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blackkatmagic · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Firstly thank you so much for the joy you’ve brought us with your rarepairs and rare characters:D If you’re still taking prompts may I ask if you would consider expanding on the Feral/Cody storyline from the Jaster/Maul arranged marriage AU? I was fluctuating between cry laughing at Maul’s reaction to Jaster and actually crying over his genuine worry at how Cody must be treating Feral. Thank you!

“Queen Miraj is going to betray you,” Feral says, and Cody practically jumps out of his own skin.

Instantly, Feral winces, taking a step back as Cody spins, and dips his head, bends forward. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Cody stares at him for a moment, then groans, dropping the pad he was clearly about to throw on his desk. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, and there's a thread of humor to it that Feral used to miss, the first few weeks of their marriage.

Carefully, Feral takes a few steps forward, and when Cody doesn’t object, he pulls himself up onto the edge of the desk, leaning forward. “Sorry,” he says again. “I thought you’d heard me coming.”

“I never hear you coming,” Cody says, dry. “Start with that assumption.” His gaze flickers from Feral to the door, and he asks, “Can you put the privacy lock on?”

Feral raises a hand, a touch of concentration making the light click over to red, and pretends that Cody's flicker of deep interest isn't half the reason why he used the Force in the first place. Cody's warm sort of intrigue is always soft around the edges, kind, and—it feels good.

“I could wear a bell,” he suggests, smiling a little, and Cody snorts, leaning back in his chair as he considers Feral.

“Collars already?” he asks, bland, and when Feral huffs in embarrassment, glancing away, he smiles. Reaches out, hand curled over Feral’s knee, and it makes Feral entirely too aware of a bruise inches above his hand, left there by his mouth last night. Cody had made it clear he didn’t expect anything, that Feral wasn’t obligated, but—Cody is handsome, and Feral was lonely, and it was good. It felt good, and he likes this, this awareness of Cody that’s doubled and tripled in the hours since.

“If you want,” he says, and Cody slides a hand up his thigh, reaches up. The brush of his fingers over the base of Feral’s horns makes Feral shiver, and Cody's eyes are dark when he looks up at him.

“You took off the paint,” he says, thumb rubbing hypnotically across the curve of one of Feral’s larger horns.

“Bad for sneaking around,” Feral manages to say, though words are a little hard right now.

That makes Cody pause, and he looks Feral over again, then asks, “The queen?”

Feral tips his head in agreement. “I got into her palace,” he says. “Something about her prime minister made me uneasy. They're planning to sell you out to the Republic.”

Cody's lip curls. It’s almost a snarl, almost a Zabrak's expression. It’s almost Maul's expression, transposed and layered with a deeper sort of anger, and—Feral understands that. The life of a Nightbrother is one thing, but Cody and the rest of the clones have been fighting since they moment they came into existence. They were never supposed to exist, were created with stolen DNA by a Sith Lord who thought to play warmonger, and when they killed him they were left with nothing.

Leaning forward, unable to help himself, Feral kisses the snarl off Cody's mouth. Feels the twitch, the breath, and then Cody's hands come up to frame his face, pull him in and deepen it. Cody moans, soft, and Feral’s breath catches. He pushes in, gets his hands on the arms of Cody's chair and almost wants to slide forward, into his lap—

“Oh, kriff,” a voice says loudly, and Cody groans, just as loud and deeply aggrieved. Laughing, Feral breaks the kiss, pulling away and sitting up, and he’s just in time to see Rex slap a hand over his eyes. “Cody.”

“That door was locked,” Cody retorts, and catches Feral’s knees. Pulls, like making a statement, and Feral obligingly lets himself be hauled down, gets a knee on one side of Cody's thighs and sits down in his lap, pulling him in. Cody gladly kisses his jaw, then his throat, then drops his head to kiss the bruise on his collarbone, and says pointedly, “You're lucky you didn’t walk in five minutes later.”

“You're lucky I didn’t walk in five minutes later,” Rex says. “Don’t you have a bedroom? Don’t you think you should save that for later?”

“I think I'm married and you should keep your nose out of it,” Cody counters, and loops an arm around Feral’s lower back. Feral ducks his head, careful of his horns as he hides his smile in Cody's hair, and shivers at the feeling of callused fingers stroking up and down his spine. “And besides, this was a strategy meeting. Feral was just telling me about all the ways Queen Miraj is about to betray us.”

“Droid armies,” Feral says obediently, trying not to grin. “Admiral Trench has one of Dooku's droid armies and he and the queen are trying to arrange a trap for you. Miraj is worried you're going to sell her out to the Republic and reveal what she’s been doing.”

Rex's groan is all frustration. “That was not a strategy meeting, or I've been missing out on a lot—”

“You have been,” Cody says mercilessly. “How’s that bounty hunter you keep failing to catch? Antilles give you any good strategy meetings recently—”

“Shut your mouth, Cody, if the queen’s going to sell us out to Trench I think we’ve got bigger things to worry about—”

Cody snorts. “One more person out to get us when we’re already enemy number one to the Republic and rogue, immoral science experiments made from their heir apparent’s DNA to the Mandalorians. It’s not the end of the galaxy, Rex.”

Feral swallows, reaches up. He cups Cody's cheek, leans in. Doesn’t quite rest their foreheads together, even if he wants to, because it means a lot more to the clones than it does to a Zabrak. Even so, he kisses his temple, then says softly, “Mother Talzin might help you.”

Cody's grip tightens over his ribs. “She sold you into marriage,” he says flatly, and meets Feral’s gaze. “I heard your comm to her. About your brothers.”

Feral swallows, but doesn’t let himself waver. “And you accepted,” he reminds Cody gently. Sees the way he’s about to protest and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter why you did. But the alliance is there. The Nightsisters can help with the Zygerrians.”

“No,” Cody says flatly. “Talzin’s not getting anything from me. I already took the most valuable thing she created, and I'm not giving it back.”

Feral’s breath hitches, and he ducks his head, feels Cody's arms tighten to draw him in. The fact that Cody can just say that, so openly and obviously—

It’s why he keeps using what he was taught for the clones’ sake, even when Cody tells him he doesn’t need to. Cody might not realize it, but Feral’s been waiting his whole life to find someone outside of his brothers to fight for. Maul and Savage will be all right; Savage is with a Jedi who would never hurt him, and Jaster Mereel seems like an honorable man, even in the face of Maul's prickly edges. But Cody needs what Feral can offer, and it’s a new feeling, something like a revelation.

“Good,” Feral says, soft, and Cody's hand smooths up his back, then down. There's a kiss pressed to his temple, a hand against his lower back—

Rex groans, holding his hands up. “Kriff, if you're going to be mushy—”

Even with Feral on his lap, Cody manages to grab a stylus, chuck it across the room, and peg Rex between the eyes without even having a clear line of sight. “Get lost, Rex,” he says, and Feral can't help but laugh, tucked into the curve of Cody's neck, pressed to his skin like a secret.

[On AO3]

#my writing #codyferal #commander cody #feral opress #captain rex #star wars

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captainrexisboo · 4 years ago

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Comfort pt5: Sarad

Link to Previous - this chapter takes off right at the end of the previous part, so!

Here It Is. Part Five. I Love My Boo So Much. Also- my first fully completed fic?? Ever??! Holy crap!!!! Dumb Luck stares at me as it sharpens a knife in the corner

No warnings apply, Rex x Reader, reader is a lady. Questions and comments are always welcome! Let me know if y’all want an epilogue!!

EDIT!!! Link to Epilogue!!!

Tagging: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @000ayfh @pinkiemme @midnightredemption @simping-for-fives @danger-xylophones @iscream4clones @jyvorakal @leias-left-hair-bun @vesperstalksclones @mackstrut @yamaktaria @juitoverride @callme-eds @greenygreenland All of you have been so wonderful, I love reading your comments/tags, and seeing your names/icons pop up in my notifs always make me smile!!! You’re all amazing!!! Love y’all!!!

You sat at your desk, spinning a stylus in between your fingers and back straight, chewing on a swollen, worried bottom lip. Your eyes were rimmed red and puffy, but dry- you had already done all your crying, and were now just sitting alone, stewing in your own emotion. You couldn’t even look at Rex directly as he slowly steps into the room, just thinking to yourself about what happened, replaying the unexpected uneventfulness in your mind, trying to find out why it hurt you so. You felt so hypocritical, throwing a fit about Aurin’s lack of attention when you explicitly asked him to leave you alone. You were such a fool, anyway you looked at it.

Your gaze went low as Rex stepped closer, putting your cup directly in front of you. You gave him a silent nod in thanks, and he stood for a minute, holding his own cup as he shifted on his feet. His voice came out nearly strained, a thin whisper, “Should I… Do you need me to come back later, or-”

“Please stay.”

Your words were croaked, and you winced at the broken sound, but you didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t realize how much you didn’t actually want to be alone until Rex had walked in. He sat across from you, armor clacking together as he got comfortable (or as comfortable as he could in full gear) and you could feel his calculating gaze tracing your face and form. You let out a cough (it was supposed to be a laugh) knowing exactly what he was searching for. “He didn’t hurt me, Captain. Never did, never will.”

You felt a corner of your lips twitch up slightly as Rex let out a sigh of relief, but noticed how he still stayed tense. “Y/N, what’s the matter? What happened?”

What happened?

“What happened indeed,” you let out a wry exhale, “In all seriousness, nothing happened” -you held up a hand as Rex opened his mouth to protest, stopping him before he made a sound- “and that’s just the problem.”

Rex tilted his head, cocking his eyebrow, “I, uh. I don’t think I follow.”

You finally looked up at him with a dead stare, and he stiffened again. You sighed low, your eyelids feeling heavy as your heart sank deeper into your stomach. You let your gaze fall again, before clearing your throat, “I’m sorry, Rex. I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I ask him to leave me alone, and when he does- literally, he barely even spared a glance at me today- I fall completely apart. I don’t know if this is like just a release of energy because I was hyping myself up beforehand and planning all the ways I’d deflect his conversation, or if it’s shock because I wasn’t expecting to be ignored, or if I’m regretting-”

“Hey, slow down, wait a second,” Rex shushed you, voice a little more present as he leaned forward, “Look at me.”

You hesitated, pulling your lip back between your teeth, but did as you were told. You felt meek, glancing up at him through your lashes as he held your stare with his deep honeyed eyes. He gestured towards your caf, and you slowly lifted a hand to wrap around the cup, feeling your shoulders release a little as the warmth of the cup seeped into your palm and fingers. When did they get so cold?

“Take a breath,” Rex demonstrated for you, as you followed his command to the letter, “Now take a drink. Relax.”

You brought the drink up to your lips, letting the sweetened substance flow past your lips and glide easy down your throat. He had this uncanny ability to doctor your caf just right, it never ceased to make your eyes flutter shut, like the drink was a signal that you could begin to let go of any stress that plagued your mind. The same warmth that spread through your hand pulsed through your chest, before you let out a shuddering breath, placing the cup back on the desk. You opened your eyes, Rex giving you a soft smile at your heavy sigh, ”Better?” You nodded to him. “Good. Now, ‘nothing’ happened?”

“Yeah,” you deflated, not defeatedly in self-pity as you were before, but an expel of the tension that had been eating away at you for the better half of the day, “I thought this was what I wanted, and I… I think that’s it’s still what I want, but when he actually put it into practice I just…”

You scoffed at yourself, glancing off to the side to stare at the pile of flimsi Yularen needed to sign off on, “You know how you get yourself excited for something that’s about to happen, something you want to happen, and the moment it happens it’s different than how you’d expect it to be?”

Rex nodded, heart skipping as he thought about Ahsoka’s speculation. What would happen if he told you his true feelings now? Would you laugh at him, thinking he’s playing a cruel joke on you? Would you pout at him, and apologize for not feeling the same way? Would you stare at him with an icy glare and tell him how awful he is for telling you at the worst possible timing? Would you smile at him so sweetly, and get up from your chair to walk around and whisper an admission of your own feelings as well, lips brushing against his temple like that one day he can’t stop replaying in his head? He’s unsure which option scares him the most.

“Aurin ignored me throughout the entire inspection today, even as we stood alone with each other. He didn’t say a word, didn’t look in my direction. He simply stood next to me,” you recounted, gaze going unfocused again, “He did exactly as I asked. For whatever reason, it hurt me. It hurt so much-”

You cut yourself off as your voice cracked, feeling the lump form in your throat again. You reach for your caf, taking another soothing sip, letting the hot liquid push past the emotion rising in your throat. Breathing steady, you looked back into your lap, sitting your caf back on your desk before shrinking into a whisper, “And I can’t figure out why.”

Rex sat still, ankle crossed over his knee. He took a long sip from his own cup, soaking in the information. It was a heavy minute before he cleared his throat, “Do you… do you maybe want to talk to him?” Rex felt himself swallow thickly. “Do you want to be with him again?”

“No.”

You reeled back, wincing at yourself, surprised at how quickly you responded. Rex looked at you intently, but with merciful patience, only the incline of his head urging you to continue. You gazed back into Rex’s eyes, feeling something in your stomach stir from their sincerity. If nothing else, Rex was earnest and kind at his core. You had unwavering confidence in your friendship, and you were reminded of that everytime you looked into his eyes. You could tell him anything- he could pull the truth out of you better than you could push it through by yourself. Alone, you had to hunt for it, search the darkest corners of your mind, and almost always came back into the light empty handed and frustrated. You’d exhausted yourself so easily doing just that today, but when you locked onto Rex’s gaze, he could easily lead you to your truth. He coaxed it out of you with gentle whispers and soft touches, with eyes that practically glowed with an emotion you thought you knew but couldn’t quite place. You swallowed a breath, sitting up straight, and talking directly to Rex, letting your instinct take over as you answered silent questions.

What do you want?

“I want to continue to keep my distance from him.”

Why?

“It was...shocking. To not have any interaction with him. But its what I need, to grow into my own person. It’ll be better this way.”

So how do you explain your reaction?

“I guess I… I’m afraid.”

You stopped yourself from venturing further down that rabbit hole, finally breaking away from Rex’s stare. You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth, the emotional strain from today taking its toll on you. You shut your eyes tight, dropping your chin to your chest, trying to stop the headache from coming on, not even looking up as you heard the weighty steps of Rex’s boots as he walked around your desk.

Rex had gotten up from his seat as soon as your lashes hit the tops of your cheeks. He allowed his typically quiet footfalls to echo in the room as he opted for a slow walk to come closer to you, setting his half-finished caf on the edge of your desk. He never seemed to be able to shake his nerves whenever he made a move to touch you, always moving as if time was slowed down around the two of you, in your own little pocket of reality. His hand moved cautiously, making sure you had time to feel his presence, time to move away if you needed to. Rex’s fingers brushed at your shoulder, curling over the muscle as his thumb traced your collarbone, hidden under your uniform jacket. He put pressure there, a slight squeeze, causing you to hum lightly at the contact. Rex continued his motions at your approval, sinking down to one knee to see if he could catch your eyes, only to find them closed. He smoothed his gloved hand over the gray material, following the slope of your shoulder in a fluid motion, keeping his voice low despite being the only two people in the room, “What are you afraid of, cyar’ika?”

The endearment was out of his mouth before he could stop himself, but if you knew what the term meant you didn’t mention it. He left it alone, letting the moment settle.

You shivered slightly at his gravelly tone, taking note of the new word you’d have to ask about later. He said it so softly in a single exhale, that at least you knew it wasn’t supposed to be an insult. You opened an eye, finding his stare on you, and opening the other one as you leaned forward, placing your forehead against his. The position was awkward, your back was hunched and you could already feel your neck getting stiff, but the keldabe kiss made you feel at ease, lifting a hand to wrap around the back of Rex’s head, feeling the prick of his buzz on your palm, the pads of your fingers rubbing lightly over his scalp. You felt a smile twitch up as he gave a relieving sigh of his own, closing his eyes as he melted at your petting.

“I’m afraid of changing,” the admission fell out of you as a wave of calm washed over the two of you, startling yourself, but the grip you and Rex held on each other kept you grounded enough to move forward, “Aurin and I… we were inseparable for so long. I want to know who I am without him, figure out what it means to be me. But I can’t help but think- this is so silly- what if I spend too much time on that? What if I finally complete my journey, but can’t find anyone to love that version of me?”

Your hand moved down to grip at the back of Rex’s neck, his eyes opening as your gaze went downcast, continuing after a breath, “Aurin and I had a love… I outgrew it. What if by the time I finish growing, no one has room to love me like that anymore?”

“I will.”

Your eyes shot back up at the two simple words, growing wide at the sudden revelation. You froze after your eyes locked, swallowing down a breath as you waited for him to continue, still keeping your foreheads pressed together. Rex moved his hand over your shoulder, rubbing up and down your arm in a calming pace, though you’re unsure if it was to soothe your nerves or his own. The air you both were suddenly all-too-aware of sharing thickened as the silence stretched, Rex’s eyes searching your own as he briefly wetted his lips in anticipation of your reaction.

“Y/N, I need you to know, you’ll never outgrow those who already care for you. Aurin kept you locked in a box, and it was a warm, safe box. But you did a brave thing. You took a step out of that box, and as soon as you did you blossomed. Sarad, flower, you’ll always be growing, that’s a part of life,” he cleared his throat, intent on making his devotion ring clear, both of his hands moving to wrap around your own, the one still in your lap, “You’re healing, finding your roots, and already you’ve changed so much, in the brightest of ways. And I… I really, really care for you. I’ll always be here for you, by your side, ready to welcome you into my heart with open arms. If you decide I’m not for you, that’s fine, just please take this to heart- I’ll always make room to love you.”

He held his breath, waiting for your response, not daring to break your hold. Your fingers had stopped their light massaging on his head, but you kept him pulled to you. He gripped your hand between his own, running his thumbs over your knuckles. He didn’t want to let go- if you ended up hating him for this outburst, he wanted to be in your touch as long as possible until then.

You had no response. You were silent and intensely looking right through him, to say you were shocked was an understatement, but you held no doubt that Rex had spoken only the truth to you. The past few months started to replay through your mind, all his little quirks and notions that you thought were just him in culture shock to nat-born socializing became clear- and you could punch yourself for not realizing it sooner. He loves you...seems like he always had. The longer the moment stretched, the more nervous the Captain’s gaze fell, and you just barely choked out a whisper, “Rex…”

Your mouth hung open, stuck in how to continue, letting a breathless, but short giggle come through you as he visibly perked up to your voice. You blinked at him, trying to clear your mind, “I...I-I’m sorry, I need some time to think, still.”

“That’s fine,” Rex nodded, almost forgetting your foreheads were still pushed together as his words came out in a rush, “take as much time as you need. I’m not telling you this as a way to ask you out o-or anything, I just. I just don’t want you to feel unloved. I’m here for you, no matter if you match my feelings or…”

He trailed off, his eyes being pulled to the floor as the other option crossed both of your minds. He didn’t need to say it. You felt your heart ache for him, here he was laying his soul out to you, and all you could do was request that he gives you time.

But this its time that he’s willing to give.

“I’ve waited for you for so long already,” his baritone rumbled from his chest, as he slowly brought his gaze back up to you. You felt your cheeks heat under the warmth of the amber hearth that was his eyes, “I’ll gladly wait two lifetimes more.”

Something in you broke. It snapped, and the force of it pushed you forward, colliding with the Captain’s lips. You both made brief sounds, a muffled chirp against a surprised throaty grunt, equal parts terrified and triumphant. He tasted like caf, with a bite of citrus, like he’d been eating an orange, and the thought for whatever reason made you smile against him as your eyes slid shut.

Rex’s eyes blew wide open, freezing in place at your movement. Holding his breath as you stayed on his lips, heart racing like never before, even on the battlefield. This was different, and delightful, and how do you kiss someone properly, is there a manual for it, should he stay still or-

Just as quickly as you brushed against him, you had left, and he had to restrain himself to keep from following you back. You looked at him, and- oh. He knows those eyes.

“I still need time,” you breathed out, moving off of his forehead but fingers resuming their petting over his scalp, “but maybe I’ll run the course quicker knowing you’re at the finish line.”

Rex had dreamed of your eyes looking at him like that, and he was sure his gaze matched. Like you had hung the stars in the sky for the ships to fly through, like he had painted the universe on a velvet canvas- like he loved you. Like you loved him. Your moony gazes were locked on each other before he rasped out, only just remembering to breathe in the quiet moment, “I don’t want to push my luck, but… could you maybe, possibly, kiss me? Again? Please, I feel like I did it wrong.”

He melted in the ring of your laughter, a smile finally breaking through his face at the sound, squeezing the hand he still held. You looked at him with unchecked fondness, and shook your head, “You did fine.” A coquettish gleam came through your eyes, as you gently pulled at the back of his head. He followed your prompting, leaning up eagerly to close the space between you, eyes glancing to your lips as you smiled, “Although, a little practice never hurt anybody.”

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wille-zarr · 4 years ago

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"Yes, Sir” (Captain Rex x Reader)

@mythandmagik I ship you with...

Captain Rex

p.s. you know rex is TOTAL boyfriend material. this MAN, yall....

If there’s one thing you love, it’s living on Coruscant. Nothing ever stays the same- the people, the scenery, the culture- what can you say? Expect the unexpected.

Back when you lived on Dantooine, stars! Nothing ever happened. Wake up, work the farm, eat, sleep. It was a fine, simple, quiet life for your family.... but...

Let’s just say you needed a little more excitement in your life.

Despite all your family’s concerns and arguments, you hopped on a transport the day you saved up enough cash to leave. They fought it best they could, but, in the end, they sent you on your way with hugs and kisses, well aware that their independent, stubborn child was more than capable of handling life on Coruscant.

So here you are: a few years later. You’ve made quite the life for yourself on-world. It took a bit of work and making the right connections, but you’ve managed to break into the art and fashion scene on Coruscant.

And your first break-through assignment? You have been tasked, hand-selected by your boss, to design a series of posters for the Republic honoring the men and various clone legions fighting on the front lines of the Clone Wars.

...Which is why you currently have a fidgety, jumpy clone captain standing in the doorway of your office.

“Anshu?”

You lift your eyes, smirking as the clone captain clears his throat, waiting for permission to step forward.

He’s nervous.

“Ah, Captain Rex, I take it? Sent here to represent the-” you shuffle your papers- “ah, yes, the 501st Legion?”

“Yes, sir- ah, I mean, ma’am.”

“Sir works for me,” you chirp, spinning around in your chair to hide your mischievous grin.

“Uh, yes, sir.”

Oh, it’s going to be way too much fun messing with him.

You motion your hand at the empty chair in front of you desk. Tucking a long strand of black hair back behind your ear, you sigh and lean forward.

“I just spent the better part of the morning working with Commander Wolffe and trooper named Sinker.” You bite the end of your stylus, throwing Rex a knowing look.

“Oh, I am so, so sorry, sir.” He snorts before posturing on the edge of the chair. “Wolfpack is.... ah, different.”

“I’ll say,” you chuckle, “they came in here wanting their posters to be a series of them riding wolves. And I told them, hell yeah, I can make that happen.”

You both burst into laughter, and you are relieved to see Rex’s shoulders drop, his posture relaxing.

“Well, then. Lean back. Get comfortable, Rex-” you smile at him as you adjust your glasses- “hopefully our conversation won’t be quite as complicated as theirs.”

Oh kriff.

Rex was nervous to be in your office- but not for the reasons you had thought.

The moment he laid eyes on you- kriff- he’d never seen someone- anyone- he thought as beautiful as you.

Rex never had a preference before when it came to hair and eye color, always just smiling and shaking his head as his brothers went on and on about “red-head” this and “green-eye” that. After all, he was too focused on work- on winning the war- to spend too much time thinking about a potential romantic relationship.

But, here he is now, sitting down in front of you, watching the sunlight draping the side of your tan face with a golden, warm glow... Brown eyes twinkling with humor and mischief... Raven hair cascading over your shoulders...

Kriff, Rex has a preference now.

And his preference is you.

Due to the nature of your assignment, you are required to meet with the commanders and captains of the clone legions a couple times over the course of several months.

But, well, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t request Rex’s presence more often than needed just to spend time with him....

Rex was... a breath of fresh air. He never took offense at your sarcastic jests. Rather, he would counter them with an equal wit. He was calm, laid-back. Gentle. Never suffocating. Whenever you spent time with him, you found yourself just.... breathing easier.

You eventually give him your comlink channel- under the excuse of needing it for work purposes....

But when those work conversations turn into late-night calls? And work discussions turn into deep, heart-to-hearts?

Yeah. Okay.

You like him.

But just a little bit.

Okay, a lot.

“Darn-” kick- “it-” kick- “stop thinking-” kick- “about-” kick- “him!”

One last guttural yell- you kick your leg up into the air with all the force and rage left in you.

You wipe the sweat pooling off your face, growling at the bag you just took out all your frustrations on.

“Not bad.”

You spin around, fist raised ready to-

“Hold on!” A hand grabs your fist before you make contact.

“Rex!” you gasp, “Idiot! Sneaking up on me like that!” You leap into his arms- shocking both him and you. You jerk away just as fast.

“Your form was off.”

You sneer at him, crossing your arms as he moves around you in a circle.

“Well, what do you know about fighting?” A smirk teases in the corner of your mouth.

“You’re right. Not much.” He shrugs, crossing his arms.

“I can teach you then,” you smile... a bit too sweetly.

He jumps left- barely missing your kick.

He counters your move. You easily break it, jumping back several feet.

He’s holding back- playing a little game of tookacat and mouse with you.

Fine. You can play his little game. You can beat him.

And you know just what your winning strategy will be.

You grin, circling him, keeping your eyes glued on his. His smile is long-gone; an intense, focused stare replacing the usual twinkle in his eyes.

He lunges forward, but it’s too late- your winning strategy has been deployed.

Your lips press harder against his. Your arms snake their way around the back of his neck, pulling him in tighter against you.

He is frozen in your arms.

You grin into the kiss. You win.

Two...three...four... He snaps out of his stupor. Spins you around in one swift move, pinning you against the wall- never once breaking the kiss.

“Aye!” you squeak, pulling away. “Hey!”

“I win,” he growls, his eyes trailing down to your lips.

“Actually-” you bite your lip, pressing both hands against his chest- “I think I win.”

His eyes darken, a sly smile on his face.

“Yes, sir.”

#the clone wars #captain rex #clones #rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #the clone wars fanfiction #celebration ships #ships #wille writes #willezarr

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coruscantguard · 5 years ago

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Endless Night, Half a Sliver of Light

Requested by @roborails

Fox and Ahsoka for #98- “You’re actually a big softie, aren’t you?”

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table reads 02:09.

Nighttime on the Coruscant Guard’s ship is much quieter than she’s used to it being on the Resolute. It makes sense, since it’s a smaller ship, and there are less people on it, but the quiet still puts her on edge. In her experience, quiet is rarely a good thing

Barriss would disagree with that, but Barriss also reads ancient texts on Force philosophy in her free time, and eats space waffles without cooking them, so Ahsoka is inclined to disregard her opinion here.

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table has progressed to read 02:10.

The Guard’s ship is also quieter than the Temple, but in a less tangible way for anyone who is not Force-sensitive. While the Temple tends to be quiet and peaceful, the Force is always very alive in it. There’s a feeling of home that comes with all those strong Force signatures, and it’s an eternal reminder that she’s not alone. That as a Jedi, she’ll never have to truly be alone in the galaxy.

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table now reads 02:11.

Her attempts to go to sleep and the ever present quiet aren’t mixing in a way that’s conducive to her getting any shuteye. The briefing ended hours ago. She’s still awake.

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table still reads 02:11.

Ahsoka groans, buries her face into her pillow, and lets out a muffled scream.

The embarrassment from her little social mishap earlier is hitting full force now that the planning is done for the night, and she has nothing to distract herself with. She’s been wallowing in it, she knows that. Her attachment to those feelings is the furthest thing from productive, and she should be releasing it into the Force. There’s nothing she can do to correct the situation until morning comes.

She should release it to the Force. It's helping no one, and making her feel worse. She really should release it to the Force.

She’s not releasing it to the Force.

Master Anakin felt that Senator Amidala needed additional security, kriff’s sake, Ahsoka. Did she seriously say that? Force, it’s like all of Master Obi-Wan’s diplomacy training just flew out the window. And all the basic manners the Temple taught her.

“Ahsoka, you utter di’kut,” she mutters, and rolls over, flopping her legs off her bunk. The room is small enough that her feet can nearly brush the opposite wall, and she uses her toes to inch her torso off the bed until she can. Heck yes.

Not that he thinks you guys can’t handle it, her brain reminds her, efficiently quenching any joy that her victory brought. It’s just, well, Master has this thing about Senator Amidala, because like, they’re really close friends, right? So--

She groans again, and reaches a hand out to grab her pillow so she can smother herself with it. Right now, suffocation sounds like a great way to go.

Knight Skywalker, I regret to inform you that your padawan has joined the Force because she is a karking laserbrain who keeps putting her shoe on the other side of her mouth.

When Ahsoka pulls the pillow off her face, she’s disappointingly still in the land of the living, and the clock on her bedside table now just says 02:13. She manages to resist the urge to chuck the pillow at said clock, instead opting to throw it at the wall in front of her.

The pillow bounces off the control panel, and her door hisses open. The pillow falls to the ground by her feet, and Ahsoka forces herself to close her eyes, take a few seconds to breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Release your anger to the Force, young padawan. Do not use the Force to pick up your pillow and slam it into the clock, young padawan. Vandalism is not the Jedi way.

When she’s sufficiently managed to breathe through most of her anger and annoyance, she opens her eyes again.

Ahsoka calmly looks at her now open door. She looks at the pillow on the ground. She looks back at the door. Then back to the pillow. Then back at the door.

Well. There’s no way she’s going to sleep at this rate. Might as well see if anyone else is up.

She manages to pull herself up from her half on the bed, half off it position without using her hands, lets out a silent cheer in the form of a fist pump, and pops her head out of her room to look around. There’s nothing to the left, but when she swivels her head to the right, she sees some kind of faint yellow light at the end of the hallway, where the officer’s lounge is.

It’s as good of a sign as any, so Ahsoka grabs her lightsaber, clips it to her belt, and leaves her room. As she makes her way down the ship’s hallway, she instinctively reaches out with the Force to get a sense of what she’s walking into.

She senses only one other presence nearby, and one that flows easily with the jigsaw pattern of the world around her. With a bit of concentration, she’s able to catch sight of a flash of gunmetal grey, which makes it easy to figure out who the presence is.

Commander Fox’s Force presence is unassuming, both in it’s color and it’s general feel. Unlike Anakin, who’s Force presence was more akin to a supernova, the Commander of the Coruscant Guard’s presence was steady, unwavering, slightly darker than most non-Force sensitives tended to feel, but not enough to actually be concerning. The only thing that’s even remotely odd is the lack of color around him, but that’s not bad either, just different.

The door slides open automatically as she reaches the end of the hall, and the adjacent lounge. She silently slips inside, and the sound of flimsi rustling greets her.

Fox is sitting at a table near the back of the room, head bowed, presumably reading the pile of flimsiwork in front of him. On one side of the table, his bucket sits beside his elbow, and on the other side, there’s a cup of what at least smells like caf to Ahsoka. She realizes, belatedly, that this is the first time she’s ever seen him without his bucket on.

He looks old. Tired. Like he’s Master Obi-Wan’s age, not Skyguy’s. Not that Master Obi-Wan is old, of course, but… whatever. Moving on.

“Commander Fox,” she greets, and steps further into the room. He looks up from the flimsiwork, but thankfully doesn’t bother saluting.

“Commander Tano,” Fox says, and he slides his bucket closer to him as he stands up. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I’m not… looking for anything,” she replies quickly. “I saw the light, and I got curious.”

Fox nods, and another spike of guilt gnaws her. She does her best to ignore it. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” he says, and it’s with a practiced politician’s calm that Ahsoka recognizes from her time around Senators Chuchi and Amidala. “There’s caf by the stove, if you’re in the mood.”

Caf. Kriff yes. Skyguy would never give her caf at 2am.

It takes three tries to find the cabinet that has mugs in it, and she pulls out the biggest one. As she starts to pour the caf into her mug, she looks over at the table. Fox has sat back down, and he looks just as engrossed in the pile of flimsi as he had when she came in.

Ahsoka finishes filling her mug, adjusts the sugar-to-caf ratio so it’s drinkable, and takes a small sip. It’s on the edge of being too hot, but it doesn’t actually burn her mouth, so she deems it satisfactory. She turns back to face Fox, and asks, “What are you working on?”

He doesn’t spare her a glance as he answers, “Reports, mostly. There’s never an end to the flimsiwork when the Senate gets involved.”

“Oh,” she says. Fox picks up a stylus, sets a stack of flimsi to the side, and moves onto another piece of flimsiwork. ...Right. Okay. Time to entertain herself. She can do that.

Her eyes dart around the room. Military sparse, nothing unusual. The lights are only half on, upon closer inspection. There’s nothing particularly remarkable around.

Carefully, she nudges herself up onto her tiptoes, and glances over Fox’s head at the flimsiwork. It’s all just words and numbers, none that catch her attention, and she’s about to look away when Fox moves the next piece of flimsi over. This one is different in that it has a photo on it.

It’s a portrait shot of a man, like what one would find on an ID card. He looks older than her, but not by too much, and vaguely familiar in the way many beings look due to all the different planets she’s visited. There’s something about this one that she knows, though, and she focuses harder on that knowledge, wracks her memory trying to connect the navpoints. Young, clean-cut, memorable but still one in a crowd-- “Is that one of Senator Organa’s aides?”

Fox doesn’t jump at the interruption, or react to her prying, just gives her a cursory glance before turning back to the flimsi. “Yes, Christoforos Massimo, de domo Mac Ghabhann.” Fox replies, and his voice is clipped, but not to the point of being rude. “He was one of Senator Organa’s aides. He’s also the third senatorial aide to die of mycotoxin poisoning in the last year.”

Oh. She looks back at the photo, lets herself feel the dull throb of regret that follows. It’s not-- she didn’t know him, not well enough to know his name, but all life is important, and she did recognize him. That’s something. It’s always something.

Still, he’s with the Force now, so she lets herself feel, but then she makes herself let it go. He’s not gone, not truly. No one ever is.

Ahsoka eventually takes another sip of her caf, and runs Fox’s words through her brain again. Mycotoxin poisoning, mycotoxin poisoning, mycotoxin-- “Wait, isn’t that poison that has cerulean slime mold in it?”

Fox signs something, then nods. The signature is longer than she would’ve expected, but she’s unable to read it, as he swiftly places the flimsi at the bottom of the stack. “The mold’s name is technically kytrogorgia, but, yes.”

“That’s evidence of foul play, right?”

“Not definitively,” he says, and takes a sharp breath in, slowly lets it out. “There can be accidental deaths because of it, but it’s rare to find naturally occurring on Coruscant.”

“Huh.”

Ahsoka goes back to drinking her caf, keeping her face by the mug so the heat of it warms her face. Poisonings. Huh. It makes sense that the Guard would deal with that, she just… never thought of it.

The silence of the ship is… odd. Besides the distinctive hum of hyperspace, and the scratching of Fox’s stylus, it’s quiet, a quiet she hasn’t experienced much since leaving the creche. Fox evidently has no issue with it.

She shouldn't have an issue with it.

“Doesn’t that mold smell like overripe kakadu fruit?” She suddenly asks. “I think Obi-Wan mentioned something about it a few weeks ago.”

“It has a relatively distinctive bitter citrine smell, yes.” Fox stops writing, and turns to look at her. She takes a sip of caf. “...Is poison a regular topic of discussion for the Jedi?”

Ahsoka pauses, thinking about it. “Not really,” she says. “I mean, we have an elective class on it, but that’s about it. Obi-Wan just likes that kind of stuff, you know, molds and rare species of worms and the like. It drives Skyguy up the wall.”

Fox makes a noncommittal sound, turns back to the flimsi, and starts writing again. “Sounds like one of my brothers.”

Ahsoka snickers. Then, carefully, remembering Barriss’s last comm call, and the look on her face when she mentioned the flesh-eating moths the 41st ran into, she asks, “Is there any chance that brother is Commander Gree of the 41st Elite Corps?”

Fox doesn’t quite smile, but the corners of his lips definitely twitch. “No comment,” he says dryly, confirming her hunch.

“Do you think Massimo was murdered?” Ahsoka asks, and her voice is quieter than she means it to be. Fox frowns, but he doesn’t comment immediately, so she leans in over his shoulder to get a closer look at the report. “This could all just be a coincidence.”

“It could be,” Fox agrees. “But when the Senate’s involved, assuming something is a coincidence usually ends with someone like Aurra Sing showing up, as it’s actually part of some larger conspiracy.” He grimaces. “Still, I don’t like the look of this, so lets hope you’re right.”

It’s not an actual answer to her question, but she doesn’t press, just hums in acknowledgement, and steps away. She moves to the other side of the table, and sets her mug down on it, then walks over to the stacks of chairs against the far wall. It’s easy to pull one off the top, and carry it back to the table, let it thunk down on the durasteel floor. She’s mentally weighing the merits of sitting down against those of raiding the pantry for snacks when a flash of movement catches her eye.

“What was that?” She asks, and moves forward, eyes scanning the officer’s lounge, montrals straining to pick up any noise.

“Hm?”

There’s another burst of movement seconds later, a pitter-patter of paws accompanied by a blur of fur, ears, and a large fluffy tail that quickly disappears under the sofa. She must’ve disturbed it when she moved the chair.

“Is there any chance that there’s a loth cat on this ship?”

Abruptly, Fox’s stylus stops moving. “What?”

Ahsoka cranes her head to the side, trying to catch sight of the blur again. “I think I just saw a loth cat.”

Silence. Then-- “Is it grey?”

She opens her mouth to reply right as the blur comes speeding out from under the couch, and she barely twists out of the way in time as it launches itself at the table. It lands on the table with a thump, and turns to look at her for a second, accessing.

Then it moves over to the flimsiwork, and rubs its head against Fox’s hand and stylus, before flopping down on the flimsi, and starting to purr.

Ahsoka stares at it silently for a minute, then bursts out giggling. “Yeah, it looks to be a grey cat,” she somehow manages to say. “Why do you ask?”

Fox sighs. “Commander Thire apparently has less sense than I thought he did,” he says, and he’s staring at the grey loth cat as well, a look of resigned exasperation etching away at his bland facade of indifference. The cat rubs its head on Fox’s bucket.

Ahsoka snorts, then pauses, frowning. She leans in, and-- “Isn’t this Senator Chuchi’s cat?

She examines the cat further. It blinks it’s yellow eyes at her. “This is definitely Senator Chuchi’s cat.”

Fox sighs again. “Yes,” he replies, his voice long-suffering. “If I’m remembering correctly, her name is Mayday.”

“Mayday?” Ahsoka questions, wrinkling her nose. Weird. “Why would the Senator name her cat after a distress signal?”

“Why indeed,” Fox says, and he looks pained, but nothing in his Force presence backs that up. All she can sense around him is a feeling of vague indifference. It’s mildly disconcerting.

“Why is Senator Chuchi’s cat on one of the Guard’s ships?” She asks, turning her attention back to more important things. The cat- Mayday is now stretching on the table. Ahsoka is pretty sure loth cats aren’t usually supposed to be on tables, but Fox doesn’t seem to care, so, whatever.

“Why indeed,” Fox repeats, and reaches a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes closed. “Force. If I run into Thire anytime soon, it’s going to end in property damage.”

Right as he’s lowering his hand, the loth cat’s tail flicks up, and hits him straight in the face. Ahsoka clasps her hands over her mouth to muffle her laughter, but she’s not very successful in that endeavor. Fox’s eyes are still shut when he sighs, and it’s a sigh that reinforces the expression of long-suffering pain on his face. Then he reaches one hand up to scratch behind Mayday’s ears.

It takes away from the dramatics of the sigh, but Mayday seems to like it, so Ahsoka lets it slide. The cat’s tail flicks again, and this time it hits the underside of Fox’s neck, drawing her attention to the edge of a scar--

“Sithspit, what the kark happened to your throat?” She blurts out, her jaw dropping. There’s an ugly scar across it, deep and painful looking, like someone tried to literally slit his throat, and very nearly succeeded.

“Well, it’s a funny story,” Fox says, and his voice is as dry as the Geonosis desert. He looks up from Mayday to meet Ahsoka’s eyes. “Someone tried to slit my throat.”

Ahsoka stifles a snort. Oh man, the 501st better work a mission with the Guard soon. Anakin and Fox would get along like a spaceship on fire that ends up exploding. It would be friendship at first dramatic understatement.

Fox gives Mayday a few more pets, then steps backwards, away from the table, and gestures at Ahsoka. It takes her a few seconds to realize what he’s getting at, but when she does, she wastes no time taking the spot he abandoned.

She moves so that she’s a bit farther back than Fox had been-- he obviously had a history with Mayday that she lacked-- and crouches down so that she’s eye level with the cat. Once it meets her eyes, she forces herself to blink as slowly as possible, the closed eyes a silent gesture of trust and vulnerability.

Mayday blinks slowly back at her.

Kriff yes, kriff yes, kriff yes!

She holds out her hand, moving her head slightly to the side to make her gaze less intense, and it takes all her Jedi training not to cheer as Mayday comes to nuzzle her hand. Force, would the Resolute be a safe environment for a loth cat? Surely they could make it safe, right? A cat would undoubtedly help improve morale. Maybe she could convince Senator Chuchi to let her borrow Mayday when she pitches the idea to Skyguy and Rex, just to help sway their support to her cause.

“The nape of her neck,” Fox says, interrupting her planning. “Or the small dip behind her left ear. Stay away from her tail unless you’d like her to claw your face off, though.”

Nape of neck. She could do that. “Speaking from experience?”

Fox actually huffs a laugh at that. “Let’s just say that Vice Chair Amedda and the concept of respecting personal boundaries get along in the same way that Senator Amidala gets along with Viceroy Gunray.”

Ahsoka stops petting Mayday, and spins around to look him in the eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I have to give kudos to his medical team. Those scratches definitely should’ve scarred.”

“Force, seriously?” He nods, and Ahsoka grins, not even bothering to try and hide her teeth. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like that guy. That’s hilarious.”

“The Chancellor thought so as well,” Fox says offhandedly, and crosses his arms, leans back against the counter. “I mean, he muffled his laughter quickly, but…”

“Sith hells,” she breathes out. “I think I might want to be on Senate rotation more often, if that’s what goes down there.”

Fox winces, takes a sharp breath in, and shakes his head. “Unfortunately, that sort of incident rarely happens. Usually, it’s just a lot of yelling.” He pauses, looks over her shoulder, and, “I think Mayday may have taken our lack of attention personally.”

Ahsoka spins around, and sure enough, the grey cat is jumping off the table, and heading for the door. “Awwwwwwwwwww, no,” she says, disappointed.

They watch Mayday leave the room in silence. Once the door hisses shut behind her, Ahsoka goes back around the table, and slumps into her chair. Fox pulls out his comm with a sigh, and heads for the caf machine, picking up his mug on the way.

Whoever he calls picks up almost instantaneously.

“Senator Chuchi’s loth cat is on board. We need to keep it from the airlock and the hyperdrive. I’m putting you and Candor on cat-sitting duty.” He says, and starts to pour the caf into his cup. There’s a pause, where he doesn’t say anything, then, “Rocket, that’s an order, not a request. If you have an issue with this beyond the fact that you don’t want to, you can file a complaint, and Internal Affairs will look into it. But I warn you, if you interrupt Swan’s leave with a complaint about how this isn’t what you were made for, he won’t be merciful when he rips you a new one.”

The pause is longer this time. “Yes, well, Lieutenant Swan will learn the concept of mercy around the same time that Tatootine freezes over,” Fox says, and he sets the caf pot back down. “I trust you know where to find any supplies needed?”

This pause is only for a moment, presumably how long it takes the trooper on the other end to say yes, sir! Fox replies with a, “Fox out,” then hangs up the comm, sighs, and takes a long gulp of caf. Ahsoka pauses, briefly considers the possible consequences for her next words, and decides that it’ll be worth it.

“You’re actually a big softie, aren’t you?”

“What.” Unfortunately, he doesn’t spit out the caf, but he does do a double take. “Yeah, no, I’m sorry, what.”

She does her best to put on an innocent looking expression. “Oh man, you totally are.”

“...Commander Tano, as you chose your next words, I’d advise that you keep in mind the fact that I can put you on cleaning duty if I feel like it.”

“Ugh,” Ahsoka grumbles, dropping the charade. “Wait. No? We’re both Commanders. I could just put you on cleaning duty right back.”

Silence that follows that statement. Fox’s face is unreadable. “Have you read the regs?”

Uh-oh. “Why are you asking?

“Have you?”

Kriff kriff kriff kriff-- “How about… I’d like to invoke the fourth right of sentience?”

“Force, Commander,” Fox’s tone sounds similar to the one Kix uses when he’s exasperated. Ahsoka winces reflectively, because an exasperated Kix is not a fun Kix. “First of all, when you’re invoking a right, don’t make it sound like a question. You’re not asking to invoke your right, you’re not saying that you’d like to invoke it, you are invoking it.”

“Are you seriously--”

“And secondly, just say that you’re invoking your right to remain silent. I applaud you for remembering exactly what right it is, but it’s usually best to be as direct as possible in these matters. First and fourth sound alike enough in Basic that you could run into some real trouble if an officer “mishears” you, and the right to be free from slavery is not helpful when you’ve allegedly committed murder in the first.”

“You don’t need to tell me this, I’m not a youngling.”

“You sure about that?” Ahsoka glares at him, and opens her mouth to retort, but Fox cuts her off again. Kriffing chizk. “Thirdly, yes, I am the highest ranking officer here. Jedi Commanders have authority over everyone up to and including Clone Captains. They’re subordinate to Clone Commanders and Jedi Generals”

“...Right,” she says, “I… totally knew that.”

“Really.”

“Yes!”

There’s no verbal response, but Fox rests his elbow on his bucket, and blinks at her.

“I did!” She protests. The look on his face tells her that he doesn’t buy a second of it.

...Okay, time to move on. “Anyway, the fact that you’re my superior officer doesn’t mean that you aren’t also a big softie.”

His eye roll is unnecessary, and completely overdramatic. “There are a fair amount of people that would disagree with that assessment of Commander Fox’s character.”

Oh thank Force, he’s willing to go along with it.

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s a good thing Commander Tano isn’t asking those people then, huh?” Ahsoka sends back. Then she pauses to take a sip of her caf. “Now, is there a reason Commander Fox hasn’t actually answered Commander Tano’s original question yet?”

A beat of silence.

“Osik, you got me there,” Fox says, and Ahsoka lets out a whoop of celebration at the small victory. “Don’t go spreading it around, I have a reputation to uphold.”

She mimes locking her mouth, and throwing the key out the window. Fox doesn’t look particularly reassured by that, but he doesn’t comment on it either, so, victory.

Wow, if only she’d bothered to shut up earlier, her brain suddenly hisses at her, imagine how great that would’ve been.

Ahsoka takes a long, long drink of her caf, stopping only when she finishes the mup. She stares down at the mug mournfully, willing more caf to suddenly appear.

More caf does not suddenly appear.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s 2am, and that the distraction the caf provided is gone. Maybe it’s the guilt that’s still curling up her throat when she stops to think about it, the regret that’s coating every word she says. Maybe it’s the fact that the kitchen feels warm and comforting, the fact that it reminds her of the Temple and being safe, being able to make mistakes without having people die for them.

Whatever it is, it has her speaking again before she considers what she’s going to say, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she even processes them.

“Master Anakin is out of contact right now,” Ahsoka says quickly, and stares determinedly down at her mug. Oh kriff, kriff, kriff, did she really just-- oh, Force, kriff. Okay. Just… it’s a bacta patch, Ahsoka. It’s best to rip it off as quickly as possible. “He’s on Mygeeto. Since it’s Seppie space, it’s a risk to send any messages. He didn’t send me here. He doesn’t even know there’s a threat on Senator Amidala’s life.”

Silence. She doesn’t dare look up. She knows she’ll lose her nerve if she does.

“The Temple is really empty these days, and the 501st is with Anakin, so it’s really boring as well, cause literally all of my friends are on campaigns right now. And I overheard Master Windu mention something about the Chancellor, and security protocols, to Master Plo when they were in the refractory, and like, the Chancellor is Anakin’s friend, so I kinda just started... listening. I don’t know, I was curious. But they mentioned the threat on Senator Amidala, and Padme’s my friend, right? So I did some snooping, and I realized that there weren’t going to be any Jedi sent, and… it would kill Skyguy if anything happened to her, you know?”

Wow, that came out badly. Way to shift the blame again, Ahsoka. Great job, truly.

Commander Fox probably didn’t know about… them anyway. Kriff. Double kriff.

Excuses, you’re making, her mind whispers at her. Apologize, or don’t. Do, or do not. There is no try.

“It wasn’t Anakin that thought additional security might be needed,” She says, hurried, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “It was me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed that Jedi presence would be needed to keep Senator Amidala safe, and I definitely shouldn’t have just used that assumption to try and justify my actions.”

The next few seconds seem to stretch on forever. The dull void in the Force around Fox feels more oppressive than ever, the absence of anything leaving Ahsoka stranded in the middle of an ocean, with no life raft to cling to, and nothing that gives her even the littlest bit of direction. Commander Fox doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any sudden movements that her montrels detect, and she finally forces herself to peak up from her mug.

He looks floored. Half stupefied, half incredulous.”I- you- what?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but he raises his hand in the halt symbol, rubs at one of his temples with the other. “Sorry. I’m just- so, you got yourself put on this mission… because you were bored.” He says. She nods. He shakes his head. “Because you were bored, and thought you knew better than the Jedi Council and all of the Generals. Force. That’s… something.”

“Yeah, my justifications definitely made a lot more sense in my head,” Ahsoka admits weakly, forcing herself to loosen her grip on the mug. “I shouldn’t of--”

“It’s… fine, kid. Trust me,” he says, and there’s the edge of something twisting in the Force, some kind of internal conflict she’s catching flashes of. It’s the most activity she’s ever seen with his Force presence. “I hear worse on a daily basis. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Ahsoka frowns. “But that doesn’t make it okay.”

The look he gives her is undecipherable, but she can tell that it’s weighted. Weighted in a way she’ll probably never understand, in a way she doesn’t think she wants to understand.

“No,” Fox finally says. “It doesn’t make it okay.” The words come out hushed, as if it's a forbidden confession, some kind of radical heresy, blasphemous in it’s very nature.

Something loosens in his Force presence with that, an alteration so small that Ahsoka’s surprised that she even notices the change. It looks like a ray of light cutting through the lacuna that surrounds him. It sounds like a breath of fresh air, and it creates a sudden connection, a burst of clarity where there had been none before. It feels like leaving the core worlds, how it seems as if a switch is flipped when one gets far enough from Coruscant, and the Force suddenly becomes so much clearer.

Ahsoka looks down, looks away, pulls her attention away from the metaphysical world of the Force. This isn’t something she’s supposed to see, and given the fact that Fox isn’t Force-sensitive, it’s not like he’s going to raise his own shields and block her off. She busies herself with trying to get any remaining bits of caf out of her mug instead, anchors her mind firmly in the physical world.

Fox doesn’t say anything else for a few long minutes, just stands, staring off into space, that look still on his face. When he speaks again, his voice is back to normal.

“Thank you for your honesty, Commander Tano,” Fox says, ducks his head to stare down at his drink for a few seconds. Ahsoka places her mug back on the table while he ruminates. When he meets her eyes again, the undecipherable look is gone. “And thank you for your apology. It means more than you know.”

Ahsoka nods. She’s not sure if she should say something, or if this is one of the times silence is better. He seems more comfortable in the quiet than she ever will be, so she bites down on her tongue--

“Right,” he says, and abruptly stands up, jarring her from her thoughts. “I’m going to make some more caf. Do you want a refill?”

Kriff yes she wants a refill. “Yes, please.”

#commander fox #ahsoka tano #tcw #the clone wars #my writing #prompts

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thewildwaffle · 4 years ago

Text

Haunted Houses

“You know the translators don’t work for written word right?” Danro grunted, eyeing the small tablet screen his human companion held out to him. It was displaying several small human glyphs.

“It’s just a waiver saying you’re okay with coming in, and that if you have any bad effects from the flashing lights or spooky stuff they use, you can’t sue them because you chose to be here willingly, blah blah blah.” Human Addy again held up the tablet. “Basically it’s just the legal-ese version of everything we talked about earlier. I can read through it for you if you really want.”

Danro let out a growling hum. “Just look through it and make sure there’s nothing in there that wasn’t what you told me earlier.”

“No prob.” Addy pulled the waiver back and scanned over it quickly, mumbling to herself under her breath as she read. Danro looked at the human working behind the check-in counter who was doing their best to not be obvious that they were gawking at him. Not that that bothered him or anything. Standing head and shoulders above most other humans and covered in long light brown and white fur, he certainly stood out from the gathered crowd.

“We’re good to go, everything checks out!” Addy declared, handing the tablet and stylus to Danro. “You just need to write a signature at the bottom and we can go in.”

“But I don’t know how to write in your language,” Danro glanced dubiously at the screen.

“Just take it,” Addy pushed the stylus into his large hands, “You can write in your language, it doesn’t matter.”

Danro doubted that. He sighed. Humans and their contracts. They were obsessed with them, and honestly, the more he got to know of their race, the more he started to understand why. Humans, for all their ingenuity and seemingly lovable natures, could be quite underhanded. They could think their way around and through most obstacles, especially when those obstacles were well-established but loosely-defined rules and expectations. Many a treaty or trade agreement had been swung wildly in favor of the party consisting of or including humans. It was like they lived for loopholes and variable interpretations. Intersystem lawyers have been scrambling to learn from and replicate the style humans wrote contracts. After all, only a human contract could (at least somewhat) confidently bind a human.

He scribbled his name in his own familiar letters, figuring that would have to be good enough. He trusted Addy when she said it was just a liability waiver after all. She had already signed one herself. After handing the tablet and stylus back to the kid working the booth, they were off.

As they walked around the entrance gate, Danro’s mind immediately went into overdrive trying to take in and process the scenery. The surrounding buildings creating the quad the event was hosted in were lit up with orange, purple, and green lights. Queues of patrons stretched along the concrete sidewalks that ran between buildings. They were watching costumed dancers in the middle of the quad as they waited to enter the “haunted” buildings. What looked like old metal trash cans had fires lit inside them with small crowds of humans and the occasional alien figure huddled around them. There were smaller lines in front of a few trailers and booths that looked like they were selling very aromatic foods and drinks.

An approaching figure caught Danro’s eye. It was almost as tall as him, draped in a raggedy shawl, and had a grotesquely disfigured face with lacerations running from the top of its head and across one eye. Danro sniffed. He saw blood, but he didn’t smell it. This must be a human actor in a costume, something Addy had warned him of beforehand. They were likely wearing stilts as they were almost eye level to him.

“My my my, what have we here!” The actor’s voice was both screechy and gravely, a combination that made Danro’s fur prickle slightly. "I've seen many a ghost and ghoul in these mansions, but I've yet to encounter any of the likes of you two." They made an exaggerated show of looking between Danro and Addy, as if sizing them up. “What do I call you two apparitions?”

Addy gave a small chuckled and gestured to herself. “I’m Addy, I’m a human. And this is Danro, he’s a kexi biet.”

“Mortals?!” The mask wobbled a bit as the actor stepped back dramatically and then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “I’d keep that information to yourselves while you’re here. Who knows what lurking terror might overhear and decide to snack on your bones!”

Danro smiled indulgently at the costumed human. They were certainly well in character.

“We’ll be sure to not mention it again,” he nodded.

“Be sure that you don’t!” the mask rose up so that the fake, glossy eyes were almost level with his own. “You are a brave biet, Danro. Brave, or perhaps foolish. I do hope you and your small companion survive. Come.” They turned and led them towards the center of the quad. They paused and waited for them to catch up next to one of the trash can fires. “Have either of you been here before?”

Addy nodded, “Yeah but it’s been YEARS.” Danro shook his head.

“What a treat, then.” They pointed to one of the closer buildings with a purple light out front. Danro noticed that the actor’s costume was detailed down to the largely uneven stitches on their sleeves. It gave their arm an odd shape. Or at least, he hoped the odd shape of their arm was just part of the costume.

“Each of these buildings is haunted, some more than others. They are color-coded by the lights of how ‘dangerous’ they are.”

“So is that one the safest?” Addy dipped her head to the building being pointed to.

Their guide only laughed ominously. “Present your passes to the attendants by the door. No running, no pushing, no flashlights or video, no explicit language as it disturbs our… residents, and keep your hands to yourself if you’d like to keep your hands.”

And without another word, their guide ambled off. Addy shuffled a little closer to the fire and grinned at Danro.

“Alrighty then! Which one do you want to do first?”

Danro looked around at the quad. The dancers finished their song and were now walking and milling away to tents to warm up or rest, smallish humans were carefully nibbling on a pink puffy food on a stick that looked suspiciously like hair. The buildings themselves loomed around them, lit by their colored lights and the flickering fires around the quad. Their boarded up windows gave no indication of what was inside, although they couldn’t quite muffle the occasional scream from within.

“I’d prefer it if we could find the one that’s the mildest first,” Danro admitted. “Kind of ease myself into this, if you will.”

“No worries, bud.” Addy started towards the building with the green lights. “I think that would be this one. Green usually means easy, or mild, or good or whatever.”

That’s not what green was usually associated with on his planet, but hey, trying to scare yourself as a method of amusement and recreation wasn’t really a thing back home either. This was all very new to him.

The line in front of the green building moved pretty quickly. As they approached the front, Addy put a hand on his arm and looked up at him.

“Hey, thanks again for coming. These things aren’t nearly as much fun alone.”

Danro smiled. “Thank you for the invite.” Addy had invited a few more from their crew once she knew they’d be planetside on Earth just before what she claimed was one of her favorite holidays. He had been the only one to accept. A few others had gone to a “corn maze” with another human from the crew. Apparently, it wasn’t “haunted” and so appealed to more crewmates. Danro accepted the invitation because it saddened him to think of Addy going somewhere scary alone. That, and afterward it would be known across the ship of how much more brave he was than those who were too afraid to come.

The attendants at the door reminded them of the rules, marked their passes, and opened the doors for them.

Once inside, the doors shut noisily and Danro could feel the confidence he’d held on to outside drip away. His senses were being thrown off in here. The lights were dim, which isn’t too bad, he didn’t have great night vision, but it was alright. But there was something wrong here. He couldn’t tell why, but he could feel it. As Addy started down a narrow corridor covered with cobwebs, he took a deep breath and told himself it was just his nerves. Or maybe, he thought as they continued down the winding corridor, it was all this smoke stuff. It wasn’t real smoke, it smelled different, like minerals instead of burned materials. That was also throwing him off. The first time he saw an amputated human arm dangling out of a bag, he nearly freaked out. It was only when they passed right by it that he realized he didn’t actually smell any blood. He clutched Addy’s shoulder ahead of him as they walked by.

Danro muttered to himself. “It’s not a real arm. It’s not real. It’s not real.” He was really just saying it to himself, but from the way Addy looked back and up at him, he knew she must have heard him.

The next room was divided by a series of ripped and filthy “curtains.” As soon as they entered, Danro growled. The lights here were flashing strobe lights, making it difficult to see. There were human-sized figures standing in the room. As they passed by, he realized they weren’t human, but some sort of mannequins. Good, he sighed. Some of them looked grotesquely mangled and mortally wounded. He was glad they weren’t actual humans. As they were deep into the large room, his heart nearly stopped as he realized that some of them were moving. No, he thought, no, it had to just be a trick of the strobe lights.

Near the exit of the room, one definitely moved. The figure jumped out at them with a gravely yell. Addy screamed and jumped back. Danro froze momentarily and had to remind himself to not attack. They weren’t in danger. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t-

Addy scampered through the exit without him. Danro did his best to maneuver after her. The figure that had scared them stared at him with white eyes. That… that’s not normal. Humans have colorful and/or dark eyes. They smiled at him, baring their teeth. Even when normal humans smiled like that, Danro found it disconcerting, but this was on a whole different level. This felt genuinely dangerous.

Addy was waiting for him in the next room.

“Sorry,” she panted. “Didn’t mean to leave you behind back there.”

“Their eyes,” he whispered loudly to her, as if worried they’d overhear and come after them from their room.

“I didn’t even see their eyes. Were they creepy?”

Danro nodded.

Addy smiled, without baring her teeth, Danro noted appreciatively. “This place has really stepped up their game since the last time I was here.”

They continued through, warily watching out for hiding figures, walking through narrow maze-like halls, over uncomfortably soft and uneven ground, and through a tunnel where the walls looked like they were spinning around them. He nearly lost his balance off the walkway. He could have sworn the ground was moving. Even after they passed through that and went up a flight of stairs, he could still feel the dizzying effects. Coupled with his sense of sight and smell being confused around nearly every turn, he was starting to feel the tendrils of dread creeping into his mind. As they rounded a turn, he immediately noticed a dark figure moving in the corner. They looked like they were climbing the walls. After a few heartbeats of analyzing its movements, he realized it was mechanical. Good, it was just a prop then. As they walked through the room, bright lights strobed and the figure on the walls flew at them. Addy screamed again and ran to the door. Danro jumped up and fell back on the ground. The figure jerked to a stop in the air a pace or two away, and slowly retracted back to the wall. As Danro scrambled back up to his feet, he noticed the folding metal lattice mechanics that moved the dark creature. As terrified as he was, he had to admit that that was quite a creative scare.

There were several other rooms they walked through with no actors inside, just creepy dolls and mannequins or unsettling objects that made Danro’s fur prickle. There was a long hall with poor lighting and a very low ceiling that even Addy had to duck to get through.

“I hope nothing tries to scare us in here,” Danro muttered as he squeezed through the narrow passageway. “I don’t think I’d be able to get away very fast.” “I don’t think there’s anything in here. Or at least there wasn’t when I came through here when I was in high school. I think this part’s mostly “scary” because it’s supposed to make you feel claustrophobic.”

Danro scanned the bare cinder block and exposed dim light bulbs along the narrow passageway. Well, he thought, it was certainly claustrophobic in here. He could feel his heart rate increase the longer they walked through here and was incredibly relieved when they reached the end. Addy helped him watch his step as he climbed down from the small exit and into the dim cellar-like room.

"Are you okay?" She carefully brushed some fake cobwebs from the fur on his arms.

“I’m fine. There aren’t any more small tunnels like that though, are there?” Danro, much like many biets, did not enjoy tight spaces.

“I think there’s another one in one of the other buildings, but it’s nowhere near as constrictive as that, or as long.” She looked up at him with a concerned expression. “Is that alright? You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Danro smiled and nodded. “I’ll be fine. I got through this so far, I can handle it. Plus, it’s more fun to do these things together, right?”

Addy’s smile was worth any fright this place could throw at him anyway.

They pressed on and got a few more screams out of Addy and a few more alarmed jumps from Danro. As they rounded another corner and entered another dark room, Danro paused, senses alert to the scene before them. Something felt off, though he couldn’t place the reason why. His fur stood on end and he swore he could see his and Addy’s breath. He could see places where actors were likely hiding in wait to scare them, but that wasn’t where his attention was focused. There was something different about this room and it made his heart rate skyrocket.

He thought he saw movement in the corner of his vision, but when he turned his focus there, expecting to see an actor sneaking towards them, there was nothing. Addy slowly crept deeper into the dark room ahead of him. Not wanting to be separated in a place like this, he tried to stay close. Halfway through the room though, he froze. Did he really see… he swore mentally. Was that a chirnu? What was a thing like that doing in a human attraction? What was it doing here at all? It had no right, no right to exist outside biet folklore and nightmares. The living shadow, or the fang of the shadows, depending on who was telling the story. Danro closed his eyes instinctively. Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it and it might not look at you.

“Danro,” Addy whispered, realizing she no longer felt his hairy bulk behind her.

He said nothing but willed her to remain quiet. The chirnu might hear her if it hadn’t already.

“Danro, we’re almost at the end, just a little further.” She reached back to put a hand on his arm.

A loud shriek and rush of movement made them both jump. Danro swept Addy into his arms and ran. To gadring with the rules! He ran! He could hear laughter behind him and taunting voices that may or may not have been human, at this point he didn’t know nor care. He could smell fresh air ahead and it seemed to be like a beacon of hope to him.

“Danro!” Addy cried out but was cut off by a loud growl to their left. A figure jumped out from the shadows, donned in a ripped cloak, and holding a weapon that Danro later realized was a human tool used for cutting lumber.

How the heck had this maniac gotten in here with that?! Danro dodged to the right. Addy screamed and held on so tightly to Danro’s fur that she might have pulled a few tufts loose. The maniac with the saw laughed and gave chase.

This was a mistake! This was a mistake! This was a mistake!

Maybe if he could just make it outside where the crowds were, they could lose their pursuer. Surely he wouldn’t give chase into public?

Danro barreled through the final door and out into the chilly air outside. Relief! The roar of the saw was still right behind, and so he kept up with his pace. Thankfully, their pursuer didn’t seem to be able to keep up and eventually stopped a ways outside the door to laugh and Danro and Addy ran around the corner of the building and back to the crowded quad area.

Once he was absolutely sure they were no longer being followed, he stopped only long enough to set Addy back on the ground before he started again for the main entrance.

“Hey! Wait, where are you going?” Addy bounded after him.

“We need to let someone know. They need to be warned before someone gets killed!”

“What? Wait, do you- do you mean the chainsaw guy?” Addy was now at his side, but struggling to keep up. “That’s just part of the whole thing, it’s a classic end to a haunted house. There’s no actual chain or blade or whatever, it’s safe.”

Danro slowed and turned to face Addy. He studied her face. She was smiling and didn’t seem at all worried that they had almost been killed by a psycho with a “chain saw.” He took a few deep breaths to slow his heart down. “It’s not real? We’re fine?” He finally managed to ask.

Addy smiled and nodded. “We’re fine. So, first time through a haunted house, what did you think?” Danro looked back to the building they had just run out of. He stared hard at it, trying to make sense of the whole experience. Or mostly, trying to make sense of what he had seen in that last room. Had he really seen what he thought he saw?

“Danro? Are you okay?” Addy’s worried tone snapped him back.

“I thought…” he was almost embarrassed to ask now. Admitting that he had seen what would be to her an alien monster, a mythical alien monster at that, seemed to be a bit laughable now that they were back in the safety of the quad. Addy continued to look at him though, expecting him to finish his thought.

“I thought I saw… a chirnu in there in that last room,” he admitted quietly.

Addy blinked. “Chirnu? What’s that?”

He grimaced. It was said that talking about them could help them hunt you down later. As briefly as he could, he described the monster that terrorized biet folklore.

Addy listened intently and nodded. When he was done, she hummed. “That does sound pretty bad. But I’m pretty sure we’re okay. I don’t think what you saw in there was a chirnu.”

Relief flooded Danro’s system. He felt silly even entertaining the idea that chirinu were for one thing, real, and another thing, here on Earth. Although, that did leave one question.

“Then what did I see?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure. That last room was definitely creepier than the others. I think it’s genuinely haunted.” Danro tilted his head and Addy laughed. “Although if I had to venture a guess, from your description I’d say it was probably a giant rubber spider. That room did kind of have a spider theme if you didn’t notice.” “Spider theme?”

“Yeah, I think the whole building kind of had a “phobia” theme to it. Arachnophobia is the fear of spiders. Lots of people have it. I just didn’t know biets had it too.”

Danro straightened his back in mock indignation. “I’m not afraid of spiders.”

Addy laughed. “Okay, then you were just pretending back there?”

Danro frowned, but the human’s happy energy was too much and he eventually cracked and smiled back. He looked around at the other patrons, mostly humans, who were waiting anxiously in line. They came to be scared. They wanted to be scared. How odd. And yet, Danro could feel himself still riding the high of his fight or flight senses. From what he understood, humans experienced a similar feeling, heightened by the production of a hormone called adrenaline. He could see how places like this might seem attractive to those seeking that rush.

“Well,” he responded airily, “I thought the whole point was to pretend to be scared.”

Addy laughed and teased. He teased back, recalling and imitating her many screams. They continued doing so while they waited in line to buy a bag of what Addy called “popcorn” and two caramel covered apples. Addy said they were some of her favorites, and caramel apples were a fall tradition. Danro enjoyed both. He smiled as he listened to Addy continue on about things she loved about the season and upcoming holiday before they went to wait in line for the building with the orange light.

That night became, quite possibly, one of his fondest memories. Humans are weird. They think getting scared on purpose is fun. Maybe Danro was a bit weird too because he whole-heartedly agreed.

#stay spooky #halloween #humans are weird #aliens #humans are space orcs #haunted #writeblr

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ladyrynofsunnydale · 4 years ago

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Bo Katan Week Day 5/ Satine Lives AU

Title: How Do You Pick Up the Threads of an Old Life?

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Bo-Katan Kryze & Satine Kryze Summary: Post-Lawless, but Satine lives. Bo-Katan and Obi-Wan were able to save Satine, and with the Republic’s help Satine was once again ruler of Mandalore. Everything should be happy and back to normal, right? After being apart for almost twenty years, two sisters, once on opposite sides of the same conflict, have to learn how to work together again.

Author’s Note: Day 5 of Bo-Katan Week! I am having so much fun this week and am so enjoying writing, editing, and also reading and seeing other’s work! So this is part of a novel length AU fic I’m working on, so I took a snapshot to post for this week. I would recommend reading ‘End of One Era, Beginning of Another’ first as there are some references, but it’s not necessarily mandatory. Credit for the chapter title to Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.

Tagging: @bokatanweek

Click on the link up top to read or continue reading below

Satine sat in her sitting room, her head in her hands. After helping retake Mandalore from Maul’s Death Watch, Obi-Wan and the rest of the Republic troops had left that afternoon. She had just barely kept herself from asking him to stay, instead just hugging him then letting him walk out of her life once again. She’d just have to worry about him being a General in the Grand Army of the Republic alone.

Her door whooshed open and armored boots came into view.

“Orange tea still your favorite?” Bo-Katan’s voice asked, reaching out a steaming cup. Satine stared at it for a moment before sitting up and reaching for it.

“Most days,” she responded, taking a sip before looking back up at Bo. She sighed resignedly. “Bo we’re going to need to have a talk.” Bo sank into the chair next to her.

“I figured.”

Satine watched her as she stared into the fireplace. Suddenly, looking at her there, she looked so young. The big sister in her wanted to reach out and shield her, tell her everything was going to be ok. But in reality, she didn’t know if that was true. Mandalore, Satine, Bo-Katan, her commandos, they had a long road ahead of them. Yes Bo-Katan and her fighters had come in at a clutch moment, rescuing both Satine and Obi-Wan before Maul could get them in his grasp, but that didn’t negate all the rest they had done prior to Maul’s takeover.

“Tomorrow?” Satine asked. Bo looked over at her, then back to the fire, nodding.

“Tomorrow.”

Satine finished her tea and they sat in silence, the only sound the popping of the fire.

“I have something for you,” Satine said and got up to move to her desk. Bo followed her with her eyes while she opened up one of the locked drawers and removed a small wooden box. Returning, she handed it to Bo. Bo gingerly accepted it, her eyes wary, and opened the lid to look inside. The wary look quickly changed to surprise as she lifted the beskar leaf brooch out.

“How?” she asked, turning the leaf over and running her finger along the edge.

“Fenn Rau. After...he thought I’d want it. To have something of yours.”

“You kept it? All these years? Even after…?” she trailed off.

“You were, are, my sister Bo. I love you, and I wanted to be able to remember our good days.”

Bo stared at the box, then handed it back to Satine.

“Keep it. As a promise from me. That that Bo-Katan is not dead.”

Satine took the box back and the two of them just stared at each other until there was a knock on the door and it slid open. One of her aides walked in with a tray of food.

“I knew you hadn’t eaten so…” she paused, glimpsing Bo-Katan.

“Thank you, Leanna,” Satine said, standing to accept the food. Leanna looked from her to Bo.

“I can…”

“It’s fine, I was leaving anyways,” Bo said, standing, but Satine reached forward and grasped her arm, releasing her when she flinched.

“Please stay. Leanna if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not,” she said and bustled out of the room. She returned a few minutes later with another tray and Bo sighed as she took it and sat beside Satine. They ate in silence until Satine stifled a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Bo asked, looking up from her tray.

“You still eat like an anooba,” she answered, smiling behind her hand. Bo’s eyebrows pinched together, wrinkling her brow.

“Yeah, well, no real eating etiquette in Death Watch.”

“I would say no fashion sense either, but your hair is quite fashionable.”

“It’s utilitarian. Keeps it out of my face.”

“Hmmm,” Satine hummed, amusement filling her voice. “Keep telling yourself that ner vod.”

“Your hairpieces are the worst.”

Satine made a face.

“I must agree.”

“Then why do you wear them?!”

“Because it’s expected.”

Bo shook her head, shoveling more food into her mouth.

“Yeah, you can keep that whole Duchess title thing,” she said after she swallowed. “I’m good.”

Bo walked into Satine’s office the next day. Despite the sense of normalcy they’d had the night before, tension was in the air once again.

“Please, sit,” Satine said, gesturing to the chair across her desk. Bo took a seat but perched on the edge, staring at her sister. “I meant what I said when I told the populace we’d be reevaluating the protection of Mandalore. But Bo-Katan, I can’t just forget everything that happened.”

“I don’t need you to tell me I’ve made mistakes. I’m quite aware of them. But the people are right. Mandalore needs to be able to protect itself. Me. My people. We’re loyal to Mandalore.”

“But are you loyal to me? I don’t want to have to worry about an insurrection every few months.”

“Satine, I meant what I said last night. The Bo-Katan you grew up with, she’s not wholly dead. But our people are warriors. It’s in our blood. Mine and even yours. It’s been a while, but I know you have some fire too.”

“But I won’t let it…”

“Destroy Mandalore, I know.” She looked down at her hands. “I, and most of those who follow me, want to see Mandalore prosper. Thrive. If you do right by our people, we will stand by you.”

“I need to know if I can trust you.”

Bo felt a stab of hurt, but also shame, in her gut.

“I will stand by you, ner vod. I still do not quite understand you, but I do understand that you are trying to do right by our people. And I meant what I said to that Chancellor. I have no interest in ruling.”

“And your people? Do you trust them?”

Bo thought of her commandos. Those who’d followed her. She’d lost a fair amount of her Nite Owls to Maul’s allegiance, but many still remained. And a good many ex-Death Watch remained with her as well. She knew a passable amount of them personally and many more through their superiors.

“Ursa, who was my second in command of the Nite Owls, I trust unconditionally,” Bo responded. “A few others I trust as well. We are going to need to go through the remaining and confirm their loyalty. It will take some time.”

Satine nodded her head.

“Take all the time you need. And a new name. You’ll need a new name.”

A few days passed and Bo was sitting in her office using a stylus to write up reports on one of her datapads. There had been an incident already between a few of her commandos when Bo had declared that they were going to continue to stay under Satine’s rule and were not going to overthrow her government. Luckily no one was seriously hurt, but she did have a few commandos in the medcenter and also a few now in the brig. She knew this was just the tip of the iceberg and it was going to be a long process of weeding through her commandos.

She felt a stab of guilt at the thought and paused in writing the commandos names she had locked up. She would have to do something about those who refused to bow to Satine’s rule, even though they had been loyal to Bo. Loyal to Death Watch and Mandalore. They had stayed with her and hadn’t hesitated to fight bravely against Maul and their brothers and sisters who’d thrown their lot in with him. And now she was asking them to throw their lot in with a government Death Watch had sworn to overthrow from Day 1? She was sure there had been grumblings when she’d made the decision to break Satine out of prison and to use her to get Mandalore back. And her commandos had trusted her then. Trusted that she knew what she was doing. But using Satine to take back their planet from a Sith and permanently allying themselves to her were two different things. Granted yes, it was the right thing to do; she’d rationalized that and understood that. Mandalore couldn’t keep on the trajectory that Death Watch had stood for. It would only lead to ruin and destruction, and her people deserved more. She hoped to be able to convey this and help her commandos understand. Her people respected her, she knew that. They wouldn’t have followed her if they hadn’t. But she had never quite made herself approachable. She’d have to do that over the next few weeks to hopefully allow those who had reservations to approach her and talk about it instead of dealing with it with blasters. How much the ex-Death Watch members would actually be willing to talk instead of fighting is another question, but she wanted to give her people as much of a shot as possible.

She continued on writing up her report when there was a knock on her door. She startled and dropped the stylus to reach for her blaster, but calmed herself. From what she knew and remembered of the palace, this was a small office. But to Bo, it felt lavish and gaudy. Sure Vizsla had been governor of Concordia and she had become familiar with his large office, but she herself had never had an office, despite being Lieutenant and leader of the Night Owls. This probably had a lot to do with Death Watch being offplanet and in one system or another for most of the time she had been Lieutenant. When they had still been on Concordia she’d used Vizsla's office in the mines when she’d needed it. But that office was spartan. A table with a few chairs. This office was bringing back memories of her childhood and was more richly decorated than even the Concordian governor’s office. The chairs were thickly padded with some type of leather and the desk was large and metallic with multiple holoscreens she could pull up and all the drawers she would ever need. If she closed her eyes, she could hear the flowing water in the gardens outside and could smell the leather, and in a way she could pretend she was nine years old and watching her Buir work, her small legs swinging while Satine, with her long blonde hair done up in a braid, sat beside her, discussing one thing or another about Sundari and governance.

The knock on her door sounded again and she released her blaster to reach for her stylus again and continued writing.

“Come in,” she called, and the door hissed open. She looked up and quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “Sati... your grace. This is a surprise.” Satine waved a hand at her and walked forward to grasp the back of one of the chairs.

“Please, Bo-Katan, you are still my sister. You’re allowed to call me Satine.” Bo closely watched her sister, and she noticed she seemed nervous. Some tells remained, despite how many years had passed. She glanced down at Bo’s hands and the stylus she was still holding. “You write your notes out with a stylus?” she asked, curiosity filling her voice. Bo glanced down at her own hands and with Satine standing in front of her she couldn’t help the memories that flooded her. Of all those nights those first few months with Death Watch. The flimsies and charcoal she’d stolen and all the letters she’d written to Satine. Of how she’d planned to find a way to send them to her sister. And how her big sister would swoop in and save her from these people. Those days were long gone, but even after, she’d preferred writing over typing or dictating. It gave her a sense of calm.

Gods she needed to stop this sentimental crap.

“Old habit I suppose.”

Satine nodded, her hands gripping the chair tightly.

“I’ve come to see if you would like to take dinner with me tonight.” Bo shifted uncomfortably and Satine quickly spoke again. “It would just be me, I promise. No advisors, no dignitaries.”

Bo twiddled with the stylus in her hand, flitting it between each of her fingers, and stared at the woman in front of her. She was dressed formally, her hair done up with lilies woven in it. She paused, looking at the lilies. She’d forgotten how much Satine had loved lilies. She almost always had a bowl in her room, until they’d had to flee to Concordia. The compound had always felt very sterile. Dinner, did she want to do dinner? Sure, she’d spent some time alone with her sister the past few days, but those times were few and far between. And looking at her now she felt like she was agreeing to have dinner with the Duchess, not her sister. The face looking at her was the face she’d learned to hate for so long.

But she needed to try. She’d loved her sister once. And if she was really honest with herself she’d missed her. She could try.

“Yes, I could do that,” she responded, clearing her throat, and she watched Satine relax. “What time?”

“In two hours if that works for you?”

Bo glanced at the chronometer on her desk.

“Yes, that should work. In your private rooms?” Satine nodded, a smile slipping over her face.

“Yes. Thank you, Bo. I’ll see you then.”

Bo gave up doing any work after thirty minutes of staring at her datapads and trying to write. She was able to finish up her report and then returned to her rooms, deciding to take a quick shower and wash her hair. Her rooms were close to the Protector barracks and though close to the royal wing, were not in it. There had been some discussion, very brief, about whether she should move into the royal wing, but objections both from Bo and the Protectors had silenced that debate quite quickly. The bedroom and sitting room were average sized and sparse, but they fit Bo fine.

After drying her hair, Bo stared at her wardrobe, or rather lack of it. She had been able to snag an extra flightsuit, and had a loose tunic and pants that she slept in. Flightsuit and armor would have to do.

Walking to Satine’s rooms, many of the people in the hallway gave her a wide berth, dropping their eyes and hurrying past, but Bo kept her head up and paid them no mind. The Protectors stationed in the royal wing and outside Satine’s doors glared at her but let her pass, and faster than Bo would have liked she was knocking on the door to the royal private dining room and was being told to enter.

Satine, to her surprise, was dressed casually in a simple dress and her hair was loose around her shoulders. The table was set simply, two place settings at the end of the table across from each other. Perfect distance for casual conversation without them being right on top of each other. Satine already had a glass of wine in her hand and she gestured for Bo to take the place setting across from her where there were two empty wine glasses.

“White or red?” she asked, placing her wine glass down.

“Um, red,” Bo answered, feeling out of her depth as she took a seat and Satine poured some of the red wine into her red wine glass. Bo ran her fingers through her hair and stared at the place setting. Of course there was a white and a red wine glass, and why were there so many forks?

“I tried to get them to allow me to set the table myself,” Satine said, and Bo looked up and met her eyes, “but you know how protocol is. You can use whatever fork you like.” Bo felt a small smile slip over her face. “I remember how much you disliked etiquette lessons.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it. I think our Governess would have strangled me if she could have.”

“Her screeching does still ring in my ears.”

Bo felt herself relax a little and reached for her wine and downed a little more than was proper. She’d had dinner with Satine before, just the other night in Satine’s office, so she didn't know why she was so nervous. She stared down at her place setting again.

“Which fork do I use first again? The outside and work my way in?”

Satine actually chuckled.

“See, you learned some things.”

“Do you remember that one time I showed up for my lessons covered in mud?” Satine smirked, setting her glass down.

“I don’t think her face could have gotten any redder. I had never seen her so angry. You know, I never asked. Where did you get so covered in mud?”

“Mom’s rose garden.” Satine actually laughed at that and Bo cracked a smile. “J’onn said that trickster nymphs grew at their roots, and that is why they had thorns but also had such beautiful flowers. I told him he was a liar, and uprooted one of mom’s bushes to prove it. They’d just been watered, so uprooting and then replanting it left me less than clean.” At that point Satine was laughing so hard she was crying and Bo was chuckling.

“I can see why you never offered up that information before,” Satine said, wiping some tears from her eyes and getting herself under control. Their mom loved her roses and protected them quite fiercely. “You were quite the wild child Bo.”

“Someone had to keep Mom and Buir on their toes. They’d become quite complacent with you.”

Bo felt herself relaxing even more as one of the chefs placed a salad on the plate in front of her. This felt...normal. Familiar. Before their parents had died, Bo had never failed to get Satine to crack a smile. That look that Satine had given her when she’d seen her that day in the marketplace ten years after she’d disappeared, when Bo’d just about said she hated her, had haunted her for years, despite lying to herself that it hadn’t. She knew Death Watch, Vizsla, would have hailed her a hero if she’d been able to kill Satine then. But she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t pull the trigger. The lies Death Watch and she herself told herself each day had kept her from breaking down at seeing her sister again, but she couldn’t kill her. And now here she was, making her laugh again. Eating dinner with her again like nothing had happened.

The silence was comfortable as they ate, and when their main meal finally came they moved on to discussing plans at the docks and how they were dealing with food shipments in from the Republic. Once their mostly empty plates were taken away, Bo leaned up against her chair back, her wine glass in hand as she swirled the red liquid around. The alcohol had loosened some of her inhibitions and she actually relaxed her spine to slouch, though she did have to shift so that her armor didn’t dig into her hips.

Satine was the one to finally break the silence.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but I have to know. What happened, at the compound all those years ago and…after.”

Bo stared at the swirling liquid in her glass before she set it back down on the table and pushed it away.

“You don’t want to know Satine.”

“I do. Please. I need to know.”

She felt Satine’s eyes on her and stood up and began pacing the room and running her hands through her hair. She finally came to a stop, her hands on the back of her chair.

“Carlson and I were about halfway to the hangar when I remembered Buir’s beskar’gam. He wouldn’t let me go, so I kicked him and ran. I couldn’t leave it for them to take. It was ours. Our family’s.” She paused. “Did...did Carlson make it?” she asked, and Satine shook her head sadly. Bo dropped her eyes and went on. “By the time I’d made it back to the right side of the compound, there were attackers between me and the hangar. So I headed for the garden. After the compound exploded, Vizsla found me. He said you’d left me, and he took me back to his camp. I was so angry. They kept me under guard at all times, forced me to eat, drink. I was constantly plotting on how to escape, get revenge. But then I started meeting other foundlings they’d taken in. All of us had been left behind or had our families killed. And then they brought me to the range and tested my shooting skills. The praise I got, it,” she paused, a nostalgic though melancholic smile on her face, “I finally felt nu'amyc. They taught me how to fight, how to defend myself, and eventually I stopped fighting back. Death Watch gave me a sense of belonging. There was finally this stability in the world of chaos we’d been living in for so long. They became my family. A very violent and often angry family, but a family nonetheless. And you remember me back then, I was relentless when I put my mind to something, and I was determined now that I was given the chance to be the best warrior I could be. I quickly moved up the ranks and they used my knowledge of the inner government workings on Sundari to help recruit people.”

“That’s what you were doing, that day at the Marketplace, weren’t you?” Satine interjected softly and Bo nodded, seeing the look that Satine had given her that day again in her mind’s eye.

“I was recruiting Senator Merrik.”

Bo didn’t miss the grief in Satine’s eyes so she dropped her head again. “I eventually started my own unit, the Nite Owls. We were so efficient that I eventually made my way to Lieutenant. I didn’t realize until it was too late, but my safety and security and my quick rise to the top came with a cost. I sacrificed a lot of myself to become the person I was.”

“No one could blame you for assimilating,” Satine said, but Bo shook her head.

“Mom and Buir raised us better than that. I just wanted to belong.”

She felt Satine’s eyes on her and glanced at her to see her looking intensely at her armor.

“So your beskar, that’s...?”

“Buir’s. They reforged it for me.”

“At least it’s still in the family,” Satine said sadly, but Bo didn’t respond.

Mando’a Translations Anooba – carnivorous desert animals native to Tatooine Ner vod- my sister Nu'amyc - normal

#bo katan week #bo katan kryze #satine kryze #satine lives #fanfiction #star wars au

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dragonairice · 4 years ago

Photo

There’s a long story behind this picture. But for those who aren’t bothered to read it: This is my first proper piece on my Huion Kamvas 12!

I got into digital art through an app called DrawShow. I’d seen so many cool artworks on there, and I found out that most of them had been done with a stylus and I wanted one. I was convinced the only good art done digitally had to have been done with a stylus. But I was stuck drawing with my finger for about a year.

At some point my older brother gave me an old stylus of his to try drawing with. I was in the middle of something and my younger brother asked if he could use it to play DS games on his tab, I agreed. Bad choice. I never got to use that stylus and we had to throw it away :(

The first time I really got to use a stylus was the February of 2019. I had just been let out of the ICU after recovering from dengue and my older brother gave me another old stylus. It didn’t work very well but I’d already planned out exactly what to do when I got one and I drew this:

I know, old art. Unfortunately, the universe decided I wasn’t supposed to have a stylus just then because it fell off the bed while I was resting. It’s unusable now, but I’m pretty sure it’s in my drawer somewhere still.

I still wanted a stylus, but somewhere along the way I discovered drawing tablets and then had a new fixation 😅. I didn’t do anything about it until... I think it was around May (?) 2020, I asked my parents if we could order a Kamvas 13. They agreed. I planned to draw this to celebrate once I got it:

The Kamvas 12 was having free shipping though, so we got that instead. It took a week or two to get here, but I wasn’t even allowed to see the box before it was taken away. My mom told me I’d get it back after I finished my exams. Only, with the pandemic and everything exams went on for a lot longer than they should have.

After exams, still no Kamvas 12. I’d practically given up on getting it. Then on my birthday I was given a suspiciously large box that everyone was weirdly excited for me to open. I actually said: “ This better not be my Kamvas 12. That’d be a sh*tty gift since I technically already own it”.

Yeah I’m pretty sure you know what was in that box.

#Long post #My Post #Huion #Kamvas 12 #It's been a crazy ride but we got there #Frost Draws #Expect more art now that I've got a drawing tab and holidays!

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castielpit · 4 years ago

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The Nightmares Don’t Stop- 9

Warnings: mild language, post-panic attack, mentions of panic attack, mentions of violence, mentions of PTSD, mentions of missing time/blacking out, mentions of firearms, unintentional self-harm, blood, bruises

Chapter List

You must’ve passed out at some point because you were no longer in the arms of Captain America- holy shit that actually happened didn’t it- and were now lying down on a cot in a sterile-smelling white room. You crane your neck to the side, surprised it didn’t feel too stiff. You must not have been knocked out for that long. You sit up on the cot, swinging your legs over the side. At least you were still in your clothes- as hideous as they are. The metal door to the room swings open. That mirror on the wall is probably double-sided glass- they were observing you.

“Hello there,” says the one and only Dr. Bruce Banner. Honestly, what else should you have expected? Nothing can surprise you at this point. “How are you feeling?” he asks, handing you a cup of water with a lid and straw. You accept it and gulp it down greedily, not caring how ravenous you looked while doing it.

“Thanks,” you mumble to Dr. Banner, giving him a small smile, which he returns. “So Dr. Banner, I’m assuming you have some questions for me after I almost choked one of your Avengers?” you ask, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Please, call me Bruce,” Dr. Bann- Bruce replies offhandedly. “And you never answered my original question, how am I supposed to ask any other questions before I get that answer?”

You blank for a moment before remembering his original question.

“Oh, yeah I’m feeling fine. I was just a bit dehydrated but..” you trail off, holding up your now empty cup as an explanation.

“Right. May I?” he asks, gesturing to said cup. You hand it to him and he throws it in the trash bin near the door. “Well I am certainly glad you’re feeling fine, Ms. L/n…”

“Please, call me F/n,” you mimic his earlier words with a tiny smile. To your surprise, he gives a little chuckle.

“Right, well F/n you were correct in assuming there are some questions we would like answered, but you don’t have to answer anything you’re uncomfortable with,” he states, looking you directly in the eyes to make sure you understand he is serious. You nod in understanding, prompting him to continue. “You seem quite calm for someone who passed out almost immediately after trying to choke Clint, so-”

“Is Clint alright? Oh god, is Mr. Stark angry with me?” you cut Bruce off, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you.

“Yes! Yes, he is fine besides some light bruising around his neck,” Bruce assures you, but your guilt even worsens. It must have been apparent on your face because Bruce continues quietly, leaning toward you slightly. “Don’t worry, we’ve all wanted to do that at one point. The only reason Tony would be angry is because he’s jealous you got to Clint before he could,” Bruce winks at you. A genuine giggle makes its way up your throat. A fucking giggle. Since when do you giggle?!

“Anyways,” he leans away, glancing at what you assumed is the two-way mirror. “With how calm you have been since the incident, I can only assume this wasn’t your first…” he pauses in thought for a moment. “Episode?” You feel your shoulders tense up, sitting up a bit straighter. If Bruce notices, he doesn’t mention it, which you’re very grateful for.

“No,” you say barely audibly. You clear your throat and try again. “No,” that’s better, “This isn’t my first panic attack.”

“I see. Is it your first time having a violent reaction within the panic attack?” Bruce asks, writing some things down on a tablet as he speaks. You sigh, memories of therapists doing the same thing flooding your mind. He glances up at you.

“I don’t do well with human contact, especially when it’s unexpected. I have been able to avoid it and distance myself from people well enough until now, so this is my first physical reaction to it, yes,” you explain, being careful with your words. Bruce and the people behind the glass don’t need to know everything there is about you and your past. He continues writing on his tablet with the stylus, his face not giving away any emotion. No emotion was better than disgust, at least.

“Is the issue with human contact something that is a result of PTSD possibly?” Bruce questions gently in a quieter voice, setting aside the tablet and stylus to look at you. You nod affirmatively, an action which he mimics. “Is there anything else you feel might be important for me to know to ensure the safety of others in Tony’s program?” Your eyes widen.

“Mr. Stark isn’t kicking me out?” you ask, the shock evident in your voice. Bruce smirks, his eyebrows furrowing in amusement.

“If Tony refused to work with anyone that has made mistakes such as yours, the Avengers wouldn’t exist. Hell, Tony wouldn’t be able to work with himself even.” Bruce glances toward the mirror again, allowing his eyes to linger for a few seconds before returning his gaze to yours.

“Oh, wow! I guess that makes sense. I still almost can't believe it!” you exclaim, not bothering to hide the excitement in your voice. “And to answer your question from before...in the moments immediately following the contact Clint made with me, I sort of blacked out.” Bruce raises his eyebrows slightly.

“You don’t remember what happened?” Bruce prodded.

“I remember shooting one of the rifles, Clint placing his hand on my wrist…” you pause, recalling the memory that had played in your head during that time. You stare Bruce in the eyes. Could you trust him? He seemed so genuine. “And then I was reliving a memory. Once the memory played out, I realized I had Mr. Barton pinned beneath me, with my hands…” your voice chokes off a bit from the memory of your past and from what happened with Clint. The door suddenly bursts open. Your eyes shoot up to see your savior himself, Steve Rogers, barreling towards you. He reaches forward and grabs your hands gently. You flinch slightly and look down at your hands, covered in blood, along with your thighs now tracked with fingernail scratches.

“I- I didn’t realize…” your eyes widen, not even remembering when you started to scratch yourself. You look up into blue eyes filled with concern. Behind the wall of muscle that is Steve Rogers, you see Bruce running his hands through his hair nervously and Tony Stark standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. Behind Tony you make out two shadows.

“After Bruce asked you if you remembered what happened, you started scratching your legs and wouldn’t stop. You kept speaking even though Bruce was shouting your name for you to stop,” says Steve softly. He looked down at your hands, dropping them gently when he realized he was still holding them.

“I- I’m so sorry,” you say looking over to Bruce, then to Tony, and finally your gaze landing back on Steve, who was now sitting next to you on the cot. “I don’t know what happened.” The room is silent for a few moments, nobody daring to move.

“Jesus Christ guys,” comes a voice from behind Tony. Tony, who is now stumbling as someone rushes past him over to some shelves near the side of the bed. Someone reaches out to steady Tony. You see a flash of red hair and look away, knowing it was the woman whose best friend you had left bruises on. You decide to look over at the now grumbling man who was shuffling through the drawers, pulling out bandages and rubbing alcohol wipes.

“With the amount of PhDs in this room you would think one of you guys would know what to do with an injured person. I swear sometimes this team makes me wonder…” The man turns around and his grumbling fades from your hearing as you look at his bruised neck. Bruises the same size and shape as your hands. He reaches towards you with something in his hand. Immediately, you kick the object out of his hand and back yourself into the wall, trying to get away. Two strong hands grab your shoulders and you whip your head around. Blue eyes. Steve.

#bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel fic #marvel #avengers #self-insert

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libermachinae · 4 years ago

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“Brainstorm, have you used the clamps recently?”

“No.”

“The clamps from the drawer. Did you use them?”

“I’ve been working on schematics for the last orn, Perceptor. Except for the side project Nautica asked me for, I guess.”

“I couldn’t find them when I was working with the unknowium, which was fine, but now I’m examining the latest enigmite sample, which is a much more reactive material.”

“That was purely organic handling, though, no materials necessary. Except for the plasma leash I whipped up.”

“Did you at any point use the clamps to construct your leash?”

“No.”

“How did you generate plasma without clamps?”

“The power core’s actually a shell for a densely compressed asymmetric neutron reaction. When I unlock the springer drive it operates on a quantum rebound to influence the shape of the reaction…”

“…Resulting in a contained plasma field. Oh, that’s brilliant.”

Brainstorm’s wings fluttered.

“And the fuel core?” Perceptor asked.

“A cocktail. Borrowed some of your enigmite, a few other ingredients we’d had sitting around. We need to clean out the upper level sorting cabinets, by the way.”

“You didn’t use up all the infinium, did you?”

“Scraped a bit off the sides, but there’s still some in there. We should throw out the iron shavings, they’ve gone ox.”

“I have a theory regarding infinium-based fuel for the quantum engines, but I haven’t had time to write up the proposal.”

“Do you think Swerve would want them? I don’t know how to identify fuel-grade rust.”

“I just finished reading an interesting article about that, actually, observing stages of rust in relation to calcium buildup along arterial lines. Would you like a copy of the file?”

“Summarize it for me?”

“There, that’s the abstract.”

“No, I want you to tell me. This is too general.”

“I fear any attempt I made to summarize would end up longer than the paper itself.”

“Perfect. Science talk at me, Percy. More syllables per word, the better.”

“I would, if only I could stop thinking about where the clamps have gone.”

Perceptor glanced over at his silent lab partner, who was leaned low over a datapad, stylus gripped tight and in constant motion.

“Brainstorm?”

“Lab guidelines only said we had to get permission for upgrading computers, engines, and instruments weighing ten tons or more.”

“Provided the clamps didn’t end up in the refinery, I’m sure we can undo it.”

Brainstorm reached under his desk to his officially licensed secret compartment. He pulled back and tossed the clamps to Perceptor.

“These appear to be standard issue. Whatever you’ve done, I’m sure it’s—hm.”

“Can’t open them?”

“Are they jammed? I believe we still have the lubricant from the matchbox experiments several years ago.”

“I installed two micro supermagnets in the tips. You were talking about how the grip wasn’t strong enough to hold the quartz filaments you’d developed, so I cut off the old tips, replaced them with nonferrous baffles, and inserted the magnets.”

“And then you closed it without a baffle between the magnets?”

“I closed it without a baffle between the magnets. I was going to fix it after you left. Or just make a new one, with a plugin to calculate the force.”

Perceptor turned the now useless object over in his hands, marveling at the wonder of nature that allowed the two sides to grip each other so forcefully. He stretched up and placed it on a high shelf, beside a beaker that overflowed with a crystal structure that looked like yellow froth.

“Really, Perce? It’s not that impressive.”

“The fluorifate structure exists because I was too excited about helping you to consider whether what I was doing was scientifically sound. And if the clamp is up there, you will have less opportunity to sneak it past me and we may in fact leave for our date on time.”

#maccadam #transformers #simpatico #brainstorm #perceptor #my writing #ficlet #quick palate cleanser #bc i actually feel bad abt that last fic lol

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pooktales · 4 years ago

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“Master Daddy” Chapter 9: Lucien mon Animal

Detective Émeraude finally looked disturbed. Good for him. The arcane clock ticked away as he and Thalyssra worked through nervous energy. He re-organizing his notes. Thalyssra setting her jaw and flexing each of her fingers into a new fist.

Émeraude picked up his gold stylus, "Reprendre l'entrevue Mme Lesauvage."

And so Sasha Lesauvage, the Dancing Girl, she did.

You don't throw over a man like that. A man who is more than your husband. At times, Lucien was like my brother. Or my hero. More. It's hard to explain.

I lost my point—after all that, just put some bars between us, then he gets scared. Even the mighty Minister Sabergryn forgets.

I worry about what will happen to Lucien if he ever truly loses me to the guillotine.

I decided to finally start in on him, "About the trial getting moved up. Luc, I need you to talk to my father—"

"I won't turn to the Lesauvage for help, Sasha. That's going straight back to the way things were with Elisande!"

Jolie looked up, for him to be quiet.

"Lucien, my sweet. I have been a very evil woman. I have beat the shit out of people. I have murdered, you know this. If I didn't order deaths, then I took care of them myself, whenever it came to that. Half the people here in this prison are more terrified now that I'm here. I spend my days getting revenge on the people who targeted my sister Racine when she first got locked up. You should see her now; they treat Racine like the queen of the place now, because of me. Gods, I've already been in a few fights, and if I get condemned, you know there will be even more." I mused aloud, "I don't actually care about other people, now do I?"

"Yes you do."

"Not as much as you, my darling."

He fidgeted, pretended to check one of his cufflinks, then flicked out his wrist and the gold watch there. It wasn't one that I remember him having.

I hardened myself, at the thought that little minx was buying my husband jewelry and he was getting to the point where he would wear it, in front of me...

Read more of “Master Daddy”, Chapter 9 on wattpad

#master-daddy #warcraft #nightborne #fanfiction

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johannstutt413 · 5 years ago

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(requested by anonymous)

On Terra, summer is a rather different experience for some Ancients than for others, particularly for female Felines. During the two and a half months that can universally be agreed upon as “summery,” neko kemonomimis across the continent(s) were plagued by serious hormonal imbalances in a hold-over from a time when this was their breeding season; before pharmaceuticals had been applied to the problem, all that could be done was to choose a(n) (un)fortunate male in one’s town to resolve the imbalance quickly, but science had finally prevailed and developed a chemical solution.

At least, until one’s pills ran out. Dr. Kal’tsit was not a forgetful person, but she was certainly busy, and at the time of highest demand for anti-libidinals, she found to her chagrin that she’d taken her last pill. Luckily, Kal’tsit was working a late shift this evening, so she had plenty of time to get more...or so she thought.

“I’m sorry, Dr.,” Closure sighed, “but we’re out of stock, and as you know, if our pharmaceutical techs made the exception to make you some-”

“It might cost us an Operator, I know. Do you have anything that could help, even as just a side effect?”

The Sarkaz shopkeeper pulled up an interface and searched a few key terms. “...No. There is a special on condoms, if you’ll need any, though.”

“...What aisle are those in?”

It was thus that a grumbling Kal’tsit found herself carrying around a pocket full of rubbers and burning willpower to resist Mother Nature’s fiercest assault on her dignity in years. Fortunately, Siege was scheduled to help her during her shift this evening, so there wouldn’t be any-

“‘Evening, Kal’tsit!” The Doctor waved at her from the spare desk in her office. “Siege called in sick, so I’m taking her shift.”

“I see.” FUCK.

He actually was already working, if the papers in front of him were any indication. “She’s been using quite a bit of her PTO recently; I wonder if it’s anything to do with the fact she and Sir SilverAsh are a couple. This would be their first summer together.”

“Quite possible, yes.” She could feel sweat beading on her forehead. “Doctor, while I appreciate your volunteering, you should go home. As reliable as you are, having both of us off shift at the same time isn’t efficient use of our resources.”

“I thought you might say something like that, but I’m taking a few days off soon, so I figured I’d get as much work in as I could before then. Do you have a spare stylus? Mine fell through a crack in the floor.”

Kal’tsit sighed and fished through her desk for one. Once she found it, she walked over to hand it to him. “Here you...go...unfh.“

“Are you okay?” The Doctor took the stylus from her, their fingers touching as he did, and set in on the desk next to him. “You look feverish.”

“It’s nothing...it’s nothing...” She took several deep breaths, which did nothing to help her composure.

He didn’t buy that. “Kal’tsit, I’m not sure I’m the one who needs to go home for the day.”

“I haven’t been in the office today...” She had to stop looking at him, just look away from him and it will go away. “I’ll be fine, I just need to sit down.”

“Alright, but if you need anything, I’m right here.”

That’s true, he was right there...and she did need something- no! No. Kal’tsit hadn’t had an episode since the medical academy, and she wasn’t about to have one here. She sat back down at her desk, turned on her computer, watched her programs boot up- and meowed loudly.

The Doctor immediately looked at her. “Kal’tsit?”

“...Doctor, when-” Despite her best efforts, Dr. Kal’tsit was no longer in the building. “When you said anything, how earnestly did you mean that?”

“...Oh. Oh no.”

She rolled her chair next to his and started rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. “I ran out of pills this morning, and Closure didn’t have any, either...I don’t know how I’m going to get through the week like this, nya~”

“You can make that noise?” Something was rising, and it wasn’t his willpower to the challenge. “No, this- I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You’re taking a few days off, aren’t you? That’s plenty of time for this to run its course. Aren’t you a little curious, Do-ku-tah?”

God, where was this coming from, and why was it so hard to resist? “I...When this is over, you and I are going to need to have a talk.”

“We can talk all you want, Dokutah.” She licked his face. “I don’t plan on being quiet~”

“...Not here. I’m not throwing out my back for this.” Saying that, the Doctor stood up, took her hand, and led her through the base to a more comfortable place.

Once the door closed behind them, there was no holding back.

---

A week later, and the Doctor was in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee, when Dr. Kal’tsit walked out of the bedroom clutching her head. “Do you have any aspirin?” She asked, walking towards the bathroom.

“Medicine cabinet, second shelf.” He sighed. “I’m going to say something, and I don’t expect you to reply right away.”

“Can it wait until after I’ve had my coffee and my head isn’t trying to detach from my neck?”

That was fair. “It can. I’ll start working on breakfast.”

“Thank you.” She walked out, set the bottle of pills on the table, and sat down while she waited for the coffee to finish brewing. “I’m sorry this week was not as relaxing as you were hoping it would be.”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine.” The coffee machine signalled the last drops’ fall into the pot as he said this.

Kal’tsit poured herself a cup of coffee (black as her soul...but filled with sugar), kissed the Doctor on the cheek, and walked back to her chair. “Still, it- oh.”

“Are you sure it’s completely out of your system?” The instant her lips touched him, he’d turned bright red. “Not that I mind...”

“If I was still in heat, I would have kept going, I think.”

The Doctor turned his attention from the bacon in the pan to her. “Kal’tsit, I um...I don’t want this to be just a seasonal affair.”

“Hmm?” She’d just swallowed the aspirin with the help of her caffeinated syrup. “What do you mean?”

“I think I’m- what is it Angelina called it? I’m ‘catching feelings’ for you.”

Kal’tsit blinked several times as her processors worked overtime. “So...do you want me to move in with you?”

“If you don’t want to, I understand,” he replied, despite it being the last thing he wanted, “but I...I don’t remember waking up in the morning so happy to see the sun again as when I see the light falling on your face. Damnit, that sounded so cheesy out loud.”

“I liked it.” Her heart throbbed audibly in her ear as the metaphorical diabetes settled in from his comment.

The Doctor sighed. “Like I said, you don’t have to answer me right away, just let me know when you know-”

“I do.” She made the trip to the kitchen again, this time hugging him as she kissed him again. “This week has been something out of a dream, and even if it wasn’t my intention to have it, I’m not sure I want to wake up from it...You still have some time off to spend, I hope?”

“I have weeks of time still, honestly. Should I call in?”

She nodded. “I just want one more day - one I can be with you and not on top of you the whole time.”

“Then I’ll let Amiya know.” He stroked her head behind her cat ears. “She might not be too happy with it.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Kal’tsit muttered, remembering pictures the Cautus drew when she was younger of two familiar silhouettes holding hands...

#arknights #dr. kal'tsit (arknights)#two in a row!#i would put more here #but i don't have anything else to add #arknights fic

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allbeendonebefore · 4 years ago

Note

I was kind of under the impression that this is just a widespread thing in Alberta, especially because of the Angus Reid fractured federation survey (I cant include the link here, but you can Google it, its from January 24th 2019). When got back into Hetalia, I imagined the dynamics kinda changed to this, which would be pretty bad tbh. I hope its not that aggressive in Alberta, I will never be able to go check tho, too expensive :( I loved the bad french btw

i see you guys sending these asks super late at night and i wonder whether any of you sleep - idk where you’re writing from and i may be on the west coast but are you guys ok wherever you are? I just woke up but I have my tea and if I’m not caffeinated now I surely will be as I answer this.

I’m sure I’ve seen the survey you’re speaking of before and before I address it in any specific detail I just want to back up and re frame Why I’m Being Like This in regards to recent events and my orientation towards answering these questions in terms of Hetalia the way I do, because I think it’s the heart of how I answer.

the tldr of it is:

1. I have an opportunity to make interpretations of reality in unexpected and challenging ways, therefore widespread opinions don’t govern anything but my stupid gag comics in the simple sense that if everyone was represented by widespread opinion alone all the time, nothing would change and

2. if i can answer dozens of asks about ralph and oliver hanging out there’s absolutely no reason I can’t answer asks about ralph and jean hanging out, lol.

3. If you’d like a shorter, more concise “vision statement”, I have one on @battle-of-alberta here. (although now I notice the links don’t work on mobile so you’ll have to be on desktop for that one)

I’m assuming this will be long so cut time

(and yes, alas, the bad french is my legacy and I’m afraid it has not improved much although i swear i was an A student when i was actually taking it) (and no please don’t visit now, purely for pandemic reasons, it would be really expensive And you’d have a bad time) (and talking to me is free lmao) (I do not mean to say that you need to have feet on the ground to understand a place at all, i mean, at the moment I don’t lol)

headings because I say a lot

what even is hetalia

At the most basic level, Hetalia is a tool that can be used in a variety of ways. It can be for memorization, current politics at a glance or historical relationships in different settings. I use it for all of these things, of course, I certainly use it a lot in comics that take place in the much more distant past in @athensandspartaadventures. When I was writing that, I was in undergrad and AaSA was a tool to help me pass my exams, I didn’t think of how it might be read or interpreted by people who have lived in or experienced those places these days, or what kind of political and cultural tensions it might reveal. (Not to say that it has gotten me into sticky situations, exactly, but I am more aware of where things like that would arise now).

These days I look back on a lot of my experiences - both in IAMP/Hetalia and just as a person, and I think that if Hetalia is a tool it should be used with some awareness of intention and responsibility. Things in the fandom have changed as it became more mainstream and more well known and I think there’s a definite worry about screwing up or not representing Everything or not pleasing Everybody or not doing it Right. I have a simple, insufferably academic principle.

(That said, yes, you can still do it very wrong if you write a methodology.)

Still, it’s a comfort to me that I’m just doing the things the way I say I’m going to do them, and that is the underpinning of Inspired But Not Constrained By Hetalia. I don’t do things Himaruya’s way, I can’t do things the way IAMP would do them if it were running today because it’s not and things have changed, all I can do is do them how I would do them.

I have hurt people in the past because they sometimes couldn’t tell whether I was writing From an Albertan Perspective or not, and I’ve evoked some preeetty spicy comments over the last decade, and I realized that tone and perspective are something that really shapes how people understand and interact with my work and I’m trying to use that understanding in a conscientious way)

what even is alberta

So when you’re me and you’ve grown up in a province that is the Angriest in the country and the most Misunderstood in the country and the most Entitled in the country and nobody outside of maybe Saskatchewan has a good thing to say about you half the time and maybe you’re tired of that... you get kind of depressed thinking about how every year some kiddo comes on the internet ready to be excited about making or celebrating characters that represent themselves and No Matter Where They Go running into everyone else’s negative impressions first and foremost.

We joke about how everyone hates Toronto, though I’ve always understood it in a teasing way because I’ve never ACTUALLY met someone (outside of our current legislative assembly) who REALLY hates Toronto, but it does feel like I’ve encountered (directly or indirectly) people who do Genuinely hate Alberta and hoo boy is That a strange feeling. I mean, there’s an understanding that BC also ‘hates’ Alberta but half the people in BC are originally from Alberta so it’s a, uh, different feeling.

The story of Alberta from everywhere else is always the story of that Angus Reid article and the memes and comments and listicles that spin out around mainstream media. Alberta is giving too much. Alberta is getting too little. Alberta is too stupid to understand that equalization payments are a good thing actually, and Alberta is too dumb to understand you don’t really need EI if you make enough money in six months to own a house and multiple vehicles Just Because you own a house and multiple vehicles. Alberta is destroying the environment for everybody. Alberta has a huge concentration of white supremacists. Alberta is the Texas of Canada* and has the conservative streak and bible belt to match. Alberta should get annexed by the US. Oh, but Banff! We like Banff, though.

And like I said, politicians use these widespread feelings to stir up the sentiments of people who can’t afford to travel, people who are naturally suspicious of mainstream news, people who have barely even left their hometowns let alone the province and have no other means of validating what they hear, but people who’s emotions are genuinely tied to real feelings of alienation that really exist and HAVE existed for generations. And when the so-called “laurentian elites” in ontario and quebec make fun of them for being uneducated red necks, well, you hit a wasps nest and expected what, exactly?

what even am i doing

And like I’m faced with this question every day I decide to pick up my stylus and badger you all with unsolicited comics: do I want this to continue? Do I want to wear the mask that fits? Do I want to stand aside and say #notallalbertans #notlikeotheralbertans and stand over here on the island** patting myself on the back for not? being? there? Do I say yes, you’re right, and stand aside and watch loud mouth white supremacists co-opt wexiters and let them lead the perception of the province I grew up in just because that is what’s currently happening? Do I acknowledge the widespread sentiment and then pick apart every other province to say Well Actually You’re Equally Problematic Hypocrites, So There?

Obviously I’ve been saying no for a while. I’m perfectly happy to acknowledge the reality and when I draw stupid gag comics like this or this you can tell (hopefully) from my style that it’s tongue and cheek. When I draw less stupid not-gag comics like this or this I am trying to explore the Real Sentiments in a way that doesn’t completely polarize the issue and spin it out of control. I’m more of the opinion that even though Current Sentiments do get in the way that as personifications they 1. have some perspective and as people they 2. have some interest in not throwing out a friendship that was a struggle to build up every time the polls change or some new radical party seizes power. I do a lot of research and I want that to be reflected in my understanding of each characters deep seated beliefs and motivations, but I don’t want to let either the history or the current realities dictate the future if I am going to try to do that myself.

why even am i doing it for

So like really the heart of the matter is: I am writing what I write for my thirteen year old self. She was the me who moved back to Canada from the United States, who’s first introduction to living there was a hellish surge of nationalism after September 11th. Who’s defense against that was to hide behind a shield of Canada is Better, Actually and who returned to Alberta during the boom years to realize that, oh wait, the rest of the country thinks we’re assholes just like they think the United States is. Who spent her teenage years learning that, boom or bust, the widespread sentiment in and out of the province is just as narrow, shortsighted, self interested, and stubborn as her own fiction of What Canada Was Supposed to be Like. Who learned that propping up that image at the expense of her friendships was not worth it, that propping up that image at the expense of people who are suffering and dying under that image is not worth it. Who found herself rehashing the same sort of gut reaction defensiveness online because the Guilt and Apologizing on behalf of her province compared to others felt Really Heavy for a kid who didn’t have any clue what to do about it and was just there to have fun and learn some stuff.

So I’m writing for anyone else who finds themselves exhausted and saddened by coming online and seeing that the only way that people can imagine Alberta is as an antagonist. I’d like to challenge everyone to start to imagine it better. It’s my little “escape” from reality, and for me it’s much easier to talk to people here where the stakes aren’t as high and the grievances a little less personal.

I’m also writing (in a more secondary way) for everyone who’s ever looked at alberta from afar and wondered What is going On inside your Head and is it always This

(no comment at this time)

as always, I’m here to explain At The Very Least what goes on in My head because at the end of the day, that’s all I can do. And though there are some things that make me angry and emotional, I’m happy to explain why. Happy to answer asks or chat on discord or whatever, any time I have the time. :)

footnotes

*This is just a footnote to say something I didn’t want to interrupt the flow of my comments, but this is an annoyance that me and my Texas Tomodachi share lol

**You’ll notice angry Albertans online have a favourite tactic, and that’s pointing out hypocrisy. They can justify A N y T h I n G by calling another province a hypocrite “so there” (i.e. BC can’t claim to be environmentally conscious because of Victoria’s sewage problem or Site C) - and while I am interested in shattering the image of Alberta vs. the Perfect Rest of Canada a little bit, I feel like it’s a very lazy argument that is used to deflect and not to help. I think it is more useful to unpack the sentiment of Why Alberta Still Feels Taken Advantage of rather than mudslinging, and when the mud starts flying no one seems interested in addressing problems anymore.

#hapo rambles #hapo replies #hapo rants #yeah y yeah alberta #projectcanada #iammatthewian #pc: alberta #iamp: alberta #Anonymous #will i actually directly address the survey #maybe later but i have other stuff to do #you can remind me

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alounuitte · 5 years ago

Text

cactus blossoms

(or: some can only bloom with water from the desert sky)

Adam needs some support while he recovers from a surgery, and Shiro volunteers to be his best friend's roommate for the summer after their first year in the Garrison. Somehow, it turns out he's not the only one Adam gets a chance to get closer to, and an operation isn't the only thing he's recovering from. (pre-relationship, but no romance will be in this.)

also on AO3 at /works/24902557 under LovelyLessie!

He knocks on the door and shoves his hands in his pockets as he waits, trying to keep his uneasy fidgeting from revealing how worried he is. A moment passes, then two, and he rocks slightly where he stands, his throat feeling tight.

Just when he’s beginning to think maybe he should come back later, the door opens, and Adam blinks back at him with a frown. He’s been crying, Shiro realizes, his eyes rimmed with red behind his glasses, his face drawn and ashen. “Hey,” he says, shifting uncomfortably as he looks down. “What’s going on?”

“Are you alright?” Shiro asks, feeling a pang in his chest. “I don’t want to bother you, but you didn’t show up to study, so I just…wanted to check if everything was okay.”

“I’m fine,” Adam says, and gives him a shaky smile.

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Uh,” he says. “You sure?”

Adam’s laugh is weak and forced. “I’ll be okay,” he says. “I just… got some bad news today, that’s all.”

“Aw, man,” Shiro says, his brows drawing together. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I—“ Adam begins, and sighs. “It’s nothing. Well, nothing important.”

“You’re upset about it,” Shiro protests, frowning. “That’s important to me.”

Adam hesitates, looking around. “Do you… want to come in?” he asks after a moment.

“You don’t mind?” Shiro asks, a little surprised.

Adam shakes his head. “No, it’s okay,” he says, and steps back from the door, waiting by the control panel to close it behind him as Shiro comes inside.

His quarters are tiny and tidy, everything organized just so, and Shiro isn’t sure if it’s alright to sit down, so he leans against the wall beside the dresser as Adam crosses the room and drops down, with a sigh, onto the edge of his bed. There’s no top bunk or second dresser, Shiro notices, surprised, but the single room is barely a fraction of the size of the double quarters he's used to.

“So, what’s going on?” Shiro asks. “Even if you don’t think it’s a big deal, I’m here to listen if it’ll help.”

Adam shakes his head, pressing his hands against his knees the way he does when he’s upset and trying not to show it. “You remember how I mentioned I had medical paperwork to work on?” he says without looking up.

“Are they saying they won’t cover something?” Shiro asks, leaning forward. “I bet they can’t, I can help you appeal it, if it’s covered by—“

“No, um, they’ll cover the procedure,” Adam says, hunching his shoulders. “But I’m not gonna be able to get it done this summer, I guess.”

“Oh,” Shiro says, frowning. “Why not?”

Adam swallows hard, looking away. “It’s - they consider it an intensive recovery. Which I guess it will be. I can’t stay on base after unless I have someone sign this ‘temporary medical assistance’ form.”

“You don’t want to recover from surgery at home?” Shiro asks. “I mean - I’m not judging, or anything, sorry, I just…”

His laugh is sharp at the edges, a bitter biting sound that makes Shiro flinch. “My parents don’t know I’m having it done. And I don’t think they’d help me out much if I did go home.”

“Your parents don’t… know?” Shiro asks, his frown growing deeper. “They won’t help you after you have surgery?”

“Well,” Adam sighs, and glances over at him before quickly turning away again. “I had to threaten them to get them to use my name, and I’m pretty sure they still don’t when I’m not around.” He hunches his shoulders, ducks his head towards the floor. “So I’m not sure I really want to tell them I’m getting my breasts removed.”

Oh. Shiro sucks in a breath through his teeth, grimacing. He’d wondered if Adam was trans, but it had always seemed like it would be invasive to ask. “Shit, Adam, I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know they were… that bad.”

“They’re not, really,” Adam says, shrugging. “Only about that.”

That sounds bad enough, but Shiro decides that pointing that out probably wouldn’t be helpful. “So they won’t let you stay on base unless someone signs this thing?” he asks instead. “Who’s gotta sign it?”

“Someone who lives on base, I guess,” Adam says. “Who I can room with so they can check in with me, but I’m not close to any of the instructors like you are, so I don’t…”

His voice trembles and he trails off, his shoulders shaking a little as he sniffs and swallows hard.

“I don’t know who to ask,” he finishes quietly. “And if i can’t get it done this summer, it’ll have to wait until I’m finished training, and I’ll probably need to take a roommate for a year so I can get it done then but—“

He breaks off and covers his mouth with one hand, but not quite quickly enough to muffle a sob. “Oh, Adam,” Shiro says, feeling his heart break a little.

“Sorry,” he whispers through his fingers. “I didn’t want to—“

“It’s okay,” Shiro says, wondering if it would be too familiar to hug him. “That sucks, it’s okay to cry about it if you need to.”

“It’s just so frustrating,” Adam chokes out. “I thought I’d be able to get it done this summer and be back on my feet when term started back up in the fall, and now—now…”

“I’m really sorry,” Shiro says again, feeling helpless. He wants to at least go sit with Adam, but he’s not sure how to ask if it’s alright.

Adam takes a shaky breath and sets his shoulders, pulling off his glasses to scrub at his face with the back of his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbles again, and wraps his arms around himself.

“Hey,” Shiro says, “did they give you a copy of that form? The medical assist one?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t read through it yet,” he says thickly. “I’m too tired to even look at it right now.”

“Give me your tablet,” Shiro says. “I’ll sign it.”

“You - what?” Adam asks, turning to look up at him, his glasses crooked where he shoved them back on in a hurry. “I don’t…”

“If I stay on base over the summer too, I can help you out, right?” he says. “It’ll be cool. We’re already friends, it would be fun to be roommates, even if it’s just for a couple months while you’re in recovery.”

“Aren’t you going to go see your family?” Adam asks, worry and confusion written across his face.

He shrugs. “They can come visit me here. Stay in town, in a hotel like on a nice vacation.”

“I’m not sure they’ll even let you,” Adam says. “I don’t know if they’ll consider you eligible, you’re only seventeen still.”

“Well, the worst that can happen is they reject the form,” Shiro points out. “Let me sign it, at least, and we’ll see what happens.”

Adam is still staring at him, eyes wide and mouth half-open. He makes a sound like he’s trying to laugh. “You’re really serious,” he says. “You actually mean it.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t,” Shiro says, frowning, and drops his gaze to the floor. “I mean, it’s okay if you’re not comfortable with that, I get it, if that’s the issue it’s fine, but you can just tell me—“

He doesn’t get to finish, because before he even has a chance to see him move, Adam throws himself at him so hard it knocks the air out of his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline with both arms around his neck. “Thank you,” he chokes out, and sobs, burying his face in Shiro’s shoulder.

“Oh,” is all Shiro can manage to say for a second as he hugs Adam as tightly as he can. “Hey, it’s okay! It’s not a big deal, really.”

“Shut up,” Adam says, voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “It is to me.”

“Well, yeah, of course it is,” Shiro says. “I just meant - it’s not any trouble for me, to help you out.”

Adam straightens, grinning crookedly as he tries to dry the tears on his cheeks. “Sorry,” he manages. “It’s just been a tough day.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Shiro assures him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You do need to give me your tablet so I can sign that form, though.”

He laughs, shaky but genuine, and turns to grab it off his desk and pull up his messages.

Shiro takes it when he holds it out, unclips the stylus as he skims the terms of the document. By signing below you indicate that you will reside with the patient for the expected duration of recovery six weeks and understand that they may need assistance with restricted tasks which may include… He glances over the checked items on the list, nods, and scrawls his name at the bottom of the form.

When he looks up Adam is trying to wipe tears from his eyes again, but he’s still smiling, too. “Are you really sure about this?” he asks as he takes the tablet back, his hands shaking a little. “I mean, I don’t want to submit it if you aren’t sure.”

“I’d submit it myself if it didn’t need your name on it, too,” Shiro says. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Adam agrees, and signs the form.

“And hey, if they don’t approve me, I’ll help you figure out someone else you can ask,” Shiro tells him. “We can figure something out.”

Adam nods as he taps on his tablet a couple times, and then tosses it onto the bed, his shoulders sagging. “Thanks, Shiro,” he says, and glances down at the floor. “Hey, is it - is it okay if I hug you again? Sorry I didn’t ask before, I…”

“Any time, man,” Shiro assures him, holding his arms open, and Adam laughs softly, coming closer to pull him into a tight embrace.

#voltron adam #voltron shiro #vld #voltron legendary defender #willwrites #belong to the sky verse

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