#(outside of the SOMETIMES very edges of the black hatching)

[jennanydots]

I feel like it might be a little blasphemous to say but I really dont like jemima's costume 🙈

its just so Nothing it's boring to look at and it doesnt evoke anything at all to me there's nothing symbolic in there at all. the productions that give her more detail than just a solid wall of off-black hatching are so few and far between but even just giving her warmers or making the white thigh more prominent does so much for it! (would be lovely also if the design seemed to have any actual cats coat/markings in mind at all 🙄)

I just feel like it should be more of an inversion of victoria! not in straight up black cat way but in like. where victoria is grace and compassion jemima is energy and emotion! and she already has the wilder look w/ the punk elements of the spiked collar and spiked wig but it should go further! her coat should be chaotic and richly coloured too!! she's the sound to victoria's motion she doesn't deserve to get lost in the crowd!

[squish--squash]

shittens...

lore and bonus art under the cut

(before I really start the lore I just wanna mention these two hatched from eggs. I have my own speculative biology hcs about cotl that keeps the canonical eggs bc I'm crazy. I'd infodump about it but I'm not sure how my followers would feel about me talking about the reproduction about a fictional group of anthros LSDHGS-)

anyways. Beleth (she/her): the younger twin, second to hatch. she was actually the first shitten I designed, she's got at least two prior attempts at a design before I really settled on her current design. She has two sets of ears and no horns, and her body plan is more of a sheep, except her arms are more cat-like with paws. as a kid, Beleth's pretty energetic and loves to run around, and talking to everyone she sees. very friendly and social. also chaotic at times and causes mischief. Unlike the Lamb, who shears often due to crusading, Beleth rarely shears herself, and keeps extra wool that grows on her head out of her face by pulling it back into a poofy ponytail (it's also a couple shades darker than the lamb). She also always has two bells on her- the bells her and her sister wore when they were babies

Erinyes (she/they): the older twin, first to hatch. her design just popped into existence without me thinking that hard about it, and I'm ngl she's my fav shitten of the two LSHDLGHDS. Her face and body are catlike, but there's some sheep features, like the ears, horns, and hoofed hands. She only has wool on her head, and it's black; as a kid, she hardly sheared it, but as an adult she keeps it a bit shorter, shearing off pieces that get too long. They're not nearly as talkative as Beleth, but they're very fast and graceful. She had a habit of climbing the trees on the edge of the cult ground for some piece and quiet and Narinder would keep having to climb up after her to get her down. When her wool is longer but not longer enough to shear, she keeps the wool out of her face by tying it off to the side in two sections. They're a bit taller and slimmer than Beleth, even as adults

speaking of adults, this is a quick sketch of them when they're fully grown (they're immortal like their parents, and stopped aging once they reached adulthood - which took quite a bit longer lol)

as adults, Beleth because the head nurse of the healers, being apprenticed by the former head nurse (who had been with them both since childhood, her skull necklace prolonging her life); Erinyes becomes the head of missionaries, teaching newbies, organizing supplies to take and where to go, unloading the hauls, and sometimes even joining on missions herself. Their outfits are different as well: Beleth keeps the bells, but replaces the garment she wore as a kid with a pleated skirt, the bells attaching to the thick belt she wears; Erinyes wears a cloak like the Lamb, with an undergarment covering her body (this is mainly to protect herself from the elements when she's outside the cult)

anyways, here's a bonus: I made some wives for the sisters lol

Mabre (she/her): strong, suave, and part of the missionaries. after she was indoctrinated from Anura she was placed to be a missionary; her ass was not listening for the first day bc she was too busy staring at her new boss gayly. gets quite a few scars from her work (including a ripped ear) but she enjoys the work, and doesn't mind. It takes a while for Erinyes to realize their feelings and it's only after Mabre almost dies that she realizes, and promptly pulls a Narinder by ignoring said feelings until Mabre finally makes a move

Hetry (he/she): shy and polite worshipper taken in from Darkwood, was pined after immediately by a certain shitten. They didn't actually talk tho until a prank gone wrong via Leshy resulted in Hetry breaking her leg, and he developed an instant crush upon watching Beleth chew her own uncle out within an inch of his life. enjoys the pleasantries of life and the simplicity of her work. there's a lot of mutual pining until the two finally get together (Erinyes would tease Beleth about it, and then gets a taste of her own medicine after Mabre's indoctrinated)

(they both wear golden skull necklaces for obvious reasons, but Mabre also wears a missionary necklace, while Hetry wears a nature necklace intertwined with his golden skull necklace; they also become disciples eventually, Hetry through her worshipper status and Mabre by constant feats of effort and strength to support the cult)

[bluiex]

“This is all highly unethical!” Cub protested with the other two “We have taken at least 7 clutches from them by now, we need to give them a break or might even lose the project all together!”

His female co worker, Dr. Am, scoffed, “we are close to a break through Cub! You’re asking us to stop now when it’s about to pay off?”

Cub glared at her, his black eyes cold as the walls around them. “You said that about the last 3 clutches Dr. Am.” He hissed a bit. “All 7 died too fast even with incubation and all accommodations met. And the embryos completely damaged even with carful extraction. Though fertile eggs, studies are finding that taking them outside the host also proves in death.” He told the two.

His other coworker, Dr. Davis, looked between them conflicted. “We haven’t even exhausted all options yet, perhaps there is something we are missing? The clutches are healthy, but jsut don’t like being extracted? Maybe drugging them is the problem? Or maybe we are too touch with extraction?”

Cub cut in with a snarl “Or maybe we are face consequences? I’ve worked her far longer than both of you combined. And have come to see when the universe doesn’t want to give its secrets, it won’t.” He said firmly. “If we continue down this route SCP 1993 and D-Class 1456 will end up infertile and possibly harmed. Do you both not know anything about over breeding of dogs?” He groaned, he felt like he was talking to children.

Honestly Cub was starting to wonder if they even were qualified in the genetics field like they said? Or if they scrapped by with C’s and cheating? They had a few doctors like that.

“Well frankly, Dr. Cub, you have no say. It’s 2 against 1, the project will continue until we have a fertile and hatched clutch of SCP’s 1993’s eggs.” Her brown eyes narrowed at him “And don’t think about going over our heads on this.”

Cub met her gaze with a challenging stare “Or you’ll do what, Dr. Am?” He asked back in a cool, and calmed voice.

Silence rang between them, the coworker looked very on edge.

Without a word, Cub left the table, he decided to head back early. His eyes glaring at the floor as he walked, a frown on his face. Logically, if an endeavor is fruitless and time consuming, then other foundation members left the project alone. But these two were stubborn, perhaps trying to prove someone. Corruption ran deep in this institution.

He was scribbling on his clip board watching the two in the containment unit… then sighed heavily to himself at their actions and behaviors. Scar and Grian were going through withdrawals, without a viable clutch of eggs to take care of, their minds were tearing themselves apart. He’s seen it in dogs and birds and other mammals that when the young die so much, they go into depression and sometimes even die.

Cub felt sick at the idea, he was a researcher, all he wanted was to see if breeding between a human exposed to anomalies and a half human was possible. But the project quickly went out of his hands. He hadn’t intended for clutches to be taken. Or for them to forced sex on Grian. He hadn’t wanted the other two doctors to get involved, but they strong armed in, and took his passion project to see a race of species not die into a science driven drivel of dead ends and greed.

There was no end goal now, research by this point was… well pointless. And hurting the two inside containment. What good was watching anything if it meant the death of the start?

Cub felt… horrible. This was all his fault.

He watches Scar and Grian hold each other behind the one way window. And put down his board and pen.

Gods, if any was out there, what has he done?

Oh bless this. this is so sososoo goodas kjbaskhjbg

[upn-the-sky]

This post made return to the codex and one more time!! GOW Ragnarok and Valhalla blowed out my mind!! Valhalla's codex literally illustrated by Kratos, well, there is a bunch of Atreus's drawings too, but mostly Kratos do it himself and it is very interesting to analyze. ___ First of all, if you didn't notice, there is Kratos's greek handwriting on his drawings

Actually, sometimes it seems just like compulsively written letters, but nope, his handwriting completely shows his character and how busy with thoughts is his head all the time, like FASTER, FASTER!1

Just for comparison, here is Atreus's nordic handwriting

But let's return to Kratos's art style. His drawings are not very detailed in comparison with Atreus's and lineart is rougher and bolder, but the are very accurate anyway. Also his works are obedient to the certain rules, the more thoughts or feelings about the subject he has - the more angled geometry he put into it. Generally he draws square meanders - classic antient greek patterns, and when he draws these, he is THINKING and worrying.

Whrn his mind is calm, his drawings are just sketchy. Nothing special besides lil single meanders here and there. Kratos rarely do shades, and even more rarely do hatching. And his drawing are not very dimensional. Raeb by Atreus - Dead legioneer by Kratos

Also Kratos doesn't draw faces and hands properly. But in Valhalla his mind is pushing to the edge and his drawings sometimes starts to shows unspoken emotional responses about the things he forsed to remember.

Let's look at Helios.. GEOMETRY AND SYMMETRY appears. Meanders (agressively?) "looks" outside, seems like he didn't want to take efforts over this (but still made these drawings good %)). Honestly, he put more precision in drawing Ares's dead soldiers than in these two pieces. Understandable. Ares's soldiers can't speak.

OKay, we all know what Kratos feels about the Olympians, and here you can see the difference in a mood Orkos's stone, first lining of stone is rough, but then refined over it with a more precise, hard, black line, and all trapped in a circle. It is the first fully complete circle he drew, and all meanders "looks" inside (autoagression maybe or just a need to calm himself with familiar patterns? maybe both).

There is very much anxiety and saddness here, oh, and by the way, that's how Kratos see himself - an uneven, blurry shadow with swirling darkness inside - a "ghost" in one word

More geometry. Pandora drawing in a big BIG meander depicting a "maze". Small meanders "looks" inside again (autoagression?/need to calm himself?/both?) Oh and he wrote her name here.. Πανδώρα This drawing is not so compulsive as the previous, more thoughtfull. His actual frustration can be seen in this big "dot" near her name. Like he wanted to write more, but changed his mind. And the lowest meanders are inverted upside down like he forgot the direction he drew them.

Lysandra's pendant and Calliope's flute drawings Geometry, symmetry Pendan't patterns seems more trembling, insecure as he said he feels about his wife (but I also see "heart" shapes in it). His hand is more steady at flute drawing

What else did I found... After reviewing Ragnarok codex wishing to compare their art style, I noticed this piece. The Lyngbakr drawing made by Aterus, with his handwritings, fine detail, his significant swirls and wait- MEANDERS? this square geometry looks very outcast here, like it were drawn over swirles and circles turned into squares.

If you look at the banch of Atreus's drawings, you'll that he just doesn't draw square patterns, only round ones like waves, and these pointed ones which looks like uh claws?.. and and very rarely - schematic runic patterns

Well, if we remember, Lyngbakr's story impressed(?) Kratos very much.. Maybe Kratos returned to this pages in the codex and uh thoughtfully uh intervened in his son's drawing. %) Anyway, it was the single episode in Ragnarok codex and it can be just a coincedence, BUT THEN WE LOOK AT VALHALLA CODEX AND WHAT IS IT? Kratos is messing around with his symmetric geometry and meanders on Atreus's drawing again. He just misses his son, let's forgive him. And his scribbles are so dim like he tried to erase them..

Thinking about how Angrboda asked Atreus if Kratos draws and he laughed and said "no" but we see Kratos' journal and there are beautiful drawings of things he is describing haha

[mystacoceti]

Forty noons after the hatching, Bo and his clutchmate Lem butted heads, sharing thoughts. The two sibs were on a school platform, on a high branch with a couple dozen other male larvae from other clutches of the same tree. Supposedly, the class was considering Guru Brightoak’s latest thought-dump on roomhollow architectures. But Brightoak was famously lax, and also quite short for a guru, with only forty segments; that’s why it had the males. Mostly, the boys romped and ate and daydreamed erotica. Architecture, farming, nesting, trade, crafts, civics—it wouldn’t do for them to be wholly ignorant but deep knowledge was unnecessary. The male path led elsewhere.

Cognitive fluids mixed in Bo’s head: mostly his own, some of Brightoak’s architectural thoughts, traces of fluids from others’ past injections still being digested, and now a huge erotic dollop from Lem. In general, Bo’s immune system suspiciously sequestered alien thoughts, trying them out as hypotheticals before allowing them to influence general cognition and action, incorporating what made sense, flushing the rest. But guru thoughts contained biomarkers to bypass immunity, and sibs’ thoughts shared half their biomarkers in common. Over the past month, Bo’s stronger, more opinionated brother Lem had injected so much fluid into Bo that by now maybe a twelfth of his cognitive fluids had originally been Lem’s. They agreed on many things.

Bo fell into the erotic fantasy Lem had injected into him: a near-perfect female. Bright red and orange wings with streaks and spots of white and brown. Four round blue, white, and black mimicry eyespots, almost symmetrical near the tips of the fore- and hindwings. Delicate posterior fringe at the base of each wing. Stunningly long, thin, straight antennae with identical smooth oval knobs at the tips. Lean black body with thick black hair laid back, a gorgeously tiny waist between thorax and abdomen. Round eyes in a perfect faceted pair. Strong mandibles, smoothly curved on the outside edge, converging in sharp tips. And as she danced—what motion! Looping, diving, twisting, switching suddenly back, and soaring up; she would be a difficult catch. Though Bo did not yet possess any sexual equipment, he felt a turmoil at the tip of his abdomen. Though Bo did not yet possess wings, he felt anticipatory urges at the crest of his thorax, already imagining chase, already plotting out in his mind how he might intercept such a mate, if he could be so lucky.

Bo bowed and twitched beneath his clutchmate, in awe at the power and specificity of Lem’s imagery. Lem withdrew his proboscis from Bo’s frontal port and rose, strong and big and proud. When the time came, Lem would fly far to some distant tree and catch that colony’s best female. Everyone knew it. Lem wore his health like a counselor’s crown. Sometimes he received secret cognitive infusions from the elders, to prepare him better, or to give him secret advice, or to nudge him toward their preferred politics.

Guru Brightoak loomed above Bo and Lem, speaking into the air: “Enough play! You are amazingly ignorant of architecture, even for boys. If you cogitate with sufficient focus, you will learn that recreation platforms and eyespots are not so very unlike each other. As the roomhollow is tree trunk made abdomen, so too the platform is tree branch made wing. The imago body establishes the universal norms of aesthetic design.”

The other male larvae had turned to watch Lem’s and Bo’s scolding.

“When the day comes, if you surrender entirely to fantasy,” added the guru, “you will find yourself mating with a trader’s table.”

Despite the harsh words, Guru Brightoak’s proboscises were waving play signs.

Well, thought Bo, half with his own biomarked fluids and half with the guru’s, I suppose it’s true I ought to know something about architecture. The guru’s most recent thought infusion, still undigested, flowed back into Bo’s central cognitive workspace. Roomhollow is tree trunk made abdomen.

from "Larva Pupa Imago", Eric Schwitzgebel

[yanban-san]

I love your eldritch abomination AU so much!

When darling eventually ends up bonding with Ingo and Emmet and becoming a bit eldritch themselves (if that’s what ends up happening) I would assume that they take on characteristics of both twins.

Now the logical conclusion of that is of course, gray- but consider:

White scales and black feathers

The answer of what Darling becomes is a bit too unique for me to write well, I fear- Because Darling would get some funky weirdness going on, but it would be unique to the individual person.

Eldritch beings can be incomprehensible, non euclidean hypercubes from the nth dimension, or they can be the scary shadow figures in the corner of your vision-

They can sometimes look like words on a page, or patterns in a wallpaper. They can be as ghostly as the wind or as a solid as a block of steel-

They can be many, they can be few- They can be one, or perhaps there is none- Just an empty husk of something, like a machine-

But for You, dear reader-

What would you imagine yourself becoming?

Their power is heavily influenced by thoughts- Wishes and dreams-

So if you were to think something would happen, then- Well, by their power-

It might just be.

Personally if I do write Eldritch'd Darling- I'd imagine they stay pretty much entirely human, but personality wise they start finding themselves... acting different.

You don't particular care to hang out with friends as much.

Time seems to be moving... faster, or slower- You can't decide. It feels like just yesterday it was last month, or that this hour has been going on all day. People talk to you- Or at least, you think so. Their mouths are certainly moving- And everything seems oddly... dull. Yet wonderful at the same time. The world as a whole is less of what you live in and more of a curiosity- Like some beautifully crafted stained glass that you're admiring, and will pass by anytime soon.

Darling may take on some characteristics of their soul-bound beloveds. Despite the dullness of so many things, you love other things you never noticed so very much now. Spring comes and you're elated to see the budding of new life, fascinated to watch a pidove nest of eggs hatch outside Gear Station- Emmet's watching with you, enraptured.

When time stretches on, you aren't bothered by it. Even if the minute dragged on for a thousand years, it's only a minute- And it will eventually end. You flip between being oddly patient- And horribly impatient. Ingo comforts you- Reminding you that everything has it's time, no matter how long it must take.

"When do I start turning into a cool monster like you guys?"

Ingo looked up at you, you being seated in his lap- It was their favorite way to hold you. "Whatever do you mean, Dear?"

"You said I'd... have... some changes after you did that soul-bond thing- But to be honest, I just feel a little... weird."

Ingo's hand went up to your face, brushing back the edges of your hair. "You mean you thought you'd... turn into... something like myself, or like brother-?"

"I mean, a little bit." You said- Trying not to sound too disappointed. Ingo sighed, yet his eyes- Were oddly dark. To take away your humanity- All of it- Both of mind and body-

His grip on your waist tightened, his other hand grabbing your head- Lightly, yet firmly. The shadows about him gathered dark and deep, wispy shades of black smoke trailing from them as they grew long around your dear soulmate-

"Well, my little human-" The voice of the demon rumbling dark and deep-

"Why don't you tell me what you'd like to be?"

[kohakuarisaka]

Untamed (chapter 2 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As it turned out, 'secluded cabin' was a pretty accurate statement.

Hawks had arranged for a very discreet hero taxi service to drive you the 5-hour trip from Musutafu to a quaint mountainous village that was so small and quiet, you almost doubted it was even on the map.

Past the snowy village, through the winding roads and towering trees, over a bridge, past a frozen lake, and then some miles off the main road, tucked away in a small clearing, was a beautiful cabin.

While the days were steadily growing warmer as spring rapidly approached, it still snowed at night. The snow had melted off the trees from the warmth of the midday sun; but, there was still a light blanket of white on the rooftop and across the surrounding grounds.

There were no poles lining the street, nothing that could bring electricity to the house; however, you could see what was likely a generator tucked away in the back. Someone had propped the cover off and cleaned out the snow.

At that sight, it became obvious that Hawks had beat you here. He already taken to clearing the snow out of the entry way as well, exposing a beautiful cobblestone pathway.

You exited the vehicle and retrieved your bags from the trunk. The very second you closed the hatch, the driver made a speedy exit, wheels skidding in the snow as they backed out before doing a sharp U-turn and barreling down the road.

Luckily, the entrance to the cabin opened before you could worry that you had just been abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Sure enough, Hawks stepped out, wild blonde locks brushed back, a little fluffier than usual due to the change in humidity.

Despite how cold it was, he was wearing a black tank top and loose, light grey sweat pants. He even stepped out onto the cold stone pathway with bare feet. Yet, with a light flush to his skin, he didn't look cold at all.

You had been making a face when he approached, and he offered an explanation, uttering, "I told 'em not to linger. It's suspicious."

Some large plumes departed his wingspan and grabbed at your luggage, one even pulling your shoulder bag off your back. They whipped away, bags in tow, and zipped past Hawks and through the doorway, disappearing into the cabin.

The winged hero didn't immediately usher you inside, as he usually did in these types of situations, but arched over you suddenly, arms bringing you into a tight embrace while his lips captured yours.

The sudden closeness forced your back to arch. Unconsciously, your hands fell onto his barely clothed shoulders, and you felt how warm he was. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he was running a fever.

The kiss was brief, but uncharacteristically messy, not that you were complaining. It was a kiss of longing, like he had missed you dearly, as if it had been months and not a day and a half.

He pulled back, a distant, albeit blissful, look on his face. His eyelids sagged as if he was tired, but the gold of his iris was bright and his pupils were focused.

"I didn't get to clean yet, but - ugh - do you wanna see inside?" he asked, some slight nervousness to his tone.

"Yeah," you breathed.

Hawks stepped aside and you gently brushed past him and stepped inside. The wood floors creaked softly beneath your feet as you crossed the threshold. Immediately, you were hit with a wonderful scent, earthy, like tree bark, but sweet, like raw honey.

It was a decent sized cabin, spacious and not heavily furnished. The kitchen was on the small side, but seemingly to accommodate a larger living room.

As Hawks had warned, there was a thin layer of dust all across the wood floors. The furniture was covered by clear tarps, shielding them from the debris.

The dining area tucked away in the corner had a chabudai in place of a western style table. It was small and clearly only intended for two people. You had a feeling it was new, considering how spotless it looked compared to the rest of the cabin.

A huge, stone fireplace rested against the north wall, surrounded by large windows that gave a beautiful view of the outside. They were adorned with heavy curtains, pulled back to let the sunlight in.

Hawks was lingering, following close, staring down at you as you walked around and took in the sight of the place. When your eyes landed on him, and you caught his unblinking stare, you realized he was awaiting feedback.

It startled you a little, for Hawks wasn't the kind to fuss over these sorts of things; but, you had a decent enough understanding of what a rut was to know what was going through his head.

"Relax, birdbrain," you cooed, reaching up to tap gently at his cheek with a closed palm. That seemed to knock him out of his stupor, for he blinked and suddenly looked sheepish. He flickered his gold eyes away, as if to give you space.

"I love it," you praised, looking back into the living area. "Cozy, and smells nice."

You heard him exhale a relieved sigh through his nostrils.

"We should get to work. Where's the cleaning stuff?" you asked, peeling your jacket off.

"Oh. I'll-" he began.

"You'll let me help," you interrupted him gently.

When you turned back to face him, and saw the bewildered expression he was wearing, you wondered if maybe that wasn't the right thing to fit with his current state.

"Unless that's... bad?" you offered uncertainly, shoulders sagging.

Hawks laughed suddenly at the sunken expression on your face, as if the joyous sound came sputtering out against his will.

"No," he answered softly, leaning in suddenly for another kiss, as if he couldn't help it. You didn't get a chance to kiss back before he was retreating.

"Don't change," he sighed. "I want you as you, not as my..."

"-subservient housewife?" you offered, just a little teasing.

He chuckled softly, breathing out a harsh, "fuck, no."

Hawks maneuvered around you and headed for what you guessed was a supply closet. Inside, the cleaning gear was also neatly packaged in containers and safe from dust.

It made sense, how neatly arranged everything was. Hawks was a fairly neat person; but, it was also clear that he had this whole thing down, neatly tuned and properly sorted out. He had been coming here for years, after all.

This place was special to him. That much was clear.

The two of you started to dusting and sweeping, followed by a diligent mopping, with the two of you working in tandem.

Hawks was fairly quiet during the whole ordeal, seemingly focused sternly on the task at hand. It had been his nest for years. This was hardly anything new; but, it was now going to be yours, too.

He didn't tell you that he had been worried he would react negatively to your presence. He didn't always react rationally during this time. Seemingly average things would sometimes irritate him, and a part of the possessive onslaught included this abode.

Fortunately, that hadn't been the case. Cleaning the cabin with you was soothing. He wasn't unaware of the obvious implication: that you were preparing a nest together, your shared nest. He didn't say it aloud, but you had come to that realization, as well.

It had actually calmed him quite a bit. He had been on edge before you arrived, skin prickled with heat and sweating unreasonably considering the cold. Those weren't abnormal during his ruts; but, it felt intensified with that knowledge that you were going to be here.

Darkness swept across the forest as the hours dragged on. Luckily, you were just about finished by the time it got dark.

There was a neat stack of firewood arranged on a carrier near the fireplace, making you wonder if that was what he had worked on before your arrival. The logs looked freshly cut and heavy.

Crimson feathers delivered logs to the hearth. Hawks retrieved a set of matches from a cubby near the carrier and then kneeled before the hearth. He set one of the matches ablaze and carefully ignited the firewood arranged in the pit.

Warmth and light flooded the cabinet. Plumes gathered along the edges of the curtains and pulled them back, covering the windows. When they returned to his wingspan, he stepped back and monitored the fire briefly.

While cleaning, you had learned there was a cellar and partial second story, as well as an indoor bathroom. It seemed that the main use of the generator was to power the water heater and indoor plumbing.

The cellar was small, down a short flight of stairs, with concrete floors and walls, the perfect size for containing a month's worth of food and supplies, far more than was necessary for just a week.

The second story was a loft that oversaw the living room, giving a great view of the fireplace. There was no safety railing on the upstairs, likely for the very obvious fact that Hawks could fly. There was, at least, a staircase.

Upstairs, there was a large bed frame with a plush mattress, wrapped up tight to protect from dust, a large chest pressed up against the wall, and a desk without a chair.

After he removed the bed cover, you watched Hawks pull neatly folded blankets and pillow cases out the chest. It was fascinating to see someone, who normally slept wherever his body landed, so meticulously prepare the bedding: layers and layers of blankets, followed by dressing the pillows and laying them out.

It was especially perplexing because of the intense, concentrated look on his face. He had been so focused that he hadn't even realized that you had paused what you were doing to watch him.

Luckily, you caught yourself staring before he did, and shuffled back downstairs before he could notice.

A sudden howling had startled you, before a sharp wind rattled against the shutters. Something was thumping gently against the roof and when the wind picked up, you could almost hear the trees shuddering outside.

"It's snowing," Hawks observed, suddenly at your side.

You could see a glimpse of crimson in the corner of your eye, and realized he had a wing fanned out around you, not quite close enough to touch, but hovering. Maybe, he hadn't even realized he was doing that.

"Oh," you answered quietly.

Together, you prepared dinner, settling for a classic favorite of his: yakitori chicken and stir fry noodles.

Eating dinner together, and talking about nothing, made you realize, it had been the first time in a long time, if ever, that you hadn't discussed work: nothing about the agency, nothing about heroes or villains, nothing about police business or missions.

It was just senseless conversations that amounted to nothing.

The dining table was small and the floor was cold; but, your hands brushed constantly due to the lack of space. It made you realize that you had longed to have this type of moment with him, something so utterly domestic.

"I know it's not super late," Hawks began, on his way to the kitchen with the dirty plates. "But, I'm gonna wake you up early; so, let's get to bed, okay?"

His voice was soft, surprisingly drowsy, you realized, and he continued, "it's - well, there's something I wanna show you, and it looks best in the sunrise."

He had started the dishes before you could; so, you stepped in close, deciding to tease him a little.

"I bet you do look best in the sunrise," you uttered, leaning against the counter top near the sink, where he had busied his hands. He was looking away from you; but, you could see his lip twitch into a faint smile.

Hawks laughed, a low chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Not me," he replied softly. Yet, he found himself feeling enamored with the knowledge that that was where your mind had wandered first.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" you offered, standing upright and shifting away from the counter.

"Nah," he replied simply. "I'll join ya' in a bit."

You changed into your pajamas, brushed your teeth and pulled your hair back, before heading upstairs. Blankets and pillows were stacked high on top of the mattress, making the bedframe disappear beneath it.

It not only looked incredibly warm, but incredibly soft, and an inspection with your hand, smoothing over the surface, confirmed that. There were several pillows pressed against the headboard and even more at the foot of the bed.

If you hadn't seen him arrange it, you would have doubted it was even Hawks' bed. From the glimpses you had seen into his life, he was a minimalist.

His office at the agency was fairly large, but looked almost comical with the lack of furniture in it. He wasn't one to buy much of anything outside of perishables.

"Take those off."

You had heard that commanding tone many times before; but, in the peace and serenity of this cabin, it startled you. Your shoulders twitched a little and you turned to face him, having not heard Hawks approach.

His gold eyes were glaring at your body, shifting up to meet your gaze when you turned to face him.

You gawked back at him, dumbfounded by his boldness, and a little intrigued, if you were being honest. He had warned you about this, and you were about to comply when his dark expression suddenly softened.

"Oh fuck," Hawks blurted, embarrassment washing over his face. The intensity of the moment dissipated and you found yourself unable to hold back a faint smile at the way his face so rapidly changed from anger to shame.

"Shit - I - sorry - ugh," he stammered, some redness tinting the tops of his ears. His dominant hand came up and ruffled his hair. "That was messed up. Ah - what I mean is, can we sleep naked?"

It was clear he wasn't embarrassed about the request, but the way that he had asked. You couldn't hold back a soft chuckle at his frazzled state.

"Of course," you uttered, and began shedding your clothes.

He was staring at your nudity as if it wasn't something he had seen many times before, as if his hands and mouth hadn't explored every inch of skin, hadn't touched and claimed parts of you your own hands couldn't reach.

It made you feel powerful, beautiful.

"Did you brush your teeth?" you asked, knocking him out of his stupor.

He didn't respond, but made a face that gave you your answer. He turned away then, and hopped over the edge of the loft, floating down into the lower floor, and scurried off to the bathroom.

Promptly, you disappeared beneath the blankets, shivering from the cold, skin prickled with goosebumps. You were about to scold yourself for complying with him so eagerly, without demanding a compromise, mainly that you expected him to warm you up.

Luckily, it didn't take him long to join you, and you suddenly felt a very warm, and very naked, body slot into the space behind you, wiggling beneath the blankets. It was almost concerning how warm he was, like he had just flung himself into the hearth before running back over here.

You rolled onto your back to greet him and Hawks wasted no time slotting over you, tangling legs, arms falling on either side of your head. Wispy bangs fell over his forehead, longer strands catching on his eyebrows.

Your eyes peered over his shoulders, where you could see his wings were fanned out above him, plumes stretched wide, looming possessively. When your gaze shifted to his face, your breath hitched.

His stare was hypnotizing, as if he couldn't believe you were here, gold eyes practically glowing in the dimly lit loft.

It made you sad to think just your presence alone had pleased him so much, whereas nothing else had yet to occur. It made you think of all the years he had to endure this alone, the loneliness far more straining than the lack of a pliant body.

"Hey," he began, voice hoarse, distant.

His dominant hand shifted from the bed to cup your cheek, thumb gently prodding at your cheek bone. Just like the rest of his body, his hand was so warm.

"I know I said I wouldn't let you leave," he explained, fingers sliding carefully across your temple. "But, if you want to, at any time, I'll call the taxi and-"

You leaned up, taking his lips in a gentle kiss to silence him. He moaned into the kiss, clearly surprised by your interruption. His hand departed your face, lowering to caress the side of your neck.

When you pulled back, he chased, not letting you depart from him quite so quickly. The kiss carried on for a short while, Hawks only leaning back when he was satisfied.

"No," you disagreed in a soft hum, hands rising to push strands of his hair out of his face. "I'm not leaving. We're going through this together. Okay?"

He let out a sigh that fluttered across your cheeks. "Okay," he agreed, as if he couldn't believe it.

Hawks shifted until he was lying beside you, one arm loose around your waist. You turned a little to lay on your side and lean into him, cheek falling comfortably into the pillow beneath your head, and felt him nuzzle into your back, bringing you as close as he could without ruining your comfort.

One of his wings folded carefully over you while the other sprawled out across the bed. The light from the fire just barely reached the loft, an amber glow that flickered with the dancing flames.

The sounds of the gentle snowfall outside was a little louder upstairs. One of the nearby windows rattled softly, trembling weakly from the breeze that shook the shutters. The rafters above creaked occasionally in melodic hums.

Behind you, Hawks' chest undulated with his breathing, moving against the skin of your back. His wings shifted ever so slightly in harmony with the expansion and shrinking of his lungs. The longer plumes on the ends twitched occasionally.

"Keigo?" you whispered.

He didn't answer. Judging by the way his arm had slackened where it rested over your waist, you figured he had fallen asleep already.

The bedding was soft, and you had no doubt that he had washed them diligently; yet, mingled with the earthy tones of the cabin, they smelt like him. The hearth crackled distantly, the sound a faint echo through the cabin.

It didn't take long to slip away.

• • •

• • •

Sometime in the middle of the night, you were woken by a strange sound. In your groggy state, it sounded like a distant animal cooing into the night.

Once you properly came to, you realized the warmth against your back had retreated. The blanket had been partially ripped away in the process, leaving the skin of your back exposed to the cold air of the cabin.

What had sounded far away you now realized was coming from right behind you, pained little noises and harsh wheezing. You rolled over to take in the sight of Hawks, blindly reaching for him in a moment of panic.

Worry struck you when your skin touched his. He had already been warm to the touch before; but now, his skin felt scorching, sticky with sweat. Your hand had landed on his chest, where you could feel his muscles rapidly rising and falling with each staggering breath.

The noise that had woken you became obvious then; he was panting, sharp and labored breaths that whooshed in and out of him, occasionally accompanied with a quiet, pained sound.

He had shoved the blankets away and was laying on his back, wings tucked in uncomfortably tight beneath him. Through the faint glow of warm light from the fireplace, you could see his chest raising and falling rapidly, head tossed back, face contorted in pain. Some strands of blonde locks were clinging to the sweat soaked skin on his face.

"Keigo - Keigo," you called to him, hands rising to his shoulders so you could shake him.

It wasn't until he jerked suddenly, eyes opening and head whipping towards you, that you realized he had been sleeping. His labored breathing intensified, but only for a second, before he started to calm down.

His gold eyes were glossy for a second, staring at you blindly, before he started to wake properly. His lips were parted, sharp breaths still escaping him in harsh wisps.

"Are you okay?" you whispered harshly. "Are you sick? You look-..."

You could see a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Now, with him leaning up a little, you could see the flush of red tinting his skin, all down his chest and across his cheeks. His shoulder muscles were tight and his wings twitched helplessly beneath him.

"I'm f-fine," Hawks answered, voice low and hoarse. He swallowed roughly. "It's - it's a n-normal side effect."

"You're burning up," you hissed, hands touching his skin so carefully, like you would hurt him if you were too rough. "Are you sure you're okay?" you insisted.

"Just need-" he growled, cutting off as he tried to sit up.

His movement had repositioned your hands, causing them to drag from his shoulders to his chest, less you lose stability and collapse on top of him.

It was a familiar touch, a place you had touched him many times before; yet, he froze suddenly, gaze shifting down to your hands as if they were grounding him to this plane of existence.

Hawks' gold eyes fluttered shut and his pained expression softened. He flopped back on the bed, giving up his attempt to sit up as if he had suddenly lost all strength in his body.

Catching on, you uttered into the cold air, "is that what you need? Keigo, do you want me to-"

"Yes," he answered sharply, hissing through the cold, chilled air. He sounded relieved, thankful that you had offered before he had to ask.

"God, fuck - I - I need you, need to - to - be inside you-"

His babbling briefly ceased when you pushed the blankets off yourself and rolled on top of him, a gesture you had done many times before, now a nearly perfect art.

You watched, hypnotized as Hawks arched his back off the bed and flexed his wings until they were sprawled out on either side of him. The beautiful crimson plumes stretched out across the sheets, shuddering in faint waves that matched his heavy breathings.

In the shift, his cock became pinned against your inner thigh. If you didn't known any better, you would have thought he was prodding you with an iron rod pulled straight from the fires of a forge.

It was unbearably hot, hard as steel and painfully poking against your flesh. You could feel his heartbeat through his cock, throbbing against you as if pleading to be touched.

Arousal had never struck you this hard before, with enough force that it made your never regions throb and chest tighten. Blood rushed to your face so quickly, you briefly feared you would pass out.

Now, hovering, looking down at him, it was almost unbearable. It was clear that Hawks was in pain, and you felt a tinge of guilt at the realization that his state had aroused you.

But, the truth was, he looked stunning.

Maybe it was the red flush staining his skin, or the glisten of sweat, shiny with the reflection of the fire burning in the hearth. Maybe it was the way his gold eyes practically glowed through the darkness, staring up at you like a starving predator, glaring with dangerous intent.

Some sort of inhuman growl escaped him and Hawks grabbed at your meaty hips, roughly pulling you forward. It didn't take you long to figure out what he was doing; but, your attempts to aid were waisted, for he simply dragged you down to his liking, until the heat of your sex collided with his face ungracefully.

The first thing you registered was his mouth kissing sloppily at your sex. His tongue followed, lapping at your folds impatiently before breaching your heat. Hawks was always the kind to give sloppy oral; but, this was something else entirely.

He moaned shamelessly when his tongue registered your taste, hips rising off the bed as if attempting to chase a sensation that wasn't there.

Your hands fall onto the wall, and you tried to keep yourself up; but, he wasn't having it, growling and pulling you back down. It was difficult to not go dead weight when his tongue was lapping at your walls, mouth suctioned around your entrance like he was trying to suck juices from a ripe fruit.

One of your hands weaved through his hair, gently massaging his scalp in a praising gesture. It was difficult to get out sensible words. Instead, you moaned broken pieces of his name, thighs trembling on either side of his head.

You had no idea how much time had passed before he seemed satisfied and finally lifted you up enough to remove his mouth. The wet gasp that escaped him, suggesting he had been holding his breath, riddled you with shameful lust.

"You made a mess," Hawks observed deliriously.

He sounded immensely pleased with himself and even leaned in to take another taste, this time honing in on your pearl. You felt more than heard his pleased chuckle when you whined at the sudden touch.

This time, when he pulled away, he let you retreat. As you shimmied down his body, you caught him wiping your essence off his face with a careful finger before popping it in his mouth.

Hawks' skin was still flushed red, all the way up to his ears; but, now, he looked damn smug to top it all off. You couldn't see the look you were wearing, but you knew by the heat on your face that it was lewd.

The cold of the cabin had been lost to you, especially when you positioned your hips over his and felt the head of his cock nuzzle at your entrance, threatening to breach your core.

Hawks' head fell back into the sheets with a whine, eyes squeezing shut. Tantalized by the sight, you intended to tease him a little; however, he nudged his hips forward with a sudden jerk, effortlessly impaling you on his cock, and taking that opportunity away.

"Ohhh, fuck!" Hawks shouted before sucking his bottom lip beneath his teeth. He released it after letting out a low hiss.

You closed your own eyes for a moment, adjusting to the sudden intrusion of his impressive girth, and felt his hands slowly slide up your thighs into the dips of your hips, slotting over a spot he had practically engraved for himself ever since this began.

When your eyes opened, you looked down and took in the deliriously beautiful look on his face. His thumbs nudged your hip bones pleadingly and his eyes opened, peering up at you through dark lashes.

Forgoing any thoughts about teasing, you planted your hands on his chest and rolled your hips. The motion punched a whine out of him. The sound drawled out into a growl when you kept the rhythm, chasing your own pleasure.

"Yeah," he hummed encouragingly. "Come on. Use me. Fuck yourself on my cock. Just like - ahh - fuck..."

You hardly needed the encouragement; but, the dirty words spewing from his lips further ignited the heat in your belly, and you whined in response.

He could have easily pulled your hips down to intensify the moment. Instead, he lifted his hips off the bed to meet yours, effortlessly matching your movement and chasing the delicious warmth and wetness of your core, while letting his hands hold you gently.

"Baby, do you feel good?" Hawks uttered lowly, his pleading question gently breaking through the moment.

"Y-ye-s, Kei - go," you sobbed, stuttering out your response and groaning halfway through his name.

It was always good; but, something about this moment made it more intense than ever before. You could already feel the sensation rising, thighs trembling every time his cock slid back inside, hitting the perfect spot again and again.

"Yeah?" he hummed, sounding so breathless and fucked out, despite you having just barely begun. "You feel good, so fucking good," he praised between labored pants and low moans.

"You're so fucking good to me," Hawks babbled on, head falling back into the sheets, where he closed his eyes. You watched his adam's apple bob, noticed how tight his jaw was clenched.

A growl vibrated through his chest, followed by a breathless sympathy of curses, "oh fuck - oh fuck. Come on, fuck my cock - yeah - ahhh. Ya' hear that? Those sounds. God, you're so f-fucking perfect."

Your union was loud, skin slapping together and wet, fleshy sounds echoing between the two of you.

His dominant hand released your hip and slid around, thumb prodding between your folds and seeking out your pearl. You were already so sensitive, feeling him so deep, teetering on the edge. When his calloused skin touched that spot, you let out a cry.

"Come on this cock," Hawks groaned. "Sooo close - f-fuck. Come on. Come for me. Fucking come. Gonna fill you up. You want that? My seed. Yeah you fucking d-hnn-"

His babbling ceased when your orgasm took you, the sudden spasms and fluttering of your walls making all sensible thoughts drain from his mind.

His hand returned to your hip, fingers gripping your waist, and he started roughly dragging you up and down to meet his thrusts. You went limp, letting him bounce you on his cock to your liking. Your hands slipped off his chest and you fell onto him, forehead knocking gently against his cheek.

You could hear him huffing and grunting, the occasional growl seeping through, right into your ear as he fucked you through your orgasm, and continued on, chasing his end.

His cock throbbed, firmly enough that you felt it and the sensation startled you a little; but, that thought was lost when he let out an uncharacteristically loud shout, crying out in ecstasy.

Hawks had always been loud; but, this was something else entirely, and the moans and growls didn't stop, along with his undulating hips, for what felt like an eternity.

To top it all off, you could feel it, spurts of his seed, burning hot as it filled you. In the corner of your eye, you could make out his feathers, each and every one trembling beneath him.

Then, finally, he went still.

Hawks' panting filled the room, almost loud enough to drown out the crackling of the fireplace. Even after his panting died down, he let out quiet groans, his orgasm having not yet waned in full.

Eventually, he turned his head and pressed a wet kiss against your cheek. You turned your head to meet him, at first catching the corner of his mouth before he angled his head to kiss you properly.

You could practically feel the praises behind each kiss, thank you's and love pouring from his mouth to yours in a nonverbal gesture. His hands ran up and down your back, massaging your skin but also ensuring that you didn't move and he remained deep inside you.

When he finally released your lips, you busied your hands with his wild mane, gently pushing strands away from his face. He seemed to like the preening, letting his eyes flutter shut and head fall back.

You didn't have to ask if he was feeling better. His all-body, harsh red blush had mellowed out and he wasn't panting like a parched dog.

You hadn't realized you were still trembling until he uttered, "it's okay," in a soothing, worried voice.

His hands shifted to your thighs, where he carefully pushed them back and rolled you onto your side, keeping his cock nuzzled deep. His arms wound around your back, bringing you into an embrace while his wings stretched out behind him before sagging comfortably to the bed.

You realized, as he brought you in, that you were still shaking a little. The worry was evident in his eyes, like he had done something wrong.

"D-do you want me to pull out?" he offered in a weak voice.

"It's not that," you replied softly. "That was... intense."

When your eyes locked with his gold orbs, and he took in the sight of your expression, it seemed to steadily become clear to him, what you were feeling. His lips sought our your skin, senselessly kissing whatever he could reach, all over your cheeks, down your chin and along the expansion of your throat.

Hawks’ head fell onto the pillow and his wispy blonde hair tangled with yours. The unease began to fade away as he held you close, bringing the blanket back over your forms when his intense heat finally started to wane. So did the spell, and something concerning struck him.

"Please, tell me if it gets too intense," Hawks uttered, breath fluttering out against your temple. “I’ll-...”

He cut himself because he wasn’t quite what he would do, what he could do. Could he stop? In this moment of clear thoughts, he sure hoped so. But, part of him feared that wasn’t true, and the last thing he wanted was to lie to you about what he was capable of.

You had figured that he had yet to hit the apex of his rut. Yet, his warnings hadn't frightened you in the slightest, especially after what had just occurred. If anything, you were enticed by it. Maybe, in some strange way, it was affecting you to.

"I can handle you," you promised.

You felt more so than heard the uneasy breath that stuttered out his nostrils. Your words stirred something deep in his gut, overcoming the fear, burning arousal and adoration.

[solalunar-eclipse]

A Gift To Remember

Summary: Shadow receives a gift for his birthday that causes a series of very interesting (and often cute) events.

Word count: about 7500 words

Author’s Note: I didn’t realize today was Shadow’s birthday! At the moment I’m more than a little confused because the release dates for SA2 say everything from the 18th to the 23rd, but this seems to be the one, so here this is!

Also, to that one anon whose question about this fic I never quite managed to answer- sorry about that and I do hope you’re still here to read this!

...

The main room of Team Dark’s home was, on a normal day, at least somewhat clean- which was in and of itself surprising, considering the fact that three teenagers lived there. (It was, of course, slightly less surprising when it was noted that one of these teenagers was a giant robot, one was already a businesswoman, and one had grown up in an incredibly clean environment.)

At the moment, however, said room was currently rather less clean, instead covered in various colorful signs, streamers, balloons, and other such decorations. After all, today was a very special day.

When Shadow and Rouge had discovered they shared a birthday (or creation day for Shadow, technically), they both became infinitely more determined to celebrate it for the other’s sake. This had actually, interestingly enough, also ended up making them enjoy their own festivities more than they had in quite some time.

Omega, meanwhile, had officially decided that this was his favorite day of the year.

Over the past few days, Rouge had already received a few presents from various people she knew in the line of clothes, makeup, or jewelry- but as much as she loved gems, her favorites so far were definitely the ones Omega and Shadow had gotten for her: a laser cutter that could slice through anything and a pair of (stylish) infrared goggles, respectively.

Shadow had just opened his present from Omega, which happened to be a sword that looked very cool...but was also longer than his actual body. This wasn’t actually as big of a problem for him as might be expected, as he’d gotten used to handling weapons several times his size during the alien invasion a little while back. 

He had, however, been told rather quickly by Rouge to put it away ‘before you slice the wall in half, this place does cost money, you know!’.

Next, Rouge placed her present in his hands, but at first all Shadow could do was just stare at it. This was likely because the gift wasn’t actually wrapped, but instead consisted of a box made of wood slats and filled, oddly enough, with paper shavings. There were quite a few ribbons on it, though, in an attempt to make up for the lack of other decorations.

“I couldn’t wrap it, or else the present wouldn’t have worked.” she explained, sitting back down to watch him open it.

After prying off the top and shifting aside some of the paper pieces, the hedgehog froze.

Inside, there sat a single white chao egg.

Carefully lifting the egg out of the box, Shadow held it gingerly, as though he were afraid it might try to bite him if he wasn’t gentle enough.

“Rouge…” he began nervously. “Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate this, but...are you sure I’m the best person to be taking care of a chao?”

“Of course, hon!” she said. “You’ve taken care of them before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but…” Shadow protested, “...are you sure I’ll be able to do as well at home? The garden is their natural habitat…”

Omega folded his arms. “YOU ARE THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM. OF COURSE YOU CAN RAISE A CHAO.”

“That’s right!” Rouge added. “The chao are always happy when you take care of them- this time isn’t going to be any different.”

“…I suppose so.” Shadow conceded, taking a deep breath. He began to rock the egg slowly from side to side. “Here we go-”

A crack appeared across the pristine white surface. The split spread rapidly while Shadow sat and watched, making sure not to move the egg about much. Chao had to hatch their eggs on their own- it was the way they first began to strengthen themselves. 

Rouge laughed. “See? You know exactly what you’re doing!”

Shadow studiously ignored her and continued to focus on the egg. Then, suddenly, a chirp came from inside and the whole top half came flying off.

The hybrid looked at his newborn chao...and his heart (though he’d never admit it) immediately melted. Soft, big eyes gazed up at him, an overjoyed smile on the creature’s face. It cooed happily upon seeing him give a small smile back, and he reached out and began to gently pat its head.

The chao broke into an even wider smile as its eyes closed blissfully, the little sphere above its head popping into a heart. Shadow continued to pet it, offering gentle words of praise, and might have continued like that for the next ten minutes had a camera noise from Omega not made him look up in alarm.

“ADDING IMAGE TO FILE: SHADOW BEING SOFT.” he declared, while Rouge looked on with a giant grin.

“You will do nothing of the sort-” Shadow growled, jumping to his feet, before a soft whimper from his chao stopped him. Its eyes were watery, wide and distressed, and the hybrid immediately scooped it up in his arms, holding it close. It relaxed quickly, snuggling into his chest fluff, and he shot Omega one last semi-serious glower before turning his attention back to the newborn.

Omega promptly took another picture.

…

Later that day, at the party that all of their friends had thrown for them, the chao and Shadow were nearly inseparable. It tended to rest in his lap when he was sitting or rode in between his ears whenever he stood up to get something. Eventually, though, the excitement of a new environment overwhelmed its initial nervousness, which unfortunately led to Shadow returning from the dining room with his hands full of plates of food to discover his chao crawling along the precarious edge of a bookshelf.

Suddenly, the chao’s footing slipped, and Shadow froze, unable to move or do anything- but then Sonic of all people noticed and was already there, leaping up and catching the chao before resting it snugly in his arms. “Looks like someone’s already progressed to the giving-their-owner-a-heart-attack stage, hm?” he asked, smirking at the little creature.

“Thank you.” Shadow said as his chao was returned to him, trying very hard to ignore the way his hands and Sonic’s brushed in the process.

(He’d been nursing a bit of a crush on the hero for a while now, but had decided to ignore it until it wore off. Sonic had admirers from all across the globe vying for his attention- it was absurd to think that anything could happen between them.)

…

Over the coming weeks, all three members of Team Dark made sure to rework their schedules so that someone was always home to watch over the chao- no more climbing on bookcases for the little one now. Shadow did most of the caretaking, feeding, training, cleaning, and providing Chaos Drives (mostly green) to the chao. Rouge did, however, occasionally claim she could ‘handle the extra work’ to give him some spare time and Omega even took it upon himself to watch it every so often.

Sometimes, Shadow and his chao would even cook together in the kitchen (a hobby he’d discovered he enjoyed after finding out that Rouge tended to eat takeout all the time- “You can’t live off that day in and day out- you’re not me, Rouge!”). The sight of a tiny pale blue creature determinedly lifting a bag of flour and flying it across the room was awfully cute- especially after Shadow bought it a tiny apron in what he unconvincingly claimed was an accidental purchase. 

Shadow never made accidental purchases.

As much as the hybrid took care of it, though, the chao also seemed to be helping him. He smiled more, glowered less, and generally seemed more tolerant of mistakes than he had been in the past. Nowadays, errors that would once have caused him to go off on a rant or huff about were now met with a calmer ‘it’s okay’ or an offer for help fixing it.

He often laid a hand on it in his sleep or curled around it protectively, and could easily be seen patting its head, carrying it around, or even- when he thought he was alone- nuzzling it gently. The amount of time and care he put into making sure that his chao was happy would have been astonishing to anyone who hadn’t already seen how much he cared about his friends.

It was no surprise then that, before long, Rouge and Omega woke up one morning to find the chao inside a cocoon (and also a very stressed-out Shadow).

The hedgehog promptly called in sick for the entire week- an incredible occurrence for him. He’d originally sworn that since he couldn’t get ill, he’d give his sick days to others when they needed it, but now that was all out the window. He wanted nothing more than to stay home and essentially sit and stare at the cocoon until it hatched.

While the two other members of Team Dark managed to convince him to eat, sleep, and do chores on regular intervals, whenever Shadow had a spare moment he’d stay in his room, watching and waiting. Their friends got so worried that Rouge and Omega had used everything in their power to coax him out of the house twice over those five days, but he refused to do any more. Even then his outings had to come with the promise that they’d both stay home, check it every five minutes, and call him the absolute moment something happened.

On the sixth day of waiting, the cocoon began to hatch while Shadow was attempting to discreetly read out loud to the chao from one of his favorite books. The moment he saw the split, he dropped the novel, jumped up, and shouted louder than he had in months- “Rouge! Omega! It’s HAPPENING!”

He hovered so closely around the cocoon that Omega had to physically pull him back as Rouge reminded him to give the chao more space. Within moments, the split had widened enough for a single black paw to poke out, feeling around carefully for some sort of purchase to pull itself the rest of the way outside. Soon enough, it had succeeded, earning- impressively enough- widened eyes from Omega and a gasp from both Shadow and Rouge.

Frowning light blue eyes were set in an equally grumpy (albeit adorable) face, with two little black ears and three tiny quills on the chao’s head. The ears and quills both had red stripes, as did the arms, legs, and even its tail. A red crescent shape sat on its chest, and two tiny purple bat wings flapped slowly behind it.

In short, it looked a lot like a tiny Shadow.

The hedgehog in question reached out carefully and began to pet his chao, offering some quiet words of praise, but before long it flew up and settled in its favorite spot in between his ears. When Shadow turned around to face his friends, they were met with the sight of a little glowering creature settled on top of his head…which really did look far too similar to the hybrid himself when he was irritated. 

Rouge covered a smile with both of her hands. “Shadow...hon…”

He frowned at her, only serving to make the resemblance more obvious. “What?”

“It looks exactly like you!”

“Not really- it has blue eyes and...bat wings…” He looked up at her suddenly. “Rouge...how much time have you been spending with Spark again?”

“Oh, just a little- wait, Spark?” she said quickly, redirecting his attention.

Shadow flushed a bright green at that. “I might’ve already picked out a name...does it sound alright?” he asked, studiously looking anywhere but at his friends.

The chao chirped at the name and snuggled a little further into the fur on his head, seemingly pleased with the title. 

He began to smile at that. “You like that name, do you?” he asked teasingly.

“It sure looks like it! I think it’s a lovely name, hon.” Rouge added.

The chao cooed, cementing its name with all of the team (whether Omega would admit it or not).

Now, if anything, Shadow and his chao were even more close than before. Rouge even bought it a tiny leather jacket to match his style, which was quickly deemed by everyone (especially their friends, to whom she’d sent about fifty photos) the most adorable thing ever. 

...

One day, Shadow came home from lunch out with Silver and Blaze only to discover a quite unexpected scene- though he really should have seen it coming, considering what he’d noticed after his chao had hatched. Rouge was kneeling next to the sofa, scratching Spark behind the ears and saying in what could only be described as a baby voice, “Who’s your favorite momma? Me, that’s right. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Uh….” he interrupted, feeling more than a little uncertain as to how to respond to this. He was torn between “I didn’t know you had a baby voice” and “I’m glad to see you and Spark getting along” and wasn’t entirely sure which one to go with here.

The bat, on the other hand, jumped a good three feet in the air at the sound before glaring at Shadow furiously. “Don’t startle me like that!” she shouted, more than a little tense...and also a bit worried?

The hybrid didn’t react, instead saying “It’s nice to see you spending time with Spark too, Rouge.” with a smile. 

She relaxed a little at that, and Shadow sighed. “Rouge, I wouldn’t make fun of you- I do the same kind of thing, don’t I?”

“You’re right, you’re right.” the bat admitted. “I just had to! It looks like me- it even has my wings! How could I not?”

Shadow moved to sit down on the sofa at that, reaching out to pat the chao as well. Rouge smiled at him gratefully, and then they both looked down at the cute creature in between them, who was promptly staring up at both with a confused look on its face. After a moment, though, it seemed to realize that everything was alright and nuzzled both Mobians before curling up on the couch happily.

…

Another time, the entire team was out grocery shopping at their favorite store when Spark’s eye was caught by the soft, warm cinnamon buns sitting behind a glass case. After a minute or two of desperate pulling at the seams- to no avail- it flew over to Shadow and began to poke at his shoulder until he turned to look at it.

“Yes? What is it?” he asked, giving the chao a little scratch under the chin.

The chao pointed excitedly at the sweet treats, but its expression melted into one of dismay upon hearing him say “No, Spark, that’s not very good for you- and it’s too big for you to finish all by yourself, too.”

It mimed a clock insistently- they didn’t go to the store that often, after all- its frown deepening all the while. Shadow felt a little uncertain- he enjoyed giving the chao treats, but was now really the best time to feed it so much sugar? It could end up flying all over the place, and he really didn’t feel like getting banned from yet another grocery store. (The last one had been because Omega got a little too excited while messing around with the shopping cart and had melted it and twisted it into a knot...somehow. They were rapidly escorted out after that.)

Suddenly, though, the chao shuffled forward, took one of his fingers in between its tiny paws, and stared up at him with the softest, most pleading look it could possibly manage, its eyes wide and mouth quivering. “No...no, come on…” Shadow protested weakly, but already his resistance was melting away. It practically seemed to be saying haven’t I been good all week? Can’t I please just have this one treat? and the hybrid was in no condition to fight back.

Within moments, Spark was holding a cinnamon roll and dug into it with glee, only pausing once to nuzzle Shadow happily and offer him a quick bite as thanks. He accepted the gesture of appreciation easily (even though now his face had sugar on it after the chao’s affectionate thank-you) and was more than happy to see his chao smiling broadly with the treat in its hands.

…

The chao was, of course, still a great help to Shadow as well. One night in particular, it woke up to the sounds of quiet whimpering and began to look around, startled. For a moment, it turned to its caretaker for help- and then discovered that he was the one in trouble.

Shadow was curled up on his side, his brow creased in distress and his whole body shaking terribly. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and occasionally the most terribly saddening sounds would escape his mouth. Once or twice, a tear escaped and trickled down his face.

Spark crawled up to his face gently, licking away the tear and nuzzling his cheek. Shadow shuddered briefly, but seemed to relax almost infinitesimally when the dark chao pressed itself against his chest for a moment. Eventually, the creature managed to get him to roll onto his back, at which point it crawled onto his chest, hoping that this would help him begin to relax.

It really did work- within moments, the small, warm weight on his chest made Shadow’s breathing even out and his shivers ease as the nightmare that was plaguing him began to fade.

Spark curled up, pleased with itself, and fell back asleep not long after.

…

There was just one problem amongst all this newly-discovered happiness that came with the chao. Ever since it had evolved out of its cocoon, Omega seemed as though he were hardly willing to interact with it.

Rouge or Shadow would hand it over to him, only to get it back less than a minute later. He spent the least amount of time with it out of the three, but when he was asked if he didn’t like the chao, he never said as much. 

Omega didn’t tend to lie...but then why wouldn’t he do anything with it?

Once or twice, they’d caught him merely staring at Spark as the little creature sat on the couch, his optics clicking but otherwise utterly silent. The two Mobians hardly knew what to make of it- he’d never acted like this before.

They finally had the opportunity to discover why he was behaving strangely several days later, though, entirely due to an accident on Shadow’s part. Rouge and Omega had been answering a distress call regarding some rogue G.U.N. robots and needed to call in the hybrid to help. He’d driven his motorbike directly to the scene and leapt straight into battle…

...and hadn’t noticed Spark peeking out of the bag he’d left on his bike.

The chao- while fast, to be sure- was in no way prepared for a full-on battle. While at first it had hoped to help its little family, flying about uncertainly in hopes of doing something, it quickly discovered that the only thing it could really do was to hide behind an upended concrete slab and hope it wasn’t noticed.

That, unfortunately, didn’t quite work out.

It didn’t take long before one of the rogue drones spotted a fourth heat signature aside from the three it was fighting and began to stalk towards it, charging its laser cannon in the process. Shadow, confused at first, felt his stomach drop in horror upon seeing his tiny chao shaking in fear as the machine advanced on its hiding spot. He hadn’t thought to bring a Chaos Emerald, believing this would be an easy battle- and Rouge was busy in the air.

The laser cannon on the drone was almost fully charged, and Shadow fired up his skates in a futile attempt to somehow reach Spark before-

A white hot blast lit up the area.

Shadow couldn’t have stopped the strangled cry that came from his mouth if he had wanted to. The smoke began to clear, and he almost couldn’t look…

Something stirred within the haze, and as it cleared away, Shadow felt his whole body sag with relief upon seeing Omega shifting to an upright position from where he’d shielded the chao with the back of his chassis, blocking the full force of the laser. He let out a sigh as he caught a glimpse of Spark held safely in Omega’s hand as the other one retracted to reveal a flamethrower.

“MY TURN.”

Within moments, the drone was just so much melted slag on the floor and the battle’s tide was turned. Shadow and Rouge dispatched the other robots and then rushed to Omega, who had held onto the chao this entire time.

“Omega...thank you.” Shadow said, taking Spark from his friend and holding it tightly.

“IT WAS- zzzt- NOTHING.” Omega said, a sudden staticky buzz splitting his sentence in two.

“Omega?” Rouge asked, her eyes narrowing. “What happened to you?”

“NOTHING.” he said hurriedly, his voice still glitching. “WAIT- DON’T YOU D-DARE-”

The three had already begun looking to see what had happened...but then froze when they saw the damage his back panel had taken while shielding Spark from the blast. A giant, smoking hole of warped and fused metal was burned into his chassis, revealing a bunch of melted and sparking wiring that definitely needed urgent attention.

“Omega…” Shadow looked horrified.

Rouge frowned, confused. “Why would you do this to yourself? I know how much you hate having to go get repairs.”

The robot let out a burst of static that sounded almost like a resigned sigh. Turning around, he muttered, “IT’S LI-LITERALLY YOU. AND ROUGE. BUT TINY. THAT APPEARS TO HAVE… STRANGE EFFECTS- zzzt- ON MY BEHAVIOR.”

“Do you...not like those effects?” Rouge asked, now clearly shifting into ‘I’m figuring things out’ mode. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding it so often?”

“I AM A ROBOT OF MASS DESTRUCTION. I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO CARE FOR TINY CREATURES SUCH AS THIS ONE. I SHOULD NOT FEEL ANY ‘WORRY’ ABOUT IT- AND YET-” Omega cut off there with a frustrated crackle.

Shadow still didn’t understand. “You’ve always been a robot of mass destruction, but you never thought it was weird to worry about us before.”

“THAT WAS DIFFERENT!” Omega insisted. “YOU BOTH ARE POWERFUL. IT IS NATURAL THAT RESPECT AND CONSEQUENTLY OTHER THINGS SHOULD COME FROM THAT. BUT THIS-! IT HAS NO DESTRUCTIVE QUALITIES! BUT STILL I...YOU KNOW...”

“It’s official, Omega.” Rouge said at that, a smirk growing on her face. “You’re becoming more and more like us...organics are always weak for cute things.”

“IT IS SHAMEFUL THAT I SHOULD COME TO THIS.” he grumbled.

“It’s not so bad, really.” Shadow said, placing a hand on his arm.

“And that’s coming from the guy who never used to admit he cares about people!” Rouge insisted. “Omega, you know you don’t have to be embarrassed about that kind of thing here- you’d never make fun of Shadow for not being tough all the time, would you?”

“I GUESS NOT…” he said, still seeming irritated.

At this point, Spark flew up to sit in Omega’s hand, looking up at the robot with its little frowning face, before reaching out and patting a single finger solemnly with its paw.

“OH NO.”

“Oh yes.” Rouge answered, grinning. “Let’s get you to Tails now though, okay? Then once you’re fixed up you can come home and pet the chao.”

Omega turned his head away and refused to dignify that with a response.

(He did, however, pet the chao when he got home. Nobody teased him about it, for which- while he’d never say it- he was rather grateful.)

…

It was inevitable, eventually, that Team Dark’s schedule wouldn’t be perfect and that they’d all have to be out and busy at some point. This, of course, meant that Spark would have to be dropped off at the chao daycare. 

Shadow had managed to force himself to reconcile with that fact, but the chao wasn’t nearly as good at that sort of thing.

On the day of, it was sobbing desperately, clinging to Shadow’s jacket with a tight grip as though it’d been handed a horrible punishment instead of a day spent at the warm, welcoming building in front of it. “It’s going to be alright. You’ll be okay, it’s just for a day. See, the Mobians who run it are very nice- won’t you look?” the hybrid whispered in a soothing voice, gently rubbing Spark’s head.

Omega stepped forward. “DON’T YOU...WANT TO SHOW HOW BRAVE YOU CAN BE?” he said awkwardly. Talking to the chao was still taking some getting used to for him, but he was definitely trying his best.

Rouge smiled warmly at that. “Of course! We’ll all be so proud of you, don’t you know that?”

“We can make a cake especially for you when you get home too, alright?” Shadow said, and that was the final thing the chao needed to hear. Wiping its eyes with a final few sniffles, it flew over to the little walkway towards the entrance and stood up tall, its body shaking slightly with leftover stress and its attempts not to cry.

“We love you!” Rouge called, blowing it a quick kiss.

“See you soon.” Shadow said gently, waving with a smile.

“YOU’LL BE THE BEST ONE THERE.” Omega added, shuffling in place a little.

The chao whimpered briefly, but then turned away and bounded into the daycare before it could lose its nerve. 

Throughout the morning, it remained relatively antisocial- a bit like the hedgehog whose appearance it had taken- during the music and karate lessons. The other chao all babbled and played together, being mostly neutral and hero-types, and the few dark chao that were there wanted to cause an awful lot more trouble than Spark was in the mood for.

One thing that it noticed very clearly, though, was the extraordinarily frustrating presence of a royal blue hero and speed-type chao.

This chao didn’t seem to think even once (let alone twice) about anything it did. It banged on the drums until Spark’s ears were sore during music class and then somehow managed to smack it in the face during karate lessons twice, and all the while it chatted away with about five other chao all around it.

Needless to say, by midday, when it was playtime, Spark had just about had enough.

When the blue chao rushed directly through the little sand city that it had been carefully building, swiping everything away with a single dash, Spark growled, picked up the plastic shovel it had been playing with, and threw it so hard it whacked the other creature in the arm.

Snarling, it began to stomp off when it felt a hand on its shoulder. The blue chao darted away and began hurriedly to try and rebuild the city, occasionally glancing up at Spark with an apologetic expression in its eyes.

It...looked awfully sad, actually.

Suddenly, the dark chao remembered how it had quickly stopped banging on the drums when the teacher had told it to, and how it had looked rather guilty when it had smacked Spark in the face, and how excited it was when talking with the other chao…

Maybe it was just a little clumsy sometimes.

Spark sighed a little. The other meant well, it decided, as its anger began to fade. It appreciated the apology...but now the sculptures were gone and it couldn’t get them back. Then, though, its gaze fell upon a pair of toy cars sitting nearby. 

Pulling the blue chao over to a strip of flat, packed earth nearby, it gave one car to its surprised companion and then set its own down at a line that could work quite well as the start of a race.

Soon enough, the other creature worked out the idea and began to cheer with delight, and before long they were racing cars like they’d been friends since the start. Eventually, they even switched to running races themselves, over and over again until they were all worn out and collapsed on the cool grass in a heap. Before long, though, they were up and at it again, only this time they started with a building game, and then had a little fun with the musical instruments, and soon enough Spark couldn’t help but wonder how they had ever fought in the first place.

Eventually, they decided that their next activity would be a race to the top of the jungle gym they noticed nearby. Spark was determined not to lose as it scrambled up the bars. It pulled itself paw over paw up the structure, getting closer and closer to the top, until-

Suddenly, a bar that it had been sure existed in front of it only a moment ago was now clearly just a little too far away, and the mistake caused it to reel forward, desperately clinging to the slippery bar it sat on. It twisted head over heels until it slid and fell all the way back to the ground, the wind slammed forcefully out of its little lungs.

Spark gasped soundlessly, trying and failing to pull air back into itself. After several agonizing seconds, it finally caught its breath- and then nearly got it knocked back out again by the impact of its new friend.

Regaining focus, the dark chao realized with a start that its friend was practically wailing into its chest, the soft blue creature shaking with desperate, panicked sobs. It looked up quickly, its eyes swollen and teary, and then reached out with its paws and hurriedly patted Spark’s body down, as though to reassure itself that the dark chao was still there. 

The creature in question sat up and pulled its friend into a tight hug, feeling nothing less than awful as the blue chao sniffled and whimpered worriedly in its arms. Eventually, it managed to calm down enough to amble over to a small nest made of blankets especially for tired chao and lay down there next to Spark. The two chao curled up together, nuzzling gently as the shaky breaths of the blue one finally evened out.

Spark felt the little ball over its head pop into a heart shape, and noticed briefly that its friend had done the same. They remained curled up like that for the last half-hour or so of their time in the daycare, alternately simply cuddling or talking about their respective owners.

Spark hoped they’d get to spend more time with this friend of theirs soon.

…

Shadow pulled up to the daycare on his motorcycle at closing time, doing his best to smooth out his frazzled quills. It wouldn’t be very good to let his chao know that he’d been nearly as worried about it as it had felt itself. 

He sighed, making his way towards the entrance of the building- and instantly felt the last wisps of his composure vanish upon seeing Sonic standing just inside. Before he could panic and flee the area at top speed, his legs (which didn’t seem to have received the message just yet) carried him through the door and inside.

Almost immediately, the blue hedgehog turned to face him with a bright smile. “Oh! Hey, Shadow!” Sonic said happily. “I didn’t know you brought your chao here, too! I’ve gotta say hi to the little guy again sometime!”

“This is my first time bringing it here. If it’s alright with that…I suppose you may.” the hybrid said, trying his best to sound coherent and cool (but actually just seeming stiff and awkward).

They talked for a little while as they waited for their chao to come out, chatting about their lives and friends. More than once, Shadow had to pinch himself in order to stay focused. His mind kept threatening to wander off into dreamland when he was around the hero, ready to admire his many great qualities (and wonderful appearance) at the drop of a hat.

Eventually, though, he became a bit worried by the fact that chao after chao were wandering out through the playroom door, being collected, and leaving…but neither Spark nor Sonic’s chao had even showed up. Soon enough, the two decided to walk into the room and find their tiny charges themselves.

“Uh, hi, mixter!” Sonic greeted the leopard who ran the daycare. “Didja see my lil’ buddy somewhere around here?”

“Oh, hello Sonic!” they said brightly- clearly the hero had been to this place quite a few times before. “Yes, your chao is over there in that nest there, sorry. I just hated to disturb those two…”

Shadow frowned. Those two?

His question was promptly answered when Sonic whisked aside the blanket covering the nest, only for both of them to stare at the sight inside.

Two purring chao, one clearly Sonic’s and the other obviously Shadow’s, were snuggled up together with big hearts floating over their heads. Even the hybrid’s dark chao, notorious for its ever-present frown, looked completely at peace with a small smile on its face.

He tried his best not to freak out.

“Erm…” Shadow began eloquently.

“Uh…” Sonic replied.

The two chao perked up at this, looking happily at their owners before nuzzling gently together in a manner that made Shadow’s stomach leap into his throat and then crash straight through the floor. In a further twist (both in events and in the striped hedgehog’s internal organs), Sonic’s chao then leapt happily into his arms, leaving Shadow to stare at the tiny version of his crush cuddling into his chest fur.

He sincerely hoped there was a convenient couch nearby for him to sit down on.

“Blu- come on-” Sonic began, looking oddly panicked for some reason, but then Spark sprang eagerly onto his shoulder and the hero rapidly fell silent as the dark chao nudged his cheek.

The two hedgehogs stared at each other for a long time. Shadow tried to move or do something other than just stand there, but it was awfully difficult when the hero was looking at him with those wide, soft green eyes….

“Er…Sonic?” Shadow finally choked out, in an odd, strained sort of tone.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’d like my chao back now.”

“Yeah.”

They each handed over their respective creatures, though Shadow felt rather reluctant to let such a tiny version of Sonic out of his arms. And for a moment he could almost have sworn that the hero held Spark a little longer than necessary, too…

…

Once he got home, the hybrid collapsed onto the couch and covered his eyes briefly with a hand. Spark, who had at first rushed into the kitchen (not having forgotten the promise of cake), came back and began to tug on his arm briefly before realizing that maybe Shadow wasn’t quite up to doing much of anything at the moment.

Rouge and Omega walked in just a moment later, their work having ended a little after Shadow’s. Upon seeing him slumped on the furniture, though, their greetings were cut short and instead replaced by worried questions.

Shadow sighed. “Spark...just spent a bunch of time cuddling with Sonic’s chao. And he noticed.”

“And that’s a good thing, hon.” Rouge shot back, having resisted a facepalm the moment she realized what all this was about.

“It is not!” the hedgehog cried out, before realizing that Spark was more than a little stressed by his tone of voice. “I’m not mad at you, don’t worry, it’s just...I already make enough of a fool of myself around him on my own. He’ll figure it out soon enough if we keep this up.”

“SO LET HIM.” Omega said. “EITHER HE STARTS DATING YOU OR HE’S AN IDIOT.”

Shadow blushed furiously. “It doesn’t work like that!”

“EXCEPT WHEN IT DOES.”

“Why don’t you tell him, hon?” Rouge asked. “I mean…” and here she developed a devious smile, “...didn’t his chao technically also act all affectionate with yours?”

The hybrid’s ears were bright green by now. “He’s nice to everyone, Rouge.”

At this point, Spark- who had left temporarily to get a pencil and paper- held up a drawing it had made of the scene at the jungle gym earlier. Shadow, of course, immediately began fussing over his chao, checking for any bruises or scrapes, but the bat in particular saw something entirely different.

“Kinda...reminds me of what happened on Space Colony ARK.” she mused. 

Shadow’s head shot up at that. “What?”

Rouge smirked, but it was bittersweet this time. “Your fall...it really hurt him too, y’know? He didn’t go out in public for a long time after that.”

“He...he never mentioned that to me…”

“He wouldn’t have!” she said. “Sonic isn’t the type to ‘bother’ others with his feelings.” Rouge explained, doing air quotes at one point.

“HE ALSO STARES AT YOU WHEN YOU ARE NOT LOOKING.”

“He what?!” By now Shadow had been reduced to just looking back and forth between his two friends. 

Spark flew in front of Shadow’s face and began to mime something. First pointing at Shadow, then a heart, then talking, then a hedgehog with all its quills pointed down…

“No! I can’t just tell him!”

“We’re hanging out with his team next week at the park- you should do it then.” Rouge replied, ignoring the last thing he’d just said.

“Did you not hear me, I can’t-”

“YOU WILL NEED SOMETHING NICE TO WEAR.” Omega said loudly over the rest of his sentence.

Spark cheered approvingly.

“So...you three have just decided for me whether or not I’m going to confess to Sonic.” Shadow sighed, beginning to resign himself to the fact.

“Absolutely, hon!” Rouge said brightly, slipping an arm around his shoulders.

He glowered at all three of them, but it lacked any real malice. “Alright, I’ll play along...for now.” he grumbled.

“EXCELLENT. LET THE PLANNING COMMENCE.”

…

One week later, Shadow was standing in the middle of a patch of grass, feeling like his knees were about to buckle as sweat trickled through his quills. He was no longer resigned to telling Sonic about his feelings and was in fact considering jumping into the nearby lake and hiding there for the duration of the hangout. His stomach- along with whatever scraps of resolve he may have had- were currently all the way back at their house.

On top of all that, he was frankly surprised he didn’t just spontaneously burst into flames when the other three Mobians showed up, Sonic in the lead.

“Hey guys!” he said excitedly. “Long time no see!”

Rouge snickered a bit at his catchphrase (it was one of many) but Shadow just felt his ears burn. He was just so cute and cheesy and already the hybrid’s mind was devolving into a mushy mess.

“Rouge, Omega.” he greeted them each, but he seemed to pause for a second on the last name. “...Shadow.”

The hedgehog in question thankfully managed a reply, and then the fun began in earnest. Knuckles and Shadow competed in several arm-wrestling matches with narration from Tails (“...aaaand Knuckles looks like he’s in the lead!”) and commentary from Omega (“YOU’RE LUCKY I DON’T ARM-WRESTLE OR ELSE BOTH OF YOUR ARMS WOULD BE BROKEN.”). Rouge and Sonic were busy pranking other innocent people, though once in a while the latter would look over at the competition, distracted.

Eventually, Tails and Omega got bored- which of course meant Knuckles and Shadow had to play the role of caretaker (“No, you can’t blow up trees. No, not even for ‘science’.”) for a little while.

At one point, though, Rouge got bored with the pranks and had dragged the echidna off to a park bench and was now flirting with him enough to turn his face as red as his spines. Tails had promised to behave- which now meant that he was halfheartedly attempting to convince Omega not to modify his cannon to launch ducks from the nearby pond- leaving Sonic and Shadow to themselves. Blu and Spark had been playing in the grass all this time (since both of them had brought their chao without really realizing that the other would do the same), and Shadow had very definitely not been thinking about how lucky his chao was that emotions were easy for it.

He remembered the talk his friends had given him before this outing then and wondered if maybe, just maybe, it could be that easy. Before he could stop himself, he’d already spoken.

“...Sonic?”

“Yeah?” the hero asked, turning to face Shadow.

“I...wanted to talk to you about something.” he said, regretting everything already because look how stupid he was about to seem...yet Shadow Robotnik the Hedgehog had never been one to do things by halves.

“Oh, really?” Sonic said, and now he almost looked relieved, for some reason. “I, uh, was actually hoping to do the same. That’s cool, what is it?”

“No, no, you go first.” Shadow urged him, hoping that he’d take the offer.

Unfortunately, today was not his lucky day. “No, man, you asked first! Go ahead, what was it?”

“Really- it’s fine.”

“No, you had something you wanted to say!” Sonic insisted.

“It’s okay, I swear-”

“Well, I guess-”

“I mean, if you want-”

“Okay-”

“You see-”

“I like you!”

Both hedgehogs shouted the words at the exact same time, before freezing and staring at each other.

“Wait…” Shadow began.

Sonic’s eyes were wide. “You like me back?!?” he gasped, hands flying up to his mouth.

“...yes.” he admitted, looking off to the side in embarrassment. Then it hit him. “Wait. You like me back?”

“Of course! How could I not?” Sonic asked incredulously. “You’re smart, funny, nice-” He’d begun listing off attributes while counting on his fingers, but cut himself off upon noticing Shadow’s confusion.

“Yes, but you’re a hero. The world’s hero.” Shadow began to frown, staring at the grass. “Why would you settle for someone like-”

“No.” Sonic growled, and the hybrid looked up suddenly to see his face twisted in anger. “Don’t ever say that.”

“But everyone thinks it…” Shadow protested weakly.

“Yeah, well, ‘everyone’ isn’t part of my love life.” Sonic assumed a slightly less aggressive stance, placing a hand on his hip. “Whoever’s been telling you that can either leave you alone or get their face introduced to my sneakers.”

Shadow blushed. “Nobody needed to. I just assumed...but perhaps I shouldn’t have.” he added quickly, seeing the hero begin to glower again. 

“That’s right!” he said, zipping over to stand directly in front of Shadow. “No assumptions here- talk to me from now on if something’s worryin’ you, ‘kay?”

Then, he seemed to notice the sudden stiffness in the hybrid’s posture, as well as the green flush slowly creeping up his ears. Sonic leaned forward with a smirk, resting his forearm on Shadow’s shoulder. “Thinkin’ about something?”

Shadow gulped.

For once, he decided that he could do what he wanted. So, he slowly reached up a hand and touched the peach fur on Sonic’s arm gently, like it was the most delicate thing in the world. 

Rather more quickly, Sonic turned a shade of bright red to rival Omega’s paint job.

“So, uh…” he began, his voice shaky. “Erm...do ya feel like sitting under that tree? Together?”

Shadow agreed, and the two walked over to the shady patch, sitting down and resting against each other. Soon enough, though, Sonic turned to face Shadow, a little nervous. “Do we, like, need to talk about this? Figure out...what to do about…us?” He started turning pink again.

“Maybe later. We have a lot of time, after all.” Shadow said, trying to contain the soaring feeling inside when Sonic said ‘us’- until he realized that he didn’t have to any longer.

“What’re you smiling about?”

“You. And me. Together.” Shadow said simply, making Sonic laugh and snuggle up against him, resting his head on a black-furred shoulder.

“Wow. That’s, uh….that’s new. I really like it though.”

Then, the hero looked up at him. “I really like you, too.”

At this point, a loud whistle could be heard from Rouge, who was standing not too far off and had likely heard a lot of what they’d said. Sonic just giggled, while Shadow shot her a death glare. She just winked and mouthed I’ll keep them occupied, at which point the hybrid tried not to show how very much he appreciated that and failed miserably.

And Sonic was purring now. Which of course meant that every single brain cell in Shadow’s head was promptly dead for the next five minutes.

After he’d recovered from that, Shadow wrapped his arms tightly around his...boyfriend? Maybe? He thought for a moment. “Hey, Sonic?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you feel about being my-” Shadow paused briefly to cough, trying to get the words out- “-boyfriend?”

“I think I like that a lot.”

Shadow smiled warmly, feeling the beginnings of a purr rise up in his own chest.

“I like that a lot, too. Almost as much as I like you.”

[framecaught]

Cataloguing Homestuck’s Art Styles

Hussie deploys a number of distinct art styles throughout Homestuck, each serving different purposes in the narrative. A number of these, especially those mentioned in the published book series’ author commentary, have been catalogued in the Homestuck wiki [1]. These officially named styles are well-known enough to appear in quora answers. However, Homestuck employs a much larger variety of stylistic manipulations than explicitly mentioned in the book commentary or wiki. While scanning through the comic again for this project, I wanted to catalogue the rest of them! 

This post constitutes a working list of all distinct art styles present in Homestuck. I’ve chosen not to include the distinct styles of the fanartists/outside artists who contributed to the comic; that will be a project for another day. As far as I know, this list only comprises the different styles Hussie develops throughout the comic. I have tried to bring a degree of specific formal analysis (also known as art-historical language) into my description of each style.

1. “Classic” Style

Page 1 of Homestuck

Page 1349 of Homestuck

Page 4227 of Homestuck

The “Classic” Homestuck style appears on the first page of the comic. Although not officially described by the wiki, it is widely understood as the comic’s typical graphic norm. Characters have simplified faces and clothes, and they frequently lack arms. Elements are often outlined in a black stroke, especially to differentiate them from other adjacent, similarly-colored elements. In more colorful panels, scenery may be made up of solid blocks with bright colors. Sprites (base character illustrations) and elements are repurposed from panel to panel in new combinations. Homestuck even takes up the repurposing of sprites as a gag, as in page 1349 above where the ability to flip one’s sprite allows Noir to regain his lost wrist barcode.

This style obviously shares characteristics with Hussie’s style in Problem Sleuth. General characteristics that frequently appear in Hussie’s art are present, such as circular faces and rounded edges on quadrilaterals. The Classic Style umbrella actually covers the broadest range of visuals out of any style catalogued here. The uber-simplistic sprites, such as John on page 1, have typically been lumped in with, for example, the illustration on the cover of Homestuck Book 1, or the two other examples I pulled for this post. So, in the Classic Style, characters can sometimes appear with arms, sometimes without, and in outfits of varying detail, but they retain the same facial features and simplistic quality. The circular facial shape is especially characteristic of this style, along with the lack of a neck. The neck-less quality, static poses, and simplistic detail chiefly differentiate some instances of Classic Style from Hero Mode, though there are still some grey areas.

2. Scribble Mode

Page 1931 of Homestuck

Page 1937 of Homestuck

Page 1798 of Homestuck

Page 3140 of Homestuck

This style is recognized by the Homestuck wiki, which describes it as emphasizing “a particularly silly/stupid moment in the story, particularly those to be imagined by a character.” That is to say, this style often denotes imagined scenarios which do not actually occur in the comic but instead in a character’s imagination, and especially those which form the butt of jokes. It is also employed simply to highlight silliness. This style is constructed to appear as if the author has “scribbled” rapidly between the outlines of forms to fill in color, creating gaps in those forms. Generally, strokes are made to seem more careless, and less detail is used. While the style is meant to mimic a scribbling motion, it does not always end up crude or parodic. For example, in this “charming vignette” (in Hussie’s words) depicting the Mayor’s dream, the scribble style actually illustrates a remarkably beautiful and almost impressionistic series of panels. Although the dream vignette has certain obvious scribbley elements and certainly depicts an imagined scenario, I would argue that it combines aspects of both Scribble Mode and Hussnasty Mode (#4 in this post) throughout.

I have also identified two distinct styles within the Scribble Mode umbrella. One always uses a thin, apparently single-pixel-wide black line to outline forms, while the other uses a thicker stroke for both its filling and outline. You can see the difference between these in the four examples I’ve pulled; they are sometimes even combined within one single Scribble Mode panel.

3. Hero Mode

Page 1815 of Homestuck

Page 2063 of Homestuck

Hero Mode was officially named as such by Hussie. The Homestuck wiki page describes it as cropping up to “emphasize a particularly epic moment in the story.” Hussie originally called the style “action panels” before hitting upon the current name, emphasizing the link to action scenes and dynamic poses. Along with dynamic posing, characters are drawn in greater detail and tend to have elongated limbs. Some crossover can be seen between Hero Mode and Hussnasty Mode. I would argue that characters in Hero Mode usually retain the original style’s characteristic lack of a neck, while Hussnasty Mode often adds one. Compared with the Classic style, Hero Mode always adds arms. The degree to which Hero Mode drawings include the “hatching-type effect” characteristic of Hussnasty Mode varies from panel to panel. The difference between Hero Mode and Classic Mode can be observed clearly on these two pages, where Damara shifts between the two styles at the behest of Scratch, who asks her to “render [herself] in a more symbolic manner.”

The wiki asserts that “Hero Mode dispenses with the black outline that typifies sprite-style animation and scribble mode,” but I don’t think it can actually be characterized as the only lineless style. Scribble Mode and Hussnasty Mode also sometimes feature a lineless graphic style depending on which part of a character is being depicted, or the need for a line to differentiate two features of a similar color. A willingness to move between lined and lineless blocks of color characterizes Hussie’s art as a whole.

4. Hussnasty Mode

Page 2805 of Homestuck

Page 2976 of Homestuck

This art style is also named by the author. In his commentary on page 2805, he writes: “Someone asked me what I called the style, and I replied by naming it "Hussnasty Mode" myself, because well… it's a bit nasty, isn't it? Kind of raw, a little over-illustrated, and making use of a lot of jagged aliased pixel edges for a hatching-type effect. It was sort of the point to make it a little nasty, kind of aggressively incongruous with the other styles previously established.” This quote sums up the style’s characteristics pretty well. Hussie also describes how this style is more naturalistic, or less symbolic, and was meant to work in direct contrast to the extremely symbolic RPG Sprite Mode. He writes that “drawings like this are introduced in contrast with this simple RPG sprite mode, which was also established very recently as something that Homestuck was "allowed" to use as a stylistic presentation of characters and settings… Every time HS does something like this, it's widening its own umbrella in terms of what it's allowed to do stylistically, which includes dramatically simplifying and abstracting its forms. Which implicitly asks another question: Can HS "allow" itself to go in the other direction? To render characters with higher degrees of definition, regardless of congruity, and freely navigate this full artistic palette at any time, resulting in sharp stylistic contrast and a certain amount of visual thrashing? The answer to that question, almost immediately after it's asked in the form of dropping RPG-sprite Rose into a standard panel shot, is yes, HS can do that, and clearly it WILL do that.”

5. RPG Sprite Mode

Page 2804 of Homestuck

Page 2824 of Homestuck

Despite being officially described by the author, RPG Sprite Mode hasn’t gained much representation as a distinct style (it does not have a wiki page, for example). This style appears after Homestuck’s first walk-around game, now incorporated as a style for static or gif panels. After their joint introduction, this style is juxtaposed against the Hussnasty style. The quotes pulled above in the section on Hussnasty Mode nicely describe the contrast between these two styles and their greater impact on Homestuck’s graphic norms. RPG Sprite Mode always shows characters from an aerial view, mimicking the style of the first walk-around game, which in turn mimics a wealth of RPG sprite games (such as the original Pokemon games). Sprites from these sorts of early games can be characterized by their almost pointillistic use of individual pixels to carefully construct forms.

6. Terezi’s Perspective

Page 2756 of Homestuck

Page 2128 of Homestuck

This style hasn’t been officially described yet. It only crops up as a representation of Terezi’s perspective, conveying some of her experience tasting and smelling colors. While it only appears a few times in the comic, I think it is uniquely visually interesting, and it includes “blurring” techniques which are only rarely employed in the rest of the comic. I’d guess that the effect is created by layering low-opacity strokes over one another and then sliding the different layers’ opacity up and down.

7. SBAHJ Style

Page 8 of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff

Page 3451 of Homestuck

The SBAHJ comic, featured both within Homestuck and as a spin-off, has its own recognizable style. In the first few pages it has a lot of commonalities with Homestuck’s two versions of Scribble Mode, but later takes on distinct characteristics. It can be characterized in part by its image clipping, an effect where an element is made to look like it has been selected within a square box (in MS Paint or Photoshop) and dragged around the page with little care for the size and accuracy of the selection box. Commenting on page 3451, Hussie describes this effect as follows: “In the SBaHJ comics, one of my cool tactics—which I'm almost positive I invented as a sequential artist—was to elaborately render someone ‘turning around’ by taking one shot of them and gradually altering the pose by crudely rectangle-selecting pieces of their face and nudging them around until they're facing the other way in a totally unconvincing and utterly hideous manner.” Different from Scribble Mode, the SBAHJ style also frequently features blocks of color that appear to be filled with the “paint bucket” tool. When the paint bucket tool is used to fill anti-aliased stokes, it creates a small transparent space between the filling and the original outline, visible in the SBAHJ graphics. Finally, SBAHJ comes to include image compression and glitching, created through “deep frying” compression techniques. Overall, the breadth of manipulative techniques made apparent to the viewer in SBAHJ is much greater than any other style. SBAHJ panels are reproduced wholesale or hyperlinked in Homestuck, but on these two pages Gamzee is also drawn in the SBAHJ style.

8. Caliborn’s Styles

Page 5075 of Homestuck (hyperlinked in pesterlog)

Page 6259 of Homestuck

Page 6929 of Homestuck

Page 6864 of Homestuck

While Calliope’s in-world art was contributed by Shelby Cragg, Hussie gives Caliborn has three styles of his own. The first is his “angular” style, which Calliope aptly characterizes on page 5109 as containing “inscrutable squiggles” and demonstrating a “penchant for arbitrary, completely baffling straight lines and right angles, almost as if trying unsuccessfully to begin constructing a grid.” The second is the style he uses in Homosuck, which retains elements of his original “baffling right angles” but generally takes on the black outlines characteristic of Homestuck’s Classic style, while employing even cruder detail. Finally, after reading a “How to Draw Manga” book, he develops his “manga” style which uses black strokes, somewhat messy coloring (usually with the paint-bucket tool), and shows an attempt at naturalistic representation despite a complete lack of understanding of human anatomy. This style is specifically meant to emulate manga styles, so it features the characteristic white dots as highlights in the eyes, among other features.

————————————————————————

As becomes apparent through Hussie’s commentary, the different art styles employed in Homestuck do more than just emphasize certain moments; they form part of the comic’s visual language and ask us to question our understanding of graphic representation. The scope of this post also illustrates the attention paid to Homestuck’s visual elements throughout the story’s production and within its readership, even if these visual distinctions have received less attention in scholarship. Despite the variety of styles, we can see Hussie’s characteristic artistic tools, techniques, and sensibilities reflected across the comic. 

If you find any styles recurring in the comic that I haven’t mentioned here, feel free to shoot me a message! Again, I haven’t included styles from other contributors; only those developed and drawn by Hussie.

————————————————————————

As we approach the close of the semester, I’ll probably be putting out one more post sometime soon! If you liked this post, you can follow the blog on tumblr for updates or, if you don’t frequent tumblr, sign up for the mailing list to receive an email whenever I publish a new mini-essay!

————————————————————————

[1] These include Hussnasty Mode, Scribble Mode, and Hero Mode.

[bellarke-deserved-better]

Stealing Fire: Bellamy Blake x Reader *SMUT*

Hi, this is my first fanfic I hope you enjoy. 

Warnings: smut, light cursing, slight-ish bondage, dirty talk, loveeeeee awe, and multiple female orgams ofc bc Bellamy Blake is totally into that

Word Count: 8.4k

It was early, no later than six in the morning when you woke up to a light patter outside your tent, you knew exactly what it was. You got up and wrapped your fur blanket around yourself that was just brought back from a bunker the Ark found. You slipped your shoes on and peered outside your tent, and sure enough there he was, Bellamy Blake and all his glorious features. He saw your head pop out and smiled immediately, mmm that smile. 

“Goodmorning, princess,” he whispered lightly, clearly not wanting anyone else to wake up and take your alone time away. 

“Morning, what are you up to so early?” you asked, very curious as to what he’s been doing, he looks like he hasn’t slept. 

“I found something, get dressed and come with me?” he questioned with a smirk, how could you say no to the most handsome man on the planet? 

“Of course,” you smiled, “would you like to come in?” 

He strutted into your tent and sat on the bed as you let the blanket fall off of yourself and onto the tarp on the ground, hoping the sight of you in just my bra and underwear would catch his eye; your wishes came true when Bellamy cleared his throat and you turned around to face him. He looked serious, like he was contemplating what to say next so as not to say the wrong thing. You loved what the two of you had, you trusted him with your entire life, as he did you. You would do anything for him, as he would for you. There is something between you two, that is a fact, you have just never had the balls to push it any further than lightly fooling around. You were tired of that, you wanted to be with him, in so many ways and you were tired of keeping it in. You were going to go with him and tell him what you wanted to, you have a strong feeling he wants the same thing. 

“You okay?” you asked slightly biting your lip, knowing exactly what you were doing. 

“You are beautiful,” he said quietly “don’t you know that?” 

Your heart skipped a small beat in your chest, yeah you were definitely going to tell him how you felt; you wanted it to be special and just between you.  

“Thank you, you are pretty breathtaking yourself,” you replied, “don’t you know that?” you mocked and placed a kiss on his lips while smiling. 

You backed away from him and finished getting yourself dressed in black leggings, a long sleeve and an old black jacket you have had since the Ark. Yuck. You put your socks and boots on and followed Bellamy out of the tent. 

“So, where are we off to today?” you questioned, still curious as to what he did all night. 

“It’s a surprise, you’ll see,” he replied, clearly excited so you stopped questioning. 

 Bellamy walked to the right and slightly in front, you guys walked behind all of the tents to the part of the fence he and you had broken to sneak out. Sometimes everyone got way too intense and you just needed a walk. Skaikru are at peace with the grounders, it's been that way for about two months now. Kane took the seal and Skaikru became the thirteenth clan in Lexa’s coalition. It was nice not constantly having to fight for your lives, being able to actually live. You had Clarke and Bellamy to thank for that, if not for them grounders would have wiped out everyone. You squeezed through the gap in the gate and he led you West in the woods. 

“How did you sleep?” he asked as you walked through the woods to the yet unknown location. 

“Pretty good, would have been better if you were in bed with me, though,” you teased, grabbing his hand and smiling up at him. 

“Well, princess, I didn’t know I was invited. I never would have passed that offer up,” he replied smiling back to you. Everything he does is so attractive: the way he walks, talks, smiles, even breathes. He is just so perfect. 

“You’re always invited, Bell,” you said sincerely and he looked back to me, kind of like he was surprised. You wondered what he was thinking, so you asked, “What are you thinking about, huh?”

“I just don’t ever want my time with you to end,” he said back, boosting your confidence about later telling him how you feel. 

“The feeling is mutual, you know?” you asked, rubbing your thumb against the inside of his hand. He just smiled and you drifted off to the right in the woods. As he guided you with your hands intertwined you soon came to a stop in front of an old piece of concrete sticking out from the ground. Bellamy bent over and dug under the dead leaves, probably which he put there, and grabbed a handle hidden underneath them. He pulled it open and shone the flashlight inside. 

“You first,” he said smiling from near the ground. 

You descended into the bunker and it was amazing. Larger than any of the others we have found. More rooms, actual rooms with beds and bathrooms --not functional of course after a hundred years-- it was amazing. Bellamy followed you down and closed the hatch above you guys. 

“Come on, let's go back here,” he smirked and grabbed your hand, shining the flashlight in front of you. You walked back the hallway that had clearly been recently cleaned. 

“When did you find this place, Bell?” you were so amazed with this place. 

“Three days ago, I’ve been getting it ready to bring you here since then…” he stated trailing off. He was shy and you could tell, little did he know that just about everything he said was bringing you closer and closer to bringing you both together. 

“This is amazing,” you whispered as you walked into the far left room in the back. There was a huge bed with huge blankets and pillows. You have never seen something that looks so comfortable in your whole life. 

“I haven’t slept in three days and I know you were up for two before last night, what do you say?” he questioned, looking into your eyes and smirking, you just shook your head and bit your lip at the way he looked in the light of the candles he lit. You stripped your jacket, shirt, and leggings back off and crawled into the huge bed under the blankets. Bellamy removed his shirt and took off his shoes then climbed in right beside you. It felt so nice to actually feel safe, like there was more than just fighting to life. Peace was the greatest thing ever, peace and freedom is what we had, and you wanted it to be special while you have it. 

"So, I've been thinking..." you said and looked up at him through your eyelashes, he knew he was in for some trouble the second you did that, he always knew. 

"Well that's never good," he remarked and let out a laugh along with it. 

"I want you, and I want you to do whatever you want to me, but I also want to be yours, Bell," you whispered in his left ear while pushing his hair away from it. He let out a sigh, and you could feel his heart rate speed with your right hand on his chest. Game over. 

"I would be just fine, laying down right here, and obeying every single word that comes out of your mouth... You are so sexy, Bell. The way you want to save people, how adventurous you are, the way you love me..." you kept going, and the last part earned a deep throaty groan from him. You loved when he growled or moaned for you, it was such a turn on. He was so sexy already but when he did that you swore you could reach your high on the spot. 

“I want you to be mine, so be mine,” he whispered back and you smiled at him.

“Done,” you said back and leaned in closer to him, but suddenly had a thought; what were we going to do with all the stuff in this bunker? 

“Hey, not to ruin the moment, but are you going to let Arkadia know about this place?” you questioned, looking back at him. 

“No… I was thinking maybe it could just be ours,” his voice lightly trailing off “let’s call it, stealing fire back, a place where we can have some peace and privacy,” he whispered, placing a kiss on the side of your head. 

You let your hand linger across his chest and slowly started to kiss him, his whole mouth over yours, and the feeling of his lips is indescribable. While he was distracted with your mouth on his you slowly let my hand fall closer to his center; it didn't take long before your hand landed on his dick and he grabbed it, turned you around, and pinned you on the bed. Okay, game over for you too, you are seeing. 

"No, no, no, princess, you said that you wanted me to do what I pleased to you. That's the deal. Now you lay there and be a good girl, I promise I'm going to take care of you" he said in the deepest, sexiest voice you have ever heard, and just like that, you were jello. Obeying everything he told you to do. The second he told you to do it. He wasted no time getting to work. 

"I want you to take your underwear off baby," he quietly whispered in your ear while on top of you, and unhooked your bra from behind you, not letting it fall off quite yet. You began to slide your underwear off under him as he bit his lip. When your pants were down and all that was left was your bra and underwear he pushed you onto your back gently by your neck, that was hot. 

Looking at the ceiling you felt Bellamy’s lips against your upper chest, he left small wet marks everywhere his lips departed. Everything he does to you gets you closer and closer to the edge, he is like your kryptonite or something. He continued to kiss down your stomach as he reached up to finally pull your bra from your chest. The second the cold air from the bunker hit your nipples they went hard, Bellamy liked that. He began to suck on your left one while taking the right one in between his thumb and pointer finger. The small calluses on his thumb made the friction a whole different kind of good. This earned a moan to escape your throat and he groaned in response, looking up into your eyes like he was hungry. After a few minutes, he continued the path down your stomach and to the hem of your underwear. He stopped and looked up at you another time, his thick eyelashes and hooded lids making him look even sexier. He lightly bit just above where your underwear met your skin and it sent chills through your entire body. 

“Bell, please,” you begged as you waited patiently for him to do anything at all. 

He moved to kiss the inside of your right thigh and you felt a smile form on his lips which caused a smile to form on yours, you loved when he did that. Knowing that he didn’t think you knew made you love it so much more, he just loves you that much. His left hand ran up your stomach to play with your breast as he continued to kiss the inside of each of your thighs. Slowly with his teeth he moved your underwear down your legs and looked all the way up your body when he got to the bottom of your feet. You watched him slowly creep back up between your legs and straight to your mouth where he captured you in a sensual kiss, like he was putting everything he had into it. You opened your mouth and allowed his tongue to slip in and play around with yours. The feeling of your taste buds rubbing together made you groan a little bit. Bellamy always told you he loved the way your tongue felt on his, the sloppiness when you kissed, the way your tongues wrap around each other, it was almost his favorite part. He continued to kiss you and captured your bottom lip between his teeth and pulled. God he always knew exactly what to do to you. He started back down your stomach to the top of your waistline, looked you in the eyes one last time, and attached his mouth straight onto your clit. 

“Ohhhh,” you let out a throaty groan at his sudden advances, he smiled of course. Then continued his menacies. He let out his tongue and wrapped it around your clit, you thought you would break right there and your legs began to shake already. 

“You taste spectacular,” he whispered and rubbed your clit harshly as he removed his mouth to talk to you. 

“Come on, princess, tell me how you’re feeling,” he longed to hear the sound of your voice telling him how good he was making you feel. 

“Bell, I love the way you touch me. You’re… making me feel so good,” you let out and he sighed as he watched himself rub your clit. You both liked this a lot, and you felt as though you were addicted to him at that moment when you looked down and saw him watching you. 

“That’s all I want, to make YOU feel good. All the time, I just want you to be okay,” he stammered, looking you straight in the eyes while never letting the rhythm of his fingers against you go. FUCK, what he was doing felt so good, and you weren’t going to last much longer. 

“Bell- I’m…” you began to tell him when all of a sudden your high took you by surprise and crashed into you; your legs started to shake and your eyes closed in bliss. 

“Oh, princess, that’s it,” Bellamy said as he applied more pressure to push you through your orgasm. “Come on baby, let go, just give it to me, I promise I’ve got you,” he whispered quietly in your ear and drug out the shakes and jolts from your body. 

As you came down everything went blurry, the walls, the ceiling, everything. For a moment, you couldn’t remember where you were, then you saw Bellamy and remembered this was real. 

“I’m not done with you yet, not even close,” he said as his hair fell back in front of his face and he made his way up your body with sloppy, wet kisses. When he finally reached your neck you let out a light moan at the feelings of his lips near you again, you wanted every piece and part of him, there were so many things you couldn’t even put names to that you wanted to do to him, to tell him. It felt like your insides were pulling apart with everything building in your mind as he kissed you. 

“Stop that,” you heard escaping his mouth as you felt his fingers join the bottom half of your body again, “Stop thinking.” 

“Mmhmm,” you moaned and bit your lip while looking into Bellamy’s eyes. 

“That’s better,” wow, okay you have never been so wet in your life after that, you may have ascended to a different world. Bellamy continued to rub light, sweet circles around your clit while his mouth went to work on your neck, leaving small purple marks after every ‘pop’ when he released his lips. Just the feeling of him being so close to you was erotic, but him touching you like this? You weren’t going to last much longer. 

“Bell, if you don’t stop soon I’m going to cum again,” you let out breathy words as he continues his actions. 

“Well good, that is exactly what I want,” he said against your neck and again, felt like you were going to lose it. 

“You don’t want to wait until you’re inside me?” you asked and he stopped dead in his tracks, looking straight into your eyes again and he spoke lightly.

“Who said I wasn’t planning on making you cum more than twice?” he asked very seriously, “I was aiming more for six or seven, but we’ll see,” he finished and your heart dropped to your stomach. No way he just said that, okay woah dizziness. He was so serious, he was going to do so many things to you, you were only one orgasm in; if he really plans for six minimum, you guys have a long night ahead of you. 

“Do your worst,” you said turning my lip up into a soft, toothless smile. 

That was all he needed to move his entire body between your legs. He laid on his stomach and wrapped his muscular arms around your thighs and rested his hands on your lower stomach to hold you in place. You looked him straight in the eyes and watched as he smiled and attached himself to your core. 

“Yes, ohhh,” you moaned quietly as Bellamy lightly swiped his tongue over your clit and looked up into your eyes. He closed his mouth over your lips and continued to lick you softly. 

“Bell, you make me feel so good,” you said, knowing he liked when you talked to him. 

Soft moans continued to escape your lips as he ate you, missing no part of you and making your mind go hazy. He looked back up at you to see you starting to close your eyes. 

“Uh-uhh,” he moaned against you, sending a shock wave though your whole body and eliciting a loud gasp from you. “Open your eyes for me princess,” Bellmay continued as he took his mouth away from you and replaced it with his fingers again. 

He loved seeing you such a mess for him, being so vocal, not afraid of anyone interrupting you, ever. It may have been the intimacy of the place you were both in that made this so amazing. It was just the two of you, completely alone in a hole in the ground covered by leaves that no one else knew about. It was perfect. Bellamy was perfect. Everything about this morning is perfect. 

“I’m so hard for you, baby,” he began talking to you again now that his mouth wasn’t busy. “You are the only person that has ever made me feel like this,” he said, letting out a light moan with it and earning one from you. 

He continued to rub back and forth on your clit with his thumb as he entered his middle finger into you. God, you haven’t felt like this since you were on the Ark, and even then, it never felt this good. 

“Mmmm, Bell, you’re so good to me. The way you watch me, the way you touch me. You’re going to make me cum,” you whispered in his ear as he was kissing your neck, he moaned and sent vibrations through your upper body. Everything he did felt so good, it was crazy. 

“You can let go for me, whenever you’re ready,” he whispered, “just let go baby, just let go,” he said as his voice got quieter with each word. 

As the last word slipped from his lips you slipped over the edge. 

“Bellamy, keep talking please,” you begged.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, “ you like when I talk to you, huh? It’s going to feel so good, I promise if you let it go you’ll feel so good,” he whispered in your ear and nibbled at the top of it. 

He continued to talk to you as your second orgasm hit you hard, your whole body went stiff and you gasped for air while Bellamy talked you through it. 

“Oh yeah baby, just cum all over my fingers,” he pushed as he rubbed your clit harder, and you lost everything. The only words leaving your mouth was Bellamy’s name and your head fell back against the pillows while his mouth captured yours in a sweet kiss. He rubbed you through your orgasm but took his fingers out of you. You slowly came down and he took his fingers away from you, looking you in the eye, and putting them in his mouth to taste you. You were ready for him to make you cum again in that very moment. Like you said, everything he does. 

“Fuck, Bell, everything you do is so sexy,” you huffed, still out of breath from what has just occurred. 

“You are just the same, my love,” he growled and continued to kiss you. 

He was slow and careful right now, his whole body pressed on top of you but it just felt safe. He positioned himself so his thigh was between your legs. 

“Two out of six, what do you say we make it three?” he questioned from above you, the roughness in his voice causing more wetness to fall out of you and onto his bare thigh. All you could get out was a groan and an mmm.

“Good, princess, we'll make this an interesting one,” he just couldn’t shut up, you loved it. “You, are going to cum alllll over my thigh,” he whispered while kissing your neck, making you even wetter, “I’m going to help you, but I want to talk to you and watch you while you lose yourself,” he finished and came up to look you in the eye, moving his leg closer to you and applying more pressure right to your center. 

You sank yourself down enough that even the slightest movement was begging for a moan to escape you. 

“Yeah, there you go,” Bellamy began, “get yourself started baby,” he whispered while you moved your hips left and right, just feeling him against you. 

“Mmm,” you let out as he sucked your right nipple into his mouth and hummed at your moan, again sending waves through your whole body; it mostly went straight to your core. He slowly withdrew from your nipple while slightly scraping his teeth against it. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said softly against the skin of your upper chest, “lost in yourself… safe… feeling good…” he continued, placing kisses on you between every word. 

Every move he made pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Every word he said made you drip onto his leg even more, you were sliding back and forth on him with ease now. The way he kept talking to you as you got yourself off and he looked into your eyes kept pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Oh, Bellamy,” you sighed, “this is the best feeling, please don’t let me go,” nothing coming out of your mouth was thought of first, it just fell out. 

“I’m not going anywhere princess, ever,” he grunted and it pushed you over the edge suddenly. 

This orgasm was different from the last one, this one was more of a heightened shake. You felt like clouds were floating through your body as it shook on his thigh, applying more pressure and drawing your orgasm out even longer. 

“Just like that, beautiful,” Bellamy said as you started to shake on him, “yeah just cum for me, I’m right here,” he finished as you did too. You immediately gasped to catch your breath and he kissed your lips once. 

“This is the best day of my life,” he let out with a chuckle and you returned one “you’re so beautiful like that, I could live between your legs,” he said and smiled from atop you. 

Suddenly you saw his face turn, and you stared at him in confusion. 

“I want to try something,” he said quietly from above you, then looked to you for approval as you shook your head yes. 

You would try anything with Bellamy, anytime he wanted. As he placed a kiss on your sternum he slowly bent over the bed to where his pants were lying on the ground and unlaced his belt from the hoops; you had a strong feeling you knew where this was going. He brought himself back up onto the bed and looked into your eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or fear. There were none, you trusted him more than anyone in the world. You knew he would always take care of you no matter what. He began lacing the belt through itself, leaving two small holes, just large enough for your wrists, and put it through the buckle. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked, scared he is taking it too far too soon. 

“With my life,” you replied, knowing nothing was too far. 

You held your wrists out in front of you for him to put the belt around, he did so and turned you over on your stomach so that your hands were underneath you; this was going to get interesting. 

“Mmmm,” you heard Bellamy growl behind you, almost animalistically, “you look so good from back here baby,” he huffed behind you, soaking you even more. “Your sweet, little, pink pussy; it’s so ready for me my love,” he continued to egg you on with his voice as you felt the pad of his pointer finger press against your soaking wet center. 

Your hands were trapped underneath you, it was impossible to move. All you could do was sit there and take everything Bellamy gave you, and moan. 

“How does this feel,” he fired off, “does it make you dizzy, princess? Cause it makes me dizzy,” he leaned over and whispered in your ear from behind as he rubbed your pussy, slowly. 

“It feels really good, mmm, I want you to fuck me,” you said, ready for him to be inside you. 

“I promise, once I do, I will make it worth your while. For now, though, relax and let me take care of you,” he said and every muscle went limp as he rubbed against you and breathed into your ear. 

Your body was on fire, everything he did to you felt so good and your legs were shaking from your previous THREE orgasms. Three. It’s like, seven? in the morning. That’s awesome. You could live the rest of your life like this. Too bad reality was real. The way Bellamy was touching you was incredible, he hasn’t thought about himself once this entire time. He was just pleasing you, and he was so okay with it. 

“Fuck, Bell-” you started to say, but he cut you off. 

“Oh, someone has a dirty mouth. I don’t want to hear you curse anymore,” he said in a darker sexier tone as he applied more pressure to your clit and rubbed you faster, “my baby always has a clean mouth, that’s not like you, okay?” he questioned in a sultry voice. 

“I’m sorry, it was an accident. I promise I won’t do it again,” you replied, cursing wasn’t something normal for you. Bizarre given the group you were sent to the ground with and the man you were in bed with. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay,” he cooed from behind you and continued to rub your clit. 

You wished you could touch him. Slide your fingers down his back and leave red marks in their trail. Grip his curly dark hair. Kiss his beautiful lips and look into his eyes. It was killing you, but this was thrilling. So you let it continue. 

“You’re close, aren’t you,” he questioned, “I can feel you starting to clench… all the way from your clit,” he moaned the last part and pushed harder against you; pushing you closer to the edge. 

“Yes, I’m so close Bell,” you whispered back to him and rode his fingers. 

“Oh yeah, move yourself baby, make yourself feel good,” he said as he kissed your spine and moved his fingers quickly against your clit. 

Speaking was his specialty, you had to admit. He was very good at it and the sound of his voice was intoxicating. 

“I want you to cum for me, my love,” he whispered and that was it for you. 

You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as your hands gripped for anything, there was nothing in reach. Your toes began to tingle and your body locked up. You felt every bone in your body just freeze and it was amazing, you felt light and there was nothing wrong in that moment. 

“Good girl, just cum all over my fingers,” he whispered and kissed the dimples in my lower back softly as my orgasm continued to rip through me. 

When you finally came out of the state of bliss you were in, Bellamy immediately turned you over to look straight up into his eyes. This was so hot, he was so hot. 

“There’s four,” he whispered, leaning down to place a wet kiss to your lips, “let’s finish strong, what do you say?” he asked while smirking. 

You have never felt as safe as you do now in your entire life. Bellamy is probably the love of your life and you get to be with him all alone; the two of you hadn’t ever had proper alone time while on the ground. Which made this experience exhilarating. It was early in the morning, you guys were in a real bed; with real blankets and real pillows, and he was making you feel things you had never felt before. You never wanted this moment to end, being with him was your favorite thing; that is the conclusion you have come to after this morning. 

“Yes, please,” you whimpered lightly, “I need you inside me, please,” you breathed out as he flipped the two of you around so you were on top of him and his back was now on the bed. 

You looked down at him and just stared; you couldn’t take your eyes away, he was by far the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on. Could be why this was so amazing: you loved each other, he was good to you, and he was sexy as hell. 

“You will get me, baby,” he huffed and leaned up to take your neck in his mouth and suck light marks onto you. 

He slid his boxers down his legs and his dick flung from them. He was very decently sized, not too long, but definitely long enough, a little wider than what you were used to though. He reached between your bodies and grabbed himself, but you stopped him. He looked between you then back into your eyes. 

“Let me,” you whispered and he threw his head back with a groan. 

You replaced your hand with his between your bodies and grabbed his dick. He inhaled sharply and you placed a kiss to his wide chest. You began to move your hand over the tip to spread the precum around and make it more slippery. Bellamy brought his head back up to look at you when you did something neither of you were really expecting. You took your spare hand, ran it through your wet folds, then replaced it on his dick to make it even more wet. He really liked that, and of course he told you. 

“Oh, that was so fucking hot,” he said in a deep gravely voice, “you’re making me feel so good already, I promise when you’re done I won’t stop until your legs are shaking and you’re screaming my name,” he finished and you moaned against his chest before you released where you were sucking and there was a large purple mark. 

The actions of you rubbing your wetness on him and leaving a mark on his chest caused him to throw his head back against the pillows again. You slowly let yourself kiss further down his body, stopping just at his v-line and sliding your hand back up him to brush your fingers across his slightly parted lips. He looked down and you stared straight into his eyes, knowing he was excited. 

“Mmmmm, are you gonna suck my dick,” he moaned lightly, hands interlacing with your hair as you grinned up at him, “yeah you look so pretty down there baby,” he said as you let some spit fall from your lips onto the tip of his dick. 

You rubbed it around him to get him ready for your mouth. Slowly you moved toward him and placed your lips on the tip, giving it a light kiss and earning a moan from his beautiful lips. Not wanting to wait any longer, you took him into your mouth all the way, his hands tightening in your hair, not enough to hurt though. The only sound in the room was Bellamy’s light moaning and the swishes from your mouth. You started to move yourself a little faster when he bucked himself up into your mouth. Wrapping a hand around his shaft where your mouth couldn’t cover, you began moving it in rhythm with your mouth. 

“Oh my god,” escaped from Bellamy’s lips, “that felt so fucking good princess. Keep doing that,” he grunted and his lips fell into an ‘o’ shape.

You continued to move your hand with your mouth while his eyes were locked on yours. Feeling as though it was a good idea, you moved your tongue around his dick and he immediately pulled himself out of your mouth. 

“Holy shit, you can’t do that if you want me to last through two more for you, princess,” he smirked and grabbed you from between his legs. 

He drug you back up to meet his mouth and tasted your mixed arousal on your tongue. He let out a light “mmm” when he realized what it was. He grabbed your wrists and flipped you back over to your position from earlier, your stomach in the mattress. 

“I can’t wait any longer to fuck you,” he sighed, “we have both waited long enough,” he moaned and you felt the tip of his dick rub against your entrance. 

He rubbed up and down a few times before lightly sliding himself inside you, but not further than the tip. You moved your hips from side to side to get used to him a little more. 

“Get yourself comfortable, princess, I will take care of the rest,” he whispered behind you in your ear. 

Slowly as you stopped grinding with him angled just slightly inside you, he pushed in you more. You felt yourself expand around him and take everything in, letting out a light moan. He was slow and steady with his movements, being very careful what he was doing. He didn’t want to push himself too far yet, but he wanted to get two more out of you before he could finally let go. He loved seeing you break for him, write under his touch, shiver at the sound of his voice. You loved the way he made you feel as well, it was like a drug and you couldn’t get enough of it. 

He began to speed up his movements. When he did he lightly scraped against something inside you that sent a shiver down your spine, he noticed you move and ran his hand up your back. 

“Did I get something, baby?” he asked, “Come on, you know I love when you talk to me, tell me how you’re doing,” he finished and placed a kiss on your shoulder. 

“Almost, a little more to the right,” you moaned and he immediately shifted his hips to the right from behind you. “Oh, yes Bell, it feels so good,” you whined again. 

Bellamy sat himself up behind you so he could see what was happening below the two of you. You heard him grunt loudly and felt him speed up, wondering what was making him go faster. 

“I wish you could see this, princess,” he said from above you and you clung to every word that fell from his lips, “my dick sliding in and out of you,” he grunted, “your pussy just swallowing it, your thighs clenching together,” he moaned and grabbed your ass that was in front of him. 

His words were pushing you closer to the edge, along with the fact that every thrust he was slamming into your g-spot. Over, and over, and over again. He felt so sweet and warm inside you, there was no pain ever with him; it just felt as though this was the way it was supposed to be. 

“Are you close?” he grunted again, keeping his pace steady as he drove into me and his grip tightened on my ass. 

“Yes, I’m almost there,” you whispered back to him and moaned loudly. 

You felt him lean back over you and slide his hand between you and the bed. He found your clit easily and started to rub it in light, soft circles. You took in a deep breath when the feeling inside of you intensified to outside of your body as well. You were so close and everything Bellamy did pushed you even closer. He rubbed your clit faster and with his other hand moved your hair to the side and attached his lips to your neck right behind your ear. He kissed it lightly and then slid his teeth over your ear. 

“Come on baby, let go for me again,” he whispered, “cum all over my dick,” the last words he said were barely audible but how close he was to you drove you over the edge. 

You suddenly felt his cock get bigger inside you then realized it was you clenching as he groaned loudly. Your hands reached behind you to try to grab at him anywhere you could. Your right one found his arm that was wrapped under you and you grabbed tightly. Your legs started to shake and the whole world crashed down. 

“Who’s making you feel good, princess?” Bellamy sighed as he rubbed your clit while you came. 

“Y-you are, Bell. I’m… cumming so hard,” you gasped out, barely able to breathe. 

“Look at you, baby, you’re a mess,” he lightly chuckled and it drove you even more mad. 

At this point there were no words that were even comprehensible. Your orgasm ripped through you for a good forty five seconds as Bellamy rubbed your clit and fucked you without missing a single beat. Slowly you started to come down from your high and he slowed his pace and removed his fingers from your clit. 

“Mmmmm,” he groaned and softly pulled himself from your dripping pussy. 

You couldn’t see him but after a few seconds you felt his tongue slide through your folds and take in every last bit of wetness you let out. 

“You are so sweet,” he whispered as he took himself away from you and you turned yourself over. 

You smiled up at him, knowing it wasn’t over yet. He promised six, we were only at five. And he still hasn't finished yet. This man was amazing. It has been at least an hour since you two arrived at the bunked, you have had five orgasms by his hand and he hasn’t lost himself yet. You were so in love with him, and looking into his eyes right now before he put himself into you, you knew you would tell him. But not right now, you were both too close to the end to distract him. 

He smirked down at you, so excited to be able to see your face while he fucks you. This would be the good one, where you faced each other through your highs, he was excited to watch your face as you came with his dick inside you. He kissed your lips once then repeated his actions from earlier --not that he needed to because you were still soaked, simply because it felt good and he wanted to see your face as he did it-- and rubbed his tip lightly against your entrance, then lightly tapping it while parting his lips above you. 

“Are you ready for one more, my love?” he asked, all you did was bit your lip and nod and he slid himself inside you slowly. 

You sighed quietly as he stretched you open in a different way than he did earlier. This way was more intense, when he entered you it ran through your legs. He stretched your walls wider this time and when he was all the way in his pubic bone ran against your clit, causing you to moan loudly. 

“Does that feel good princess,” he began to question in a quiet voice, looking you in the eyes, “when I rub myself against your swollen little clit like that?” he finished and took your right nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. 

You closed your eyes, not able to keep them from rolling back in your head at the way he was stimulating you all over. 

“Oh no, we’ve been over this,” he said grabbing the side of your head lightly, “you open your eyes baby,” he rubbed his thumb against your hand and ear and you opened your eyes. “That’s so good,” he whispered and started to move his hips faster as he rubbed against your clit faster as well. 

“It feels amazing, Bellamy,” you moaned and bit your lip. 

“Talk to me some more,” he whispered, looking down between the two of you to watch himself fucking you. “Tell me something,” he lifted his eyes for a half second to smile at you then look back down to where your bodies were connected. 

“I see what you mean now,” you whispered lightly, “the way you look sliding in and out of me over and over,” he grunted and you moaned in return, “we look so good together like this, Bell,” you finished and he threw his head back. 

He was spinning. Nothing was straight and the only thing he was thinking about was you and him inside you. He closed his eyes while looking between you, not ready to finish yet and scared the sight would push him over the edge. 

“Open your eyes, Bell,” you whispered and rubbed his face, as he did to yours just a few moments ago. 

His eyes shot open and looked straight to yours. The sight he saw was unholy. Your bottom lip between your teeth, head slightly tilted, hair a mess, your left hand on your left nipple, rubbing it between your fingertips. He growled and picked up his pace. 

“You’re so pretty-taking my dick like this,” he said on his knees with his hands on yours bent in the air. “Are you gonna cum for me again baby?” he asked, moving his right hand to rub his fingers against your clit. 

“Yes, keep doing that,” you sighed, “it’s going to make me cum, Bell,” you let out with a light wimper, you didn’t have much more than that in you at this point. 

He rubbed you faster, moving his hips to the right just slightly, remembering that was what got you earlier. He was right to do that, his tip was at the start of your g-spot and you moaned loudly. Your toes curled and threw your arms above your head. The way he was rubbing you while you saw stars because of how deep his dick was inside you; it was the sexiest thought ever and made you let out a whimper as you drug your arm down your whole body to hold onto Bellamy’s wrist as he stroked your clit.  

“Right there, just a little deeper,” you moaned to him, looking in his eyes. 

“Oh, good girl,” he moaned, going even deeper inside of you and grabbing your right nipple between his same two fingers, “tell me what you like,” he finished and went even deeper. 

He continued to move his fingers and thrusted a few more times before you felt your sixth orgasm begin. You felt yourself clench around him again and he groaned, sounding very primal, at the feeling of it. 

“Here we go baby,” he said as he rubbed you just a little lighter, “you’re almost there,” he whispered. “Come on, I want you to scream my name,” he sounded so sexy when he said that. Deep and sweet, but very serious. 

Your legs shook, you moaned louder than you ever had before and it ripped through the whole room. Bellmy’s fingers on your body was the only thing you could feel. You let go completely and gave yourself to him, you held nothing back. 

“Oh my God, BELLAMY,” you screamed as he sped up on your clit and your orgasm intensified, “please, keep going just like that baby,” you let out and you couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back in your head. 

Everything went white, your whole body shook and the only thing you could feel was Bellamy. You clenched tightly around him as he grunted from above you and his head fell back. Your entire body was electrified, on fire, your sixth orgasm was the most mind numbing. You weren’t able to comprehend anything other than Bellamy, moaning, and breathing. Your hands shot up to his chest and you drug your nails down his abdomen, there was nothing else that you could get to come out of your mouth. You just rode it out. He kept talking to you through your orgasm and as you came down, he slowed his pace again. It was your turn to help him. 

“How close are you, Bell?” you questioned from below him. 

“Very,” he smiled down at you and you bit your lip. 

His face looked very confused as you grabbed his shoulders and flipped him over again. 

“Let me finish you, Bellamy,” you said moving your face back between his legs, “seems only fair,” you smirked from beneath him and he moaned at the sigh of you. 

You wrapped your mouth around his dick and your hand around his shaft again. You peered up at him through your lashes to see his head fall back against the pillow. His right hand rushed to run through your hair and rub at your scalp. You began moving your head up and down on him and sucking through your cheeks, his head shot up at that and his eyes squinted. 

“Oh yeah, keep doing that,” he whispered as you hallowed your cheeks again. 

Your left hand ran up his body to slip your thumb in his open mouth. This just about caused him to drool. He couldn’t believe you just did that, it pushed him closer to the edge and he bucked in your mouth. You knew he was close, but you had a different idea about how you wanted him to finish. You took your mouth off of him and kept your hand going at the same speed it was before. He looked at you with confusion but his face was filled with pleasure. You moved yourself to sit beside him as you jerked him off. He moaned against your mouth as you kissed his lips softly and sped up your movements. 

“I’m going to make you feel good now, Bell,” you whispered in his ear and he grunted at the sound of your voice. “It’s okay, you can let go whenever you’re ready,” you said, lips still pressed against his right ear. 

“I’m so close,” he said back to you, “you’re going to make me cum so soon,” he looked into your eyes and then at your lips. 

You placed your lips on his and he shut his eyes tightly while the tingle in his spine started to shoot through his whole body. His hip jutted up into your hand and you knew how close he was, it was time to execute the mind shattering plan. 

He breathed out against your lips as it started to get closer and you pulled back just enough to look in his eyes as he came and you whispered to him. 

“I love you, Bellamy,” you said. 

He looked straight into your eyes and you felt his cum spill out all over your hand and his abdomen. 

“Oh, keep going baby,” he moaned, “I love you, keep going,” he said again quietly and you jerked him through his orgasm. 

It was absolutely mind blowing. He had never felt anything like it in his life, after building himself up all night he finally released. Chills went down his spine and then he heard you tell him you loved him and his mind couldn’t keep up with reality. He felt like he was high, you made him feel that way. He moaned through his orgasm and sunk his head into your neck. Slowly, you stopped moving your hand against him. 

“Mmm, Bell, you made such a mess,” you whispered, attaching your lips to the cum he leaked on your hand and his head fell back again. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you cleaned up,” you smirked and started moving towards his abdomen. 

He watched as you licked his stomach clean and looked into his eyes. Your lips rose above your teeth while you smiled and licked him of everything he released. 

You finished cleaning him up and brought yourself off of him and up to lay on his stomach and face him. 

“Well hello,” he smiled at you and moved your hair away from your eyes. 

“Hi,” you said back and rested your head on his chest while one hand ran up and down his arm and the other laid under your head. 

“I love you,” he whispered again and you snapped your head to look at him. 

“And I love you,” you replied and pushed yourself up to kiss him on his lips. “What now?” you questioned. 

“Now, we sleep,” he said and moved you to his right side to lay with him. 

You turned over and faced him as he pulled the blankets over the two of you and slung his arm across your waist. He settled it there and laid his head on the pillow beside you before leaning over to give you one more kiss before you shut your eyes. 

You had everything you wanted, the man of your dreams, a place to call your own with him, and peace; falling asleep you knew you were doing so safe and loved. For now, you were going to enjoy it. 

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 14

Oof!au, part 14. I got cute with the prompt for this one. They are a found family but it’s also, you know, found: family. I know I said there weren’t any more split POVs but that was before Ahsoka and Rex decided they had a lot more to say than I planned, and so.... split POVs return for a few segments. Also this part is very long.

General Information: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending (soon). Past/eventual Codywan. Past one-sided Vaderwan.

WARNINGS: Discussion of trauma, torture, non-con, mind control, and death. Allusions to suicide. So much mental and emotional trauma.

Alt 7. Found Family

Messages from Ahsoka’s contacts in the Core worlds were few and far between. Usually, they didn’t add up to much. The one that had plunged them across Wild Space had been flagged urgent. “It’s probably nothing,” Ahsoka said, even as they cut across the black of space, and Rex believed her.

It was usually nothing.

When it wasn’t, it was a problem.

They came out of hyperspace alongside one the new Imperial cruisers, a hulking beast of a ship, all sharp lines and jagged edges. They’d been monitoring it, on their approach, and it showed no signs of arming weapons, or raising shields, but…

Rex whistled anyway, looking at the ship. “You seeing this?” he asked, looking over when Ahsoka didn’t answer, her gaze gone distant. “Ahsoka?”

She shook her head and said, “There’s something… strange.”

Strange meant trouble, as far as Rex was concerned. He checked his blaster as they docked, watched her draw both her sabers, and nudged her in the side. “Sure we shouldn’t just bolt?” he asked, waiting for the port to open.

“No,” she said, staring forward, “there’s--I think we need to be here. I…” She trailed off, shaking her head, lekku curling up on the ends as the only display of her nerves as the airlock opened and--

Rex didn’t waste breath cursing, jerking his blaster up, because there were troopers on the other side of the hatch, and they might not kill him on sight, but Ahsoka--

And a ghost, a dead man walking, stepped between Rex and - and kriffing hell, that was Cody - and said, “Don’t shoot!” Rex stared across into General Kenobi’s impossible face, and felt the entire galaxy lurch into a brand new alignment, dragging Rex along with it, the next moments all confusing madness.

“There still a chip in your head?” Cody asked Rex, as Ahsoka grabbed General Kenobi. He hadn’t holstered his blaster, Rex noticed, just lowered it a little at Kenobi’s request. He was tense across his shoulders, unblinking.

“Not for three years,” Rex said, carefully, because he’d never come upon any of his brothers already unchipped; he should have known if anyone would start doing it en masse, it would be Kenobi and the 212th.

“Good,” Cody said, with a brief nod, “but you understand that we’re going to need to confirm that. Crys. Take him to the infirmary. Have Bones look him over.”

And Rex almost protested. He didn’t - technically - take orders from Cody anymore. The GAR was nothing but smashed pieces. But he looked past Cody’s shoulder, to General Kenobi - what was left of General Kenobi - he didn’t look like himself, not at all, his hair shaved close to his scalp and his beard barely a scruff across his jaw, swimming in trooper blacks, the left sleeve tied off and--

Most of the Jedi had died within moments of Order 66 being issued. A few had survived longer. They’d found some of them. What was left of them.

Rex swallowed, hard, gaze drawn back to Ahsoka’s back, because it was easy - too easy - to imagine what could have happened to her, to imagine her eyes gone all faded and distant like Kenobi’s. He cut his eyes towards Cody and wondered what the kriff, exactly, had happened. He said, “Sure. Ahsoka, I’ll catch up.”

She looked over at him, her expression a mix of yearning and hope, and nodded.

It felt wrong, leaving her there surrounded by troopers, but General Kenobi was at her side. Even with one arm, even looking like death warmed over, Rex couldn’t quite believe that he’d ever let anything happen to Ahsoka.

“So,” he said, falling into step beside Crys, “what the kriff happened to you?”

#

A part of Ahsoka had always hoped Master Obi-Wan was still alive, out there somewhere. She’d heard his message, transmitting out across the stars, warning any survivors away from the Temple.

She’d known he survived the initial kill order, and she’d thought… well. If anyone could survive with the entire galaxy trying to kill them, it would have been Master Obi-Wan. She’d imagined, sometimes, coming upon him in some dive bar or on a battlefield, meeting each other’s eyes and falling into step, back to back--

She found him on an Imperial ship. When she’d thought about finding him, he’d looked the same way she last saw him, tired and worn down, but alright. She’d always imagined that he’d crook a smile at her.

Obi-Wan smiled there in the halls of the Recompense. But it didn’t touch his eyes. He looked different, wrong, with his hair trimmed so short and his beard just growing in. He was, for some reason, wearing trooper blacks. He swam in them. And the left sleeve was tied off, empty….

“We can put you in touch with the rest of the rebellion,” she said, trying to stay focused, shooting him another look as they walked towards the bridge.

Obi-Wan nodded, glancing over his shoulder at Cody, who, she noticed, was following a step back. His hand was still resting on his blaster. He looked different, too, the lines around his mouth graven deeper, his eyes harder.

He’d always seemed warm to her, before. Even through the Force.

He felt cold, walking down the hall of the ship, as Obi-Wan said, “I’ll have to talk to the men. See what they want to do.”

Ahsoka made a soft sound of acknowledgement. She hadn’t been around so many troopers since everything fell apart. It made her lekku itch, knowing they were all around. She wished Rex hadn’t gone off to the infirmary. She said, setting that thought aside, “We can find places for them, if they...don’t want to join. They don’t have to stay with--”

“We’re staying with the General,” Cody said, and even his voice sounded different, full of sharper edges that threatened to draw blood.

“Well, that’s fine, too,” Ahsoka said, glancing back and forth between them, cautiously tracing their emotions with the Force and recoiling after the briefest brush because it was all -- hurt. Terrible hurt, open wounds in need of immediate tending. 

The agony lingered there, right below the surface as they reached the bridge and punched in coordinates to, at least, get further away from their current position, just in case they were discovered. Ahsoka looked around the bridge - it reminded her, achingly, or both the Resolute and the Peacemaker, but it felt...wrong.

Everything felt wrong. 

“You’ve been well?” Obi-Wan asked, something shadowed in his eyes, and Ahsoka considered the past three years, the fear and the desperation and the slow slog towards some kind of healing, some kind of life.

It seemed strange to realize, that, compared to him, she had most definitely been doing well. She nodded, and said, “Yes, Master.” And she flushed as she spoke, because she hadn’t called anyone by that title for so long, and it felt both presumptuous and embarrassing, mader her feel like the child she wasn’t anymore, and--

And it made Obi-Wan go still, his emotions blossoming huge for just a moment before he controlled them all down and away, where she couldn’t feel them. He cleared his throat, and said, “Why don’t you tell me more about what I’ve missed?”

#

Rex had seen plenty of his brothers over the past three years. Most of them had been on the other side of a blaster. It never hurt less, killing them, but he’d gotten… better at it. They’d saved a few of them, freed them, brought them back to themselves. But that had been scattered souls, here and there.

And so many of them had…. Not handled freedom well.

Rex had come out of it with something to live for, someone to keep fighting for.

Too many of his brothers had only come out with crushing guilt and despair. Too many of them recalled killing their generals, their friends. Too many of them remembered the atrocities they’d been used to carry out.

They found ways to get away from it.

Rex looked into the faces of the survivors of the 212th on his way to the infirmary and felt a shiver down his spine. They looked, to a man, exhausted and worn down, with shadows in their eyes, tension in every move they made.

He listened to Crys’ brief run down of what had happened, freezing for a step when Crys said, “Skywalker rounded us up. As many of the 212th as he could find.” By the time he started moving again, Crys was explaining that they’d been kept on Mustafar. Waiting.

“It’s good to see you again,” Crys said, outside the door to the infirmary, gripping Rex’s forearm and flashing him a thin smile.

“Not going to stay and chat?” Rex asked, raising an eyebrow, getting the feeling he was only digging at the surface of whatever was going on, and Crys shook his head.

“I need to go check on the General,” he said, like it was obvious.

Rex blinked. “He’s still a General, huh?” he asked, trying to inject some levity into the situation. 

The look Crys gave him curdled any hope of that. “Yes,” Crys said, and nothing else, turning on his heel and walking down the hall. 

Rex shook off the feeling of tension in the middle of his shoulder blades, ducking into the infirmary and it was so strange to see one of his brothers in there, working, instead of a droid or the medics that had joined the rebellion. It threw him into a strange headspace, made him feel almost like the last three years hadn’t happened.

He’d ended up in the Negotiator’s medical bay more than once, getting treatment for all his hurts. He said, “Hey, Bones,” as the medic turned to face him, and got a long whistle for his trouble.

“Look at you,” Bones said, shaking his head, before his mouth hardened. “Unchipped?”

“You’re supposed to double-check,” he said, and Bones nodded, waving him forward. Rex submitted to the examination, thankfully brief, and said, as he sat back up, “How’d you all…” he waved a hand. “Get past them, anyway?” Bones froze, looking to one side, quickly. Rex watched him, going still in response. “Bones?”

“We…” Bones blinked rapidly a few times and cleared his throat. “I assume the same way you did. And any others of us, who got away.”

Rex swallowed, aching inside. “Not many of us have,” he said, focusing on a spot on the far wall. He didn’t want to admit, yet, that he hadn’t seen so many of his brothers free before. Ever. Even during the war, it had been lurking inside them. He shuddered. “Kenobi freed you, then?”

Bones sucked in a breath. When he spoke, the words seemed to come from far away. “Yes. I suppose he did. Indirectly. A few of us managed to...break them.”

Rex stared at him. He had no reason to believe such a thing was even possible. “Are you serious?”

Bones jerked out a nod, turning away to look at a scan that was reporting, as far as Rex could tell, nothing. “Yeah. You push hard enough against them, you give yourself an aneurysm. On the plus side, it also breaks them.” Bones scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “You didn’t know about this?”

“Kriffing hell,” Rex said, shuddering down his back. “No, I’ve never heard of anyone breaking them.” 

“Not surprised,” Bones said, gaze going distant and unfocused. “Half of us that managed it died. If the Commander hadn’t dragged us to the medbay…” He trailed off, and then shook his head, hard. “You’re clean. Free to go.”

“Go where?” Rex asked, still trying to process the idea that they’d - they’d broken the thing in their heads, somehow. All on their own. He swallowed bile, thinking about his finger on the trigger, Ahsoka’s eyes on the other end of the barrel, thinking--

Well.

He hadn’t given himself an aneurysm.

“Wherever you want,” Bones said. “Tell the Commander he missed a check-in, if you see him.”

#

It took time to describe everything Obi-Wan had missed. They talked on the bridge, for a long time, about what the Rebellion had gotten up to, slowly trying to build some way to resist the Imperial forces sent against them.

Ahsoka watched Obi-Wan’s expression get still with each word she spoke. She wished she had more good news to share, but there was...so little to bring a spark of brightness into the world. 

“I should show you around,” Obi-Wan said, eventually, as she ran out of things to tell him. “Have you seen one of these models?”

“Not yet,” Ahsoka said. “This is a bigger target than we usually try to take.” They’d been scrambling, for years, trying to make a dent against an enemy that had beaten them before they even knew what was happening.

Holding onto even the barest scraps of hope had felt impossible. Ahsoka knew, most days, that they were doing little more than throwing pebbles at a krayt dragon. Most likely they weren’t even an irritation, but…

But it was better than giving up. At least she thought so, most days.

She listened to Obi-Wan talk about the ship as they moved through the halls, watched by troopers wherever they went. “And we have plenty of quarters,” Obi-Wan said, eventually, waving a door open along the hall and gesturing inside. “If you’d like to stay aboard during the trip. Your shuttle can stay docked.”

Ahsoka stepped into the room with a lurch in her chest, abruptly thrown back in time, to her quarters on the Resolute and the Peacemaker. If she looked at it just right, she could imagine her room, she could imagine turning and seeing Anakin standing in the doorway, come to check on her after a mission and--

And when she turned it was Obi-Wan still in the hall, talking with Cody, quietly. She cleared her throat, and said, “Could I talk to you, for a moment? Just… you?” Cody was making her feel more and more uneasy. The longer she was around him, the more off-balance she felt. 

She felt the whip-snap fast shift of his emotions at the suggestion, watched him stiffen his shoulders, but Obi-Wan nodded. “I’ll catch up with you shortly, Commander,” he said, and it seemed so odd to Ahsoka that they were using ranks, still.

She and Rex had stopped using them almost immediately.

She shook that thought aside as they resumed walking, before she drew a breath and asked, “Have you--have you seen Anakin?”

Obi-Wan’s emotions withdrew completely. She’d barely been aware of the soft touch of his mind against hers, soothing and familiar. It had been so long since she’d been around another Force user, much less someone she knew. It was startling to have it jerked away again, abruptly.

When he spoke, his voice was even, “Yes. He… found me. A few months ago.”

Ahsoka’s heart jerked in her chest. She’d seen Anakin a few times, from a distance. He’d looked so different, covered in his awful dark suit. Ahsoka swallowed. There’d been rumors, recently, that something had happened to him. She asked, quietly, “Where is he now?”

Obi-Wan stopped walking, just for a moment. He took a breath and said, “He’s one with the Force, now.”

“What?” That matched the reports they’d heard, but Ahsoka hadn’t believed those reports, not really. So many people had thought Anakin was dead, over the years, and they’d all of them been wrong. “Are you sure?”

Obi-Wan stared forward, expression some strange and still thing. “Yes,” he said, “I’m very sure.”

“But…” Ahsoka shifted her weight back and forth. Some part of her had always held out the hope that she’d find Anakin, find a way to get through to him. She’d left him, once, and -- and she’d thought, so many nights, that maybe if she’d been there, she could have protected him, kept him from Falling, if she hadn’t run away when he needed her-- “How?”

“He Fell,” Obi-Wan said, tone odd and blank. “Long ago. The Anakin you knew was gone, and--”

“I don’t believe that,” Ahsoka said, shaking her head. The Anakin she knew had been many things, including full of such sharp bright anger, sometimes. But she knew he’d been good, at the core. “He -- you were around him, are you telling me that you don’t think he could have come back?”

Something moved through the Force, an undercurrent that threatened to drag her under for a moment. Nothing showed on Obi-Wan’s expression. “He was gone,” he said, voice a rasp.

Ahsoka frowned, emotions twisting around in her gut. She’d always held onto the hope of bringing him back, of making things right, of making up for leaving, for not being there when he needed her, for-- “So - so you didn’t even try?” she asked, aware her voice was getting louder. “You were his Master, and you didn’t help him?”

#

Rex ended up in the mess. There were clusters of his brother there, talking to one another, and they pulled him over eagerly. They wanted to know everything, all about what had happened in the last three years, outside of their little bubble. 

He pulled up a chair and looked at the intent expressions on their faces, and told him what he knew. Mav looked shocked when he asked how long Rex had been under. “A few minutes,” he echoed, sounding numb and far away, his expression mirrored by the others gathered around.

“Yeah.” Rex had known he was lucky, known it even when he felt like the rest of the world was coming down. He’d escaped whatever had left his brothers all looking like hollowed out shells. He twirled the cup in his fingers and asked, “What about...all of you? How long…?”

“Until a few days ago,” Crys said, gaze cutting over to the side, tone getting flatter by the word, and Rex flinched, thinking about spending three years under, about what they must have gone through--

“What the kriff happened?”

Crys stared at nothing for a moment, and then looked his way, blinking. “What?”

Rex gestured around the room. “To all of you. I, kriffing hell, we got word, a few days back, that the Emperor was in a royal snit because - because Vader and his entire base got blown all to hell and--”

“Skywalker,” Mav cut in, sharp, tensing across his shoulders.

Rex blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Call him his name,” Mav said, flat, taking another long swallow of caff. “That’s who he always was.”

Rex processed that, slowly, leaning back in his chair. “So he is dead, then?” He got nods from all around, his brothers’ mouths curling up in the corners, brief flashes of fierce satisfaction passing across their expressions. “You’re sure?”

The look in Crys’ eyes made Rex want to reach for his blaster. He resisted. “The Commander killed him. Personally. Got confirmation himself,” Crys said, sure and calm and terrible. “He’s dead. Body is gone completely. Nothing to bring back, this time.”

“Kriff.” Rex scrubbed a hand over his face. “I--how?” Because he’d heard nothing but horror stories about Vader - Anakin - after the war. He’d turned into a monster. Some machine that just murdered everything in its path. Rex had done his best to keep Ahsoka away from him, succeeded, but…

“He left the Commander in charge,” Mav said, finger tapping on the side of his mug, that code the 212th had used, back in the day. Rex had never learned it, they’d been greedy with the secret. “While we were all chipped. When he got free…” He shrugged, eloquently.

Rex could imagine. Cody had been Marshal Commander for a reason. He’d always been good at finding the solutions to problems. “I still don’t… the Commander killed him?” He knew - though she didn’t talk about it much - that Ahsoka had still hoped to find Anakin one day. Bring him back. That happened, Rex supposed, sometimes.

“Put him down,” Mav said, grim and satisfied, taking a deep drink of his caff and twisting his mouth. “A better death than that motherkriffer deserved.”

Rex shivered. The chill around his brothers, the shadows in their eyes, reminded him too much of Umbara. He knew, very well, what his brothers looked like when they were pushed too far. “Because he’d turned to the Dark?” he asked, half because he’d gotten into the habit of digging for intel automatically, half because he knew his family, and he thought if they didn’t keep talking they might all implode.

Crys snorted, Mav shook his head, it was Ults - a medic Rex hadn’t ever seen much - who answered, “Because of what he did to the General.” And that got nods and murmurs of agreement from all the rest clustered around.

Rex turned his cup, kept his tone even when he asked, “What’d he do?”

“You’ve seen him,” Crys snapped, looking to the side, hands in fists again, knuckles standing against skin. Rex watched them all wind tighter, all at once, and wondered if digging at the subject actually was the right call. 

“It’s been three years since I saw General Kenobi,” he said, quietly, and it felt strange to call anyone General, these days, but he could read a room. Kenobi was still the General to all of his brothers. They didn’t need another shove closer to whatever cliff they were teetering on in their heads. “I didn’t know--”

“Skywalker did it,” Mav snarled, pushing to his feet and dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, taking a few agitated steps and pacing back. “All of it. For three months. Skywalker hurt him. Tried to tear him apart.” He paused, breathing heavily, and then admitted, tone cracking, “Made us help.”

“We tried not to,” Crys said, voice trembling, “Fought it, but he--he made us. We tried, but we couldn’t help him. Skywalker burned him and - and raped him and took his arm and we--”

“We should have tried harder,” Ults said, into the silence, when Crys cut off, covering his face with his hands, Rex staring at them with a pit opening in his chest, nothing at the bottom of it but darkness. 

He had a lurching, awful moment where his mind raced forward, dragging him into possibilities he didn’t want to consider. It was terribly easy to imagine Anakin finding Ahsoka, instead of Obi-Wan, terribly easy to consider her blue eyes shadowed and--

“Yes,” Cody said, startling Rex out of the spiralling horror of his thoughts. Rex twisted in his seat, watching Cody stalk over, a cup of caff in his hand. “We should have.” Cody kept going, apparently finished, and Rex rose to follow him, because none of his brothers looked well, but Cody...

Rex said, falling into step beside Cody as he made his way to a far table, empty of anyone else, “Bones is looking for you.” 

“He can keep looking.” Cody hissed a little at the burn of the caff, sitting with a scowl, one leg immediately bouncing up and down.

Rex stood for a moment, feeling the urge to wait for permission to sit, and then remembered he didn’t have to do that, any longer. He sat, watching Cody frown at nothing, and then said, carefully, “Doing alright?”

“Fine,” Cody said, not looking at him. 

Rex felt like he was balancing on a wire. When they’d come out to check out the intel, he hadn’t expected to walk into a situation like this. The entire ship felt like a bomb about to go off, like an explosion waiting to happen.

He didn’t like to think what would happen to his brothers, if that happened.

And so he cleared his throat and said, quietly, “It really wasn’t your fault.”

Cody’s mouth twisted, terribly. Everyone else had avoided Rex’s eyes, but Cody looked at him, and Rex wished, immediately, that he hadn’t. “The fuck would you know about whose fault it is?” Cody snarled. “You weren’t there. You got free, you looked after Ahsoka--”

“I got lucky,” Rex said, feeling it more than ever. “She figured out how to--”

“I beat him. Obi-Wan,” Cody cut in. Rex wasn’t sure he’d heard the interjection. Rex froze, bracing a hand on the table. “Skywalker ordered me to, and I did. He pleaded with me to stop and I didn’t listen. And I…” Cody’s jaw worked, soundlessly, for a moment, before he hissed, “and I raped him, so, you don’t get to come here, and tell me it wasn’t my fault, I--”

“Sithspit,” Rex whispered, as Cody’s words cut off again, both his hands balled to fists. “That’s -- Cody. You didn’t want to, that’s--the chip--”

“I broke the chip,” Cody spat, flat and hard, “So that’s no excuse. I broke it. Just not fast enough. I wasn’t strong enough. Didn’t want to do it badly enough, when I was--” 

“I’ve never heard of anyone else breaking the kriffing things,” Rex said, reaching out cautiously, gently putting a hand on Cody’s shoulder. He jumped, beneath Rex’s touch, muscles knotted and hard. “The things they made us do--”

“Made us do? What’d they make you do?” Cody demanded, looking over, and meeting his gaze was like taking a punch. 

“They would have made me kill her. Ahsoka,” Rex said, calm and honest, feeling Cody flinch under his hand. “I would have done it. Pulled the trigger and put a blaster bolt between her eyes and--and I couldn’t have stopped it. Wolffe killed General Koon. Bly killed Secura. Are you calling them murderers, because you know they’d have never--”

Cody pushed up and out of his chair, and for a moment Rex thought that he’d gone too far, pushed too much, but Cody wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was across the room, towards the door, where other troopers were pushing out, the atmosphere of the room changing, all at once.

“What’s going on?” Rex demanded, standing himself, following Cody as he crossed the room.

#

Ahsoka thought she’d seen Obi-Wan’s expression break, before. She’d seen him hurt, many times, certainly. Seen him walk off battlefields, seen him bent over the dead, seen him grieving so openly it hurt.

His expression had never done what it did in the corridor, her last words still echoing around them. She watched him curl in, somehow, without ever seeming to move, eyes shuttered for all that they remained open. He asked, quietly, as someone pushed through the door at his back, “What?”

Ahsoka blinked the stinging blur from her eyes. Nothing seemed quite real yet, it hadn’t all settled. She’d thought, told herself, that she’d be able to help Anakin, for so long, and-- “You were his Master,” she said, choking, “he trusted you, you should have tried to save him--”

And there were troopers there, then, in the hall with them. She watched two of them just - just catch Obi-Wan and only realized then that he’d swayed, staring forward, sightlessly. 

“What the kriff did you just say?” Stripes demanded, stepping in front of Obi-Wan, blocking him from her view, bristling, and they were all, every single one of them, radiating anger, fierce and jagged edged.

She took a step back, bracing, hands itching to reach for her lightsabers as Rex came through the door, a single piece of relief, even as he demanded to know what was happening. Stripes didn’t look away from Ahsoka to answer. “She said the General didn’t do enough to save Skywalker.”

It was odd, how the hall went quiet, then, just for an instant, before Cody said, tone harder than durasteel, “Rex. Take Commander Tano out of here.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was a surprise, small and rasping, “It’s al--”

“Now,” Cody cut in, and Ahsoka could see him gripping the doorframe, see a muscle jumping in his jaw, over and over again.

Rex only jerked out a nod, even though he didn’t have to take Cody’s orders anymore, stepping forward and taking her arm. She said, “I don’t--”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Rex said, quiet, close to her ear, and something about his emotions, pulled taunt with worry and concern, made her shut her jaw, her teeth closing with a little click. He said, without turning back, “We’ll just… be in our shuttle. For a while.”

Ahsoka waited until they were down the hall, around a corner, to hiss, “Rex, what the kriff--”

“Not here,” he gritted back, gaze moving to the side as they passed a trooper, who watched them with a curious expression. Rex refused to say anything else until they were through the airlock, into their little ship, and then he only said, sounding agonized, “Tell me you didn’t.”

Ahsoka blinked at him, feeling unnerved and on-edge. The sheer tension radiating out of everyone on the Recompense made it hard to think clearly. They were filling the Force up with their hurt and she had to work to keep it out. “Didn’t what?” she asked, stepping back from him and frowning. 

“Say that about--”

“Rex,” she cut in, shaking her head and spinning around the pilot’s chair so she could drop down into it, wishing she’d sent someone else to check this all out. “He - he was Anakin’s Master, he - if anyone should have been able--”

“Skywalker did this to them,” Rex said, quiet, leaning his shoulder against the wall, looking down and the to the side.

Ahsoka took a breath to recover and then said, “What?”

He jerked out a nod. “He - he took the 212th, from what I can tell. Kept them on Mustafar. And then he, well. Captured General Kenobi. And... “ He swallowed, loudly enough that she heard it, his hands in fists. “And…” 

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Anakin wouldn’t--”

“They weren’t lying to me.” There was a jagged edge in Rex’s voice, something she’d never heard much. “He spent months--”

“No,” Ahsoka repeated, because she’d kept a flame of hope burning inside her chest for three years. Knowledge that if she just - just got close enough, she could find a way. Bring Anakin back. Rescue him from the darkness he’d fallen into. 

Rex sighed, scrubbing a hand back over his head and moving forward, sinking down into the chair across from her. He reached out, after a moment, snagging her hand and threading their fingers together. When he looked up, his eyes were dark and shining.

“I know you don’t want to hear it,” he said, quietly, “but you need to. You’ve got to feel how they’re hurting.” She nodded, throat getting tight. She could feel the agony, had to work to keep it away, losing her grip on it as he sat there and spoke, quietly, trailing off sometimes, the words beating their way into her head.

And she tried to say “no” again, when he was finished. He’d leaned forward, back bowing as though he couldn’t bear the weight of what he’d learned, and she leaned forward to meet him, resting her forehead against his. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she’d known Anakin well, after all. Once upon a time. She’d seen him get angry, seen what that anger could drive him to, and she’d thought….

She said, “Sithspit,” into the space between them, and Rex nodded. She scrubbed at her face; it had been a long time since she rubbed at her cheeks and had her fingers come away wet. “What are we supposed to do for them?”

Rex sighed, staring down at their hands. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never...dealt with anything like this.”

She thought about her last words to Obi-Wan, the way he’d looked at her, blank and distant and kriffing hell, if he was sitting in the Recompense, thinking he should have saved the man who beat and raped and--and she swallowed, heavily. “Me either.”

He stroked his thumb across the side of her hand and said, “Guess we’ll figure it out together.”

[olimpias]

WIP INTRODUCTION *HEADS-UP*

genre: sci-fi, (political) thriller, cosmic horror, romance, mystery, crime

themes: oppression and revolution, flimsy promises, hight but shattered ideals, danger everywhere, dreaming of a better future, forbidden love, fighting the apocalypse 

setting: dark sci-fi city with lots of different quarters and buildings 

status: drafting, beginning to write

POV: third person limited

ꕥ - synopsis:

The resistance group "C.R.O.W." fights underground against the cruel, dictatorial government of Plutus, their country.  Like crows indeed, they operate under cover of darkness, coming and going as they please.. Their entire existence is like playing with fire. And yet they are children, outcasts to whom life means nothing. Their only goal is to return freedom to Plutus' population. For this, they spare no risk. But then a strange gambler appears. He is a dazzling trickster who takes money out of the pockets of politicians and the rich in casinos and nightclubs.  Who he is or what he wants, nobody knows. There is only one name: Elliot.

ꕥ - the cast

Ada - one of the resistance fighters. She is the youngest and fastest of them all, but also the loneliest

Pearl - Ada’s best and perhaps only friend. Works as a singer in a night club and is the girl of Smiley Backett, one of the biggest mobsters in town

Smiley - a gangster boss. Not particularly attractive, but powerful. Helps C.R.O.W. with their missions

Carmin - another resistance fighter. Scout of C.R.O.W. and possibly in love with Ada

Elliot - the mysterious gambler. There is only that name and nothing else

ꕥ - writing excerpt

Ada ran without looking. She knew the way by heart. The only important thing was to lose the policemen who trudged along the road close behind her. "Wretched walruses," Ada thought, smiling her bright smile into the dark, freezing air. "You're clearly in the wrong profession!" she called over her shoulder. There was the hatch. Within seconds she had pushed it open and slipped through. She heard the policemen pass her outside. They would be busy for a few more hours, she knew. Quietly she groped through the dark corridor. From a distance she heard Pearl's voice:

"Though the words may be wrong We're singing it because you ask for it So we're singing it just for you How high the moon"

She sneaked into Pearl's dressing room, picked out a simple black satin dress and changed. Then she ran back down the corridor, but took a different turn and finally squeezed through a small, nondescript wooden door in the wall.

Directly in front of her was a pool table with a single man leaning against it, scowling at the stage where Pearl was about to start the next song. "Hi, Smiley," Ada murmured in his ear. The man flinched. "Oh, hi Ada." "Don't you think you're a little jumpy for a man of your profession?" "I'm in a bad mood," he grumbled. Ada sat down beside him on the table. "Oh no, Smiley is grumpy," she said teasingly. "Shut up, it's not funny. Some kid just gave me a bad time at a poker game. He must have cheated, there's no other way." "Oh really? Who was he?" "I don't know, I never saw him before." Ada giggled and turned away. Sometimes she wondered what Pearl even saw in him. He wasn't handsome and he wasn't even particularly rich for a gangster boss. It was probably the adventure and the fact that Smiley did have a sense of humour and, even if you couldn't tell, was very smart.

Pearl had finished now and came over to them. "You're not still talking about that guy?" she asked Smiley. "Sometimes you just lose, it happens." Smiley shook his head. "I know, but somehow he seemed peculiar to me. He didn't, how shall I say, cheat honestly." Pearl raised her eyebrows. "There was no way to cheat, I saw it clearly. But he did it anyway." "Well, boy, don't worry your head about it, someone was smarter than you for once."

Ada had listened carefully to their conversation. It sounded very similar to what had happened to the Secretary General last week at roulette, but not in a small nightclub, but in one of the big casinos in the city centre. He had been given a one-time tip and bet two hundred grand on 17, but at the last moment the ball bounced over the edge and landed on 18. Only one other man had been involved in the game and he had bet on 18. It had been a terrible loss for the General Secretary and it had been in all the papers. But there had been no trace of the anonymous other man ever since.

ꕥ - aesthetic

elegant casinos; cubes and cards; the shimmering promise of another life; leather suits; hazy atmosphere; watch your step; red lights shining from high-tech buildings; frozen rivers; never-ending winter, but no snow

taglist under the cut (ask to be +/-)

general taglist: @stuff-lucie-wrote @buster-keaton @bookphobe @write-gallagher

heads-up taglist: no one yet!

[stinkfacestories]

Bull’s Eye

"Vaaashended.." Iron bull cursed. He and the Inquisitor found themselves at a dead end. The room was filled with large steel trimmed boxes. There was no escape.

"We fight then" The Inquisitor drew his sword.

"Not this one, boss. I'm not one to turn away from a fight but we have no exit. The whole base will flood this room if they catch us." Bull said. He was feeling the wall for hidden doors. Sometimes these bandits were smarter than they looked. He tapped one of the crates. Then another. He found a hollow one. 

"Get in boss, we can hide till midnight then when there all asleep we can escape" Bull lifted the heavy hinged lid.

"You first" you said.

"Nah, if they find us I wanna be between you and the sharp edge of a weapon"

Bull lifted you up and set you in. He crawled in after. It was a tight fit for just a single human, let alone a qunari of bull’s swole size. The hatch was heavy though and when it closed it latched. A few moments of squirming and you were as comfortable as you were going to get.

The crate was well sealed, but not airtight. The body heat between you made you and Bull break out in a sweat.

"Boss? You good?"Bull asked.

"Good as I can be at the moment"

"That's your face I feel isn't it boss"

You paused. In the wriggling and wiggling to get the lid closed and be in a comfortable position Bull had squat squarely on your face.

"It is" you replied

You couldn't see but you bet Bull was smiling.

"Shit boss, I wasn't trying to. Here let me see if I can.." he tried to move. There was no way for his big body to fit inside the crate any other way. The shifting just resulted in his muscular cheeks slapping your nose side to side.

"It's fine, it's fine" you said, stopping him. 

He stopped. "Hopefully we won't be in here to long"

The sweat was bad enough, but you were privy to the noxious fumes and odors of Iron Bulls rear.

"Less then four fucking days and here I am giving the Inquisitor the world's longest Rik'na a'Ishi"

You were picking up a few qunari words since bull joined but that one was new.

"Oh. It's just a stupid kid thing. Bullies tend to do it to weaker boys in the houses. I think the closest translation in human terms is smell, or stink face. Care to guess why?"

You didn't need to think very hard. Your nose clued you in. "I can guess Bull. I got a good nose and I don't think you bathed in a while"

A normal Rik'na a'Ishi would only be a few seconds. Have a friend kneel behind the target, push him so he falls, then rub your ass in his face. 

"What's the point?" You ask.

"Kids being kids; make sure they know you're the dominant type; sometimes just for a laugh."

"From the outside I could see it being funny," you said.

Bull chuckled

"Yeah go on you can laugh" 

"No boss, it's not that. I can feel your breath and it tickles" Bull said.

You moved your face around in the darkness. You notice that your nose has wedged itself in a hole torn in Iron Bulls pants. You traced the curve of his taught skin till it found the hair mangled valley of his cheeks. The Iron Bull was going commando. Your nose jumped over the chasm. The way he had been squatting had peeled the cheeks apart slightly; there was still miles of nutty brown flesh between you and the bullseye.

"You got a hole in your pants I think" you said.

Bull chuckled. "Yeah, that was a good Farakes" He suddenly got real quiet, as if he let some secret slip.

"What's a Farakas?"

'It's nothing boss."

"Is it like a party?"

"No. Some things are best keep secret boss"

"Well now I really want to know. Tell me what is a Farakas?" You blew out your nose. If Bull wasn't going to tell you he could expect a lot of tickling.

"I'd nothing. It's like a belch.." he trailed off muttering something under his breath.

"I didn't catch that last part; say again?"

"It's like a belch..but from your ass."

"You split a hole in your pants with a fart?"

"No, I split it with a good fart." He shifted again. "It's bad luck in the quen to say the word fart when your trapped in a cramped place; doubly so if it's the Bull who has his ass wedged in your face"

You recall your times in the barracks as a soldier, your older brothers and uncles. "Give me some credit Bull, I'm no featherweight mage."

"Oh boss, I know you're as badass as they come, but you don't know how bad the bulls ass can be. You know how Cullen keeps getting reports about a bear roaming around the camp at night but can't seem to find it?"

You had read the reports. For the past three nights just before dawn the night watchmen had been reporting low and long growling sounds. They were expecting a bear woken from hibernation, but they had yet to find any signs of the creature.

"Those are me," Bull said. "A sure sign I'm about to wake up is me letting slip with some slow growling juicy ones"

You shuddered "Maybe when we're back at base we can share a drink and I can experience this legendary beast. From a safe distance downwind that is."

You heard Bull's stomach groan. It was the cry of a tortured soul.

"If we have to stay in here much longer you may get to experience it up close. I'm gonna pinch it off as long as I can boss" Bull said.

What felt like hours passed. Guards kept coming in on routine patrols, none the wiser that two stowaways were crammed in one of their boxes. Your shoulder had begun to cramp. You needed to stretch it. With some working you managed to press it between Bull's legs.

"Woah, boss. Hello." Bull jerked as your arm ran along something long and rubbery.

You gave it a squeeze. "Feels like some sort of toy snake?"

You heard bull chirp. "Close boss. That's my toy snake"

You let go, red in the face. “Im sorry Bull I didn't mean to” “It's all good boss; I just usually like to know someone more than a few days before we get to the tug of war.”

Frantically you try and think of a way to change the topic, only to fail utterly by asking “So, what's got you so excited?” You squint so hard. You wish you could slap your own face. Of all the things to ask.

“Well I was just thinking about the last time I ripped one in someone’s face. The chargers and I were on the storm coast. We were waiting for some nobles to finish whatever shit nobles do when they are together. I was leaning on a rock just watching the waves. In and out. In and out. Really hypnotic. Guess I nearly dozed off. Snapped back to life when I let off a real tak’rethanka-- the wet roar of a dragon--. Rocky and Grim were behind me at the time. Poor grim took the brunt of the black. Rocky was ok. Nutty dwarf lost most of his sense of smell working with explosives. Grim though. That was the last day I remember Grim talking. Now he just grunts. I think I may have melted something in the guys brain, ya know boss?”

As Bull talked about the past you could feel his big rubbery snake bobbing and weaving up and down over your arm.

“That’s the kinda thing that gets you… excited… bull?” You say.

“Shiiit boss. No one really knows about that. I'm not usually with someone this long talking with them having my ass in their face. I’m into some weird shit aint I boss?” “Bull, if it's one thing I've learned about the world so far, it that there is too much crazy shit to worry about what makes people happy. If it makes you feel good I say do it.” You tell him.

“You’re alright boss. More than all right. Don't you worry though I won't let it mess with the job. And i'll make sure your plenty clear before I let rip” Bull says.

“That's gonna be kinda hard in here don't ya think. My face has been wedged in your ass for over an hour.” “I can hold it back boss”  Bulls stomach whined again, this time louder. “This is a nasty one though. It's taking all my willpower to keep the beast at bay.”

“Just get it over with and let it rip. I don't want you to explode” You tell him.

“Nah I can't do that boss. This is a real bad one.”

“I know you want to Bull.” “No, no I want nothing of the sort” He tells you.

You reach out and slap his rubbery cock. “Your ardor gives you away. Trust is important, and truth is the basis of trust. You want to do this.”

Bull cursed in qunlat. “You see right through me boss.” He shifted again, “By the way I wanted to ask. That thing you do with your sword when you draw it. Where did you learn that?” “Well it's a funny story, a few years ago” You start, but you never got to finish the story. As soon as he had distracted you, bulls cheeks let fly with a low rumbling fart. It was like staring into the mouth of a dragon. It washed over you like rain. The entire crate vibrated. Your nose was assaulted with the smell of fresh steaming shit. Bull was a consummate master of the gassy arts. He could have just let things out in one monstrous crack, but he metered it out, just enough to maintain a low droning hum. He caught you mid breath so you were forced to breath in a lung full through your nose. Your eyes watered. Suddenly you knew why Grim may have lost his ability to speak. 

The rest was silent.

You and Bull were in a sauna now. The floor was wet with buckets worth of sweat between you too. Bull just let out a sigh. 

“I tell you boss, very few things feel as good as letting it out after you’ve held it that long.” There was no answer. “Boss? Are you still alive down there?” You coughed. “...Bull” you weakly groan out. Alive, but possibly barley. “How in the the maker can you make such a thing inside you”

Bull was blushing again. “I know. I know. I'm a master. Bet you regret giving me the permission eh boss?” “Shit no Bull. Out of all the farts I’ve ever been privy to in my life, that one will go down as the most epic, the most legendary. You have my permission to let rip whenever, wherever, you want.” Bull stifled a belly laugh. “I don't think the camp guards are gonna be happy about that.” “If anyone gives you trouble, you have my permission to sit on their heads. You can even sit on mine again if you ever want” You tell him.

There was a tender silence between you. As if you were both having a conversation about something more meaningful than farting.

“Boss….” Bull said. “Feel free to say no if this is outta line but, after this mess here is over. Do you wanna fuck?”

[artnerd1123]

Among Us: CR3WM8TS

Beneath the Waves ——————————————

It’s not just the humans who do the exploring. Especially when their ships are so easy to poke around in... 

Among Us archive/askblog Fic chapters post

——————————————

at long last!!! we have the introduction of a very special guest! and by that, i mean the one member of the crew who has yet to appear LKSJDF. that’s right, it’s nubnub’s debut! hope y’all enjoy :D

and big big shoutout to @vaaloirr​ for proofreading this for me!!!!!! y’all should check hir out, ze’s rlly rad :>

                                                 ###~###~###

SHIP SYSTEM LOG REPLAY: TIMESTAMP [HR:MIN:SEC]: 01:27:02 AFTER ARRIVAL

System setting: DOCKED [STORAGE AND VENT MONITORING]

Location: SECTOR G Ship Status: DOCKED AT [PLANET 326-OCE-894 - SECTOR G] Course: N/A Systems: 

Supplies: [ONE] CRATES SHORT  

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

…

Supplies: [ONE] CRATES SHORT  

Storage Chutes: MATERIAL BUILDUP DETECTED  

Vents: CLEAR

…

Supplies: [ONE] CRATES SHORT  

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

                                                  ###~###~###

Today was a better day. A simple statement, with much behind it. A better day implied much. It needed a reason. Something to set it apart from the others in a positive manner. To those who cared, it all boiled down to the sky’s sudden roaring. That meant whatever was living above the water might be leaving a gift instead of pain.

The first time it happened, everyone had fled to the deep. The sky was not meant to roar. When it did, it could mean many things. None of them were positive. It could mean death- the large beaked horrors that flew about above the waves were merciless with their soft-bodied kind. It could mean fire raining from above- rare, yes, but it had taken one too many of them for their liking. It could mean horrible flashes of light- the huge crackles of terrifying light leaving those too close to the surface charred and twitching. This time, they expected no different. The seas were always one to change. But danger never had. So when the roaring died down to bring a myriad of different noises, different lights cast into the water and towards the sky, no one was sure what to think. Many wanted to move out of the area. There was more reef, sure. Plenty far away from whatever was scuttling around on the coral. Some wanted to wait in the deep, confident the sky’s beasts would finish off beings that tried to live on the surface. An idiotic choice, with them around. And still others… well. They were a curious species, after all. It was only a matter of time before they found out the strangers had something useful.

                                                 ###~###~###

The sky finished roaring not too long ago. The water surrounding the coral island seemed to have settled. But all was not as it appeared. Just out of sight, a quartet of scarlet eyes quietly watched the goings-on of the strange house. They guessed that’s what it was- in the handful of months the strangers had been here, the multicolored figures always seemed to retreat inside. There was all manner of things stored in there. They hadn’t gotten a good look, of course- their curiosity wouldn’t lead them headfirst into danger- but peeks in the windows showed plenty of shiny metals and blinking lights. Not to mention they’d sometimes take the top of their shiny coverings off. It was a shock to see that for the first time. But their rainbow of smooth coverings just made them all the more intriguing. It seemed to factor into their very social fabric! The strangers were fascinating to watch. Fascinating to hear, too. The strangers’ voices carried over in the sea salt breeze, making the creature’s smaller set of ears flick forwards. They had to wait until they heard the right thing to head inside. The sounds these strangers made were in some sort of odd, squeaking tongue. Like the delphiins, if a bit deeper in pitch. It didn’t take too long of observing to realize it was a language. Didn’t take too long for those of their people who remained to try and understand it. The creature was certainly doing their best. It took a lot of work, a lot of watching, and a lot of listening. They were getting the hang of it well enough, so they thought. But observation wasn’t what the hidden swimmer was here for today. They eased a bit closer, their large pink back tentacles holding tight to the side of the coral island. Their back claws scraped lightly against the webbed rock, front paws flexing impatiently. Peeking around the side of the strangers’ house, they spotted plenty of them moving about outside. That might’ve been a problem. The sight of them swarming about large capsules, though, put their mind at ease. Ah, yes. The strangers brought each other containers from far away. They didn’t seem to hunt or farm at all, or sit out in the sun long enough to survive, so they needed sustenance from their brethren. Fair enough. Their first set of eyes trailed wishfully after the multicolored swarm and their capsule. The other set strayed to the place it emerged from. It was some sort of house that flew- they’d heard it roar in and out of the sky plenty of times. They also knew that’s where the capsules were kept. Their mind wandered briefly back to the time- a few weeks after the strangers appeared- that their friends and themself managed to knock one of the capsules into the sea. Oh, how they’d feasted on all the food inside… The months after were just full of finding the best ways to get at them. And, of course, how to recognize which capsules had food, and which ones had more strange metal objects. They’d never have to worry about food again, so long as these strangers were around. Of course, there was still the matter of getting the capsules in the first place. Which was easier said than done. They’d been careful to keep track of what colors they saw as the strangers scurried past. In previous trips, their friends had been able to steal an unused covering to sneak around the ship. They noticed the strangers got rather distressed if they saw more than three of the same color walking around during a drop off. They got nervous if there were two, if the other flying house was absent. They’d all whisper about some “eemposster,” and then the creature and their friends would have to lay low for awhile. The bad thing about a drop off like this is that you didn’t know which suits would be in the house. From the looks of it, the creature would be hard pressed to find an unused color. So, waiting on plan B it is. As worried as the strangers were about those “eemposters,” they didn’t seem to guard their flying house after removing their capsules. They had no reason to, they supposed. They had what they wanted. The creature ducked under the waves, tentacles pulling them along the rocks and coral. Their brown fur and bright teal accents kept them relatively well hidden, though the business of unloading capsules did the job better. They popped the top of their head out once they reached the back of the flying house. One pair of ears flicked forwards, they listened carefully to the strangers’ conversation. One of them- a green one with a star shaped marking- was busy talking with another- a bright blue one with a similar star mark. They were leaders, if their observations were right. The green one was gesturing to the flying house, saying something about ‘crayts’ and ‘dun unlohding.’ The blue one seemed pleased by this. As did the creature. Those words- ‘dun unlohding’- was the all clear they’d been waiting for. Turning their attention to the flying house, the creature approached it carefully. There would be a hatch somewhere they could get in… they just needed to remember where it- aha! There, near the water- a hatch surrounded in yellow and black stripes. They chirped to themself excitedly, suckers glowing in satisfaction.  They darted closer, eyes fixed on their prize. Once they were under the hatch, they carefully reached a pair of tentacles up towards it. They made sure their suckers had a nice grip on the metal before drawing their body up too. They studied the hatch carefully, their remaining tentacles helping anchor them to the metal surface. It was closed tight, a squarish pattern locking the sides together. Fortunately, this flying house seemed a bit old. The doors weren’t as tightly sealed as they usually were. The creature stuck the tips of their claws in the crack, wiggling and scraping at it until they had a good purchase. Grip established, they carefully braced themself against the side. And yanked. The resulting screech of stubbornly moving metal made them cringe, but there was no shout of confusion from back on the island. They squinted as they yanked again, metal groaning in protest. But it gave away soon enough. It always did. They grabbed the edges of the hatch with their tentacles once it was open enough, holding it so they could squeeze inside. These were the times they were glad their body was so malleable. A dark, dirty metal tunnel yawned before them. They chittered again as their claws hit the floor, proud of themself for sneaking in. Of course, their pride faded the second their tentacles let go of the hatch sides. It shut with a rather loud slam. They didn’t manage to clamp their mouth shut before a surprised shriek slipped out. They slapped their front paws over their mouth, curling into an anxious ball. Had anyone heard them??? Was it over??? They sat silent in the dark for a couple minutes. Waiting. Nervous. … when nothing happened, they let the tension leave their body. Ok. It was ok. They’d just. Move a little quicker this time. Turning their back to the hatch, they started crawling up the tunnel. The dark was no problem- they could see just fine. Not to mention the soft teal glow of their suckers and short horns. It made the whole place feel like a sea cave… if a bit stranger to move in. After all, there was no water up here. They reached another hatch soon enough- it was outlined with the same yellow and black stripes, some red squiggles above it like a label. They weren’t even gonna try to decipher what it said. But they knew it was their way in. They were more cautious with this next hatch, squeezing through carefully and slowly easing the sides back together. It still gave a louder thunk than they preferred, but it was leagues quieter than the last time. Hatch troubles taken care of, they let their gaze trail to the room around them. It was a tall one, with plenty of large capsules sitting around. Some of them even sat on top of each other. The thought of all the food inside was already making their mouth water, tongues lolling out of their mouth… … They shook themself out of it. Focus!!! They scolded themself. They still had to find a food capsule. They took a moment to tuck their tentacles into their back- no need to leave them out to hit things in such a cramped space- before slinking towards the nearest capsule. It was large. Too large to get out of the hatch, unfortunately. But they gave it a sniff anyway, hoping there’d be something worth snagging. The scent of iron and copper greeted them. They curled up their lip with an unhappy chirp. No, not that one. They moved on to another one a little closer to the entryway, tail flicking eagerly.

The process of sniffing and poking at capsules continued for longer than the creature would’ve liked. All the food was better hidden for some reason- it was frustrating. Eventually, though, they rooted out a small capsule that smelled absolutely tantalizing. They stood over it gleefully, claws twitching in eagerness. If it wasn’t foolish, they’d rip it open and chow down right this very moment. However, this wasn’t their home. And they didn’t know how long the strangers would stay away. So they grabbed the capsule, digging their claws through the steel outside to gain a hold. Their tentacles slithered out of their back, lifting their body off the ground as they held the capsule protectively. From there, they picked their way across the room and back to the hatch. It was a little harder to get it open this time. Not necessarily because they couldn’t use their front paws- that was fine- but rather they had to use another set of tentacles to do so. As strong as they were, the slimmer ones on their arms had no suckers to help hang on. But they managed in the end. It was a straight shot back down to the other hatch once they were through. They’d figured out the one in the other room, so this? This was a cinch.

The only signals that anything was amiss was a metallic thunk as the hatch closed, and quiet ripples as the creature disappeared under the waves.

                                                ###~###~###

SHIP SYSTEM REALTIME LOG: System setting: DOCKED [STORAGE AND VENT MONITORING]

Location: SECTOR G Ship Status: DOCKED AT [PLANET 326-OCE-894 - SECTOR G] Course: N/A Systems:

Supplies: ERROR - RELOADING…

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

...

Supplies: ERROR - RELOADING…  

Storage Chutes: BLOCKAGE DETECTED - PLEASE EMPTY

Vents: CLEAR

…

Supplies: [TWO] CRATES SHORT  

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

[eternalstrigoii]

Bittersweet

“It’s just gonna be a nice little fluff fic,” I say as I start this last night. I am. So sorry.

Platonic!Desert Warrior Dark Fey Reader + Diaval; Maleficent x Diaval; Borra x Desert Warrior Dark Fey Reader

                As with all proper bonded pairs, there were times when you were not with Borra.

In the nest, those times used to be spent honing your skills, chasing captive deer through the tall, dry grass along the rocky outcroppings; scaling from the caverns to the plains using nothing but your wits, your talons, and your knees. You sparred with others, you sat with Ini in the rocky outcroppings of the nest outside, watching the cold and violent sea, and, from time to time, you entertained your kinsmen’s children with your strange ability to recall and emulate the sounds of the birds you heard on the moors.

These days, you spent an increasing amount of your free time with Diaval.

It wasn’t that you miraculously spent none of it with your kinsmen – you did, but Ini was always the curious sort, and the moors offered her a great deal of new stimulation, and Shrike had Percival. Udo always had his fledglings, and you loved him for it, but when Borra convened with Maleficent, it was in your best interest – and often also in Diaval’s – for the both of you to find something else to occupy your time.

For the moment, the days of war and battle plans were over.

So you wandered.

Whether he was a bird or a man didn’t matter, Diaval was good company. Sometimes he saved you shiny things that he’d thought you would like, and you did like them. Sometimes you lay together in the sun and you ran your talons through his feathers until he shivered (which was more amusing to watch when he was a man, and your smirk never failed to rile him).

And, sometimes, he took you to the kingdoms.

Perceforest was not a welcoming place. It better resembled a dumping ground when compared to Ulstead; the buildings were weathered and the stone streets uneven. Even its people seemed burdened by invisible forces. For a land that knew communal, council-based living (or some form of it), they still suffered. You didn’t like to go there because you knew if you went frequently enough, you would feel motivated to do something about it, and that would inevitably work its way back to Maleficent, and you would have to hatch some sort of plan.

You quite liked your free time, so you contented yourself with perching high in their trees and drawing shapes in the air until their crops flourished. Despite their farmers’ toil, it brought them some measure of relief, and there was almost always some left over for you and the raven to share.

The open-air markets of Ulstead were also a draw, with their ready-made sweets and shiny baubles, and you had yet to bother with the Midlands.

You stayed with him near Perceforest most often.

The farmer that nearly killed him twenty years ago was dead, and his daughter now owned the land. She was a pretty thing, round-hipped under her shift. Very clean. She kept house almost obsessively, and at first Diaval agreed with the thought that it was to keep nature from entering, but then she did something neither of you planned on.

She left pastries sitting on the window. In plain sight. Of you and anything else that just so happened to be looking.

You looked to your raven companion, who was, at the time, literally a raven.

He awk’d, partly flapping as his best approximation of a shrug. Do what you will, it won’t be my idea to start something.

“They smell good,” you replied. “We can share.”

He fluffed his feathers at you. No, I will not do your dirty work.

You pursed your lips so they quirked at the corner and thought for a moment. You could take one with your vines, or you could respect peace and not touch them at all, or you could find a third option that would please you both without having to cope with either extreme.

You resolved to do the latter, hopping down and quirking your fingers so that her squash vines continued to flourish while you strode up to the window.

You plucked one from the platter and made a mad dash back, going even higher into the branches than you were originally perched. Diaval laughed at you, and you swept your wing so he had to fly or be shoved off the branch by its wind.

Awk! You said something about sharing?

“You did nothing to help.” You took quite the bite only to pause and look down at it strangely. You weren’t sure what you tasted or if you liked it, so you surrendered the other portion to him.

He picked at it, and after several swallows, quirked his head back to you. Awk! Not much of a baker.

“It’s terrible,” you agreed.

Another few mouthfuls. Awk! No sugar?

You ate it, though it wasn’t as pleasant as you thought. Not pleasant like the molasses cake at the palace, or the stall-vendor with fresh raisin buns. You had no use for currency, and Diaval saw no problem with pocketing some for you from time to time.

“It’s just grain,” you said after a moment, nearly in disbelief. “Who eats just grain?”

Awk! Bread. It’s bread. Surely you must have had bread.

“That is not bread. That is…” Small and lumpy and wrong. Not much of a baker at all. “A rock.”

He quirked his head to the other side and made a low chitter of disapproval.

“What in skies do you want me to do about it? You never help.”

You swore before your ancestors if he tried to levy peace against you as an excuse, you’d smack him from the branches. Instead, he hopped onto your leg and scaled your side until he was perched upon your shoulder. And he nuzzled you, the conniving bastard.

“I will not be goaded into acts of kindness,” you hissed.

He chattered at you gently, and you could hear the honey in his tone. Oh, come on. She’s just a girl. No better than Aurora.

You scowled. Severely.

More chattering; if you help her, we can steal sweet buns.

“I should throw you in her window and see how well you manage.”

He gave you the full force of his beady, black little eyes, and you set your teeth and growled at him.

But he was Maleficent’s mate, and the scheming little brat knew you would do nothing of the sort.

“Where in skies does one find sugar?”

Awk! Awk! Don’t act like I’d make you farm it. Come on. We’ve got plenty of work to do.

He took off from the trees, and you did your best to quietly follow. You left the bread for the squirrels, though you figured if she had the guts to leave her concoctions unattended, she knew how palatable they were.

       You came back several days after dropping off the sack of sugar with a note in Diaval’s marginally neater hand. From one neighbor to another, may sweetness always be shared.

You thought he was being too obvious. He thought it was a brilliant plan.

There was no bread that time, but something was certainly roasting over fire. You breathed in the smell and your wings nearly sagged against the thick limb of your perch.

“What is it?” Diaval, the man, asked.

You had to think of it. You ran your tongue across your teeth and tried to conjure up the memory of what it might be, though it failed you. “I don’t know. It smells good.”

He fluffed with pride, and pretended to wait patiently beside you.

But it took so long. You swore hours passed, and you began to ache with hunger as though you hadn’t eaten just that morning.

She put something on the ledge before you had to run off – narrowly before you had to run off, and, this time, Diaval had no hesitation about sneaking up to the window and grabbing one of them for each of you.

You waited until you were nearly halfway back to indulge yourselves. You found a nice spot in one of the sunny meadows full of flower sprites, and toasted one another to your success with the still-hot pastries in both your grasp.

You bit into it deeply, and promptly spit it back out.

Diaval actually choked.

“How hard is it to cook sweet bread?!” you yelled so loudly it startled the willow sprites napping in their tree. “Sugar, flour, leavening – sweet cream and berries!” It smelled so good, and you wanted to enjoy it, but it was half-baked at best and the gooey center was clumped with poorly mixed batter. You yelled in frustration, threw it halfway across the field, and promptly flopped backward into the grass.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day?” Diaval offered.

“I don’t know where Rome is,” you lamented. “Structural planning and baking are two entirely separate things.”

He patted the leather strap over your shoulder. “We can go to Ulstead next time?”

You were being stubborn. You didn’t want to go to Ulstead, and you didn’t want Perceforest to be a miserable little town. You looked up at the treetops, and the sky, and the vastness of it all to avoid looking at him, because then you would have to acknowledge what the horrible little bird wanted you to do, and you would rather eat handfuls of grass than be of assistance.

“Rome is a very famous city,” Diaval began, and you reached up to put your hand over his face before he could continue.

Skies. Awful, horrible, persistent little bird.

“Speak a word of this, and you’ll be missing a wing when I return you.”

He smiled at you, the beast, like he took pleasure in your kindness. “Oh no, wouldn’t dream of it. Suren of the Cavernous Dark, helping a human. So soon after peace. What would your husband say?”

“My mate would tell you to shut your horrible little mouth and keep it that way.” You got up slowly, brushing the grass and its creatures out of your hair, and turned abruptly on your heel to go back to the little farm near Perceforest.

“I don’t think he would.” There was a note of laughter in his voice as he got up to follow.

“He would,” you pressed. “Only without so many words.”

         Are you a fool? was the introduction you’d settled on. It doesn’t take an army to bake a batch of sweet bread. You planned on the inherent sharpness of your tone to convey your displeasure.

But she was out in the fields when you got there, and you stopped short at the edge of the trees.

She was crying.

You turned around to leave, but Diaval was right behind you. You gave him a wide-eyed, furious look that implied he had better leave your path immediately or else he would never get the opportunity to be his beautiful bird self again, but he looked at you with the same manner of even-natured patience as he gave Maleficent.

You could’ve slapped the plumage right off of him.

You jerked your head quickly back toward the field. No. No! I am not dealing with this! This is the exact opposite of what I stuck around to do!

He sighed and leveled his gaze.

You could’ve beat your wings at him. Pushed him, smacked him, hurried him off. Instead, you flared and you quirked your head with a set jaw.

“Will it batter you so much to be nice?”

“Yes!” you whispered, much too fiercely. “Or did you forget that her father nearly killed you!”

He waited.

The things you enjoyed the most about Diaval’s company were also the things that infuriated you. He was lovely, intelligent, wholly without judgment and often also without reserve. He was a peaceful, good-natured bird, and there was even a part of you that would’ve admitted that you loved him the same as the rest of your kinsmen if he asked you directly.

But he could be a real bastard when he wanted to. Making you do things you didn’t want to. Having the audacity to ask. To propose you extend your kindness to a human. Skies. Disgusting. It spit on your fallen ancestors.

And yet, you turned back to her. Lowered your wings so you could actually see her. See her the way you’d seen Aurora on the battlefield, a child-queen with more heart than strength (though she grew into the latter). She was no more than a sniveling child, hardly much older than the girl you’d grown so fond of.

Beloved by all who meet her, you reminded yourself. Bitterly. Intentionally bitterly.

You waited until you were several paces away from Diaval to breathe out your fury. The warmth of summer left your body and made the lovely little flower grove perk with life anew, and the crying child looked up only to startle in fear.

“Your sweet bread tastes terrible,” you said by way of greeting.

She stared up at you with her mouth open like a fish plucked freshly from the river. You set your teeth to avoid laughing, and then you forced yourself to look away.

“You are very bad at baking, and I would like to understand why. It’s not a difficult task. Anyone can do it with the right resources.”

You heard Diaval sigh, and you beat your wing at him. Shut up. I’m being as nice as I am.

“…no one taught me.” She was crying again, for skies’ sake, and you really, truly, genuinely could’ve wrung Diaval’s neck like you meant to eat him for dinner.

Surely someone can, you meant to say. You meant to say it, but she went on before you could stop her.

“I’m trying. I really am trying. It’s just been so hard. I’m all on my own out here… the whole farm is mine to run and mine alone. And it just keeps growing.” She was…flush with her tears. She dabbed lightly at her wet face. “Now the cow’s calving and my goat’s getting old and I can’t harvest all of this by myself.”

“Have you no family?”

She gestured at the place where she left her terrible sweet bread, a plot of untilled yarrow and blooming sorrel. “I’m on my own.”

“No neighbors?” you offered. “No kin at all?”

“My neighbors don’t count for family.”

How strange humans were. How utterly, pitifully alone. Each and every last one of them made themselves into an island, as though the individual and the collective could not coexist.

“Your cow is calving?” You were more deliberate with your words. “Then they will soon have milk?”

“She already does.” She wiped her face again.

“Then you will also have milk for yourself. One calf won’t drink it all. Add it to your mixture before you bake. And stir it until it’s smooth. Whatever sugar you add that you feel is enough, add twice as much. And berries.”

She looked at you strangely, and you sighed so forcefully it made your wings move.

“I will help you harvest if you make edible sweet bread. Do we have a deal?”

“Why would you help me? You’re moor-folk. You have everything you need.”

You ignored the note of resentment you heard in favor of leveling your gaze upon her as Diaval had you. “Everything but sweet bread, which you will give to me in exchange for my help. That is how a bargain works.”

She was silent for a moment, studying you. You were no pixie-witted fairy godmother, nor was she some helpless child in need of your defense.

But she was alone, and your kind didn’t do that.

So you were pleased when she nodded, if only for the food.

“Then try your hand again. We’ll be evenly matched; everything I do for you is repaid in return.”

She nodded. “But…if I’m not good--?”

“You will improve.” It came out as much of a threat as you meant it.

        “He’s gotten very attached to you.”

You nearly startled out of your skin at Maleficent’s voice, though, to your credit, your wings didn’t fold in defense.

“Who? The little bog-thing I shooed off?” Even you had to scrub your leather from time to time, and you put effort into the task. You washed it, dried it, re-sealed it with waxes and mended all the broken spots. “It kept throwing mud at me.”

She raised her chin, and the humanness of her expression gave you pause. You huffed back a lock of your hair from your face and tilted your head oddly.

“Diaval,” she replied. Her voice betrayed nothing.

You stared at her for much too long before you shifted back onto your haunches. “Romantically?” Your feelings on the subject were much too clear in the way you said the word – you were too fond of him to be disgusted, but that wasn’t by much.

She quirked her head at you in return.

“Skies, Maleficent, talk to me. He’s your mate.”

“And Borra is yours.” The cool evenness of her tone was so familiar and yet so frustratingly difficult to constantly have to decipher. “It would be a shame to tell him—”

“To tell him what?” No sooner had you asked than you realized the implication, and you laughed out loud at its mortality. “Do you think he would be jealous?”

She stared at you. You saw the swirl of power in her eyes.

“Are you jealous, Maleficent? You? Protector of the moors, Queen Mother to all kingdoms? Great skies.” You nearly threw your leather down on the riverbank. “Diaval is my friend, and we’ve been bothering a girl on a farm outside Perceforest for sweet bread for several weeks. She’s a terrible baker, and promised to try to do better.”

“You spoke to her?” Something told you she didn’t believe an ounce of what you said.

“I did. She’s the daughter of the human farmer who nearly killed your mate when he was just a bird. The man’s dead now. She’s by herself. No kinsmen to help her.” You left out the part where you were, though you imagined she’d be able to connect the mutually beneficial dots. “I’ll take you out there, if you like. You can endure her cooking with me.” And then, without thinking, you added, “And then you can tell me why the kingdom of Perceforest is in such disrepair.”

“It’s had more corrupt leaders than it’s had good ones.” She hid nothing from you in that respect, at least. “We’re working on resolving that.”

“We as in you and your daughter, or we as in you?”

You knew how easy it would’ve been for her to throw you headfirst into the river, and yet you still talked to her like your equal.

“You’re not one of them. You know that, don’t you? You can ask for help. We’re your people, Maleficent, your family whether or not we’re blood to you.” You picked up your leather and your leather-cloth and settled back on the shore. “Conall didn’t pluck you from the sea because of your great power, he did it because you’re you. Your place with us isn’t a matter of evening out a bargain or repaying a debt. You were one of us whether or not you fought at our side.”

There was a crease forming in your side that you’d have to reinforce before it split. You’d almost forgotten what you were getting at, only to have your head snap back up so you could reply with much too much vehemence, “And ravens mate in pairs. You’re the one he wants. That won’t change because he steals sweets with me.”

She was silent for so long that you’d almost thought she left without acknowledging you. But she hadn’t, and so you sat up without thinking to pluck the bird skull at her forehead and pull her leather wrappings off.

She let you.

“I never tell Borra that I love him as a reminder. I wish I didn’t have to say the same for you.” You closed her hands around the wrapping and brushed back a lock of her hair.

Whether or not she believed you, you thought she might’ve understood. Even when she took wing much too quietly, some part of you knew that she would eventually. She had just been on her own for far too long.

           You grew nothing for the girl, but harvested much.

She spent most of her time helping you. She spent most of her time toiling still; you only came on occasion, and you had enough of a physical advantage over her to accomplish much in significantly shorter a time.

The next sweet breads she made for you were not terrible. They were not very good, but they were edible. You left half a plate for Diaval and pretended to be upset when he bounced along on raven-toes with a whole one in his mouth, just taunting you with it.

You did not help her clear the field after the second set. They were not very good, and you left the one you hadn’t finished. The squash you harvested you took with you, and it was roasted with herbs over your bonfire that night.

That was the first night Maleficent joined you.

She said nothing of your encounter at the riverbank, nor did you. She wore her hair down and Diaval the man was at her side, where he belonged.

You kept your smile to yourself for their sake.

         “Try these.”

You gave a well-warranted pause. It looked like the girl – whose name you pretended not to remember, but secretly knew – had grown bold about how elaborate she could be. The bitterness of the last batch was still fresh in your mind, and you looked at her skeptically.

“Oh!” she huffed and felt around in her apron until she had their recipe in hand. “I got it from the baker. I told him that I was trying to refine my skills,” an understatement if you ever heard one, “and he offered me this. It’s very simple, and I think you’ll like it. It’s not a bread, it’s a cake. It takes much less time.”

“You didn’t forget about it?” you clarified.

Her cheeks reddened. “No, not this time. I sat there and did my mending while I waited.”

You took one of the small cakes from her plate and looked it over for scorch marks. The bottom was brown and firm, a little flaky, and the rest was a nice, spongy lump. You took a bite in front of her, and, for once, weren’t immediately repelled.

“It’s good,” you admitted.

“It’s good?” she repeated, much happier about it than she should’ve been.

You nodded. So, you could leave her be after harvest or pawn her off on the other moor-folk. You weren’t the only one in pursuit of a coveted sweet, and you imagined, lonely as she was, she’d enjoy the company of their many over just you.

“Oh, I’m glad! I’ll have to keep one and let him know how it turned out. Tell me if there’s anything special you want, will you?”

Molasses cake, you thought with renewed enthusiasm. But you shook your head fondly and watched her rush the plate back to the windowsill as though Diaval’s approval was as necessary as yours.

He wasn’t as rare of a help as you’d thought he’d be. So, perhaps, he deserved equal share.

        The calf bleated, shoving his head into your hands.

“I know.” You rubbed the velveteen fur along the back of his neck. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You’d stolen the girl’s leather-brush to help the little creature itch the velvet fuzz from his horn nubs. Like any child, he was consumed with the thing that bothered him, and you took a surprising amount of pleasure in knowing how to help.

Surprising, considering you’d been dancing around the raw place in your heart that still burned like an iron wound. The raw place flared up again when you thought about your people’s own fledglings and the balms and tonics used to soothe their growing horns.

Harvest was coming. Your people had yet to decide whether you should stay in the moors or return to the nest for the winter. A great many of you believed the moors would stay unsullied; that you couldn’t just survive, but thrive if you stayed. The others worried about the change in seasons upon your elders and your fledglings, and called to make the journey before the headwinds changed and the sea became violent.

There were several reasons why you did not choose a side.

They were the same reasons why you refused to enter Ulstead even though Aurora’s young husband sent along casks of spiced cider and mulled wine. They were early, some of the first made, and the boy could’ve talked about the orchards near the sea where they were harvested all night, if you’d listened. You refused to acknowledge them, lest the raw place begin to bleed again.

“Are you alright?”

She stopped with her wash-basket on her hip, and you heaved a sigh that moved your wings. “Can you manage the work by yourself, now?”

There was a part of you, however small, that hoped she’d say no.

Instead, she beamed like Aurora as she rested her basket on the fence and leaned over it like a child. “Actually,” there was an edge of false shyness to her voice that made you bristle, “I won’t be alone for much longer.”

The ancestors enjoyed your torment, then.

“The baker’s name is John. He’s a very good man, and we’ve gotten very close. I told him of how well the farm has done, and he’d like to join me here rather than live in the village. I agreed.”

The calf rubbed his head into your palm, and the raw spot in your heart wept.

“I planned on telling you when the molasses cake was done, but I suppose now is as good of a time as any? You can still come for sweets, but I don’t suppose you’ll need to help me when I have a husband around.”

Diaval was your blessing, then more than ever. He flew down from his perch in the barn – he’d been mousing, the loaf – and plucked a garment from the basket to take to the line. She exclaimed with laughter and ran after him, uttering some gentle variation of silly bird, and you put the leather brush down.

You did not wait for the cakes. And you did not plan on going back.

         “I’m not good company today,” you said as soon as the twig-nest rustled against folded wings.

Your warning didn’t faze Borra in the slightest. He joined you in your bed, folding a wing around your middle and using it as an excuse to pull you close. You tucked your chilly feet between his, since you’d already been laying there for a while, and got his face pressed into your hair for your trouble.

“Where do you run off to?” he murmured after a moment, certainly smelling the human in your hair.

“A girl in the valley makes sweets.” You told yourself that you kept your tone even, but you could hear yourself lamenting.

He waited, patiently, for the rest.

“Now she’s getting married.”

She was getting married and Maleficent checked in on her daughter at least a dozen times a day. Why she didn’t just leave to live in the castle, you’d ruefully considered asking. That lonely little thing would forge a life, Diaval would be a grandfather, and you…

You awoke with the dawn every morning and made your way down to the half-naked field of glowing blooms. A cemetery desecrated, countless lives robbed of their honor, innumerable families robbed of their memories generations-deep. Your little bloom finally opened during the summer. It was slow to grow, and very small, and you tended the rock-circle you made around it obsessively. Plucked the stray grass that dared attempt to bloom between them; replaced your shed pinfeathers when the ones sticking up out of the ground started to look weathered. Little Thing should’ve been inside you, growing. Warm and loved in the cradle of your body. Big or small, warrior or pacifist, whatever they would’ve been, you would’ve loved them so fiercely. You ached for them, and you would continue to ache for them even when the ache was, once more, an open wound.

You had done your share of crying. But the time for battle strategy was over, and you had no other outlet for your pain.

He pulled you close until you were so flush you could feel how he moved with every breath. Neither of you spoke for a long time; you trusted that he knew why you phrased it as you did, and he did, and so you lay there and navigated each painful reminder with the same inopportune dodging that you’d given the queen’s iron bombs.

“We can try again,” was how he broke that silence.

Your lips quirked half-heartedly.

When you didn’t respond, he propped himself up on his elbow and guided your chin until you were looking at him. You pressed your lips to his thumb when it brushed over them.

“If you want to.” He searched your face, and you thought it was entirely unfair for him to be so beautiful. You brushed your fingers over your favorite little decorative crack on his nose, breaking the respite of your misery to revere him. “If you’re ready.”

           She left you alone for about a week. Then a paper-wrapped parcel appeared at the edge of the moors with your name on it, and it was full of sweet, sticky spiced rolls.

I’m hope I didn’t offend you, the note in her hand replied. I very much liked your company, and Diaval’s. You’re always welcome to come back. Sweetness is meant to be shared, after all.

The moor-folk bothered you for portions, and you ended up stealing three rolls and leaving them the rest. Four, you decided after a moment, before the hoard descended.

One for you, one for him, and one for the people you both loved.

           Baker-John of Perceforest brought with him a cart well-stocked. He would not abandon his duties in the village, so he would simply have to go back and forth between the village and the farm. You watched them unpack said cart, your little human carrying big, stone dishes and sacks nearly half as big as she was. Her intended, not much older, brought heavier.

“And who is she?” Maleficent asked of Diaval, who told her all about Baker-John of Perceforest, who was apparently a kind and gentle, patient and loving man who your human was dearly, truly, madly in love with.

“Sarah,” you replied. John and Sarah, Sarah and John. The humans. Didn’t have the same ring to it as Maleficent and Diaval, Diaval and Maleficent or Borra and Suren, Suren and Borra, but it would do.

“They know about you?” Borra asked.

“She does,” Diaval replied.

She’d learned from you, you saw while you studied the little farm from afar. From both of you. Gone was the scarecrow, for the crows ate the pests more than the food; there was a little pile of what could not be used some ways away from everything, left to return to the soil where it could be used in the spring. The leather brush had been nailed to the fence and the calf, still shedding velvet, mooed in pleasure while he worked his head back and forth over it.

You were glad for her. Really, you were.

When she kissed him, it was warm and sweet and bright like the sun – brief, gentle, and almost always followed by delighted laughter. He brought firewood to the barn in droves, and as she gathered another satchel, she paused. Her hair fell in her face and she swept it back only to stop when she saw you. All of you.

You crooked your wing around Borra and canted your head toward Diaval and Maleficent. I’m not offended. You were the one all on your own.

She was not Aurora. She was human – just a plain, ordinary little person living a plain, ordinary little life. But when she smiled at you, at all of you…

Well, you had to stop yourself from smiling in return. Diaval would’ve never let you hear the end of it.

             “Easy.” You patted the strong neck of the no-longer-calf that ran to greet you in his spring pasture. The fields were newly tilled, and your little human wore her hair up while she planted on bent knee.

Her eyes lifted, and you weren’t surprised at all by how eagerly she got to her feet. “It’s you!”

“The winter was kind to you.” She looked happy. Better fed.

Her feet sunk into the pliant earth when she ran to you, and you let her throw her arms around you like you were an old friend. Your wings even folded partially around her.

“I’m so glad you’re here. Diaval’s been coming for cakes, but he never tells me if you like them.”

“That’s because he didn’t tell me he was,” you admitted, though you could hardly be upset with him. Awful little creature, positively doting on his mate.

She laughed and hid her smile behind her hand. “Oh no.”

“I’ll deal with him later,” you joked. “That isn’t why I’ve come.”

She straightened, taking your unexpected presence seriously. Smart girl.

“With your permission, I would like to tell the moor-folk of you. They will help you with your fields in exchange for sweets just as readily.”

She glanced at the ground with her false shyness, her bright eyes glinting just like your child-queen’s. “Actually, I’d love the help. You know my husband travels back and forth, and it doesn’t give me the help I’d planned on.”

You nodded, all business. “Then I will. They are troublesome at times, but they understand gentle discouraging.”

“Of course.” She went to one of the buckets beside the well and washed the dirt from her hands. She knew nothing of your time rebuking poachers on the moors, and you didn’t feel the need to offer that information now.

“I feel I will be of little use to you this year. I also have business in Ulstead. The queen’s had twins, and I am to be their godmother.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! Congratulations! Do you know her well, then? Aurora, isn’t it?” She was so pleasant, so calm. You could’ve told her that you’d taken fond to a seven-headed sea dragon and you doubted she would’ve been concerned.

“I do. She loves your village, and she’s doing everything in her power to extend the benefits of annexation across the kingdom.”

“Well, that will be lovely. I’d like to thank her myself when she visits.” She was gentle and kind, your little human, but she also wasn’t entirely foolish. She paused when you offered nothing else, and you let your smile betray you.

“Aurora’s fledglings will not be the only ones soon to discover the moors.”

You’d come all this way to tell someone you barely knew and shouldn’t have trusted, and yet the way she threw her kerchief in the air made you laugh out loud. She ran to you, pulled you close against her, and hugged you like you were kin.

She withdrew with an excited gasp, taking one of your taloned hands. “The man you were with was your husband, then?”

You quirked your head. In so many words. Your people didn’t rely on institution for a crutch the way they did.

“You – you stay right here.”

You laughed at her retreat, quietly for once. You were warm with joy and hadn’t come alone, not that Diaval could be pried away from his daughter or his grandchildren even if you’d asked him to.

Your no-longer-calf butted you in the arm, and you butted him back with your wing. “No.” Let the fledglings play with the farm animals.

Sarah waddled out of the house with a stack of nesting cloth nearly half as big as she was, as though she’d never felt the warmth of your skin and failed to notice that you could forage for your own materials.

“Here, feel free to keep or give away whatever you like.” She gave them all to you, and you had to push them down in order to see over them.

“Why are you giving me a gift?”

“Because you’ve given me one! Well, several, but if it hadn’t been for you,” and how terribly you’d confronted her about her lack of practical skills, “I never would’ve met John. They say true love is what woke Aurora, and you gave true love to me. You and Diaval.” She put her hands on the blanket-stack to help you squish them down. “I hope you both know true love in all its forms – with the people you love, and with the families you make.”

“Thank you,” you said before you could stop yourself. Aurora would get her peace yet. “I will see you again, Sarah of Perceforest.”

“I’d hope so. I wanna meet them. And your husband, when the time’s right.” You pretended not to notice that she pointedly did not glance over your shoulder, and you squished the stack of blankets against your side.

“And I, yours.”

Sarah beamed.

It was not a straightforward thing, happiness. Much the same way that peace was dependent upon the presence of war, you would ache over Little Thing for the remainder of your life – but, even though Borra didn’t say anything out loud, he still gave you a sidelong glance with just a bit too much of a quirk to his lips when you retreated into the woods with that stack of nesting-cloth under your arm.

You took one of the quilts out of the pile and flung it at him. “He goaded me into being nice.”

He caught it, folded it into a more compact form, and carried it under his arm. “As has Maleficent, I see. Aurora didn’t learn it from the air.”

               If you liked this and want to see other work, click here.

[bedlamsbard]

Here is the first sequence of the Other Side AU concept!  (yes, the nickname is borrowed from Fringe.)  There is...a lot of crying.  The AU is Backbone-based, but takes place before Backbone.  I am not caught up on current new canon post-RotJ and prefer Legends there anyway, so this takes more from the EU than canon on that front.

About 5.1K below the break.

***

“You know, it’s not too late to change your mind,” Luke Skywalker said. “We do have other candidates.”

Zeb grumbled something softly under his breath that was probably, “Sounds like someone who doesn’t know her very well.”

Luke flicked a glance at him, but most of his attention was on Hera.  “This is dangerous,” he said, almost apologetic.

“And the Rebellion has been a blue milk run,” Hera said.  “I’m fine.”  She folded her hands together and looked across Luke’s right shoulder.  She didn’t know him very well, had never had any particular inclination to get to know him, and at the moment didn’t feel particularly encouraged.  It wasn’t fair to him, but Hera couldn’t particularly bring herself to care, not when even being on the same ship as him brought a dull stab of pain to her heart.

Not fair.

Nothing was fair, especially nothing about the Rebellion.  But she wished he hadn’t had to be on the Ghost for this.

Luke hesitated again, then said, “All right.”  He took a deep breath.  “Are you ready?  I’ll probably only get one shot at this.”

“I’m ready.”  She looked at Zeb, who nodded slightly, and Chopper, who groaned a long protest.  She had told Jacen goodbye via holo a few hours ago; he didn’t quite understand how Mama leaving now would be different than Mama leaving normally, and Hera hoped that he wouldn’t have to understand for many years, if ever.  She had tried to explain it to her father in the same holocall and wasn’t sure she had succeeded.  Sabine had understood but had told her it was the worst idea she had heard since – well, you know, she had said, and looked like she had wished she hadn’t mentioned it.

“All right,” Luke repeated. He looked a little unnerved, which Hera took vindictive pleasure in and then felt guilty about.  “If this works, I’ll open it again every ten days – right here, all right?  It can’t be anywhere else.”

Teach your mother to feed nunas, Hera thought, giving him a sideways look.  She just said, “I understand.”

Luke nodded, swallowed, and raised his hands, releasing the artifact he had been holding.  It was a little bell-shaped construction of crystal and metal, both substances etched all over in runes that no one had been able to fully decrypt.  It could, Hera knew, very easily kill her if what they had managed to decrypt was wrong.

It hung suspended between Luke’s palms, glowing a bright, vivid blue.  A rising hum made all of them but Luke wince, Zeb’s sensitive ears flicking in disgust.  Hera kept her eyes on it, trying not to blink as the light brightened until it was all that she could see.  Her stomach turned over, but it wasn’t any worse than doing a barrel roll in an A-wing.

All at once, the light was gone.  So were Luke, Zeb, and Chopper.  Hera looked around the Ghost’s common room, making the differences in the familiar space.  Zeb’s big wooden chair was gone; the walls were bare of Sabine’s artwork. So they had probably gotten the timing right, at least.  Hera stepped towards the holotable, running her fingers over its surface and searching for the deep scar near the rightmost edge of the frame.  It was there.

Hera took a suddenly shaky breath.

Ten days, she reminded herself.  It was both a lot of time to get this wrong and no time at all. She put her head to one side and listened to the now only half-familiar sounds of the Ghost.

She hadn’t spent much time on the ship recently, and mostly it had been almost as empty as it felt now. It made Hera think of its namesake, of her old crew’s namesakes, every corner of it haunted.  She thought with enough time it might get better, less raw, but so far the war hadn’t given her that time.  Instead, she let herself be moved around the Rebel Alliance as needed, sometimes with what remained of her crew, sometimes not.  Even Chopper didn’t always stay with her, much to his protests.

This, though, had needed to be done on the Ghost, and Zeb had brought it to her from where it had been docked on Lothal for the past six months.

Luke had been right. There had been other candidates. But they all thought this might work best with her, because there weren’t many options for where she had been more than a decade ago and in a position where she would probably be willing to help.  Han Solo and Chewbacca on the Millennium Falcon, maybe, but that was a much longer shot than Hera Syndulla.  Any Hera Syndulla.

She took another deep breath, trying to calm the sudden rapid patter of her heartbeat, and moved towards the hatch leading towards the cabins and the cockpit.  There was no rumble of the engine; the ship was docked somewhere – solid ground, Hera thought, though it could have been a space station.  The air filters seemed to be drawing a little heavier than usual, which suggested they were dirtside.  Some stations triggered that too, though, if their own filters weren’t good enough.

The short corridor between the common room and the cockpit was empty.  Hera rested her hands briefly on the cabin doors as she passed them, but there was nothing to tell her which was being used.  The cockpit hatch slid open with only the tiniest of jerks, which Sabine had repaired years ago.

Hera stepped inside, resting a hand on the back of the pilot’s chair as she looked around.  The back left chair was plain, without the distinctive paint job Sabine had given it; the back right was still the old matching chair, not the one they had had to replace six months before they had gone to Lothal.

There was a pair of black gloves sitting on the dashboard.

Hera frowned at them, trying to decide what about them struck her as familiar.  She didn’t own a pair like that at the moment, but she probably had in the past.

The scene outside the viewport was one Hera had seen hundreds of times before; the blank gray durasteel sheeting of a docking bay wall.  She leaned forward to peer out, searching around for some indication of where the Ghost was docked, but there was nothing.  It could have been any docking bay on any thousands of the planets in the galaxy.

Hera hesitated for a moment, then leaned down over the dashboard, intending to get into the Ghost’s systems to find out where – and more importantly, when – she was.  She hadn’t gotten further than turning them on when the hatch slid open behind her.

Hera turned quickly, self-conscious and achingly aware that this wasn’t her own ship, to come face to face with Kanan.

*

She had forgotten how handsome he was.

Hera still had a precious handful of holos of him, but most were from those last few years, and she had trained herself out of looking at them too often because of the dull, anguished hurt that accompanied the action.  Jacen was looking more and more like him as he grew up, but Hera didn’t see her son often either.  Increasingly the war made time feel like it was slipping through her fingers like sand; Hera held onto it with unexpected desperation, both for her own sake and for the Rebellion’s.  Palpatine’s death should have made it easier, faster; it wasn’t like that at all.  Days both flew by and spread out; sometimes Hera felt like she blinked and it had been years, sometimes she turned around and what had felt like months had only been a handful of minutes.  It was both too long and not long enough since – since Lothal.

Kanan was younger than she had expected, twenty-two or twenty-three, clean-shaven and with short-cropped hair.  There was warm affection in his clear bluish eyes as he looked at her, though Hera couldn’t miss the scars flecking his face, scars that she knew Kanan – her Kanan – hadn’t had when he had died.  He wore all black, a high-collared, long-sleeved shirt open at the neck and tight black trousers, with an unfamiliar lightsaber slung at his hip.

“I didn’t know you were back from HQ yet,” he said.

Hera opened her mouth to respond and couldn’t.  She was crying without meaning to, tears rolling down her cheeks; she had told Zeb she could handle this and she had been wrong.

Kanan took a step towards her, his expression going alarmed. “Hey,” he said gently, “what’s wrong? What happened?”  He put a hand to her cheek to wipe away her tears, warm and strong and alive, and Hera cried even harder. She wanted more than anything to step into his arms; he even smelled the same, and she could have been eighteen again, twenty-two, twenty-four, twenty-seven – young and with the whole galaxy spread out before her, possibility endless, in love and with a future that could have held anything, instead of a present constricted down to a war that ground on long past when it should have ended and a child growing up without her.

Below them, the Ghost’s hatch opened.  Kanan turned his head slightly, frowning, and despite the tears blurring her vision Hera saw where a notch had been taken out of his ear.

Hera tried to breathe in gasping breaths, trying to get herself together enough to speak.  “I’m not her,” she managed to say.  “I’m not –”

She saw realization start to form on Kanan’s face, though he didn’t take his hand away.  Light steps sounded on the cockpit floor as a new arrival stepped off the ladder, followed by the sound of a blaster clearing its holster.

“No, you’re not,” said Hera Syndulla, a girl barely out of her teens wearing an ISB officer’s crisp white uniform, her green skin startling bright against the stark fabric. She held her blaster with practiced ease, right hand wrapped around the grip, left hand bracing the butt.  “Who in blazes are you?”

*

Hera could barely remember being that young.

Given her counterpart’s occupation, the other woman’s youth probably shouldn’t have even registered with her, but Hera couldn’t get past it.  When she had been that young, she had been blinkered by single-minded focus on the mission, on an end goal of destroying the Empire.  She hadn’t thought to regret it until years later, crying her heart out in that cave on Lothal.

Does he know you love him? she had thought, in that first split second when Kanan had stepped away from her, his clear-eyed gaze flickering between the two women. Do you know you love him?

And then she had seen Kanan bend his head to the other Hera and her expression soften, her body curving towards him without touching, and Hera had known that both of them knew. It was a sharp stab of jealousy that shouldn’t have bothered her after all this time, when there was nothing she could do about it.  Imperials or not, they were lucky to have that.

Hera leaned her forehead against the cool metal of the cabin door and sighed.  They had locked her into one of the empty cabins after they had searched her and taken her blaster and other possessions away.  It happened to be Sabine’s cabin, but of course Sabine wasn’t here yet so there weren’t yet explosives tucked away into every nook and cranny of it, “just in case of an emergency,” Sabine had told her once. “What kind of emergency are you expecting?” Hera had demanded.

Three days later Maul had broken onto the Ghost and taken them captive, so she might have had to take that back if they had actually had any opportunity to use all those explosives.

She could just barely hear Kanan and the other Hera talking to each other, but couldn’t make out the words through the heavy metal door.  They hadn’t given her much of a chance to say anything before they had locked her in here, but at least they hadn’t acted like most Imperials Hera had known and stunned her first.

She sighed and left the door to slump onto the bench built below the upper-level bunk, leaning an elbow on the table and her chin against her palm.  The room seemed bare without Sabine’s colorful paint jobs; Sabine hadn’t lived on the Ghost for years, but she hadn’t stripped the walls, either, and she still kept some of her things onboard.

Sabine would still be on Krownest now, Hera thought, if she had gotten the dates right.  Ezra would be back in his tower on Lothal.  The Scourge of Lasan was happening right now and Zeb was there in the palace with the Lasat Royal Family.  Kallus would be on Lasan too, maybe already giving the order to use ion disruptors on the Lasat defenders.

Kanan was alive, and on this ship, and Hera knew that if she started crying again she might not stop.

It will have to be Alderaan, she thought.  Leia Organa had volunteered for this mission for just that reason, but during the target period she had been on Alderaan, and Luke hadn’t been certain that this would work simply by flying to the Graveyard.  It had been a shock to realize how few people with the clearance for this operation had been somewhere the Rebel Alliance could still access ten or fifteen years later.  They hadn’t even been entirely sure it would work on a ship, but it was the best option they had.  Hera had been certain that she could convince her younger self to help and equally certain that for the first twenty years of her life there was very little that could divert it, which wasn’t true for everyone else.

Obviously, she had been wrong.

She rubbed a weary hand over her face.  She was going to find a way out of this situation, get to Alderaan, and talk her way into seeing Bail Organa, however that was going to go.  Chandrila and Mon Mothma were another option, but for something like this she still thought Organa the better bet.  Ackbar wouldn’t have the access and Mon Calamari weren’t good spies, either.  Not to mention she didn’t have the faintest idea where he was right now.  Her father –

Hera couldn’t begin to imagine what had happened to her father, not if her counterpart was an ISB agent right now.

She looked up at the sound of approaching voices.  Just outside the door, she heard her counterpart say suddenly, her voice small and hurt, “You didn’t realize she wasn’t me?”

“Hera –”

“We’re not even dressed the same.  And she’s at least ten years older than me.”

Hera rolled her eyes and called, “I’m thirty-three.”

There was a sudden silence from beyond the door, then it slid open to reveal Kanan and the other Hera. The woman was still in her white ISB uniform, her cap matching white leather.  Her lekku were covered with wide straps of more white leather, completely obscuring their color.  The rank badge she was wearing gave her the equivalent of a first lieutenant’s rank. Kanan, beside her, was still wearing all black, but he had added a second layer of heavy black leathers and vambraces that bore the Imperial cog.

Hera looked at it and then away, fighting down her hurt.  There had to be a reason.  She knew Kanan.  He wouldn’t do this without a reason.  She had seen that kindness in his eyes, that genuine care; Maul hadn’t had that.  She hadn’t met any of them, but she doubted the Inquisitors did either.  He was still Kanan.  She would know him anywhere.

The other Hera was looking at her with the same sick hurt that Hera was feeling right now.  Hera made herself look at her, really look, because despite her first impression it wasn’t at all like looking into a mirror. Despite the obvious muscle beneath her uniform – Hera suspected she usually wore a field agent’s grays and cuirass, rather than formal whites – there was something oddly fragile about her.  She stayed a carefully measured length away from Kanan, as if both aware of his presence and certain she couldn’t show it in front of a stranger.  When she moved forward, it was with precision, lekku barely moving with the motion, and Hera thought suddenly, she grew up with humans.

“Is Daddy dead?” she said before she could stop herself.  She said it in Basic, not Twi’leki; if her counterpart had grown up with humans then there was no way to be certain that she was fluent anymore.

The other Hera froze, her eyes going wide with surprise. “What?”

“Daddy – Cham – is he dead?”

The girl flicked a startled look at Kanan, then shook her head. “No.  Not that I know of, and if he had died someone from HQ would have hauled me into an interrogation room about it for the next three days.  Why?”

“You grew up with humans,” Hera said. “He wouldn’t let that happen.”

“If you think that then you don’t know him that well,” her counterpart said bitterly. “I grew up in the Imperial Academy on Serenno.”

“I grew up on Ryloth,” Hera said. “At home, at the villa in the Tann Province – at the townhouse in Lessu, sometimes.  Until my mother was killed when I was thirteen, then my father sent all of us back to the villa until I was old enough to leave.”

The other Hera blinked slowly. “The Syndullas haven’t been on Ryloth for a long time.  Cham sent the family to the colony on Zardossa Stix after my mother was hurt in the Lessu Riots.  Then he tried to assassinate the Emperor, so the Empire wiped out the colony. I don’t know what happened to the others.  The Syndullas and the other clans fled Ryloth not long afterwards.  They’re on the Imperial Terrorist Watchlist.”

Hera blinked. “Mama’s alive?” she whispered.

The other woman looked aside.  “You’re not the one asking the questions here,” she said, but not before Hera saw sick hurt flash across her face.  She set the small holoprojector Hera had had in her pocket down on the table in front of her and activated it. “Who is this?”

“That’s my son,” Hera said, trying not to look at Kanan and failing. “Jacen.  He’s five.  He’ll be six in a few months.”

The other Hera’s eyes went wide with shock. “Your son?”

Hera nodded, swallowing back a familiar lump of regret.  “He’s staying on Ryloth with his grandfather now that Free Ryloth has been able to retake the planet.  They’re rebuilding the villa, but right now my father spends most of his time in Lessu. The townhouse wasn’t destroyed, just ransacked a bit.”

Kanan started to raise a hand towards the image, clearly barely conscious he was doing it, then closed his fingers into a fist against his side.  He said quietly, “He’s dead, isn’t he?  Your Kanan.”

Hera couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at him and her son at the same time, not when her mind was already picking out the similarities between them, seeing what hadn’t been clear from the precious holograms she hadn’t been able to bear looking at alongside her son.  How could I have forgotten? she thought.  Jacen bit his lip the same way when he was thinking hard, had the same heavy eyebrows, was going to grow up to have the same broad hands and elegant fingers.

She put a hand to her mouth, trying to hold back her tears.  “Yes,” she said eventually, when she was mostly certain of her ability to speak without stumbling over the words.  “He died. He died before Jacen was born.  He didn’t know – he never knew –”

She lost her battle to contain her tears and scrubbed her sleeve hard across her eyes.  The other Hera had drawn close to Kanan without seeming to be aware she was doing it, reaching for him as if searching for reassurance that he was still there and breathing.  They were holding hands when Hera got herself under control and looked up again.

She had talked about this with Zeb and Rex, with Sabine chiming in via holocomm, when she had been cleared for this mission.  They had talked about what she could bring with her, what had the best chance of convincing her counterpart and Kanan’s, and Rex had insisted she bring this.  I’m probably the only person in the galaxy who has any idea of what this is going to be like, he had told her.  And it’s not the same for a clone as it will be for you, but it’s as close as you’re going to get.

Hera opened her mouth to say the Empire killed him and stopped. The Empire killed him, and you’re working for them.  The Empire killed him, and you’re alive, both of you are alive, how can you be doing this when the Empire killed him?  The Empire killed him and he never knew he was going to have a son. The Empire killed him, and I loved him. The Empire killed him and he should be alive today, he should be with me now, he should have been able to meet his son.

She said again, “He died.”

“I’m sorry,” the other Hera said.  She sounded very young.

She was younger than Sabine had been when Kanan had died, Hera thought, and pulled her shirt cuffs up to scrub at her eyes with both hands.  She couldn’t remember being that young.

Haltingly, the girl said, “I know – a little – what that’s like.  I’m sorry.”  She was gripping Kanan’s hand so tightly that it had to hurt both of them.

Hera touched the base of the holoprojector, looking at her son’s familiar face, then, deliberately, flicked the hologram over to the next image.  It hurt to look at too.

Kanan stared at it, his eyes going wide.  “What –”

“There was a Sith lord named Maul,” Hera said, and was curious to see him flinch, recognizing the name. “Kanan was hurt fighting him.”

Kanan was laughing in that holo, grinning at something that the recorder hadn’t captured – something Ezra had said, maybe.  They had been on Atollon, just a few weeks before Thrawn had reduced the planet to little more than a cinder.  Someone in Supply had scored thirty crates of Yensid/Sacul Vineyards wines, apparently by accident, and they had split it up between everyone on Chopper Base who wanted some.  Not long after this had been taken, Hera and Kanan had taken a bottle and a few blankets and gone off to a quiet corner of the base.  Ezra had found them the next morning and declared himself scarred for life by the sight.

It had been a good night.

The other Hera was peering at the hologram with curiosity, looking between it and Kanan.  She caught Hera watching her and said again, “I’m sorry.”

Kanan shut off the holoprojector.  He paused with his hand over it, then pushed it towards Hera.  “You’re a Rebel, aren’t you?” he said.

“I’m an Alliance officer,” she corrected him, suspecting that it might be better to leave the “Rebel” part of “Rebel Alliance” off in this case.  She had anticipated explaining to a younger Hera and Kanan that given a decade’s time, the disparate groups of rebels scattered across the galaxy would pull together, that they had defeated the Emperor and taken Coruscant, and that there was – or would be soon, once the vote concluded in a few days’ time – a Galactic Republic again.  The possibility that she might have to explain this to a pair of Imperial officers, one an ISB agent and one an Inquisitor, had never occurred to her. “I came here because I need help.”

The other Hera drew herself up, settling her shoulders as if aware of the uniform she was wearing and its significance.  “Fighting the Empire?” she said, her voice suddenly cold.

“No,” Hera said. “In my time the Empire no longer exists, not as it was.  Since the Emperor died there have been a dozen warlords all struggling for power, all trying to take his place.”

The other Hera’s eyes went wide. “The Emperor…died?” she said.

“Yes.  He was killed by Darth Vader.”  At Kanan’s flinch, Hera looked at him and said, “A Jedi Knight named Luke Skywalker sent me here to retrieve data tapes on something called Project Cluster-Prism.  In my universe the only copies that we know of were destroyed along with the data vault on Scarif six years ago.  That’s all I need.  Just data tapes.  I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

“Why would I help you?” said the girl. “I’m an Imperial officer.”

“I’m not fighting your Empire,” Hera pointed out in what she hoped was a reasonable voice.

The girl looked away. Kanan stirred a little, uneasily, but didn’t say anything.  Eventually, the other Hera said, “I don’t have that clearance level.”  She swallowed, then said, “I need to think.”

She finally released Kanan’s hand and started towards the door, white-wrapped lekku nearly invisible against the white wool of her uniform jacket.  It was as though she wanted to be human, or, barring that, at least wanted people to forget that she was a Twi’lek.

“Why are you here?” Hera asked suddenly. “Why are you ISB?”

The girl stopped, bracing a hand against the wall.  She didn’t look back, just said quickly to the door, “When the colony was destroyed, I was sent to prison.  I was there for – for a long time.  My handler gave me a chance to get out, to apply for the Imperial Academy so I could start making up for some of the damage Cham had done.  So I did.  I had to. I’m ISB because my handler blocked my application to the Starfighter Corps; he wanted me in the Bureau.”

Hera bit her lip. “How old were you?”

There was a long moment of silence, then the girl’s lekku swayed just a little as she swallowed. “Fourteen.”

When Hera had been fourteen she had been racing blurrgs across the Tann Province with her cousins Doriah and Nury, or sneaking out of her room to work on her mother’s old racing pod.

“I’m sorry,” she said slowly.

“It’s done now.”  The other Hera took another shaky breath. “I’m where I need to be.”  She touched the control and the door slid open; she left with hasty strides, as if she couldn’t wait to be as far from Hera as possible.

Kanan stayed.  Hera looked up at him, drinking in the sight of him, because she was never going to have this again.  She was never going to see him again, never going to hear his voice, never going to touch him.

“Tell her you love her,” she said quietly. “Please.”

He nodded. “She knows,” he said. “I tell her every day.”  He hesitated, then asked, “How did he die?”

Hera looked down.  She closed her hands over the holoprojector, studying her gloved fingers.  “There was an explosion,” she said haltingly.  She never talked about it.  She would have to tell Jacen someday, but everyone else knew better than to ask.  She thought that Luke had wrangled the story out of Zeb or Rex, maybe Kallus, but wasn’t sure.  “We were – on a planet called –”  She hesitated, remembering that this Kanan was an Imperial Inquisitor, and corrected herself, “We were on a planet that a member of our team had close ties to. There was an Imperial factory there building a new kind of TIE fighter.  We had been doing groundside work, commando work, for weeks, but I left to go back to the Alliance and ask for a starfighter task force to wipe out the factory.  I got it. But we couldn’t get past the planetary blockade and I was captured.  Kanan and two others – his apprentice and a Mandalorian girl – came up with a plan to rescue me.  It almost worked.”

She scrubbed her sleeve across her eyes again.  “Kanan got me out of the Imperial Complex while the others stole a gunship.  We – we almost made it.  The Empire blew up its own fuel depot to stop us.  Kanan held the explosion back so that the rest of us could get away, but he – he couldn’t.  Get away, I mean.  And he knew that.”  Her voice broke.  “He sacrificed himself for us, and I still don’t know if he knew – if he knew – how much I loved –”  She had to stop.  She couldn’t go on, not now, not ever.

She was crying in gasping sobs, tears rolling down her face as she wiped at them with already soaked sleeves.  Kanan took a step towards her, hesitated, and then came the rest of the way, putting an arm around her shoulders.

It was too much.  Hera wept as though her heart might break, because it was broken, and Kanan was here, he was here.  He drew her close, and Hera turned her face against his chest and cried.  It wasn’t him.  Hera knew it wasn’t him, but at the same time, it was, and she didn’t know how to bear it.  She cried until all that was left were dry, hiccoughing sobs, and made herself pull back from him, wiping her sleeve over her face.

Kanan touched her cheek gently. “He knew,” he said.  “Believe me, he knew.”

“I would give almost anything to have him back,” Hera whispered.  It was a confession that she had never made out loud, had never intended to. Not anything, not quite, but almost anything.  Even years later there were days she wanted him so much that she couldn’t think past her grief and her longing, just go through her day on autopilot until something happened to jar her into full cognizance.  “I loved him so much, and I never told him.”

“He knew,” Kanan repeated.

Hera put a hand to her face. She couldn’t look at him; if she had to keep looking at him, she might scream.  But she didn’t know if she could look away either.  “Go be with her,” she said. “Please.”

Kanan nodded.  He hesitated, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.  “I’ll talk to her about helping you,” he said. “I don’t – Hera’s here because she doesn’t see that she has any other choice.  I’m here for her, not the Empire.”

“She has a choice,” Hera said. “We always have a choice.”  She shook her head.  “Just – go be with her.  Tell her you love her.”

“I’ll tell her.”  For a moment he stood still, looking at her, then he turned and left.  Hera heard the door lock behind him.

She put her head down on her folded arms and wept.