical space stick,” I say, frustrated but this mission isn’t the only thing on my mind. It’s been almost a year since Steve asked Sam and I for help and we still haven’t found anything solid. The HYDRA bases haven’t revealed anything helpful either.

“On a lighter note, HYDRA is six bases down! I see that as an absolute win,” Fitz smiles.

“I’d say you all take a break. I’ve not found anything as of yet so… go back to your lives for a little bit. I’ll send directives if I find anything,” Fury orders.

“You know… you’re not the boss of us anymore, right?” I raise a brow.

“You’re dismissed.”

I go home with the intention of getting some rest but there’s something grating at my mind. It seems too easy that we’ve taken down six bases in the span of a year after HYDRA had been hiding in the shadows for decades… I go to my laptop and map out where each base was found. Huh… They arrange in a line of six and when the order of discovery is taken into account it seems that each base gets farther and farther away from one country. Sokovia.

I pack a bag with disguises that I still kept around, a photostatic veil and more subtle weapons in the place of guns. Time to go into the belly of the beast.

I look at my phone and assume the identity of a scientist that I see is on her way into the base. Before she gets too close I knock her out with a an electric disc. I drag her unconscious body to a place with cover and scan her face with my phone, syncing it up with my photostatic veil. Once it uploads, I put it on my face which has now taken hers. I style my hair similar to hers and replace my clothes with hers. I tie her up but inject her with a sedative that should last long enough for me to gather intel. I go through her bag and read through her diary and tablet to see where she should and shouldn’t be, to prevent suspicion.

I sigh. “Ideme na to,” here we go, I practice my Sokovian.

I enter the base. Doctor Kovak seems to be reporting to sub-level 3 according to her diary. I follow the signs quietly but the staff here seem to be too busy with their own tasks to mind me.

“Doctor Kovak,” I turn to the source of the voice. Wolfgang von Strucker, of course. “How are the test subjects?” he asks.

“I’m checking on them now, Herr Strucker,” I respond. He nods and gestures for me to walk with him. He leads me to two rooms with one sided glass. HYDRA’s still experimenting on people… There’s a man in the cell to the left who looks healthy enough and a woman in the cell next to him, sat on her knees looking at blocks of wood. I raise a brow but take out Dr. Kovak’s tablet, tapping around to find something.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?”

I find a tab on SUBJECTS and tap it, leading me to 16 more tabs labelled FAILURES but two SUCCESSES. This brings me to the Maximoff twins, Pietro and Wanda. The doctor’s newest entry was from last night. “The male has increased metabolism and improved homeostasis,” I say. “His vitals look normal, for someone going through this,” I add as I look to the monitor on the wall of his side. “The female has exhibited abilities of telekinesis.” I stop myself from frowning… they’re human?

“Keep an eye on them. I want to know more. I want to know how they survived the powers of the sceptre while many others did not. What makes them special, doctor? We are running out of bases to feed the Avengers.” He walks away before I can acknowledge his orders.

So the sceptre is here and they were just trying to keep themselves out of our radar. My stomach sinks slightly in disappointment as there was the possibility that what HYDRA was hiding was Barnes… maybe he’s still free then. Hopefully.

I look at the twins files for more information on why they would volunteer for such experiments. Native Sokovians, orphaned at ten years old and only having each other since then. I look up and notice that Wanda is staring at me. Or, correction, she’s staring into my soul.

I need to find the sceptre but that can wait at the presence of two enhanced individuals that have chosen the opposing side.

I open Wanda’s cell. “Miss Maximoff,” I greet. “Good morning,” she doesn’t reply. “I just wanted to learn more about you.”

Her head tilts but she doesn’t say anything.

“What made you want to volunteer for this… program?” I ask.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I believe there is something special about you and your brother. We’ve of course taken biological samples but I like to take a more… holistic approach to find out more.”

She looks at me and I swear her eyes glow red.

“I just want to help.”

She blinks and her posture relaxes as if she believes me. “I lost everyone but my brother. There’s so much wrong with the world. We just want to change it.”

“That’s why you agreed to be experimented on?”

She nods. “My turn. What did you do to the real Dr. Kovak?”

I look up sharply. How could she possibly…? Wanda doesn’t seem to want to alert the other scientists and agents of my presence so I clear my throat and straighten up. “She’s safe. I just needed intel.”

Her brow raises. “On what?”

“Can’t ask me two questions in a row, Miss Maximoff.”

“I could just… read your mind.”

“You can do that?”

Her brow quirks as an answer. “Have you been withholding information from Strucker?”

“Yes.”

I hum at her honesty. “Good. You can’t trust him.”

“And I can trust you? A strange woman who is wearing someone else’s face and clothes,” she counters.

“Compared to anyone else here? Yes.”

She is about to say something but alarms sound. I leave the cell, closing the door with a last look at Wanda. I’ll get her out, I promise myself.

“What’s happening?” I ask, tucking the tablet away.

“We’re under attack.”

“Who?” Strucker asks.

“The Avengers.”

Shit. I sneak out and hear Strucker giving out orders. I find a server room and start downloading what intel I can about HYDRA’s plans and remaining strongholds for any clue on Sergeant Barnes’s locations and slip out. Rogers doesn’t need to know I was here with no back up.

The cold air greets me as I climb out of the base and start to discreetly make my way back to the town to catch a train to the next city to catch a flight back to DC

I feel someone behind me and I sharply turn, dodging their hold and kicking them in the knee by instinct. I stop when I see who it is. But he doesn’t as he goes in for a punch, I dodge and use his shield to propel myself backwards to get some distance between us.

“Steve! Don’t sneak up on a spy like that, you’re gonna get yourself killed.” I reach a hand down and he takes it as he gets back up on both feet.

He frowns under his helmet but there is no recognition in his eyes. I remember than the veil is still on my face so I peel it off and undo my hair.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” I shrug.

“Did you come in with a team?” he asks concerned as he places his shield on his back. “Y/N where is your team? Did you not have back up?”

“I went in alone, okay?”

“Why would you do that?” Someone in his comms must have spoken because he turns away briefly. “I’m dealing with something but south west is clear.”

“It was just intel retrieval. Nothing big.”

“It’s you vs HYDRA, that’s not enough. Did you even have an extraction plan?”

“I was gonna take a train to Bucharest and then a plane back to DC.”

He gives me a what the fuck were you thinking look. “You ride back home with us. But for now… care to join us?”

I smirk. “How could I refuse?” We enter the compound to take down more HYDRA agents. As Steve kicks down an agent Strucker runs into us.

“Baron Strucker. Hydra’s number one thug,” Steve says, circling the man.

“Technically I’m a thug for SHIELD,” he retorts.

“Well then technically you’re unemployed. Where’s Loki’s sceptre?”

“Don’t worry, I know when I’m beat. You’ll mention how I cooperated, I hope,” he surrenders immediately. Suspiciously.

I frown and see the flowing red eyes in the shadows.

“I’ll put it right under illegal human experimentation. How many are there-”

“Cap!” I warn but it’s too late as Wanda hits him with a red surge of energy that knocks him down the stairs.

I’m ready in case Wanda comes for me but she doesn’t, just exiting the place and closing the door behind her.

“We have a second enhanced. Female. Do not engage,” Steve says into his comms as he runs back up the stairs.

“You’ll have to be faster than that–“ I hit Strucker with a disc and he convulses as he falls.

“I love those things,” I remark.

Steve chuckles then picks Strucker up. “Guys, I’ve got Strucker.”

“Want me to keep looking for the sceptre?” I offer.

He nods. “I’ll take Strucker, you find Tony. Nat and Bruce are still on the field but Thor and Clint are on the jet.” At my confused look it’s like he read my mind. “Clint got hurt. But he’ll pull through.” He turns into his comms. “Tony, Y/N’s coming to you.” Steve gives me his communicator and leaves with Strucker.

I go back to the level where the twins were to start looking for Stark.

“Mr. Stark this is Agent – well former agent Y/N L/N, are you able to give me your 20?”

“Well, I found the sceptre. Bringing it up with me now. I was at the south corridor and I found a secret doorway.” I follow where he says, remembering the map I saw on the tablet. “Nice to meet you, former agent.”

“I’m nice to meet, Mr. Stark.”

“I like you.” He taps something on his bracelet and his armour envelopes him.

“Is that it?”

“Yep. Pretty underwhelming, huh?” he seems out of breath… shaken.

“Are you alright, Stark?”

“I’m fine,” he responds all too quickly.

“Let’s get to the jet,” I follow the coordinates that Steve sent me on my phone and the Avengers are all there waiting.

Natasha smiles as she sees me. “What a surprise,” she says going in for a hug as Stark hands the sceptre to Thor and starts up the engine.

“Whatcha doin’ all the way out here?” Clint rasps.

“I could ask you the same thing old man,” I lightly joke, weary of his injury.

“Who you callin’ old? We got a thousand year old and a hundred year old on board.”

“Alright, ease up before you hurt yourself even more,” Natasha says as she gives him a sedative.

Once Clint was passed out and secure I take a seat with Nat next to me.

“So what are you doing here?” she asks.

“Same as you.”

Raising a brow she sighs. “Don’t tell me Fury’s still working you?”

“Of course he is. We have to take down the rest of HYDRA.”

“That’s our job, now.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you’re doing great just invading countries that already hate you and wrecking historical sites. Top notch spy work.”

“Not a spy anymore, Y/N and neither are you,” she retorts.

Steve enters our conversation, standing tall with his arms crossed. “What do you mean?”

“See, you don’t even do your research before you go in. What happened to knowing your enemy?” I ask them both.

“Last I checked our enemies were people we thought were friends so I think we know them pretty well,” Steve replies.

“The two enhanced?” I counter. “What do you know about them?”

“What do you?” Stark asks.

I smirk. “So nothing?” I pull out the tablet that miraculously did not take any damage. I turn it on and find the file on the twins. “They’re called the Maximoff twins; Wanda and Pietro. They were orphaned at 10 years old when a shell hit their civilian apartment in the Novi Grad Bombings. Sokovia has been in the middle of a rebellion for years now. They don’t like you guys very much. Wanda has… special abilities. Neuroelectric interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation,” at confused faces I simplify. “She can move things with her mind and read yours. The latter, she has kept from Strucker.”

“So how do you know about it?” Stark asks.

“Because I spoke to her,” I shrug. “I know she can read minds because she knew I wasn’t the doctor I took the identity of.”

“You got in proximity with them?”

I nod.

“You know how dangerous that is, Y/N? You could have gotten killed, going in there like that, all alone. Did anyone else know where you were?” Steve demands.

“Okay, one, I wasn’t alone, I had my weapons.” He rolls his eyes. “Two, that’s classified.”

“There isn’t a SHIELD anymore, Y/N. Information isn’t classified.”

“Then I’m not telling.”

“Why not?” Nat asks.

“Because you’ll yell at me.”

Steve presses two fingers on the bridge of his nose and huffs, knowing the answer.

“What about the other one? Pietro?” Stark asks.

“He’s just really fast.”

We land on the helipad at Stark tower and Helen Cho and Hill take Clint to patch him up. Steve asks about Strucker and we get the news that NATO has him and it’s all in all mission accomplished.

💖

Chapter 7

Thank you for reading everyone!

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #reader #series rewrite #reader insert #you #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x platonic!reader #wanda maximoff #best friends with Wanda #winter soldier

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system-of-a-feather · 2 years ago

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Not necessarily DID related and honestly I have an art blog for this but I also don't use my art blog and shit, plus I don't really consider this "art posting" considering its actually more on just the hobby of it - but like, its around three years of arting at this point - probably a bit more. I had originally picked it up out of spite that one of our littles could actually draw somewhat well and was using it for chaos and found that it is honestly one of my best and most reliable self regulating activities that can help me ground, relax and focus the best.

And so ever since I started, I had originally made a deal with myself that we draw at least 30 minutes daily and for the first two years, we barely missed a day partially because we are (problematically) good at keeping routines and making hobbies out of work and work out of hobbies, but also just because it is really something I just >need< to do in order to properly maintain a sense of like, homeostasis and zen.

At this point, I don't even try to make myself draw regularly, I just naturally really try to set at least an hour aside to draw and its just become a regular part of my routine. Which is honestly a double win for me since I have this story I've been writing with a friend since I we were 12 and very much like to say "raised us more than our parents" and as a result both of us have a very strong need and urge to one day put the story out there so it can live on outside of our own mortal "foreshortened future experiencing" heads. And over time we realized that turning it into a comic / webtoon would probably be the best means of telling the story, and so as the art friend between the two, I've just casually added "becoming a reluctant mangaka" onto my list of side hobbies and skills I plan to one day do and am slowly working up, cause again - the story needs to get out there some point.

I don't plan to actaully even so much as draft anything until the RP-format of the prequel is over and at least a year or two from now has passed, so I'm currently just bolstering out skills in my art to actually make it so that I'm not gonna 1) be limited in how I can make characters and the world and 2) So that I can find a consistent style and method to going about drawing things and people

And with this up running year (I count years by art fight years) my main focus is expanding my designs to things I dont usually draw (I specialize in pretty boys, so I gotta expand out to different age groups, more traditional masc characters, remember how to draw women etc) and to actually drawing backgrounds / sceneries

And I just got done drawing my first somewhat old man in a while and not only is he old and more of a not-twink faced dude, but he actually has a beard and Im like huh. This is really out of my 'preferred character design' but I'd like to think it is turning out well and I'm just like huh.

It's really neat how my skill has developed over time.

Anyways, sketch of the character below to enjoy this art log. Please excuse the lazy watermark. @feathery-creations is the art blog I never update.

#alter: riku #art log #art #not me realizing he is missing one pin on his right breast pocket after i post it #artists curse #scream

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hollenka99 · 3 years ago

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Laying Foundations

Summary: The Blood God gets used to caring for a baby and small child who is getting livelier by the year. Chapter 1 of Blood and Feathers. <<Prologue

Warnings: Very brief emeto reference

It is a rather long journey to his Overworld forest cabin from wherever he'd ended up that caused him to be near Phillip's birthplace. The baby, ever so respectfully quiet until now, bawls as soon as the heat of the Nether seems to register. That or he finds portal travel disagreeable. The Blood God is not yet ready to unveil his latest plan. It is half formed and to be honest, he is completely winging it. He wasn't even sure whether he wished to raise his little project here, in his domain where things have always felt a bit... clearer, or in the Overworld, where Phillip is meant to belong, until the Netherdamned child threatened to blow his cover. All he could do to lessen the risk of being spotted is cover Phillip with his cloak and ignore the tiny talons poking at his skin. Besides, if worse came to worst, he could always glare a piglin down into silence. There are very few who are bold enough to trifle with a violence-centric deity, after all. But they do eventually make it. It then hits him that yes, of course, nothing here was left in a suitable condition for raising a child. There is clutter all over the table for one thing. There is also the remains of some meal he must have had prior to leaving the last time. Forgive him for not caring about trivial things such as cleaning up after himself when he's done that thousands of times over his centuries long life. Cleaning is a futile endeavour anyway. You achieve your result, only for it to rapidly be reversed. It will be worse now that he has subjected himself to a child, a form of life unable to comprehend its surroundings required respect, therefore antagonising their environment in their ignorance. That said, he did have three wolves who were capable of causing a mess all on their own. Perhaps, he ponders, he should have asked Celandine to reserve Phillip for a few days as he prepared the place for another being. It will be fine. Phillip is too young to care as it is. After some strife, the house becomes tidier. A pillow and its removed case are placed in a box for lack of better furniture. It will be as good of a bed as Phillip will get while the god fully adjusts his living arrangements. Caring for an infant is... more work than he had been expecting. And he had been anticipating to be kept busy by the kid regardless. During the first night, everything appears to be a problem. He's been fed, changed, paid attention to in general... all of it pointing to the fact Phillip should be content with sleeping. Then ah, the sword swings. Phillip must finally realise he is not going to see his family anymore. Oh well, not much he can do to remedy that. Also, he must say that for such a small stomach, it certainly seems to need filling often. Celandine checks to see how he is faring and offers advice. One such recommendation is to heat the liquid so that it is served warm. However, this occasionally proves to be a disaster as his sense of 'too hot' has been skewed by Nether standards. Phillip never fails to let him know if he's miscalculated. He knows it's irresponsible but a short trip without the baby through the Nether to collect Krev, Valka and Mort won't do much damage. They leap up at him but he hasn't got time to waste with pleasantries. The trio follow him diligently as they pass the statue of the four of them, narrowly avoid a slip into lava because how many lives must I live before you listen when I say be careful and they still remain at his heels when he steps into the portal. The wolves certainly love Phillip at first sight since they barely allow the god to leave the infant's designated room. Easy, he tells them, get your noses away because he's not a plaything and you won't even get to see him if you crowd round like this. The longer they have to get used to each other, the less agitated Phillip tends to be when not in need of care. It is during these calmer moments that they can be found, for example, reading a book 'together'. More to the point, he reads aloud while Phillip tries to grab pages, wriggles in the crook of his arm or the little boy simply stares up at him. Phillip has also become fond of gripping his caregiver's tusks whenever he is carried. It's an odd habit but it isn't painful or particularly uncomfortable so eh, who cares. Being 7 months old when they meet, Phillip is already on the verge of crawling. This is an issue. He gains the ability to be mobile by the time the Blood God is satisfied the cabin is satisfactory for a baby. This soon devolves into a keen eye frequently being kept aimed at the floor. The god wasn't a stranger to watching his step (a trio of wolves seemingly determined to become safety hazards at times will do that to you) but this was even worse. Do you know how miniscule Phillip is compared to him?! And this is the shortest the god can make himself. He is going to accidentally tread on the infant one day if he doesn't remain vigilant, he is sure of it. Winter proves to be a troublesome time. The cold seeps in through the windows whenever there isn't a lit fire to combat it. He despises the season and most years, he is either residing in the Nether anyway or he stays in his large desert home. Well actually, that place of his in the desert tends to be his usual shelter. It's just that humans (and, by extension, avians he supposes) are so fickle when it comes to temperature. They can never be too hot or too cold, for fear of their bodies' ridiculous way of attempting to maintain thermal homeostasis leading to their demises. Babies... are likely the worst culprits of this, along with the elderly. That was why he chose somewhere milder like this forest when it came to Phillip. Celandine has some thoughts on the matter, given that she is unhappy upon her next visit. "You do realise avians are migratory, don't you? It is, after all, partially how you ended up meeting and adopting him. The cold does not suit him." "It does not suit me either. If he is simply cold, I will keep him by the fire." "Keep him warm." She sternly instructs. Perhaps she is right though. He isn't too fond of the lowering temperatures and Phillip's fussiness seems to agree with him. He drafts up rough blueprints for a house, larger than this lowly, isolated cottage but also nothing requiring the time and resources on par with his massive desert villa. Hopefully, with the builders he plans to hire to construct it on his behalf, it will be ready for them this time next year. Which leaves the more pressing issue of what is he going to do for this winter? Well, he supposes there's only one thing for it. Phillip does not find the heat favourable. He spends his days complaining in his own infantile way or being very quiet when struggling with the temperature. Between the age of 9 to 12 months, his style is very much in the minimalist category. Another dilemma the god has is the fact he never exactly need a reason to keep cool here. Therefore, a water source is relatively far away and the coldest spot on the property is the room used to keep food fresh for longer. Phillip shouldn't really be around raw meat but for the sake of lowering the risk of him overheating, he does become familiar with the storage area. However, it's not as if he lives in there. He does get placed outside in the shade with a blanket underneath him every now and again. Babies will taste test any old thing they can get their hands on and there is no better example of this than the way a crawling infant takes fistfuls of the most abundant resource around him to sample. It's the god's duty to supervise in order to prevent sand from becoming unintentionally integrated into Phillip's diet. He notices birds lingering in unusual numbers in the early weeks of the new year. Low enough that perhaps he hasn't cared to notice the true extent of the local bird population before. High enough that he's sure there weren't this many before now. It's February too which makes it even more perplexing. Disappearing to warmer lands is one thing but surely they don't migrate to barren wastelands such as these. Then March 1st arrives and suddenly it all begins to make sense. Celandine could honestly have been less subtle. Any longer and it would have been an infestation. The goddess lands to the cacophony of birds cheering her arrival. Phillip's absent-minded babbling ceases as soon as his brain registers that she has taken him in her arms. She kneels, a baby in one arm while the other is held out as an invitation. She calls out, asking where the subject of her intentions was and summoning it to come to her. A bird with dark feathers makes itself known. It swoops in, perching on the offered limb. It's not a remarkable creature in any way. It has wings, it has eyes, it... presumably breathes. Regardless, it sets its eyes on Phillip from the moment it comes forward. Phillip himself observes the bird with curiosity, even reaching out to it. "Given that you have completed a year of life now, I thought a lifelong friend to keep you company throughout all the other years you're going to see would be a nice gift. She was born last spring, just like you, and she'll stay with you until it's time for you to go. So take good care of each other." The two are left on the ground opposite each other. The crow (apparently that's what the species was called) appears inquisitive. Phillip, on the other hand, crawls back towards him within a minute. "What's their name?" The god asks when Celandine soon shows signs of leaving. A chuckle. "She hasn't told me." It doesn't take too long after his birthday for the baby to learn how to stand with support. In fact, once he manages the feat once, he seems to become obsessed with it. Soft clicking can soon be heard near various pieces of furniture multiple times a day. It would seem the Blood God had just started to get the hang of dealing with a child at one stage of development when Phillip inevitably progressed onto the next. He learns to walk unassisted out on the grass around their house in June. He'd been warned this part of the infant's development would be slower than a human's but given he wasn't aware of how Overworlder children grew, it didn't bother him in the first place. The 1 year old avian struggles to maintain his balance in the beginning but as the weeks and months go on, the clack of talons on wood grows ever more common. Phillip catches him speaking with his ambassadors one day. The conversation isn't anything serious and honestly, should have been had in the Nether. However, wouldn't you know it, raising a kid requires you to be present in case they need you. So they're here, risking their wellbeing just so Phillip can be entertaining himself in the corner of his eye. The toddler specifically notices them bow prior to taking their leave. When the god turns to head back home, he spots a small figure crouch and punch the earth in an imitation of what he witnessed moments before. "Not the time or place." Phillip looks at him expectantly. He repeats the action. "Oh no, I'm not going to lower myself for you. It's called me being at the top of a hierarchy that you're at the bottom of. ...But you probably won't understand that concept for a while." A brief nod of the head is all Phillip receives. He pouts in response, makes a third attempt, but follows him inside all the same when he doesn't get what he wanted. Learning to speak is a slow process for the child, made even slower by the inconsistency of languages spoken at him. The only one who is monolingual is the bird Phillip got for his birthday. As time goes on and the boy starts to get used to forming words, he frequently points to the animal to say things such as "Am" or "Mimi". It's not until November or so that Phillip begins to refer to her as 'Amica'. It takes the god longer than it should have to realise that this is the crow's name and not, as he initially assumed, the Common translation of the Avian word for 'bird'. Amica it is then. The name becomes one of Phillip's favourite Common words to say. Also around this time, the savannah house gets completed, or at least the bare minimum of it is ready. Any extra rooms can be commissioned to be done in upcoming springs and summers if he so desires. The exterior is acacia with a cobblestone frame. It looks nice, as do the rooms inside. The basement that spans the entire area underneath the building will make for good storage space. Like the forest, there are plenty of trees and open spaces for Phillip to play in one day. With some rope and a plank of wood, he could craft a swing once Phillip is able to use one. He comes to realise that this child has no concrete language. Phillip will attempt to copy his grunts and snorts but nothing his vocal chords can produce is quite as deep or guttural as they need to be. The Blood God has been speaking in a mix of Piglin and Common, very occasionally reverting to Ancient Piglin. It depends on his mood but he has been attempting to raise him bilingual with a subconscious bias towards Piglin. Whenever Celandine visits, she will talk to him exclusively in Common for some reason instead of her own natural tongue. As for Amica, they converse only in Avian. However, the reasoning behind that is obvious. One way or another, he can tell Phillip is getting confused with all the words he has to know at only 2 years old. He will speak in Piglin, pause then make some kind of tweety noise while frowning. The funnier moments are when Phillip forgets himself and speaks Avian to him before realising his mistake when the god doesn't understand him. His tiny brain has to fit a great deal of information inside it but they will get there. Defeating a toddler in battle is very easy. His ward lacks co-ordination, focus and sometimes attempts to procure 'weaponry' that is far beyond his weight limit. The Blood God has been whacked with a stick more times than he would like. As annoying as having his legs be attacked with an inefficient blunt object can be, the kid's giggling whenever he reacts to it in any way does make it more tolerable. The wolves enjoy the results of his pitiful attempts at throwing though so all is not lost. However, all this physical play has a habit of messing up Phillip's wings if they're not careful. It had taken practice for the god to care for the wings to a decent standard. Now it was Phillip's turn to start learning, given that he was growing old enough to gain the dexterity for it. The majority of it is still the Blood God's responsibility because gods know that toddler does not pay self-grooming as much attention as he should yet but his involvement increases all the same. And when he molts over the summer, Phillip makes it clear he doesn't want his feathers disposed of. So the god supposes there's going to be a chest full of old feathers in it now. Who knows, it might be interesting for Phillip to peruse through one day. Each early January, the god has been begrudgingly allowing himself to be called away. Ever since Phillip came along, he's been slacking with this specific duty. He'll be presented with a selection of potential warriors for him to act as sponsor for but he never cares much for choosing the one he actually believes in, as he used to do. Being the Blood God's candidate in the fight used to be an advantage but he wouldn't be surprised if it's becoming a hinderance recently. How can you win if your sponsor doesn't help with your preparations throughout the year? The god would say he needed to sit out on being a sponsor if he could. It's simply not possible. It likewise is impossible for him to safely and discreetly keep Phillip in the Nether for weeks. When the actual tournaments come, he now skips them. He can get away with being absent, after all. It's not like he hasn't sat quarter- or semi-finals out before. The final though and the celebrations after? Yeah... not exactly something he can consider missing, especially given it's him who has to have the winner presented to him then host the party. To solve his problem, he speaks to Celandine. She apparently can't care for him in her own home (something about it not being suitable for mortals) but she can arrange for a couple to temporarily babysit Phillip while the finals are being fought. This time, he returns to house with a sleeping child in his hold. The toddler never says a huge amount regarding his time there. However, that's more likely due to his young age than a comment on his experience away from home. When he's three years old, the god decides Phillip is old enough to start working on fighting basics such as footing and learning environmental awareness. It's nothing strenuous or particularly physical but developing the foundation blocks now will serve them both well in the future. Use of any form of proper weaponry can be left for when Phillip is a little older. As the weeks roll by, the boy begins to really take to it. It requires conscious effort for him to maintain a proper stance when moving around but they can work on it. They both have years to get it right and improve efficiency. As a treat to reward him for his efforts so far, the Blood God plans to make a delicacy he's been wanting to introduce Phillip to for a while. He temporarily leaves him under the supervision of the wolves while he sleeps so that certain ingredients could be collected in the Nether. The fungus (both types, he's going all out) is sliced while he creates a broth with an infusion of wither petals. Mushrooms get thrown in too for an Overworld spin on it. An addition of torn petals completes the dish. When he serves it to Phillip, the boy recoils at the taste which causes him to end up eating wet mushrooms and fungus for dinner as a compromise. Not even an hour later, he is pale, less attentive than usual and holding a bowl due to being violently ill. He wants to dismiss it as food poisoning of some sort, maybe he didn't prepare it properly (he knows he didn't mess it up, not with how experienced he is with the dish) or perhaps Phillip is simply suffering from an undiscovered allergy. He reckons the best course of action is to send Amica to Celandine, she'd likely have a better idea than him. And oh, does she. "You gave him soup laced with wither rose petals? Are you trying to kill him?!" "Of course not." He growls back. "It's just that nobody seems to be writing down 'hey don't feed anything wither related to kids'." "Don't feed wither roses to anyone! How have you been around for millennia but still don't know only piglins have a tolerance to wither poison? Gods above, it is the commonest of common knowledge." Regaining his health is an arduous task for the small child. His body fights it as best as it can but its methods risk leading to severe dehydration. It is for this reason the god is eternally grateful their savannah home is close to a body of water. If he's not checking in on Phillip, he's boiling water or preparing safe food so he can urge the kid to eat. The fever keeps Phillip in bed for days. It's slow, it's messy, it's far from a great time for anyone. But they gradually see it through. Phillip just about manages to get to the other side, albeit feeling temporarily weaker. "He's lucky I gave him longevity as part of being one of my Chosen. /You're/ lucky." Celandine comments when the disaster finally begins to see its end. "Trust me, Blood God, one more miscalculation on your part that's in even the vaguest vicinity of this one and I will not hesitate to deliver him to the caregivers he should be with. The only reason I'm allowing this experiment of yours to continue is my own curiosity. However, I value him seeing 30 years more than how he gets to that age. This is your only warning." It is duly noted. The god thinks it wise to let Phillip mingle with other children. Who knows how he'd turn out if all he had for company throughout his formative years was a couple of gods, three immortal wolves and Amica or whatever other bird is willing to listen to his ramblings. The two of them are fairly secluded but there is a human town not too far from where the house is. With repeated visits, Phillip begins to make friends of the human variety. Most of the young children think Phillip is cool for having wings. They are also of the opinion that having a giant pig-looking man as a caregiver is impressive. One day on the walk home, the kid in his arm, Phillip looks up at him and opens his mouth. "What's a daddy? Coz- coz I was playing with a girl. Then the man was shouting. She said it was um... it was her 'daddy'. What's that?" "A father." "What's that?" "A male parent. So if you grew up and met a woman then had a baby together, you would be a father. Humans use dad and daddy colloquially." "What's-" "Slang." "Okay." Phillip ponders a moment. "Are you a daddy?" Nether damn you, kid. The god groans. "Yes... I suppose I am something like that to you." "Did you meet a woman?" "Well, Celandine is female and she let me take you home with me after I met her so... in a way." "Celly is a lady daddy." He nods. "That's typically called a mother." After Phillip questions whether the two deities have had a baby other than himself (no, definitely not together and the Blood God has never personally seen the point in siring any brood himself), he descends into further enquiries. It gets to the point the god makes an offhand comment about how he wasn't expecting to deal with a questionnaire today. Phillip responds by asking what a questionnaire is. With all that their conversation entails, it should honestly be counted as a miracle they never touch on the dreaded topic of conception. He does not, however, escape Phillip's gradual shift to a more informal way of addressing him. At least he's not calling him 'Sir' as if it's his actual given name anymore. Over the last few years of parenting, he has learned the quietest moments are the most suspicious ones. If Phillip is not chattering away to himself as he plays in the main room, he is likely running around outside with the wolves or engaging in conversation with Amica. That is to say, he is making noise one way or another. So when the god comes to the realisation he hears nothing on a day in early summer, it is safe to say he is concerned. He discovers Phillip standing on a low branch of a tree. "What are you trying to achieve with this?" The boy glances up. "Oh hi, Daddy. Celly said I was gonna fly. I gotta be 4 or 5 or 6. I'm 4 now so I'm gonna fly now." "I'm not sure it works like that. It's more to do with how large your wings are. They have to be able to support you in the air." "I'm 4." He holds up the appropriate quantity of fingers as if they will emphasise his point. "Celly said my wings are getting super big." That would not be how he would describe the size of those limited things. "They are growing but really, Phillip, you should be careful. I highly doubt you are ready yet." "Watch this." "Don't." He warns. "Get down from there." Phillip grins as if he's thought of the perfect scheme. "Okay!" He leaps from the branch, wings spread out. A second later, an 'oof' of a body hitting the ground is heard. The drop was too short to particularly do any damage (or, in fact, provide enough time for the wings to accept the wind). However, the young boy breaks into a fit of bawling as if he's hurt himself. He's seen stupider injuries over the centuries so a part of the god does not dismiss the possibility Phillip really has caused himself harm as a result of this stunt. Luckily for both of them, it's simply the typical 'small child acting like the most minor inconvenience is the end of the world'. It becomes a long summer of keeping an eye out for Phillip potentially attempting to repeat his actions. Practice may make perfect but the child will never take the skies if he breaks all his bones first. The kid begrudgingly adheres to the rule that he will not perform any flying-related activities without supervision. He often complains that he can't practise flying if he can't jump from a high enough spot to try. The god has none of it. Instead, he suggests the boy flap his wings to imitate flying while standing firm on ground as a better alternative. Phillip becomes a self-declared 'expert' at this soon enough. "Savannah, savannah, savannah." Phillip chants, hopping with his arms raised in an attempt to grab the god's hand. A bag is abandoned by his feet and he continues to pay it no heed in favour of badgering his father. He doesn't know why the child sees the need to jump for it. His current height now has him being not quite the length of one of his legs. Phillip is capable of taking his hand if he so desires by simply lifting it up all the way. "Yes, we are going to the savannah, hold on a minute." They both know the drill by now. In the final week of October, they travel to the house in the midst of the savannah. They return to their forest home as March sees its close. Each time, Phillip must cover up to obscure himself from view as he is carried through the Nether. The Blood God himself has a cloak of his own to further shield the child. This is arguably the first year Phillip is able to walk beside him since he can now reach the god's hand but for the sake of making things easier for everyone, the boy will be held during the trip. Most piglins have no reason to bother him. Even those tasked with helping him manage things from the ground on his behalf seem to have developed an unspoken rule to let him pass undisturbed if the path he takes leads him away from his manor. The moment Phillip is allowed on his feet upon their arrival this year, he sprints to the door. During one afternoon in February, he notices Phillip busy with the swing outside. He doesn't entirely understand the entertainment value in winding it up then spinning but if it amuses the kid then whatever. Amica seems to be keeping him company so that served the god well. He thinks this would be a good time to start carving this acacia wood he has lying around into a blade and handle. Because what 5 year old boy wouldn't want a sword for his birthday? And what god of war and blood wouldn't eagerly anticipate the day he can begin training his protégé properly?

#dream smp #technoblade #philza #kidza #my writing #blood and feathers

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ksbwnotes · 3 years ago

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Chapter 8, Part 2

*groans in hands* I have to finish reading everything by September 14. I have no clue if I have the drive for this, but fuck me for having more determination to read this than any of my nursing books...

1. ...So it...wasn’t because...he was killing his prey???

Oh my god I hate that smirk on your face Sangstop.

But...now that does make me wonder if this is true and to what extent it’s true. Bum has been picturing Sangwoo slicing into women while he was downstairs and we also see Sangwoo’s hands often damp. So honestly, installing that pulley can’t be the only things he does there.

Actually now that I think about it, the dampness is more from having to clean the basement and making sure there’s no residue from the woman that he killed. He’s very thorough.

But...that pulley. Maybe he really did install that just in case? He’s starting to use methods he has never did before. Because he has an outlier in his life now that he never expected. So he needs different types of punishments whenever Bum steps out of line, things that won’t break Bum completely like blades and sledgehammers will. If he’s going to keep Bum by his side and properly train him, then he can’t keep using the same methods he uses to kill his victims.

Because, ultimately, he doesn’t want to kill Bum. (later on, when he does decide he’ll kill Bum, we see him reach a new level of destruction that he wasn’t capable of earlier. He had to break more in order to reach that point. So, losing Bum made Sangwoo lose whatever little hope he had and, metaphorically, killing Bum means Sangwoo is killing whatever hope he had)

2. *wince* yep

God your reactions are delayed, but...yeah.

Sangwoo’s first reaction was to treat Bum favorably with a little kiss. To show that, yes, that’s one of the correct actions Bum could’ve taken--one of the ways to change his mind. But 1) Bum still came onto him sexually. Sex seems more of a trigger for Sangwoo (honestly, I think 99% of the women Sangwoo has slept with have died lol). 2) If Sangwoo let Bum have his way, then Bum will have the upperhand and he can’t have that. This is about making sure Bum knows what he did wrong and that he won’t do it again.

So even if a part of him does like what Bum did, it’s not something he can overall accept.

Oh one thing about his delayed reactions...it might be another coping mechanism of his? As a way to build up resistance to what he’s about to do. Whenever he does something impulsively, you see him lose it. But when he takes the time to do things, his expression is more dead-eyed than wild-eyed.

3. Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars

But i still can’t help but laugh lsjg;ijeog

Also, Bum, please...just...connect the dots faster please...but one notable thing about his character is that he doesn’t. While Sangwoo experiences delays in understanding, Bum disconnects entirely from the reality. Koogi keeps this trait of his goddang consistent.

4. Wait what the fuck

This is...worse than cutting??? You can literally snap someone’s neck with the force of pulling them up straight from the ground. How is this supposed to be a better option?? Also, lets be real, Bum’s trachea would’ve been done in by the force of this. Honestly, I’m surprised Bum’s jaw is fine. Fkk, what about the SPINE, HUH SANGWOO!!??!?!? The fact that Bum’s still able to even speak afterwards and does not have burn marks from the rope is...is whyyyyy this is a piece of fiction, Aetas, not real life sjgo;erjg.

Anyways, okay, so Koogi must have chosen this as Sangwoo’s alternative for a reason and I do think Sangwoo believes this is genuinely a better option. Even though, just speaking from personal experience dealing with patients, they always respond more dramatically to airway closure than blood loss.

If I think about my earlier idea, he uses violence not really as a sexual outlet (though, probably at this point, he doesn’t know how to get off without--at the very least--being rough and treating his partner as an object), but as a way to hurt people in the way he has perceived them hurting him. The bonus is giving them bruises and scars that he can see--visible marks for the invisible pain they’ve given him. It’s...validating for him, maybe?

So, this way, Bum is still suffering and being punished for making Sangwoo ‘suffer’, but won’t have visible marks. In this way, this is less validating for Sangwoo because there’s no “proof” of pain, so Sangwoo perceives it as less painful. Because he’s a fucking asshole and that’s putting it too kindly (lol Sangwoo worsening instead of getting better and dying at the end is literally the only reason why I decided to read this and why I respect Koogi).

Also, from what I see later, Sangwoo knows for how long he can hold Bum there without him dying. So I’m not sure who the hell he is tried this on...says me who literally used fkkn google to research how long it takes for someone to pass out from hanging. Which can range anywhere from 3 seconds to 1.5 minutes. So. It varies lol.

Ohhhh also this is much faster than cutting Bum open. That probably could’ve taken half an hour to even more than that if Sangwoo went that route. But with hanging, Sangwoo knows it can only go for so long, which is why he doesn’t go for more than one session of this. Bum can suffer for either 30 seconds via a very acute session of asphyxiation or he can suffer for thirty minutes or more via cutting.

Ohhh this is actually very smart of Sangwoo. I can see now why he chose this. He understands that hanging is much scarier and will make the victim really feel like they’re gonna die. So, this explains why Sangwoo decided to set this up for Bum. Because he believes only Bum would be able to prove that, yes, Sangwoo can choose the alternative because he won’t hurt Sangwoo past the point of no return (in a way, death for the victim means that Sangwoo can no longer forgive them because the pain they gave him is just as bad as death).

5. I don’t have anything to back this up, I really don’t, BUT--

Even though Sangwoo is smiling like an insane freak, it...kind of seems like he’s emulating all the hollywood serial killers we’ve seen on TV. People who are doing this smile like they’re truly enjoying life and blah blah blah. Honestly, Koogi probably means Sangwoo to be like this, like the classic serial killer that gets off other people’s pain.

But for me, it’s like Sangwoo is acting a part. Again, the eyeless thing. Sangwoo is taking on a persona--rather than truly allowing his brain to be present, to think about the situation for himself--that is meant to enjoy this just for the sake of it.

I also don’t think Sangwoo ever goes into these things planning to kill his victims right then and there. Like, right now, I don’t think he’s planning to actually hang Bum to his death. I can assume Sangwoo has done enough research to know when to stop so that they don’t actually die (but again, it will depend on how his victim responds to the hanging).

Because Sangwoo keeps giving Bum (and all his other victims) a chance. He probably gave CEO girl a chance right before deciding to kill her because, unlike Bum, she kept screaming and begging for her life. That is why Bum won. Because he proved worthy of a ‘second chance’.

And back to not wanting to actually kill them, that’s because killing them means he’s alone again. I honestly think he’s only doing this to people he has genuinely felt attached to in some way. He wants them to save him. To say, no, he’s not a monster, that he’s still worthy of being loved, that the way his mother loved him is not the type of love he deserves.

If they’re unable to save him, then that means they’ll only destroy him. And, so, he must get rid of them first before that happens.

6. Seriously no hands why the fuck and what the fuck Sangwoo

Okay, this is gonna be a loooooong one.

And this ties in with my idea about how Sangwoo never actually goes in with the conscious plan to kill his victims (this is very similar to how Bum goes in thinking of one thing, but his actions end up suggesting something entirely different).

It’s like he ends up killing them as a reaction to what they did

Similar to someone shooting a home invader dead and having it be self-defense

Also, this acts as a mitigating technique to avoid any guilt he feels

I think this also ties in to why Sangwoo doesn’t ‘plan’ things too deeply and just takes things step by step

Because the more he thinks about what he’s doing, the less he’s able to see himself as a human.

In a way, Sangwoo’s guilt and shame is driving him to do things that just worsen his guilt and shame.

Because he knows he can never be forgiven

He can never forgive himself

The reason why he wants someone to magically save him is because ‘helping him’ is a two way street

A hand may reach out to him, but he has to be the one to take hold of it--and it won’t end there

He has to trust the hand to keep a hold on him, no matter what happens--and he has to put in continuous effort to keep holding on as well.

He cannot trust someone to not only help him, but keep helping him and, more than that, he cannot trust himself.

He has no hope in the world around him and has no hope for himself, so in a way, the constant killing is a self-preservation act as well

Since, subconsciously, he knows that he cannot live a normal life because of everything that has happened--

--and the world keeps going on in their own bubble despite his pain--

--He has to do something to keep that from crushing him.

So, instead of killing himself, he’ll continue killing others because it’s what he’s familiar with anyways. And in survival, familiarity is necessary--a form of homeostasis--because that is when protection is possible.

And actually, back to that wanting a savior part.

Sangwoo has never once been truly protected

He has never felt a sense of security as a child

So, to protect himself, he has made himself impenetrable--stronger and always making sure he has the upperhand

Anyone who threatens him in any way should be dealt with swiftly so that they never take away his sense of security

So, wanting a savior seems totally opposite of what he should want, but everything he’s done to strengthen himself is in response to never having someone protect him

He wants to be protected for once

He wants someone he can rely on to guide him every step of the way, to be there for him when he’s weak and be his strength

It is something he has been looking for in every one of his victims and Bum is the closest that he can get to fulfilling it

Unfortunately, a savior is exactly what Bum is not.

And a savior is exactly what Sangwoo does not fkkn need to get better, if he even can at this point.

There are no such things as saviors, just like there are no such things as protagonists. The moment you put ‘getting better’ as someone else’s responsibility rather than your own, you’ve made it so that you can never get better.

7. Goddang boy, you really know you have nothing else but the grave waiting for you

Hmmmmn...actually, this is...huh. Oh. Okay. Okay. Uhm. So.

Remember when I said that Sangwoo doesn’t go into these things planning to kill his victim?? Okay so that’s not wrong...but not right either.

I thought that Bum did the whole hanging this solely as an alternative punishment, which I still think has merit, but now I’m like...okay so, Sangwoo does every little thing he can to make it so that no one can love him. He tries to make it fkkn impossible, which he succeeds at.

He knows that hanging will bring out more dramatic effects from a person. And Bum has this thing where he can say one thing, but then completely do a 180 from it. And asphyxiation can really force someone to be more...open about their thoughts lol. It’s the lack of blood to the brain, so the brain will have less barriers to keep their filter in check.

I don’t think he made the pulley as an alternative or lesser punishment, but as a “finality”. He gets that Bum is crossing into ‘unforgivable’ territory, but at the same time, is at the ‘I can still save you’ precipice, which is a hope that is more destructive to Sangwoo. Having that hope then it being torn down will be the last act that destroys his sanity (which is exactly what we see at the end of the comic).

Because, in a way, he’s still controlling himself in his killings. He’s not just killing anyone, he’s specifically choosing his victims, which reduces the amount of people he kills. If he has to keep on killing, his conscience will make it so that he won’t just start going on random killing sprees and making the body count explode. That is the last tether he has to his sanity.

So, before that tether snaps--by way of having his hope destroyed completely by people like Bum--he’ll put an end to it before it gets any further. This hanging thing was meant to bring out the ‘truth’ from Bum. It was meant to break down all the barriers and finally show his true colors. Which is when Sangwoo can kill Bum via hanging. This will be very different from what he has done before, but Bum was different as well. So him breaking from his habits is his way of applauding Bum.

8. Sangwoo’s Doki Doki moment lol

I like how Koogi put those black lines in there as a form of a ‘blush’, but not actually a blush because nothing about this moment is romantic lol. And that ‘thump’ is a facsimile of a person’s heart beating when falling in love.

I honestly think this is the moment where Sangwoo falls in Lima Syndrome.

Sangwoo is expecting Bum to react in a way that will finally let Sangwoo kill Bum once and for all. Screaming ‘motherfucker’ again. Curse him and say he will die a painful death, like his mother. Beg ‘please’ and for help, like CEO daughter. Anything but Bum still calling Sangwoo’s name, like he’s still a human instead of a monster.

Just like my first instinct to be like “fucker this is way worse than cutting someone” and reminded me of why Sangwoo should die, Sangwoo knows that what he’s doing to Bum warrants Bum treating him like a monster. But from Sangwoo’s point of view, that isn’t what Bum is doing.

9. Lol, Sangwoo, stop fucking romanticizing this oh my god

KOOGI. STOP OH MY GOD. NO. YOU’RE KILLING ME. SANGWOO’S EXPRESSION. NO. DON’T. I WANT TO STRANGLE MY HEART FOR MAKING ME FEEL FOR THIS FUCKER.

But seriously. This expression. It’s like Sangwoo’s prayers are actually being answered and he can’t believe it. It’s like he’s looking at God reaching out to save him from all the demons threatening to pull him down into hell. There’s this heartbreaking sense for hope and Sangwoo is so scared that it will fall through his fingertips and shatter on the ground at his feet.

But it is worthy to note that Bum calling out to Sangwoo via his name is actually pretty normal. I think it’s more common for children calling out for their parent to stop, because the person who is hurt them is more often then not the only person who can help them. And if throwing away your pride to appeal to your abuser is the only way to make this pain stop, then no fucking duh they will.

Just because Bum is the only one who has done so at this point doesn’t mean Bum is ‘special’. He’s a fkkn human being who has been abused ever since he was a child and is familiar with the other ways of begging for his life. If anything, I think this is more indicative of how specific Sangwoo’s victims are and that he hasn’t actually killed that many people.

10. Goddang Koogi, so much respect for you

Seriously, the way Sangwoo reacts to this is the same way when he later reacts to Bum saying “I love you” while Sangwoo is raping him.

So going off of that future incidence, Sangwoo here is being affected by Bum on a personal level. This is the level where, if triggered, the more he’ll want to keep Bum by his side because this is the closest Sangwoo can get to genuinely/healthily loving someone.

But the thing is, THIS is how he reacts to it. With aggression. And there’s this muscle twitch at the corner of his mouth that even suggests fear. Because that is how Eunsoo conditioned Sangwoo to react to ‘love’. Love is not something to desire, it’s something to repel because it’s a threat to your existence. But, of course, Sangwoo still wants love--he wants to be shown how love was meant to be in the first place.

And that is why he saves Bum.

Because Bum is his only--damning, dangerous, terrifying--hope for experiencing that.

(which is exactly why he fucking snaps later when he realizes that Bum cannot give him what he wants and if Bum can’t, no one can, so what’s the point of anything?)

11. O_O Oh...uhm.

I’m...yeah. So I still don’t think Sangwoo is the type that gets sexual gratification from killing and torturing people. Him holding Bum up by his legs so that he’s no longer choking is, I think, evidence of that.

In a way, this is more from a twisted version of demisexuality. I’m sure Sangwoo got hard the moment Bum started taking off his clothes to crawl over to Sangwoo, which triggered Sangwoo’s danger senses. Because not only love, but he equates sex to something horrifying and disgusting--and the way Sangwoo is grimacing in that last panel does suggest that he’s revolted by his hard-on. It’s just that he can’t help it, because his experiences conditioned him to only finding release via situations that make him feel disgusted.

Sangwoo didn’t reach peak arousal when Bum was thrashing around the moment he was being hanged. He reached it when Bum was calling out his name, still treating him like a person with a name rather than a monster who deserves to die. He wasn’t turned on by Bum, he was turned on by Bum’s ‘acceptance’ of Sangwoo. Rather than heterosexuality or homosexuality, this is closer to demisexuality because what he wants is someone to love him despite being a monster among humans.

Oh, I want to note that Bum calling out Sangwoo’s name could be likened to calling out Sangwoo’s name during the...throes of passion lol.

12. Wow you’re really enjoying yourself there, Sangstop

Hmn so again, I do think this is another showcase of demisexuality.

He doesn’t care that he’s getting off to manly cries, holding onto legs that are more boney skin than shapely meat, and a penis ‘hanging’ (omg i can’t believe i was able to fit a pun in here) above his head there.

He looks super blissed out here and I don’t think he’d be looking like this with any woman he has fucked. It has probably been a long time since he has even been this aroused by another woman. And the first time in a long time that he has been aroused was by some skinny, creepy loser who’s not just a loser, but a man.

Because it wasn’t the genitalia that was getting him off. It was Bum’s treatment of Sangwoo. So, in a way, he’s starting to like Bum IN SPITE OF his dick lol.

13. *blinks* oh I can’t be quite sure

But I think Sangwoo made sure Bum would fall onto the bed rather than the concrete. I don’t think the position of the bed was...right over the pulley...or maybe Sangwoo made sure it would be? Because he knows that hanging Bum could go either way: kill him or let him fall free.

14. How...do you think of these things, Sangstop...

I mean, creativity aside (which makes me go down a whole bunch of avenues and I really really just want this to end already), Sangwoo actually uses the words “Before I do something I’ll regret.”

Again, Sangwoo’s Lima Syndrome starts here. Had this been earlier, Sangwoo would’ve done something he wouldn’t have regretted. Actually, had Bum not called out Sangwoo’s name, Sangwoo would not have regretted killing him. He could’ve fooled himself into thinking he was relieved because he got rid of an outlier that threatened his last piece of sanity. That he was free from the danger that was Bum.

But no. At this point, Sangwoo knows that if he does something that ends up killing Bum, he will regret it. The release he had earlier fooled him into thinking that Bum was special and could give him something that no woman would ever be able to give him. If he could ‘train’ Bum more, if Bum can exceed his expectations, than he can probably finally get what he has been searching for in all of his victims.

And this is why he pushes Bum’s head in the water. Because now it’s no longer /just/ inflicting pain in order teach a lesson--to get revenge. It’s also about training Bum to make Sangwoo feel like he’s human.

15. Hey, I think this is the first time Sangwoo mentions how he has been treating Bum

Before, it’s always like “Bum you liar” or “I can’t believe you made me do this”, but now Sangwoo actually says “I treat you better than I have ever treated anyone else before, and this is how you repay me??”

Now it has become personal. Sangwoo’s feelings are involved because he is now acknowledging that, yes, he is treating Bum in a way that he could’ve never imagined treating anyone. So, now, Bum can actually do things like scratch Sangwoo’s skin and NOT get killed, which is fucking foreign to Sangwoo.

Because, before, it was all about never letting anyone have the upperhand. The moment someone threatens him, he asserts his dominance to the highest level he possibly can while still being under the guise of “law-abiding citizen”.

Bum, in effect, has become the only person who can physically wound Sangwoo and still live to tell the tale.

Aaaaaaand because there is more for me to unpack but I’ve reached a point where my brain is mush and I can no longer make sense of what I’m writing down, I’m actually going to end it here and pick it back up tomorrow.

Oh my fucking god.

#chapter 8 #volume 1 #jfc this is so long #and i can't believe i STILL have more to say #why the fuck are there going to be 3 parts to chp 8!?!?!?!?

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rirah1writes · 4 years ago

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Chapter Five: Carnage

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this out, school and work have been wild. This chapter I’m getting more into the plot and I’m even more excited with where the next chapter is going. I really hope ya’ll like it (’:

Summary: To make a long story really short, y/n climbs a bunch of stairs then gets laid.

Warnings: Ooooh lets see, there’s violence, mentions of death, fire, angst, fluff, explicit smut, oral (Fem receiving) dirty talk (Kind of sounds bad now that I'm writing it all out but whatever!)

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Everyone sat around Pepper’s splintered kitchen table that Tony had picked back up off of the floor. Peter watched keenly as Steve helped Nat pick glass out of her hands, Tony tapped nervously at the table, grinding his jaw, and Pepper huffed over her destroyed foyer. “So...That parasite doesn’t harm you?” Peter turned his attention to Eddie, who was surprisingly looking much more well than when he first arrived.

“He does NOT like being called a parasite...he cannot stress that enough.” Tony’s eyebrow raised as he sipped from his bourbon. “It communicates with you?” He inquired, shifting nervously in his seat. “Yeah he does, he talks constantly, can’t ever get him to shut-up...Well it’s true? You always have shit to say...” Eddie continued on a conversation with himself as everyone watched in dismay. Tony cleared his throat, leaning forward. “I hate to interrupt your inner dialect, but we’re all still pretty confused here, mind filling us in there bub?” Eddie’s attention snapped back to the rest of the table. “Uhh yeah sorry, so anyways, I’m sure you already know about asshole Carleton Drake, the dipshit responsible for all of this madness. He brought these lifeforms back in the hope that humans could achieve homeostasis, and survive on distant planets, should Earth become inhabitable. What he failed to realize is that these symbiotes are conscious beings, smarter than us. At first their intention was to invade earth and use us as a means to do so, but after my...” Eddie took a long pause, glaring around the room trying to find the right words. “Uhh fateful encounter with venom...plans were changed. At least...venoms were.” Steve turned his attention away from Nat’s hand at this point, turning towards Eddie. “So you mean to tell us there are still more of these running around freely? Ones who maybe don’t share the same viewpoints as...your little friend there?”

Eddie sighed and leaned back in his chair, chewing at his bottom lip and glaring over to Peter, who nervously glanced around. “Wh-why are you staring at me like that..?” Eddies face softened as he leaned forward. “You’re pretty strong huh? Venom said when he merged with you he felt immensely powerful. Regenerate faster than most too..” Peter swallowed nervously. “So that’s what..possessed me.” Eddie nodded. “But the plane engines starting up rushed him out, shortly after venom merged with me, I was snooping around the compound for a report.” Peter nodded, and Steve cleared his throat visibly becoming aggravated. “So yes or no? There’s more symbiotes?” Eddie looked equally as annoyed. “Yes. And we can stop calling them Symbiotes, their proper name is Klyntar. But, one in particular. And you’re not going to like who he merged with, hence the reason I’m here.”

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You chewed your bottom lip nervously as you climbed another flight of stairs. Tony stark was a fucking Ga-Zillionaire, you’d think he’d have a working elevator. You huffed, realizing you were almost to the penthouse. Peter had given you the codes to get in, in case of an emergency, Tony and him had said for you to come here. You felt a pang of guilt as you realized you were abusing his power, but you knew Tony and Pepper never minded, and Peter would be relieved to see you. Passing another window you caught sight of your reflection, coming to realize how crazy you looked. Hair a curly mess, never bothering to dry it all the way, peters oversized tee, and some soffee shorts. And boy was it cold. About an hour after Peter had left there were strange noises that made your skin prick with fear, and you couldn’t stand the way things were left. You had called May who directed you to Stark Tower, which lead to you careening up eight, very long, flights of stairs.

Your mind wandered to what Peter would say about your outfit. His oversized grey tee gave the appearance you didn’t have on pants at all, and your wet hair would earn you a scowling for sure. But at least you’d get to tell him you love him. A shiver ran through you as you made it up the last flight of stairs, approaching the door, you could feel warmth on the other side. You punched in the code, and slipped past the door into a hallway. You could hear frantic voices in the other room and you slowly made you way into the foyer. Everyone was seated at the kitchen table, mostly everyone you knew, save a few people. You immediately recognized Peter, although you could only see the back of his head. His curls were fucked, sticking out every direction and you had the urge to sift your fingers through them, taming them back into place. You noticed Steve Rogers next, recognizing him from your school videos in gym class, although you were always much more fixed on watching Peter do his sit-ups. You vaguely recognized the woman Steve was helping pick glass out of her hand, Black Widow? And of course Pepper and Tony were grouped together listening intently. “A man by the name of Cletus Kasady..” The last man at the table stated, and your ears perked up. You had learned about this man several times. A criminal, a threat to national security. Homeland Security and Psychology were your majors, so this was a name you were all but tired of hearing. “I know that man.” You blurted out.

Everyone turned to look at you. Peter’s expression went from happy to confusion as h further observed you, his brow knitting and lips turning to a frown. The man with tattoos and dark hair shifted in his seat, eyes looking hungry as he stared at you. “And you are..?” The mans tone was anything but respectful, and he was undressing you with his eyes. Peter huffed as you made your way over to him. Grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you into his lap, using his arms to cover your legs. “Practically my daughter in law, so we’d appreciate if you didn’t eye-bang her.” Tony spoke up. Eddie clicked his tongue and threw his hands up defensively. “My bad, hey, the more you know.” Peter looked up at you, deactivating his suit and using his hands to warm your arms and legs. “Honey, your skin is like ice, what were you thinking?” You shook your head at him, eyes welling with tears. Peter noticed and hurried to stand up, leading you in front of him. “Come to my room, well get you something warmer to wear. His head threw glances at Eddie over his shoulder as he guided you to his room.

Peter closed the door behind him, instantly rummaging around, mumbling to himself under his breath about your wet hair as he pulled drawers open finding you clothes to wear. Pacing over to you he pulled his Midtown hoodie over your head, and tossed you some sweats to dress into while he searched for some socks. “Baby, what are you doing here so late, I would have came back for you?” he kneeled in front of you, pulling the wooly socks on over your feet. You didn’t know what to say, so you simply reached out, tangling your fingering into his curls, pulling his face into your stomach. “I was scared.” He butterflied soft kisses across your tummy pulling his face up, and meeting your eyes. “Why darlin’?” You shook your head softly. “I heard weird noises outside the apartment...Like scratching. At first I thought it was you crawling to the balcony, but you never came. And I couldn’t sit around, I had to make things right. I just got you back, I don’t want to loose you over something that happened forever ago...” Your tears seeped out slowly and peter reached up to wipe them away. He slotted himself next to you on the bed, pulling you into a hug, shocking you. When he pulled away, you nodded and calmed your breathing. “I think you needed that love. You can’t lose me baby, I’ll always come back to you. As for the apartment, I’ll check it out in the morning, were staying here tonight. You’ll be safe here with me, yeah?” You smiled up at him and nodded. “Now, we really need to get back downstairs..”

Peter pulled you off the bed, and followed you back down into the living room. Everyone had disbanded from the kitchen table and made their way over to the bar to make drinks. You approached Tony as he pulled you into a hug, seeing you were upset. “Long time no see, kid.” you laughed into his chest. “I’m sorry for breaking into your penthouse..” Tony laughed as he pulled away from you. “Don’t be sorry, you know your welcome. Maybe next time Peter will give you the elevator code.”

Oh. That makes sense.

“Still considering my offer when you graduate? I pay a lot better than the CIA will.” Tony half teased, as you laughed. You had nearly passed smooth out when Tony had offered you a position on the team. “Of course I am. Wouldn’t want to work for anyone else.” you chuckled. Pepper gave you a sideways hug, and kissed your temple as she set a mug of coffee down in front of you. It seemed Steve had finally finished wrapping Black Widows hand, as she made her way over to formally meet you. “Hi, I’m Natasha, you must be y/n. Believe me we already know everything about you.” She laughed. Peters cheeks flushed red, a sight that you still loved to see. Steve stepped forward and introduced himself as well. “My names Eddie, uhh sorry about earlier, I had no idea you were ya know, with the spider-guy.” You nodded his direction as you heard Peter mumble something nasty under his breath. His arms came to wrap around your waist.

“That’s all alright...But yeah I know Cletus Kasady. Studied him several times, even got to interview him. I intern with the FBI, Behavioral Science Unit, and I also major in Psychology, and Homeland security. So I’m all too familiar with him.” Eddie nods slowly, swirling his drink in his hand as he seats himself at the bar. “Mind telling us a little bit?” Tony chirps in, leaning against the bar to listen. “Oh, sure...Kasady, to put it lightly is a sociopath and a homicidal sadist... As a child he murdered his grandmother, dropped her hairdryer in the bathtub, and tortured his mothers dog. His mother tired to murder him after she discovered what he did, but his father, mind you, who was just a psychotic as he was, killed his mother in turn, and was thrown in prison, leaving Cletus an orphan. He was sent to St. Estes School For Boys, where his...odd behavior made him a target of abuse from his peers, and staff. Cletus killed many more people throughout the orphanage and burnt it down. He became known as Americas most notorious serial killer and was eventually arrested and charged. The buzz this last week was all about his escape..” You trailed off and silence fell over the room. Eddie cleared his throat. “And you interviewed this chum? What was he like?” You shuddered and Peter’s grip on your waist tightened, as if he couldn’t hold you close enough to him. “He was...just that. Odd. He said some really sick things to me. I still have the audio recording of the interview at my apartment. My partners...and Peter all begged me not to do the interview, said that he had a pattern of obsessive behavior and they didn’t feel comfortable with me going through with it. Now looking back I wish I would have listened. He’s somewhere out there on the loose now, and to say I’m afraid is an understatement...”

Eddie shook his head. “You should be afraid...and careful especially now. I didn’t come to bring good news. I came in contact with Cletus as well, just three days ago. Here in New York. I was searching for an extremely violent Klyntar, named Carnage. Venom sensed he was close, we rounded an alleyway and witnessed Kasady cornering a lady in an alley, luckily we arrived in time before he could... Anyways...he ran from us. And we haven’t been able to track him since. We might need help. Carnage is violent in nature, I can only imagine what tendencies of Kasady that he’s attaining.” Peter gave a confused look. “So, what you mean is that when a Klyntar merges with a human, they feed onto that persons attributes?” Eddie nodded slowly. “Oh. Yeah, that's perfect! So we have a gassed up, murderous psychopath running around empowered by a violent alien life form? Hmm wonderful.” Tony threw the rest of his drink back, his eyes wandering around the room. “So how do we stop it...?” Steve inquired. “Well first obviously we have to capture him. And assuming we can get that far, we would need to separate the two, and kill Carnage.” Eddie finished. Your head lulled against your palm, your body was tired and your mind couldn’t erase the thought of Cletus running around New York in a murderous rampage attempting to find you.

“I can find you too one day...just like you found me”

His raspy voice echoed in your head, you wrapped your hand tightly around Peter’s arm. He met your eyes, seeing that you needed to escape. “Well, we can’t do anymore tonight but rest...it’s late. Tony we’ll stay here...I don’t want her at the apartment after tonight.” Tony nodded. “Of course, you guys are always welcome. That goes for you, too.” Tony nodded at Eddie. “Granted that you don’t try to eat anyone...Lot of the team is spread out worldwide right now so there’s plenty of room.” Eddie nodded and followed Pepper down the hall as she showed him to his room. You pulled Peter by the hand and led him out of the kitchen to his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you. You let out a shaky breath, peeling off his sweatshirt and sinking into the bed. “Pete, what are we going to do...” You whined softly pulling a pillow to your chest. Peter set on the bed next to you stroking your hair. “H-hey, y/n it’ll be okay. I’m always going to keep you safe..But tomorrow I really need to listen to those tapes.” You shook your head. “You’re going to be mad peter...there’s a lot on them I didn’t tell you about, I mean, this guy blatantly threatened me. But I shook it off because, he’s a psycho? I mean that was expected right?” Peter rubbed his eyes, you could tell he was stressed beyond measure. Sitting up you kissed his shoulder. His eyes met yours, and he took your chin in his hand, resting his forehead against yours. “None of that matters, I’m going to take care of you.” You nodded softly.

Peter licked over his bottom lip, his eyes gazed from yours down to your lips and back again, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “You look so sexy wearing my clothes...” You softly whimpered as he leaned in to kiss your neck, making you see stars. “You look even better without them.” He tugged at his shirt, lifting it over his head, tufting his soft curls as his bare chest came into view, catching your breath. Goosebumps erupted over your skin as he tugged at your clothes now, peeling them off and leaving you naked. He peppered gentle kisses over your thighs, pausing over your heat and meeting your eyes. “Is this okay?” His eyes begging you for permission. “Yes...Please.” You begged him softly. His head disappeared again and you felt him lick a stripe up your heat, lips settling over your clit. You gasped and whimpered as he massaged you slowly, his fingers entering you and moving against your spot perfectly. Your orgasm took you by surprise and you mewled as peter licked his digits clean. Your thighs clench as he leans back pulling down his boxers and sweats, cock springing free from their constraint.

Peter is back over you in an instant, kissing you deeply. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes your head spin. You’re so lost in his kiss, that you jump when Peter pushes his thick length inside of you, pushing you apart, and causing you to moan against his lips. “That feels good babe..?” He asks you rhetorically, because he can already see he’s driving you wild. You whimper underneath him as he slots himself deeper between your thighs, pushing your legs back and hitching one over his shoulder as he ruts inside of you, tip of his cock brushing your g-spot perfectly. You quickly become a whimpering mess, as his movements speed up, threatening to make you unravel for him again. He grabs you by the chin, forcing you to meet his eyes as he fucks you deeply, his hair was nothing compared to the wild, fucked out mess it is now, his eyes are blown with lust and his mouth hangs open slightly as he groans. “Say my name love...” You moan loudly as one of his hands leaves your hip and tangles in your hair. “C'mon baby...say my name, let me know who makes you feel this fucking good...” He fucks you harder. “You do Peter...Just you babe...fuck I'm gonna cum!” Peter buries his head into your neck and fucks you into your second high, holding you tight while you shake in his arms.

“My turn love.” He kisses you swiftly before he sets back on his heels, pulling you into his lap. He gives you just a second to adjust to his length before he bucks up inside of you, causing you to move against him. You card your hands in his hair and throw your head back, holding him close to your chest. “That’s it princess..just like that...so tight for me, such a good girl.” Peter’s praise encourages you to speed up, bouncing on his lap. He moves his hands to your hips helping guide you up and back down on him. His movements become sloppy and you can tell he’s close. You pull his head back by his hair, and look into his deep brown eyes. “I love you peter..fuck..I want you to cum for me.” Peter goes into a frenzy, rutting inside of you until he’s shaking. You cradle his body as he picks you up and guides you back to the mattress, groaning and whimpering as he paints your walls with hot strips of cum. “Fucking hell, I love you too baby.” He finally replies, rolling off of you and racing to the bathroom for a towel. After cleaning you off, peter climbs back into bed, nestling next to you and pulling you into his chest. “Your heart is beating so fast, you okay doll?” he asks you. You nudge away from his chest, peeking up at him. “I’m okay, that’s just what you do to me.” You laugh.

Neither of you falls asleep right away. You lay in the dark for a long time, silently kissing and rubbing each other, as if you'd never get another chance. Before long, you hear Peter softly snoring, his grip slightly loosening. Not far behind him, you trail off to sleep, lulled by the sound of his breathing, feeling safe wrapped in his arms again.

#peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #Smut #marvel fic #marvel #fluff #series

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miss-pearlescent · 5 years ago

Text

Universal Differences (2/7)

Trapped in a dilapidated spaceship, you kidnap an alien to help you gain your key to freedom: marriage to a safe and trustworthy diplomat.

As a rich and handsome son of billionaires, Kai is bored of his repetitive party life. It isn’t until he’s kidnapped by a little human with a mission that he realizes the fun he’s been missing.

Rated M for smut (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) ♡

[ 1 | 2 | 3ᵐ | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ]

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[2/7]

“Have you thought about sex when you marry this man?”

You shot a glare at Kai, who was still in his seat. It had been a full day and he hadn’t spoken about being untied. He hadn’t mentioned about eating, sleeping, or even the bathroom. You weren’t going to bring it up either. “Is sex always on your mind?”

Ignoring your glare, he kept watching as you tinkered with the thermostat that had been making loud clanging noises for a while. “It’s going to be an issue.”

“An issue?” You bit your bottom lip, trying to hide the grimace of sharing a bed with an old man—because diplomats were always old men.

“Have you ever had sex before?”

Your screwdriver dropped to the ground and you scrambled to pick it up before it rolled away. “O-of course. ”

Heavy silence filled the ship and you felt your cheeks warming up.

Clearing your throat, you brushed the too-long strands of hair out of your face. “I’ve had sex with Earthens before.”

“That’s just it.” Kai’s voice was dead serious. “Have you ever seen a naked man outside of Earth? We’re different.”

You rose an eyebrow and looked him up and down. He was still wearing the same dark grey suit as yesterday, though you had already changed into your faded red jumpsuit. He had a nose, eyes, ears. His lips were slightly fuller than you expected, a trait that many human girls longed for. He had silver hair, but any stylist could do that in a couple of sessions. Arms, check. Legs, check. “You don’t look different to me.”

His lips kicked up in a smirk. “Then you should come find out.”

Your cheeks got even warmer and the screwdriver slipped from your hand again, knocking into the thermostat with a loud bang.

“Thermal engine restarting in one hour.”

You froze halfway as the loud clanging stopped. So did the whirring. Soon, there was a dead silence.

“What was that?”

You looked over at Kai who was eyeing the thermostat suspiciously. Then you breathed out and saw your own breath frosting in the air.

This was not good.

You hopped over your seat, rushing over to the bedding area where you found two blankets, one thin and one a little thicker. You considered which one to use but soon decided to throw the thicker one over Kai’s shoulders.

“What are you doing, human?”

“I fucked up the thermostat. The ship is going to be freezing cold for the next hour until it re-calibrates.” You tucked the blanket around his chin, hoping his nose and ears wouldn’t freeze off. “Just don’t die, okay?” Your fingers were shaking but you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or from the fear.

If Kai died, you would live a life knowing you were a murderer. The authorities would never let you leave. You’d never be able to settle down anywhere, not on one of these strange planets and definitely not back on Earth.

It was getting colder by the second and you wrapped the thin sheet around your shoulders, padding over to the bathroom where it was the warmest. The last time this happened, you had survived there with a bunch of padding. This time...

“Where are you going?”

You stopped, realizing you couldn’t just leave Kai alone. “Right. I have to stay here,” you muttered to yourself. But it was going to be too cold. Already, your teeth were beginning to chatter between your words.

Looking around, you wondered if you should take your seat at the head of the ship. Unfortunately, even with the thermostat on, that spot was the coldest because of the huge window. Then there was your makeshift bed where you could roll into and hopefully not freeze to death if you accidentally fell asleep.

Kai tossed his blanket to the side with a flick on his shoulder. “Come here.”

You blinked, a little upset that he didn’t seem to care for your peace offering. “What?”

“I was born here, remember? You and I are different. My body is used to fluctuating temperatures on different planets.” He raised his chin and spread his legs. “Come here,” he repeated.

Every second that you stood there felt like an eon. Your toes got colder but your face was on fire. If somebody told you there was steam coming off the top of your head, you would believe them.

“Just to keep warm,” you told yourself as you picked up your frozen feet and stood in front of Kai.

His expression was serious but you could see the hint of playfulness in his eyes that he couldn’t hide. “Just to keep warm,” he replied with a soft nod.

Holding your breath, you sat down between his legs and picked up the blanket on the floor. When you asked him if he needed it, he said no, so you threw it on top of the thinner sheet around your shoulders. Still, you tucked it into the chair behind Kai’s neck. If he was offering body heat, you were going to use all of it.

You tucked your feet under you, turning to the side so that you could fit a bit more comfortably. Your heart hammered in your chest as you blew warm air on your hands, trying to make the silence tick away faster.

Just one hour. Just one stupid hour.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I can’t touch you.”

You looked up at him, suddenly feeling all sorts of guilt. He was right. His hands were still tied behind the chair and here you were, using him as a personal furnace. “I’m sorry. Let me—”

His knee came up, stopping you from going anywhere. “No, stay. I’m okay like this.”

Stiffly, you shifted back until you were curled up again. Your body shivered, enjoying the warmth that his chest gave off. It didn’t help that he also smelled nice. You may have been able to loathe this hour more if he smelled bad, but the darn Alien had to smell nice.

He chuckled as if he had heard your thoughts. “How you poor, little humans survived on Earth, I will never know.”

You bristled but saw the teasing in his eyes again. Sighing, you leaned back just a little bit. “Earth stays in homeostasis, and humans are usually more prepared if they live in a climate that could kill them. If I had known my thermostat would make a habit of going bust, I would have brought a few winter coats with me.”

“This happens often, then?” he asked, turning toward the blasted dial on the wall.

“No, only once before.” You remembered being really scared that day. It had been a good day too, until the temperature started dropping and you realized you could freeze to death. Nobody had answered your check-in call, and it wasn’t until two hours later that somebody picked up your distress signal. By then, everything was fine and they sounded annoyed as if you were a child crying wolf. “Must be nice to have a thermoregulator built into your DNA.”

He was quiet for a few seconds before turning back. “The government decided it was more energy efficient to have their people self-regulate rather than change every planet’s natural climate. My home in WestorX was built on a beach beside a dormant volcano, and I have another home on Q’artier in the mountains. All feels the same to me.”

“You really are rich,” you said as a matter of fact. “What do you do with all those homes?”

He shrugged and the blanket threatened to fall off. You caught it in time and leaned forward to tuck it in again. “Nothing. Why would I want to stay there?”

“Why not?” You imagined a whole beach to yourself, how nice it would be to have hot sand in between your toes after a year of sitting in a hunk of metal. Warm water, palm trees, tanning under the sun...

He shrugged again, though this time more carefully. “There is nothing to do there. Everybody gathers in the city centres where parties and celebrations happen every single day.”

“Doesn’t that get boring?”

Kai thought about it for a second but shook his head. “I can’t think of what else I would do.”

You blew out a little whistle, utterly impressed by this man’s wealth. “Where do you get all this money to blow, anyway? I can’t believe your parents would let you do that to their savings.”

“I own a farm on New Home as well.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “You’re a farmer?”

He scoffed. “Hardly. My androids do all the work. I collect the money and occasionally do repairs from time to time.” Then he threw an exaggerated wink. “Though I wouldn’t mind an extra farm hand.”

You laughed at his absurd offer, though your own plans weren’t much better in terms of normalcy. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about farming. I’m a researcher.”

“So why are you taking me to the most well-known party on New Home?”

Playing with a loose thread, you decided to tell him your plans. Maybe he would be able to help you a bit more. “I’m not going to this party to marry any regular man,” you said. “I need to marry somebody who has money and power. Somebody who will not mind a human as a wife. I’m hoping it will be a diplomat, because they seem to be kind and accepting, you know?”

You really hoped they were all kind and accepting.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all this,” you said, looking around at your cluttered spaceship. You realized how small and cramped it was now that there were two passengers inside. “I just need you to help me get inside this party, and then I won’t bother you ever again.”

Kai was quiet for a while, letting your words hang in the air. It wasn’t until you shifted uncomfortably in your seat when he spoke again. “And I’m going to ask you one more time: have you thought about the sex yet?”

You furrowed your brows. He was bringing this conversation back to square one. “No, for your information, I have not. I am sure it will not be much different.”

“How are you so sure?” He was speaking right into your ear and you realized belatedly that you were leaning right up to him.

Suddenly, you wondered if maybe this little cocoon was getting too warm.

“As you probably know,” he began, his voice dropping to a low whisper, “my people don’t see humans as equals.”

You pouted. “You’ve made that very clear.”

He didn’t bother to correct your statement. “I cannot guarantee that the man you choose to marry will honour your human wishes when it comes to sex.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our rituals are...different.”

“You keep saying that word but it makes no sense to me.”

He raised a brow, challenging you. “The only way you will understand is by demonstration.”

You rolled your eyes. “How different can it be? Kissing, blowjob, penetration. It’s all the same.”

Kai threw his head back in a laugh, his chest shaking against you. Finally, when he caught his breath, he gave you a hard look. “Let’s start with kissing then, human.”

You shook your head.

“What?” he laughed again. “You said it couldn’t be much different.”

Your eyes darted to his easy smile. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the fact that he was daring a human to kiss him. His lips were full and looked soft, unlike the thin cracked lips of an old man you often had to imagine. Kissing Kai wouldn’t be torturous, per se.

Before you lost your courage, you placed your hands on his cheeks and leaned in, pressing a small kiss on his lower lip. “There,” you muttered and promptly wrapped the sheet around your shoulders even tighter before he could see that your shaking was from nerves and not from the cold.

The man had the audacity to snort. “What was that?”

“A kiss,” you bit out.

“That was a kiss? You humans really are innocent things, aren’t you?”

You crossed your arms, embarrassed that he was treating you like a kid. “How do you guys kiss, then?”

“Let me show you.” He raised one leg a little, tilting your body toward him. “Come here.”

Before you could stop yourself, you were already leaning into him again. You squeezed your eyes shut as your lips touched and your hands grabbed onto his jacket to keep from falling off his lap.

To your surprise, his tongue came out, invading the seal between your lips. He explored your mouth, licking and lapping, putting up a little fight with your own tongue that didn’t know what to do anymore. He sucked on your tongue, encouraging it to come out and play.

It was like a promise of things to come later.

He was devouring you with every taste and you shivered as the heat traveled lower and lower down your body. Each time his tongue tangled with yours, he was stoking the warm ache in your belly.

You squealed as you felt something prodding between your legs. Paired with the tongue action, it was too much, too fast. You pulled away, slapping a hand over Kai’s mouth.

“What the hell was that?”

He watched you with hooded eyes as he took a deep breath, panting against your hand. Then you felt the prodding again.

You gasped.

No, this time it wasn’t a prod. It was a deliberate stroke.

“What the...” You looked down but found no tent in his pants. Lifting your hand from Kai’s mouth, you crossed your arms and demanded answers.

He simply smirked. “That’s how we kiss around here, little human.”

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I hope you guys liked that chapter! I don’t usually write much about kisses because there are a lot of words and descriptors I don’t like when talking about kisses LOL Like fight scenes, I tend to skim over them whenever I read hehehehhehehehe

Anyway, I hope you guys are doing well! Stay safe and take care of yourselves :3

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