#Air Dispersion Modeling

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (14)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: 13

- Next part: 15

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The sea air is heavy with salt and sorrow as the royal family steps off the ship onto the black stone of Driftmark. Waves crash against the shore, a mournful symphony that echoes the grief in every heart gathered here. The Velaryon banners flap in the wind, their vibrant colors a sharp contrast to the somber mood that hangs over the assembled nobles.

You stand with Rhaenyra and your sons, Jace and Luke stiff by your side. Joffrey is in Rhaenyra's arms, his small face confused by the sarrow he doesn’t yet understand. Viserys and Alicent’s children stand apart, an invisible line drawn between your family and theirs. It’s an unspoken separation that feels almost tangible, like a chasm you cannot cross.

Viserys, frail and bent with age, is supported by Alicent. She’s wrapped in mourning black, her face a mask of solemnity, but there’s a tightness around her mouth, a stiffness in the way she holds herself that you recognize all too well. Aegon, Aemond and Helaena stand close by, watching your family with guarded expressions. Even now, on this day of loss, the divide is painfully clear.

The funeral rites are performed with all the gravity and tradition expected of House Velaryon. Laena’s casket, intricately carved and draped in blue and silver, is lowered into the sea. You watch Daemon, his face a mask of stoic grief, his eyes dark as he stares at the waves. There’s a loneliness in his stance, a pain that no words could touch. You know what it is to lose, to feel helpless against the tides of fate, and your heart aches for your uncle.

As the ceremony concludes and the crowd begins to disperse, you make your way toward him. Daemon stands apart from the others, his gaze still fixed on the spot where Laena’s casket vanished beneath the water’s surface. He does not turn as you approach, but you know he’s aware of your presence.

“Uncle,” you say quietly, your voice carrying just enough to reach him over the sound of the surf. “I am sorry for your loss. Laena was a remarkable woman.”

He glances at you then, his violet eyes shadowed. “Thank you,” he replies, his voice low and rough, as if the words cost him more than he can bear to give. “She deserved better than this.”

You nod, standing beside him, the two of you looking out over the endless expanse of the sea. “If there is anything you need, anything I can do…”

Daemon huffs a mirthless laugh, shaking his head. “What can anyone do, except let the dead rest and the living grieve?” He falls silent for a moment, his gaze drifting to the Velaryon children, huddled together in their own pain. “They will need strength now, and guidance. We cannot let them be consumed by bitterness.”

“I will help where I can,” you promise. “But I know they will look to you.”

Daemon’s lips twitch in something like a smile, though there is no warmth in it. “The wandering rogue of House Targaryen, a role model. Gods save us all.” He sighs, the sound heavy with more than just grief. “And you, how is life in the Red Keep these days? I hear the Hightowers have made themselves quite comfortable.”

You stiffen at the question, glancing over to where Viserys stands, isolated despite the presence of his children and wife. Alicent’s gaze keeps straying to you and Rhaenyra, a watchful, calculating look that makes your skin prickle. “Comfortable would be one way to put it,” you reply, keeping your voice low. “They hold much sway over the King now. More than they should.”

Daemon’s eyes narrow, a sharpness returning to his gaze. “I warned him, years ago. Warned him what would happen if he let that snake Otto slither too close. And now his daughter’s there, her children in line before yours.”

You glance back at your own sons, standing awkwardly with Rhaenyra, their young faces solemn and unsure. Jace and Luke keep glancing over at their half-uncles, the silent anomasity between the two sets of siblings visible even from a distance. “Viserys still loves us, still claims me as his heir,” you say softly. “But every decision, every move is shadowed by Alicent’s influence. They’ve all but taken over the Small Council.”

“And yet you remain,” Daemon murmurs, his tone unreadable. “I’d expected you to take your family and fly far from that viper’s nest.”

You shrug, watching as Rhaenyra kneels to speak softly to Jace, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. “For now, it’s best we stay. The closer we are, the more we can watch and counter them. And besides,” you add, your gaze flicking to your father, looking frailer than ever, “Viserys is not long for this world. When he’s gone, the realm will look to us. We need to be ready.”

Daemon’s jaw tightens, his eyes dark. “He’s grown weak, blinded by his need for peace and love. He doesn’t see the knives being sharpened behind his back.”

“No, he doesn’t,” you agree quietly. “But we do. And we’ll be prepared.”

You fall silent then, your eyes once more drawn to your sons. Jace and Luke stand straight and tall, though you can see the stiffness in their shoulders, the uncertainty in their eyes. You watch as they exchange a few words with each other, the bond between them strong despite everything. You take comfort in that, at least.

Daemon follows your gaze, his expression softening slightly. “They’re good boys,” he says, a note of pride in his voice. “Stubborn and fierce, like their mother. And their father.”

“They’ll need to be,” you reply, a grim smile touching your lips. “The road ahead will not be easy.”

“No,” Daemon agrees, his gaze shifting back to the sea. “But they have you and Rhaenyra to guide them. And they have the blood of the dragon. That counts for something.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the future pressing down on you. But for now, there is nothing to do but stand here, beside your uncle, and honor the memory of a woman who was lost too soon. 

The sea continues its mournful song, a lullaby for the dead and a reminder to the living. And you, like the tide, will endure.

Rhaenyra stands quietly among the mourners, her eyes fixed on the sea where Laena’s casket has just disappeared beneath the waves. The ceremony is over, but the heavy weight of grief still hangs in the air, a palpable presence that settles in the hearts of all gathered. She glances at her three sons—Jace, Luke, and Joffrey—standing close by, their small forms huddled together, their faces solemn and uncertain.

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. This is not just a time for mourning but a moment to show unity and strength, especially in the face of the silent but glaring division between her family and the Hightowers. Her gaze flits to you, standing a little distance away with Daemon, your head bowed as you speak quietly with him. The sight of you brings her a fleeting sense of calm amidst the turmoil.

Turning her attention back to her children, she kneels down to their level, her voice soft but steady. “Jace, Luke, Joffrey, I need you to go and speak with your cousins, Baela and Rhaena. They need to know that they’re not alone in their grief.”

Jace shifts uncomfortably, glancing over at the twins, who are standing with their grandmother, Rhaenys. The Queen Who Never Was has her arms wrapped around her granddaughters, her regal bearing barely concealing the depth of her sorrow. “But, Mother,” Jace murmurs, “what if they don’t want to talk to us?”

Rhaenyra reaches out, brushing a lock of hair from Jace’s forehead. “It’s not about what you say, my love. It’s about showing them that you care. Just being there for them is enough.”

Luke looks up at her, his young face twisted with uncertainty. “Are you sure we won’t make it worse?”

Rhaenyra’s smile is gentle, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You won’t. They need to see that their family is with them, that we’re all here to support each other.”

Joffrey, the youngest but no longer a baby, steps forward, his little face serious. “What if they cry?” he asks, his voice small and hesitant.

Rhaenyra’s heart aches at the question, but she forces herself to remain strong. “Then you comfort them, Joffrey. Sometimes, it’s okay to cry. It shows that you care.”

Joffrey nods slowly, still unsure but willing to follow his mother’s lead. With one last glance at you, Rhaenyra gently ushers the boys forward, watching as they make their way over to where the twins stand. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, your presence a solid anchor in the swirling chaos of grief and uncertainty. She draws strength from knowing you are here, that you are with her.

Baela and Rhaena are huddled close to Rhaenys, their faces pale and streaked with tears. They look so small and lost, so unlike the vibrant, lively girls they usually are. Jace hesitates, glancing back at Rhaenyra for reassurance. She gives him a nod, her eyes encouraging.

Taking a deep breath, Jace steps forward. “Baela, Rhaena,” he begins softly, his voice trembling slightly. “We’re really sorry about your mother. If you need anything, we’re here for you.”

Rhaena looks up first, her big, sorrowful eyes meeting Jace’s. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “But nothing will bring her back.”

Luke moves closer, his heart aching for his cousins. “We know. But we want to help, even if it’s just being here with you.”

Baela’s gaze is fixed on the ground, her jaw clenched. She doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge their words, but her hand tightens around her grandmother’s. Joffrey, standing beside Luke, reaches out and gently touches Baela’s arm.

“It’s okay to be sad,” he says quietly, his young voice earnest. “We’re all sad.”

For a long moment, there’s silence. Then Baela finally looks up, her eyes fierce despite the tears brimming in them. “I don’t want to be sad. I want her back.”

Jace takes a step closer, his face serious. “I know. We all do. But she’d want us to be strong, to be together.”

Rhaenys watches the exchange, her gaze softening slightly as she looks at Rhaenyra’s sons. “You’re good boys,” she says, her voice steady despite the pain etched in every word. “Your parents have raised you well.”

Rhaenyra, watching from a distance, feels a swell of pride and relief. She glances at you again, your eyes meeting hers across the space. There’s a wordless exchange between you, a shared understanding of the challenges your children are facing and the pride in how they are handling it.

You give her a small nod, and she takes a deep breath, drawing strength from your support. She knows this is only the beginning of the trials they will face as a family, the divisions and rivalries that will continue to test them. But for now, here on this rocky shore, they are doing what they can—standing together, offering what comfort they can in the face of loss.

The boys remain with their cousins, their presence a small but solid comfort. Rhaenyra stays where she is, watching them, her heart heavy but filled with a fierce determination. Whatever lies ahead, whatever storms may come, they will face it as family. As Targaryens.

The night on Driftmark is dark and still, the only sounds the distant roar of the waves crashing against the cliffs and the occasional mournful cry of a seabird. The funeral had left an oppressive silence in its wake, grief heavy in the air like a storm about to break. Inside the guest chambers, Jace and Luke lie sleeping, their small forms huddled under the thick blankets. Joffrey sleeps soundly beside them, his tiny hand clutching the fabric of his pillow.

A soft whisper breaks the silence.

“Luke… Jace…”

Luke stirs, blinking groggily as he turns over to see Baela and Rhaena standing by the door, their faces pale in the faint moonlight streaming through the window. “Baela?” he mumbles, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What is it?”

“Someone took Vhagar,” Baela whispers urgently, her voice trembling with anger and fear. “Come on, you have to see.”

Jace sits up immediately, his heart racing as he throws off the covers. “What do you mean, someone took Vhagar?” he asks, his voice low but insistent.

“We don’t know,” Rhaena whispers, glancing anxiously at the door. “We just know she’s gone.”

Luke glances over at Joffrey, who’s still fast asleep. He carefully slips out of bed, trying not to make a sound. “We can’t wake him,” he murmurs. “He’s too young.”

Jace nods, his expression set with determination. “Let’s go.”

The boys follow their cousins out of the room, moving quietly through the darkened corridors of High Tide. The stone walls are cold and damp, the silence around them oppressive. As they reach the outer courtyard, the reality of what Baela and Rhaena have said begins to sink in. Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in the world, gone? How could anyone have taken her?

They slip outside, the chill night air biting at their skin. Ahead, in the dim light of the moon, they see movement—two figures approaching. As they draw closer, the faces of Aemond and Aegon become clear, the older boys walking with a swagger that sends a surge of anger through Jace and Luke.

Jace and Luke exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. This was the confrontation they’d promised themselves before leaving King’s Landing, after Aemond had insulted their father. They wouldn’t back down now.

“What’s going on?” Jace demands, stepping forward. “Where’s Vhagar?”

Aemond’s smirk is sharp, his eyes gleaming with a strange triumph. “I’ve claimed her,” he says, his voice filled with a smug satisfaction. “She’s mine now.”

Baela’s face contorts with rage, her fists clenched at her sides. “She was my mother’s dragon!” she shouts, her voice breaking with a mixture of grief and fury. “You had no right!”

Aemond’s smile doesn’t falter. “She was your mother’s dragon,” he agrees, his tone condescending. “But now she’s mine. And she’s the most powerful dragon in the world. She could eat all of yours in one bite.”

Luke steps forward, his young face twisted with anger. “Vhagar was ours to claim, not yours. You can’t just steal her!”

Aemond’s expression darkens, his smirk fading. “She chose me. And now you’ll have to live with it.” He turns his gaze on Jace, his eyes cold. “Or would you rather challenge me, Jacaerys? Let Vhagar settle it. Your little dragons wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Jace’s jaw tightens, and he takes a step closer, his fists clenched. “Maybe they wouldn’t,” he says, his voice low and steady, “but my father’s dragon, Silverwing, would burn your old beast to ashes. You think you can insult my father and get away with it?”

Aemond’s face twists in disdain. “Your father is nothing but a reckless fool, who only cares for himself. He’s not half the dragonlord he thinks he is.”

Before Jace can respond, Baela steps forward, her eyes blazing with fury. “Vhagar was my mother’s!” she yells, her voice shaking. “You had no right! None!”

Aemond’s smirk returns, but before he can speak, Jace lunges at him, the fury he’s been holding back all evening exploding to the surface. The two boys collide, falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs, fists flying.

Aegon moves to step in, but Luke is already there, shoving him back. “Stay out of this!” he shouts, his voice high and furious. “This is between us!”

The courtyard erupts into chaos as the children clash. Rhaena tries to pull Baela back, but Baela breaks free, launching herself at Aemond with a scream of rage. Jace and Aemond roll across the ground, each trying to land blows on the other. Aegon grabs Jace, pulling him off Aemond, only to be shoved aside by Luke.

It’s a wild, desperate fight, all the anger and grief of the past few days spilling out in a furious storm of fists and shouts. Aemond manages to break free, staggering to his feet, his eyes wild with fury.

“You’re all just a bunch of inbreds!” he snarls, wiping blood from his split lip. “I have the true blood of the dragon, and now I have Vhagar! I’m more Targaryen than any of you!”

Jace roars and charges at him again, but Aemond is ready. He swings, landing a punch that sends Jace sprawling. Before Aemond can follow up, Luke steps between them, his small form trembling with rage.

“You don’t deserve Vhagar,” he spits, his voice shaking. “You don’t deserve any of it.”

Aemond sneers, stepping closer. “And what are you going to do about it, little one?”

Luke’s hand moves instinctively to his belt, where the small Valyrian steel dagger you gifted him for his nameday is sheathed. He pulls it out, his hand steady, the blade catching the moonlight as he holds it up.

Aemond’s eyes widen in shock and then fury. “You think you can scare me with that?”

He lunges at Luke, his hand reaching out to grab the dagger, but Luke moves faster, his arm swinging in a desperate, instinctive arc. The blade catches Aemond across the face, a line of red blooming across his cheek and eye.

Aemond screams, a raw, terrible sound, as he stumbles back, clutching his face. Blood pours between his fingers, the wound hideous in the moonlight. The other children freeze, the shock of what’s just happened crashing over them like a wave.

And then, there are footsteps—heavy, urgent. Ser Harrold Westerling appears at the edge of the courtyard, his face going pale as he takes in the scene before him.

“What in the name of the gods—?” he begins, rushing forward. But it’s already too late. Aemond’s eye is gone, his screams echoing into the night, the others standing around him, horrified and frozen in place.

Ser Harrold shouts for help, his voice urgent, commanding, and within moments, the courtyard is filled with guards and attendants, their faces mirroring the shock and horror of what’s just occurred.

Luke drops the dagger, his hand shaking, his face ashen. Jace steps forward, his heart pounding in his ears, his eyes locked on Aemond’s bloodied face.

“It was an accident,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “It was an accident…”

But even as he says the words, he knows it won’t matter. The damage is done. The divide that had been brewing for so long has now erupted, and there will be no going back.

As the adults converge, shouting orders and lifting Aemond’s screaming form from the ground, Jace and Luke are pulled away, their hearts pounding with fear and guilt.

And in the cold, unforgiving night of Driftmark, the bonds of family are stretched to their breaking point.

The flickering candlelight casts a soft, intimate glow over the chamber as you and Rhaenyra move together, bodies entwined in the heat of your shared passion. The soft sounds of your lovemaking fill the room, mingling with the gentle rustle of sheets and the quiet murmur of the sea beyond the windows. This moment, stolen in the midst of sorrow and tension, is a brief escape from the heavy burdens that weigh on both of you.

Rhaenyra’s hands grip your shoulders, her breath hitching as you press deeper, your lips finding the curve of her neck. You’re both lost in the sensation, in each other, when a sharp, insistent knock at the door shatters the quiet.

You freeze, your heart pounding, and Rhaenyra’s eyes snap open, her expression shifting from pleasure to sudden worry. The knock comes again, louder this time, accompanied by a voice.

“Prince, Princess, forgive me, but you’re needed immediately!”

You close your eyes briefly, frustration and concern warring within you. “What is it?” you call out, your voice rough, still thick with the remnants of your passion.

“It’s one of the guards, my lord,” the voice replies, strained. “The King has called for an emergency meeting in the great hall. There’s been an incident with the children.”

Rhaenyra sits up abruptly, the color draining from her face. “The children?” she whispers, her eyes wide with fear. You can see the thoughts racing through her mind, each more terrible than the last.

You pull away, your body already cooling as the urgency of the situation seeps in. “We’re coming,” you call back, your voice steadier now. You turn to Rhaenyra, your hand brushing against her cheek. “We need to go.”

She nods, though her eyes are still distant, her hands trembling as she reaches for her robe. You both dress quickly, the easy intimacy of moments ago replaced by a cold, gnawing dread. Every movement feels heavy, your mind spinning with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last.

You can hear Rhaenyra’s breathing, quick and shallow, as she ties the sash of her robe, her fingers fumbling in her haste. “What do you think happened?” she asks, her voice strained. “Do you think—”

“I don’t know,” you interrupt gently, reaching for her hand. “But we’ll find out soon.”

With a final glance at each other, you move to the door and pull it open. The guard outside looks tense, his face pale in the dim light of the corridor. “Your Graces, the King is waiting in the great hall. He seemed… very distressed.”

“Thank you,” you say curtly, your hand still clasping Rhaenyra’s. “Lead the way.”

As you walk through the dimly lit halls of Driftmark, the air feels charged, every shadowed corner holding a sense of foreboding. Rhaenyra’s grip on your hand tightens, her eyes darting around as if expecting answers to spring from the very walls.

The night is unnaturally quiet, the only sound the echo of your hurried footsteps on the stone floor. The guard moves ahead of you, his back stiff, and you can’t help but feel the tension radiating from him as well.

“Do you know what happened?” you ask the guard, keeping your voice low.

He hesitates, glancing back at you. “Only that there was a… confrontation between the children, my lord. I’m not privy to the details, but from what I heard, it was… serious.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widen, and she stops short, her breath catching. “The children—are they hurt?”

“I—I don’t know, my lady,” the guard stammers. “I’m sorry. I was just told to fetch you.”

You exchange a glance with Rhaenyra, your heart hammering. You can feel the fear in her eyes, mirroring your own. The thought of your sons, hurt or worse, makes your stomach twist with a sickening dread.

“Let’s keep moving,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm, though your mind is racing. “We’ll know more soon.”

As you continue down the winding corridors, you can see servants and guards moving about, their faces tight with unease. Whispers follow in your wake, but you pay them no mind. Your focus is on reaching the great hall, on finding out what has happened, on making sure your children are safe.

You and Rhaenyra burst into the great hall, the heavy doors slamming against the stone walls as you rush inside. The scene before you is pure chaos—voices raised in anger and fear, bodies milling about in frantic confusion. Your heart plummets at the sight.

On one side of the room, Jace and Luke stand with Baela and Rhaena, Daemon already at their side, his face a mask of simmering rage. The children look disheveled and frightened, Luke’s hands stained with blood, his face pale and tight with anxiety. Jace’s jaw is set, his eyes blazing with fury, while Baela stands rigid, her small frame vibrating with barely contained anger.

Across the hall, King Viserys sits hunched on the dais, his face pale and drawn, Alicent hovering anxiously beside him. Aegon stands nearby, his usual swagger gone, replaced by a tense, watchful look. Aemond is seated in a chair, Grand Maester Mellos just finishing the last stitch on a savage wound that runs across his cheek and where his eye used to be, a patch hastily tied around it. Blood stains his skin, his tunic, and the floor beneath him.

You take a step forward, your voice cutting through the tumult. “What happened?”

The question hangs in the air for a heartbeat before the room erupts into a cacophony of shouting voices, each one clamoring to be heard over the others. Rhaenyra moves to Jace and Luke, her hands on their shoulders, as if her very touch could shield them from the storm of words and accusations flying through the air.

The doors swing open again, and Corlys and Rhaenys stride in, their expressions thunderous as they take in the scene. Corlys’s eyes flash as they fall on Aemond, the fresh wound stark and terrible. “What madness is this?” he demands, his voice booming across the hall, instantly silencing the clamor.

“Madness indeed,” Alicent snaps, her voice quivering with fury as she glares at you and Rhaenyra. “It is your children’s violence that has caused this! They are the ones who should be telling the tale!”

“Violence?” Daemon’s voice is a silken drawl, dripping with contempt. “From what I’ve heard, it was your precious son who instigated this.”

Viserys, his face flushed with a mixture of confusion and frustration, raises a shaking hand. “Enough! All of you, silence!” His voice cracks through the room, forcing everyone to fall quiet, if only for a moment. He turns his weary gaze to the children, his eyes lingering on Jace, Luke, and then on Aemond, the wound on his son’s face making him flinch visibly. “I want to know what happened. Now.”

Jace, his voice trembling but clear, steps forward. “Aemond insulted us. He insulted my father,” he says, his voice growing louder, firmer. “He called us—he called us inbreds.”

A ripple of shock sweeps through the hall, followed by a tense, stunned silence. Viserys’s face drains of color, and he takes a faltering step toward Aemond, his hand trembling as he reaches out. “Aemond, why would you say such a thing?”

Before the boy can answer, you step forward, your voice cutting through the tense quiet like a blade. “Because it’s something his Hightower Faith-loving mother would say.” Your words are cold and precise, each one landing like a blow. The room seems to freeze, all eyes turning to you.

Alicent’s face goes ashen, her breath catching audibly. She stares at you, a mixture of shock and wounded disbelief twisting her features. It’s as if the air has been sucked from the room, the silence now heavy with accusation and unspoken truths. She takes a step back, her hand clutching the fabric of her gown, the strength of your words shattering something fragile and deeply buried within her.

Viserys’s head snaps toward Alicent, confusion and betrayal warring in his eyes. “Alicent…?” he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath.

She opens her mouth, but no words come out. Her face is a mask of conflicting emotions—anger, pain, and something like heartbreak, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She looks at you as though seeing a stranger, the weight of your accusation pressing down on her like a crushing weight.

Daemon, standing at your side, lets out a low, amused chuckle, his lips curling into a smirk. “Bold words, nephew,” he murmurs, his eyes glittering with dark satisfaction. “Very bold indeed.”

You hold Alicent’s gaze, your own eyes hard and unyielding. “If you won’t own your words, Lady Alicent, at least have the decency to control your child,” you say, your voice icy with disdain.

The silence in the hall is thick, suffocating, as everyone waits for what will happen next, the air charged with unspoken tensions and shattered façades.

And then, with a deep, ragged breath, Viserys straightens, his frail form trembling but his voice firm. “Enough,” he says, his eyes sweeping over the room, taking in the shocked, tense faces of his family. “This has gone too far. I will have order.”

But even as he speaks, the sense of impending disaster lingers in the air, the threads of control slipping through his grasp, the rift between the families widening, the fractures deepening with every breath.

“This infighting must cease!” he declares, his voice strained with desperation. “We are one family, and we will not tear ourselves apart!”

Alicent’s face twists with rage and disbelief. “That is not enough!” she cries out, her voice sharp and filled with venom. “Aemond has been permanently disfigured. And Prince Lucerys brought a dagger into a fight with clear intent. This cannot be dismissed, Viserys!”

Viserys lifts a trembling hand, his patience wearing thin. “Alicent—”

But she cuts him off, her words like a whip cracking through the hall. “You must stop shielding them! You cannot let your grandchildren escape punishment for this. There must be consequences.”

His frail body stiffens, anger and exhaustion warring in his eyes. “What would you have me do, Alicent?” he demands, his voice rising in rare fury. “They are children!”

Alicent’s gaze, cold and unyielding, locks on Lucerys, who stands pale and wide-eyed beside his brothers. “I want justice, Viserys,” she says, her voice dropping to a deadly calm. “I want one of his sons to lose an eye, as my son has lost his.”

A gasp ripples through the room, shock and horror painting every face. Rhaenyra pulls your boys close, her eyes blazing with fury and fear as she shields them with her body. You step forward, placing yourself between your family and the Queen, your own anger simmering beneath a cold veneer of control.

“This is madness,” you say, your voice low and dangerous. “You’re speaking of mutilating my child.”

Alicent’s eyes, burning with a desperate, almost manic intensity, shift to Ser Criston Cole. “Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Targaryen.”

Cole hesitates, his face tightening with conflicted emotion. “Your Grace, I swore to protect you,” he says, his voice strained, “but not for this.”

“Cese this insanity!” Viserys roars, his voice cracking through the room. He points a trembling finger at Alicent, his eyes filled with a mixture of grief and disbelief. “This ends now! I will not have this—”

But before he can finish, Alicent lunges forward, grabbing the King’s dagger from its sheath at his side. The Valyrian steel blade gleams menacingly in the torchlight as she whirls toward your children, her expression wild, her intent unmistakable.

“Rhaenyra!” you shout, stepping toward Alicent, but you’re not fast enough.

Rhaenyra moves like lightning, pushing past you and intercepting Alicent before she can reach the boys. The two women collide, Rhaenyra’s hands gripping Alicent’s arm, struggling to hold back the dagger.

“Stop this, Alicent!” Rhaenyra snarls, her voice shaking with rage and desperation. The room is frozen, every person watching in horrified fascination, too stunned or too fearful to intervene.

“Let go!” Alicent hisses, her face twisted with fury and despair. “You did this! All of it! You poisoned him against me! You took him from me! You’re responsible for everything!”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flash with anger. “You’re mad, Alicent!” she shouts back, her voice filled with contempt. “You can’t stand that he chose me, that he saw through your manipulations!”

They struggle, Alicent’s face contorted with rage as she tries to wrestle free. Rhaenyra holds firm, but the blade shifts dangerously between them. And then, with a sickening inevitability, the dagger slips from Alicent’s grip, the sharp edge slicing across Rhaenyra’s forearm.

A collective gasp echoes through the hall as blood wells up, a dark crimson line marring Rhaenyra’s pale skin. Alicent freezes, her eyes widening in shock as the dagger clatters to the floor, the sound like a death knell in the tense silence.

For a moment, everything is still.

You move before you even realize it, rushing to Rhaenyra’s side. “Rhaenyra!” you breathe, tearing a strip of fabric from your robe and pressing it against the wound. “Hold still. I need to stop the bleeding.”

Rhaenyra looks down at the blood seeping through your fingers, her expression stunned, as if she can’t quite believe what’s happened. Alicent, her face drained of color, stands rooted to the spot, her hand shaking as she stares at the blood on it.

From across the room, Otto Hightower’s voice rings out, harsh and commanding. “Alicent, stop this madness! Stand back!”

Alicent blinks, her father’s voice breaking through the haze of rage and pain clouding her mind. She stumbles backward, her eyes locked on Rhaenyra, confusion and anguish warring in her gaze.

Rhaenyra, her breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts, looks up at you. “I’m fine,” she says, her voice firm despite the pain. “It’s not deep.”

You nod, though your hands shake as you press the cloth harder against the cut, willing the bleeding to slow. “I’ve got you,” you murmur, your voice fierce and steady. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The room remains tense, everyone watching the two of you, the weight of what has just occurred hanging heavy in the air. You can feel the eyes of the entire court upon you, but your focus remains solely on Rhaenyra, on the woman you love, the mother of your children, and the blood that stains your hands.

A week has passed since the night of blood and betrayal, but the echoes of that fateful confrontation still linger over Driftmark like a storm that refuses to fully dissipate. You and Rhaenyra stand on the cliffs overlooking the bay, watching as the ships of King’s Landing sail away, their white sails billowing against the backdrop of a leaden sky. In the distance, the dragons of Alicent’s children take to the air, their wings beating a steady rhythm as they follow the ships below.

Rhaenyra’s eyes are fixed on the departing figures, her face tight with a mix of emotions. “I can’t do this anymore,” she murmurs, her voice raw with a vulnerability she rarely shows. “I don’t want to go back to King’s Landing. I don’t want to put our children through any more of… whatever this was.”

You nod, understanding the unspoken weight behind her words. “Viserys hoped this would heal the rifts between us,” you say, your voice steady but tinged with bitterness. “But all it did was deepen them.”

She turns to you, her gaze fierce despite the sadness that lingers in her eyes. “I won’t let them be in that viper’s nest again. Not after this. They’re children—they deserve to grow up somewhere safe, somewhere we can protect them.”

“Then we’ll go back to Dragonstone,” you agree, your hand slipping into hers, squeezing gently. “Away from the court, away from the Hightowers’ poison.”

Rhaenyra’s shoulders relax slightly at your words, some of the tension easing from her frame. “But we can’t just run and hide, can we?” she asks, her tone thoughtful. “We’ll need allies, support… and a plan for what comes after we don't appear in the capital.”

You nod again, turning your gaze back to the bay, where the distant figures of the dragons are now just dark specks against the sky. “I’ve already spoken with Corlys,” you tell her. “He’s agreed to our proposal—Jace to Rhaena and Luke to Baela. The Sea Snake seemed more than pleased. His blood will sit the Iron Throne one day, through our sons.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widen slightly, and a smile, though small and hesitant, tugs at her lips. “That’s… that’s good news. They seem to get along well enough with the girls.”

“They do,” you say, a faint smile of your own touching your lips. “It’s not just about alliances, Rhaenyra. They need each other. They’re stronger together, and they’ll need that strength for what’s to come.”

She nods, her gaze drifting back to the horizon. “They’ve been through so much already. I want them to know love and loyalty, not just duty and fear.”

“They’ll have that,” you promise, your voice firm. “We’ll make sure of it.”

She leans into you, her head resting against your shoulder, and for a moment, the weight of the world seems to lift, just a little. You watch the ships disappearing into the distance, the dragons following, and feel a surge of resolve settle in your chest.

“We’ll build our future on Dragonstone,” you say quietly. “Where we can watch over them, guide them. And prepare for whatever challenges come our way.”

Together, you watch as the last of the ships vanish beyond the horizon, and then you turn away, walking back toward High Tide. Your initial plans to stay close to Viserys disappearing like waves that clash against the cliffs of Driftmark.

[crackheadenergy101]

|Change|

Summary: After what felt like years you find yourself back in forks for a short visit catching up with a family friend, but after a series of strange events your mom is forced to leave you under mysterious circumstances putting you under the care of your former baby sitter Billy black. Although you feel excited to be spending your entire summer in La push—something about the conditions this falls under doesn’t feel right.

Pairing: Seth Clearwater X reader

Word count: 1,226

Request are open!

…

The suv creaked it’s tires scratching against the gravel as it stopped at a red light, they were old having plenty of plugs littered across its wheel. It paired with the car an old model that’s seen better days the window’s having little anime characters on the side and some permanent drawings on the doors.

A woman’s arm hung on the window, her other hand nitpicking her daughter’s face. She sat relaxed one knee being up against her chest as she leaned back on the seat “ Where did all these bumps come from? What did you do—have you been using my soap to wash your face? “ She was throughly unamused. Y/n let a snicker softly swatting her mothers hand away “I didn’t do anything! It’s just the dry air breaking me out” she loudly yelled swiftly turing her head to the distance. She could hardly hide her embarrassment—she may have been, possibly—using her mother’s soap against her wishes, but was to prideful to admit her mother was right.

Ms. L/n withdrew her hand eyeing her young daughter “Just like your father” Y/n only stuck her tongue out towards the remark.

The trees swayed in the wind as they drove by, La push having the smell of salt in the air. The sight was beautiful grey skies and tall trees, stores lined up against each other la push felt like summer. Y/n swayed her head to the radio it was playing a somber tune, She smiled as a wave of nostalgia hit her, childhood memories coming back remembering the times of following around billy, he took you everywhere.

The duo smiled as they parked into a green yard, a long haired man rolled out greeting them as they stepped out. “ Billy!” Both girls shouted as they ran towards the man billy let out a boisterous laugh as he felt the arms of both the girls wrap around him “ You girl’s are to big for this” Y/n and her mother pull away pouting at their reminder of their age. “ You’re almost seventeen–“ She frowns and begins playing dejectedly her hair “—And you, thirty-three! “

The color from Ms. L/n face drops her face turing red with embarrassment she clears her throat before standing straight fixing her wounded expression “ that was uncalled for”. Billy chuckled shaking his head seeing how the girls haven’t change a bit he gestured towards the girls to follow him inside, Y/n gave a smile looking around as she stepped into the house, everything stayed the same, pictures of Mrs. Black being hung up on the wall as you entered, the smell of lavender warming up against your nose—candles being left out from the night before just like Mrs.black used to. “You know where everything is already, Don’t be afraid to get comfortable—” before he could even finish his sentence the girls dispersed from behind him Y/n making her way to the pantry while her mother got to putting luggage away.

Billy smiled, before helping Ms. L/n with unpacking.

Y/n watched them from her peripheral vision, seeing the loud laughter turn into tense smiles and uneasy chuckles.

The house was bustling with energy as the Tv sung loudly with sports chants and cheers billy and Ms. L/N sat yelling cheering for their respective teams, stupid merch on both of them. This could only bring a smile on Y/n’s face—the kitchen was fogged up with steam, delicious scents taking over the home, seasonings were lined up next to each other as different pots were filled with something Y/n stood tapping her finger on the counter waiting for everything to finish cooking, her beads of sweat dripping off of her forehead onto the hot kitchen floor.

She began taking out servings, filling Billy’s plate with the biggest piece of salmon before setting his bowl at the table. She set her mothers plate next giving her vegetables all over her rice and salmon, lastly platting herself which was nothing more than a plate of rice with chicken “ Ma, Billy! I’m done”

They sat down billy gave a giant smile looking down at his dinner“ you’ve gotten better! I remember you used to leave the scales on and burn it “ She laughed remembering her younger years of cooking “all you would have to eat was the charred remains! “ Billy turned towards Y/n’s mother giving her a warm look “better than this one! she didn’t even know how to thaw the meat just throw it straight into the pan” he softly ruffled her hair.

Ms. L/n laughed, “ You say it like your any better—“ her mouth filled with rice “ I know the truth you did it that way until Mrs. Black showed you how and that wasn’t until college!”

Billy looked away ignoring her words

“ Do you feel a draft in here Y/n? I must’ve left a window open”

Ms. L/n simply mocked him snickering as he gave a fake shiver.

Dinner wrapped up as everyone was getting the house ready for bed, Y/n leaned on the counter wiping the dishes her mother passed to her when she finished washing, a howl rang out faintly being heard deep in the forest Ms. L/n gave a hum. “ How’s Jacob these days? “ Y/n eyes squinted as she secretly watched Billy’s expression—her tone seemed more strenuous than before, what’s with the sudden interest in Jacob?

Billy gave a weak smile towards her mother, before making eye contact with y/n, her eyes drifting away staring at the oven clock —10pm. “ Y/n, you can take a shower first I’ll clean everything up” she didn’t argue only nodding her head this happened often with every visit since she could remember—the mentioning of Jacob always changed the air in the house making everyone feel uneasy. As Y/n reached the bathroom door she heard hushed whispers tones of confusion and worry

“ He’s with a what!? “

“ Keep your voice down—I don’t want Y/n involved any more than she already is”

“ She isn’t—I know she isn’t”

Y/n eyebrows furred, this wasn’t new for her when it came to those two growing up she fondly remembered the nights where the living room light creaked into her room. Her mother and billy staying up for hours at a time sipping on wine and retelling stories from their younger years even sometimes having mentions of her father—

“ I thought the same for Jacob but now look at him”

—But as the years went by the joyous laughter turned serious, and the nights went from inebriated bliss to scared low murmurs. A name becoming more and more frequent as the years came and went.

Bloodsuckers.

Howls sung into the night drowning out the whispers taking her chance she crept into the bathroom glancing at the picture of a young boy shoved into the corner of the mirror it was Jacob black.

A boy she hadn’t seen for years.

“ Jacob black, what happened to you?”

…

The night was silent trees swaying as the wind blew heavily against them, the moon was full having a yellowish tint to it things lurked in the trees surrounding the red quaint home.

Y/n laid in her bed tossing and turning as the room felt extremely warm, she couldn’t get ounce of sleep feeling to uncomfortable to properly rest.

“ This is bigger than I thought billy”

Mrs. L/n mumbled her hands trembling, she fidgeted with her jackets zipper her blood running cold. “ Their coming billy and I can’t take her with me” billy nervously looked into the deep forest behind his home hearing sounds of rustling all around them “ But what about Y/n?”

“ you can’t just leave her Melanie”

She softly looked at the purple door behind her giving a saddened expression “ It’s for the best billy, what more can I do? it’s either her or me.” Though billy didn’t show it his heart snapped, only giving her a saddened expression, “ what will you tell her? She’s not five anymore Mel’ she nervously paced her hands rubbing against her neck “ She’s an understanding girl bill’ she won’t look deep into it” Melanie sat at the edge of a couch handle her eyes heavy with bags “ keep her safe billy”

She glanced into his eyes before asking him one final favor.

“Please, don’t let her find out.”

Billy didn’t say a word only holding her shivering hand giving it a tight squeeze, she knew he’d keep his word.

Ms. L/n grabbed everything she could and hastily ran out the door recording a voicemail for her daughter.

Billy wheeled out of his house watching the woman walk into the darkness of the night, his heart aching with each step. Only now letting out a baited breath he didn’t even know he was holding , whispering something into the air he hoped she’d hear

“ Stay safe Melanie“

“Sorry this is so sudden Y/n but the office called and they really need me something about a slip up in the spreadsheets I know I know this week was our get-away week but it was really urgent I need to fly back soon as tomorrow. But I promise I’ll make this up to you okay? I will, your gonna have to stay with bill for a bit okay? Like the old times, tell billy if you need anything don’t have to much fun without me, mommy loves you, stay safe.”

The sunshine creaked through the windows rays hitting Y/n’s eyes, her door creaked open and she groaned before sitting up being met with a smiling billy with breakfast in hand.

“Hope you like pancakes”

Y/n only snickered.

“do you even need to ask?”

The car was still outside.

AN: This is meant to be a multiple part series! Its a slow-burn depending on if school doesn’t work me too hard I’ll be able to update this story often!

[enigmatist17]

The first thing Cade Yeager felt was pain, which was to be expected when you're suddenly slamming into asphalt that had not been there five seconds ago. Well, that and the combat bruises and cuts, but those were permanent these days.

"Holy- are you alright?!" He can hear a few voices around him, and Cade winces as he cracks an eye open to see a few people knelt down around him. "Sir, can you hear us?"

"Just...just give me a second." His head feels like it's about to roll off when Cade sits up, but his physical discomfort is pushed aside for fear when he realizes he's surrounded by a large group, that little voice in his brain telling him to run run run run run. "What...?"

"Everyone back up!" The whistle of a police siren had Cade up and onto his feet in seconds, glad someone grabbed onto him when the world pitched to the side and he nearly fell back to the ground.

"Look, you guys are sweet to be concerned, but I have to go." Cade tried to pull away, swaying a little but mainly remaining upright as he looked around, realizing for the first time that things were...off.

"You're not going anywhere, not until we contact the Autobots. Guys don't come falling from the sky every day!" One of the cops shook their heads, Cade blinking at the kind of uniforms he hadn't seen since he was a kid back in the day.

"Wait wait wait, you know the Autobots?" That was...not what he expected, but regardless of the nods as the crowd was dispersed, he scooted ever closer to a huge gap that could easily lead to a large forest. Whatever answer one of the officers had been saying went unheard over the din of approaching cars, and Cade bolted for his exit, ignoring the surprised cries as he went for the forest behind the shops around him. It was jarring as hell to go from being in the middle of South Dakota to somewhere in the Pacific Northwest ???, but Cade could worry about the cool air when he was far enough from the public, shivering as he jumped a log and headed toward some distant running water.

"You know, I was not expecting to chase down a wayward human today." Cade had a split second to register the voice from his right before something landed in front of him with a loud thud, the human barely having enough time to dig his heels into the dirt to prevent himself from slamming into said thing. An Autobot he'd never seen stood a few feet away, hands up in a friendly gesture as they tilted their head slightly, clearly waiting for Cade to make the first move in their impromptu standoff. "I mean you no harm."

"Uh...thanks?" Cade cleared his throat as he slowly stood up from where he'd been crouched, running a hand through his hair. "I don't recognize you man, gotta name?"

"My designation is Prowl, and yours?" One of Prowl's doorwings twitched when Cade glanced around, blue eyes tracking every move with an intensity that made the inventor very uncomfortable. As much as Cade wanted to get a better look at the Cybertronian, the black and grey coloring, coupled with the unmistakable shield emblems that belonged on police cruisers, only made him wary. "If you try to run, I must advise you that you will not make it very far."

"I don't know man, I can run pretty fuckin' fast, been evading bots and the military for years." This Prowl's eyes widened momentarily before kneeling down, eyeing the human curiously. "What?"

"I do not know where you have come from, but we do not hunt humans for sport." The human crossed his arms with an annoyed look, before jumping at the sound of rapidly approaching cars, eyeing an escape once again. "Those are my allies."

"Oh jeeze, that's real comforting." Cade could feel the talisman crawling down his arm as various cars appeared between trees, watching the six cars that had appeared transform into Autobots of various sizes, the largest one towering far above the rest not too far from where Cade stood. Despite the older model of semi-truck, Cade felt his jaw drop when the taller bot spoke, kneeling down with a friendly hand held out.

"Greetings, I am Optimus Prime, and these are my fellow Autobots."

"....you know, I have to say, you are massive." The Optimus in front of him tilted his head slightly at the lack of surprise, and Cade shivered at the feeling of being scanned, though from this Optimus, it felt wrong. "Also rude, ask to scan me first? What is it with you Autobots and not askin' for shit?"

"You know of us?" This Optimus retracted his hand, but kept himself in place. "I also apologize for the scan, I was curious. What is your name?"

"...Cade, Cade Yeager." The talisman rested in the palm of his hand as he waited for the next move. "So...you guys can just walk around in the public eye?"

"Of course, we are allies with the human race, and protect them as much as we aid." Optimus shuttered his optics at the surprise that crossed Cade's face, shooting a quick glance at Prowl, who shrugged as he stood.

"Wow...never thought I'd see the day." There's a bitterness that lingers in his words, the human shifting in place before taking a proper look around. "And there are so many of you guys."

"You haven't seen anythin' yet my man." A bot to Cade's left hummed good-naturedly, and for the second time, Cade's jaw dropped at a familiar yet unfamiliar figure. "Got more of us back at the Ark and worldwide."

"...holy shit, you -!" Mission City had been kept quiet for a long time until the Chicago War, and footage of that day had been circulated once the government could no longer suppress the information.

That included someone catching Megatron ripping Jazz in half.

"Judgin' by the look on your face, I'm not around anymore huh?" Despite the smile on his faceplate, Jazz felt his Spark falter at the implication, catching Prowl's doorwings twitching in the corner of his optic.

"You - you went down trying to kill Megatron, for what it's worth." The name of the enemy faction's leader made more than one bot hiss in anger, but otherwise, they remained silent. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, can't change what's already happened." Jazz shrugged. "How's about we take this party to the others? I can just about hear Wheeljack and the others gettin' ready to tear out and head this way."

"Wheeljack is here too?!"

---

The Ark ended up being some sort of Autobot ship; Cade relieved to find the spaceship wasn't in the middle of flight or deep underwater. Hopping out of Optimus' cab once they had arrived, Cade couldn't help but stare at the sheer amount of bots just walking around, a far cry from the ragtag group of survivors he knew. Optimus kindly led him inside their base and explained their background, pointing out a few bots he had heard of, and many others he had not as they approached a massive computer.

"This is Teletraan-1, the heart of our operation. If your Optimus is here, this will help us find him as it did for you."

"Must be one hell of a computer." Cade whistled, picking a spot along the wall out of the way of the various Autobots to take a seat with a yawn. "Where are we anyways? This is not South Dakota."

"You are in Oregon, not far from the city of Portland."

"Oh...never been to Oregon." He watched the Autobot leader start typing away at the massive screens that littered the computer, unsure what else was needed from him. To be honest, it was the first time in ages Cade didn't need his head on a swivel, and before he could think on it too much further, the inventor was out like a light.

"Cade Yeager, do you -" Optimus blinked when he turned to the human, only to find the man slumped over against the wall, chest rising and falling in recharge. The Prime walked over and knelt down, carefully sliding one servo under the recharging human to pick him up in one movement, Cade freezing at the initial contact before going lax once more. The walk to the room they had repurposed for the small growing bad of humans that worked with them wasn't too far away, Sparkplug the only one around for the moment as he tinkered with one of Wheeljack's failed experiments.

"Hiya Optimus, what brings you here?"

"Someone needs to recharge, and doing so against Teletraan-1 is not the most comfortable place." The leader chuckled, depositing a man Sparkplug hadn't seen before on the bed Carly usually used when she came to visit Ironhide.

"Who's he?"

"He is...a visitor." Optimus carefully pulled a blanket over Cade before straightening, giving Sparkplug his full attention. "His name is Cade, and I fear he might be disoriented if he awakens alone. May I ask that you watch over him?"

"No worries, I was planning on spending the night anyway." Sparkplug nodded, eyeing the man with a curious look. "I'm assumin' he set off that weird alert from Teletraan?"

"Indeed, and it appears he might not have arrived alone."

---

In a forest not far from the Ark, Optimus Prime comes online with a groan, his frame rattling from some sort of impact he can't remember. The pain wasn't too overwhelming as he slowly sat up, a little relieved to see his sword wasn't too far from his reach, groaning as he grabbed it and drew it close.

His spark stops when he doesn't sense Cade anywhere nearby, the Prime looking around wildly as he finally gets fully up onto his pedes.

"Cade?! Where are you?" Optimus winces when he takes a step forward, but disregards the pain as he continually scans the area, cursing at the human town that wasn't far off. His only luck was that it was the dead of night, and despite Cade not responding to his calls, there were no recent signs that anyone had been around the area to potentially arrest Cade. What eventually did catch his attention were faint energon signals that appeared to be coming closer to his location, battle mask emerging as he did his best to hide in the thick forest. A few kilicks later four cars pulled to a stop along the road Optimus observed, transforming with their backs facing each other as they scanned the area.

"Teletraan-1 marked the signal not far from here, so fan out and keep your weapons holstered." A white and red bot spoke with a pointed look, Optimus' spark stopping yet again as he had to stop himself from calling out to a bot that shouldn't be alive. "If any of you startle him, you'll be on Red Alert duty for a whole deca-cycle."

"That is cold mech, real cold." A black and white visored mech responded with a shake of his helm, and this time, Optimus couldn't stop the pained vent that escaped him. All four bots whipped their helms to look in his direction, servos flexing but remaining away from their weapons, barely able to make out a tall figure within the trees.

"....Optimus? Is that you?" A taller red mech called out, stepping forward with a small smile. "Yer buddy Cade told us you'd be comin'."

"Where is he?" Optics widened as Optimus slowly stalked forward, clearly a few helms taller than their own and looking like he'd been through the proverbial grinder, a massive sword in hand as he stared down at them with his battle mask extended. "If this is some trick, none of you will leave alive."

"Whoa whoa my mech, no need for threats." The visored mech stepped forward, servos still raised. "We aren't here to hurt you, I swear to Primus. We don't know how this happened, but you and your buddy got pulled here from...wherever you're from, and we only want ta help ya get home."

"Home...a word I know no longer." Optimus stared at the mech, who could only be Jazz, before slowly sheathing his sword. "We cannot remain here, the humans are too close."

"The humans are our allies, they won't harm you." The fourth bot chimed in, one so small Optimus had not seen him initially. The Prime stared at him for a long time without speaking a word, shoulders sagging from weariness as he finally walked forward to the road, transforming into a massive semi-truck.

"Show me the way."

Optimus didn't say a word as they led the bot to the Ark, the beat-up truck getting more than a few side eyes from passing motorists. If eyes stayed on his form for too long, Optimus would veer off-road and remain there until the humans pressed on. The four other bots eventually formed a perimeter around Optimus, sparks aching at the insinuations. More than a few bots were hovering around the ship's entrance when the group arrived, whispers and shocked noises escaping them when Optimus transformed, scanning the crowd with a pained expression.

"I would normally ask a new bot for their designation, but I believe this time, we can skip the formalities." A shorter version of himself stepped forward, and it was clear that their shared voices were a bit disconcerting to hear. "Welcome to the Ark."

"Thank you." Optimus stepped forward as he retracted his mask, eyeing the Ark with a curious expression. "This ship is...much larger than the Ark I knew of long ago."

"I shall take that as a compliment." His double chuckled softly as he turned to the other bots, helm tilting forward slightly. "Everyone, please return to your posts, there will be time for questions later."

"You heard the man, let's go." Jazz whistled as he passed by the taller bot, giving him a nod as various mechs grumbled but dispersed to avoid any potential punishments. It wasn't long before the two Primes were alone, the shorter Prime motioning for his counterpart to follow.

"Ratchet can fix you up if you'd like, unless you require something else?"

"Please, show me to Cade Yeager."

"As you wish." Optimus led his taller counterpart inside the Ark, explaining what various areas were as they walked, ignoring the stares and whispers as they headed for the human living quarters. The shorter Prime stepped back to allow the other to step inside, Cade still asleep on the bed he'd been placed on breems earlier. He was silent as he watched the other Prime kneel down beside the human, a servo gently resting on his cheek as he murmured to him in their native tongue. Cade stirred at the voice and pressure, and to Optimus' astonishment, his eyes were shining blue much like their optics did as he looked around blearily, visibly relaxing when he caught sight of the mech crouched in front of him.

"You're here?" Cade moved to sit up, but Optimus gently pressed him down with a soft shake of his helm, Cade frowning a little but sank back into the mattress with a hum. "You alright, big guy?"

"I am alright, you need not be concerned for me." The human scoffed as Optimus shifted to sit by his bedside, sagging against the wall behind him.

"Right, and I'm in the best shape of my life right now." Cade rolled his eyes, the glow fading from his eyes as he sat up with a wince, holding a hand out when his Optimus moved to steady him. "Do you want to transform, or is that too much?"

"I would prefer to remain this way." Optimus held a servo out when Cade grabbed the blanket and pillow from his bed, the human climbing on as Optimus opened his chest plating, carefully placing Cade onto the seat inside. "Is this comfortable?"

"Always is." Cade sounded half asleep as he got comfortable, pulling the blanket over himself and gently knocking some of the metal beside him. "Get some recharge, or I'll make you regret it."

"As you say." Optimus made an amused noise as he adjusted, his optics appearing to flicker off as he heard the other human in the room stop tinkering. Not long after, the lights in the room dimmed. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, you both look like hell." Optimus grumbled something as the second human chuckled, only truly offlining his optics once the other had left the room, closing the door behind him. Tossing the maglock he carried for emergencies onto the door, it helped to know it would at least buy them time if anyone came by, and Optimus finally let his beleaguered body experience relief as he faded into recharge.

[crazycatgirl420]

Not Magic, Science Part 3

Danny stared at the young CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Mr. Drake-Wayne was five years old when the Fentons stole his dna for tgeir clone kid project. The Fentons didn't use accelerated aging, their notes said there could be developmental risks in doing so and they wanted their own little genius to be perfect.

Danny was exactly five years, nine months, and six days younger than Timothy Drake-Wayne.

Five years ago Timothy Drake was eleven years old, with his own photogarphy gallery and charming rich old ladies at galas.

When Danny was eleven he was starstruck at space camp and building model rockets in his bedroom.

Wayne Enterprises was interested in working with FentonWorks too mass produce ecto-fueled vechiels, as well as exploring ecto energy more. Danny let Mr. Drake-Wayne's voice wash over him, professional and commanding, confident.

Everything Danny should have been, everything Danny was supposed to be. No wonder his parents were never proud of him, he was a pale imitation of Timothy Drake.

"Before we go that far though, what exactly is Ectoplasam?"

Danny knew that question was coming. He came prepared but his slide show felt very childish compared to everything Mr. Drake-Wayne had presented. He clutched his usb, and plugged it into the presenter's laptop.

"Everything that lives creates Ectoplasam. It is the energy of emotions, the spark that fuels life. Everything that lives, must then eventually die, and with death is the release of the remaining ectoplasam in their body. The ectoplasam would then disperse into a demension known as the Infinte Realms, where it either forms an Ecto-Entity or is cleansed and released into a living relam as a new lifeform. This process can take from a year to a thousand years to complete. The FentonWorks Ecto Processor takes the Ectoplasam in the air and turns it into useable energy-"

Ectoplasam was fascinating, but so was the teenage clone trying to be professional. It had been so easy to find the files, to find who and how, then why made itself perfectly clear not long after.

Tim couldn't really call the kid his clone anymore. Sure that's what their invesitagtion had been sparked by, an uncanny valley look-a-like on the cover of Damian's News in Zoology magazine. But Daniel Fenton wasn't made to replace Tim. No, he was made to be the perfect Heir to the FentonWorks bussiness and research, just like Tim had been for Drake Industeries.

The slide came to a silly photo of a cartoon ghost, Fenton hastily trying to skip it, and the following slid being a cutesy diargam of the Ectoplasmic life cycle. Fenton blushed, speaking a bit quicker on where Ectoplasam comes from and how it cycles through all demensions, before skipping to a more plain info graphic.

Tim wasn't sure what to do, or if he really should do anything, regarding the cloning issue. The ones who had done it were dead, the boy himself wasn't a bad person. Frankly it was more like meeting a cousin than anything.

"We are in agreement then?" Tim asked, standing to shake Fenton's hand. "There's plenty of time to discuss the contract another time, with lawyers. Wayne Enterprises looks forward to working with you Mr. Fenton,"

"Of course Mr. Drake-Wayne," Fenton nodded. "Thank you for seeing me today,"

"Would you join me for lunch?" Tim asked. "I'd like to talk more in a more casual setting,"

Fenton hesitated, fidgiting with the usb between his fingers, before nodding.

Tim had hope lunch would go well, it'd be nice to have another tech-minded person to talk to.

[gaiaseyes451]

Excited to share my first @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt!

Slow Waltz

The antique record player turns only slightly newer vinyl around in a slow circle, the needle gliding unhurriedly along its well known path. The genius of men long dead, composed even longer ago dances with the dust motes and lamplight of the bookshop. It’s a waltz, Crowley pictures the dance steps as the first spirited notes pluck at his fingers, tapping in time. Shostakovich, if he’s not mistaken, and he knows he is correct. The tender, legato melody begins and Aziraphale’s eyes flutter shut, his hands conducting as they hover over his lap, a smile lifting his cheeks.

He remembers the salons in Paris, the halls in Moscow, the chambers in Vienna. They would sit—or stand—hands moving in time together yet never touching. Crowley knew better than to ask the angel to dance.

Perhaps eventually, maybe one more song.

***

Midnight is heralded by the rich toll of the grandfather clock’s chimes reverberating through the calm air. Aziraphale startles at the sound. As he’d watched Crowley melt deeper into his chair and his cups, Aziraphale’s thoughts had wandered to centuries long past. The people and customs and drink had changed and yet these nights—passed alone but together—were constant. The easy banter and exasperating contrariness yielding to a devastating fondness as the alcohol loosened their lips and cleared their vision.

”’S late,” the demon says, schooling his limbs into a semblance of a sitting position. “Should be going.”

”So soon?” Aziraphale asks, almost lighthearted if not for the tightness around the words. “It’s just now midnight and you seemed rather comfortable and it’s not as if I would sleep,” he rambles before stopping and taking a breath.

Crowley is watching him, one eyebrow quirked, more curious than wary.

“We haven’t even finished the bottle,” Aziraphale waves at the table strewn with wine bottles and if there’s a faint tinkling of miraculous bells neither seems to hear it.

There’s a smirk playing at Crowley’s lips. Aziraphale relaxes a little, settling back in his chair, pleased with himself at a successful temptation.

“Well,” Crowley drawls, sliding back into his chair. “Maybe one more drink.”

***

Motionless is an usual state for Crowley. His entire existence, he feels, has been a string of perpetual motion. Buzzing with anxiety, humming with affection, shimmering with hope. This moment—standing still while the world moves around him—is a harsher collision than he’s experienced in all his millenia. He regrets supporting the concept of inertia.

First, his breathing had stopped when Aziraphale said he was returning to Heaven. Then, Crowley’s heart when he’d asked Crowley to go with him. Now, no part of Crowley moves as he stands, motionless and resolute, braced against the Bentley. Only his eyes follow Aziraphale out of the bookshop, across the street, into the lift that will take him away for Satan-knows-how-long.

Crowley wills Aziraphale to turn, to look at him. To see him standing there. He did not leave; Crowley will never leave. Not without Aziraphale.

Maybe one more look, one more glance over his shoulder and the angel will see it, too.

The look never comes.

***

Crisp white suit, cold white tiles, vapid austere company, Aziraphale walks through the corridors of Heaven. At the model of Earth, he pauses and the angels walking with him stop, too. It is a well worn routine by now and the other angels disperse into idle chatter or feigned tasks as he rotates the globe in search of one being.

He always searches for the same person. He always finds him, no matter how well Crowley hides.

This time, he’s making no attempt to be covert. Quite the opposite, really. On the globe Italy—Venice in particular—smolders with temptations of lust and gluttony and an abundance of venial sins. Carnival.

Aziraphale turns his head into his shoulder to hide his smile. He remembers all the times he and Crowley met at this celebration, choosing to enjoy the revelry themselves rather than wasting the energy to negate the other’s influence.

He spares a small miracle, changing the crimson lining of Crowley’s mask to marigold. He hopes the demon will know what it means, when he sees it.

Aziraphale believes they will meet again, in Venice or Moscow or Paris or Vienna. Or London. In a bookshop, with a bottle of wine and Schostacovich’s waltz. And they’ll finally, finally dance.

Maybe one more year and it will be safe.

[jnkgrnde]

— low

parings : shuri x black!fem!reader

warnings : a little bit of smut near the end 🤭🤭

summary : quick drabble about you and shuri fucking on the low. based off of ‘low’ by sza (stream sos). a good bit of this is inspired by a fic i read!

got another side of me, i like to get it poppin’,

you were a well known model in wakanda. your face was plastered in magazines, billboards, you name it, so of course queen shuri would know of you. even before that, she’d known you.

you’d gotten to know each other over the years, and eventually you just couldn’t take it anymore — the too-needy looks you gave each other, the lingering touches that kept you up at night and eventually had you touching yourself..

shuri surprisingly agreed with you; a night in that was supposed to be nothing but movies turned into you grinding down on her lap while you kissed with such need to it ending with you both covered in a sheen of sweat in her silk woven sheets, panting like you’d ran a marathon.

shuri never thought that you, out of all people, would act the way you did in bed — like you’d experience the things you did before. you seemed so sweet and kind when she first met you, a blinding smile on your face while you shook her hand.

it shocked her to say the least.

but these bitches in my business got me here choosin’ violence.

one of the downsides of hooking up with shuri was that you couldn’t just come out and say you and her were fucking. also, a lot of the women in wakanda had feelings for her.

you knew that before this whole thing but you didn’t think it was bad enough that a girl would try arguing and jumping you at a party.

you were all dolled up, lip gloss coating your lips and making them shine and oh-so kissable, hair down. you were wearing a deep purple dress that almost reached the floor. it hugged you in all the right places and had a large slit that showed off your toned thigh, a pair of heels to match.

shuri couldn’t take her eyes off you the whole night. she considered taking you right then and there.

she was getting handsy and it only furthered when you danced. your eyes were clouded as you admired her in her suit.

she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

although, apparently a woman who had a crush on her wanted to be in your place.

“excuse me?” you heard a snarky voice ask. you turned around and immediately felt the mood ruined. despite the girls rude stare, you chose to be polite. “yes?” “do you know the queen? why are you all up on her?” she started throwing out of place questions and it started drawing attention, including the dora’s. you looked at shuri with a confused look before looking back at the girl.

“is there a problem with me dancing with her?” you questioned, starting to get annoyed. “no, you’re just dancing like you know her.”

“i do know her so i don’t see what the problem is.” the dora milaje started walking over to help assess the situation. okoye stepped in front of you before you said something you would regret. “step away.” the girl scoffed before stomping away in anger. the crowd slowly started to turn away, now dispersing into whispers of the scene or the conversations they had before.

you sighed and decided to step out the building for air.

if you see me out in public you don’t know me, keep it silent.

the night after that situation, you both agreed upon not being seen with each other in public unless absolutely necessary.

nights you were at the club were spent throwing dark glances at each other, yearning for her touch and her hands on you. you watched with a burning feeling in your stomach when she danced with other people, but you knew better than to break your promise.

in the bedroom i be screamin’, but outside i keep it quiet.

now, here you were bent over on shuri’s strap, loud moans leaving you. “you close, usana?” “yes- fuck, shuri, please-“ she grinded her hips deep into you, leaving sweet kisses down your body. “so close, so close-“ you whined, head dropping to the fluffy pillow below you. “cum for me, my love.”

the next day, you had photoshoot with her for a magazine. every time you looked at her and made eye contact, you blushed thinking of the events from the night before.

all you had to do was keep quiet.

[artherzenswarme]

A Professional and Their Tools: Figure 1. - The Pyro wears what seems to be a variation on an Air-Force Captain's uniform. Their gas mask seems to be partially melted, and permanently fused to the face underneath. Figure 2. - The Pyro's External Compression Pack. It both cleans air for the Pyro to breath, but also charges compression blasts which can be dispersed through the Pyro's Flamethrower, or through the exhaust vents on the ECP itself, which provides a small amount of vertical thrust. Figure 3. - The Pyro's Flamethrower. Made to be reminiscent of an All Terrain Vehicle, or a Dirt Bike. Pyro's work often sees them working far off the grid, a durable and reliable flamethrower is key to success in these rugged environments. Figure 4. - The Flare Gun. Pyro's only real tool for long ranged engagements. Can be combined with his ECP blast for additional movement options. Figure 5. - Shotgun. Modeled to resemble a SPAS-12 style shotgun. My designs for the TF2 mercs are intended to be older, reflecting the amount of time that has passed for both the viewer and the characters. This style of shotgun began production in the early 80s, which is around the timeframe I place my mercs. Figure 6. - Pyro's Fire Axe. Made to more closely resemble the types of axes used in fighting forest fires and in controlled burnings, rather than axes used by domestic firefighters. I see Pyro as a somewhat reclusive character, and one who enjoys using the destructive power of fire to maintain and nurture. Figure 7. - Pyro's Medal of Courage. Technically, a Congressional Medal of Courage Displayed in the Face of Overwhelming Fire. Presented to the Pyro by President Jane Doe. Figure 8. - A Rubber Ducky. One of Pyro's prized posessions.

[thoughtdaughtr]

Paris Fashion Week (Harry x Model!Reader)

-> got this idea from Harry at Paris Fashion last week, lol. This is kind of rushed cause I had a doctors appointment 😭

Warnings: None

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

The air was electric as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets of Paris. The iconic Eiffel Tower shimmered in the distance, providing a breathtaking backdrop for the fashion show that was about to commence.

Y/N, an up-and-coming model, adjusted her sleek black dress, the fabric hugging her curves perfectly. She felt a rush of excitement mixed with nerves; this was her moment to shine. It wasn’t just the show that had her heart racing, though. Harry Styles was sitting front row, his presence magnetic, even from afar.

As the lights dimmed and the first model stepped onto the runway, Y/N took a deep breath. She focused on the rhythm of the music, letting it guide her as she stepped onto the catwalk. She felt eyes on her, but one gaze was more intense than the others. Harry’s eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, time stood still.

After the show, Y/N’s heart still raced, but this time from the thrill of the performance and the anticipation of what might happen next. As the crowd dispersed, she caught sight of Harry, surrounded by fans and photographers. He smiled and waved, his charm undeniable.

“Y/N!” someone called. It was her stylist, Zoey, beckoning her to join the after-party. She hesitated, glancing back at Harry, who seemed to sense her gaze and looked right at her.

“Come on,” Zoey urged, nudging her. “You need to celebrate!”

The party was a whirlwind of laughter, music, and flashing lights. Y/N mingled with other models and designers, but her mind kept wandering back to Harry. Just then, she noticed him slipping through the crowd, his eyes searching.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against a nearby wall, a playful grin lighting up his face. “You were incredible out there.”

“Thank you! You really think so?” Y/N replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Absolutely. You’ve got something special,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Y/N,” she introduced, feeling a rush of warmth.

They talked for a while, the world around them fading away. Harry was charismatic and funny, and she found herself laughing freely. As the night went on, they wandered to a quieter terrace drinks in hand, the city lights sparkling below.

“Do you come here often?” he asks with a chuckle, leaning against the railing, his gaze fixed on her.

“Not really. This is my first Fashion Week,” she admits with a nervous laugh, glancing down nervously.

“First of many, I hope. You have the talent,” he said, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. “And the looks to match.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush. “Thanks, but I still have so much to learn.”

“That’s part of the journey, isn’t it?” he replied. “You have to enjoy every moment.”

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, and Y/N felt an undeniable connection. The night deepened, and the stars twinkled overhead. Suddenly, Harry took a step closer, his expression shifting to something more serious.

“I know this sounds crazy, but I feel like I’ve known you forever,” he said softly.

Y/N's heart raced. “I feel it too.”

Just then, a loud cheer erupted from the party below, breaking the spell. Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe we should join them before they think we’ve vanished.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she replied, though a part of her wanted to stay in this moment forever.

As they made their way back inside, Harry turned to her, a playful glint in his eye. “Can I see you again after this?”

Y/N smiled, her heart soaring. “I’d like that.”

The night continued, but that promise lingered in the air, filling her with hope and excitement. In the city of love, amidst the glamour and chaos, two paths had crossed, and it felt like just the beginning of something beautiful.

[jpitha]

Just a Little Further 12

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Singing. Of course.

I sigh. I'm annoyed at all the attention, but really, I have only myself to blame. I'm the one that just had to touch the directory stone. I couldn't just like, not touch it, oh no.

I stand. "I'll go out and see them. Maybe I can get them to disperse or something before security comes. I have a feeling that the people in charge here aren't going to like this, and I'd rather not have people get beat up in front of us who are trying to worship me, and yes, it sounds odd to me when I say it out loud too." Smiles at that.

Selem stares at the screen, not even turning to face me. "Yes, thank you Melody, that's... probably a good idea"

Something seems off with her. It's like she's having a real hard time with the things going on. More so than the usual stress. Maybe I'll ask her about it later.

"Melody, are you going to don your pressure suit?" FarReach asks.

Ugh, it's still scratched! I haven't even gotten time to play with the "translator" let alone fix my suit. Nobody will give me a couple hours to myself to putter. If this is what being a Living God is, I don't want it.

Too late now though.

I make a snap decision. "No, I won't wear it this time. It's still scratched and we can breathe the air fine. Plus, I'll look less intimidating in my uniform" I gesture down. I'm in my regular ships uniform. Blue shirt, grey pants with sensible shoes. Only decoration is my rank on my shoulder, and my name tag in brass on my breast pocket.

"Are you sure Melody? Last time out they shot at you." FarReach sounds unsure. Hah, I wish FarReach had an avatar, maybe I could read her body language better too!

"I'll be fine Far, it's not like they'll try and kill their own god."

Omar chuckled darkly at that, and Kieran gave me a look. I wonder why.

I headed up to the airlock. It was a long walk from the Command Deck; the Command Deck was in the front of FarReach and the airlock more towards the middle, but now that I know this ship was built during a war, I wonder if it's so far away to help repel boarders.

When I get there, Gene is there already. He has popped open a weapons locker and is taking out a long range rifle. Not one of mine, but I know the model, it's decent.

"And just what do you plan on doing with that?" I ask.

"Captain said I should cover you." He replied without looking up. He was checking the rifle and examining the magazine. It's impeccable though, I was the one who cleaned and inspected it last.

"Cover me?" I said incredulously. "From what?"

This time he stopped and looked up at me. "Melody, have you noticed how Captain Q'ari has been acting lately? She's completely out of sorts and is having trouble making decisions. She wants to leave. Her sense of duty and not wanting to have blood on her hands is the only thing keeping her from ordering FarReach to blow the umbilical and attempt a link home."

I nodded. "I did notice that, yes. I think it's something else though. She started to... act differently when she learned that the people here think we're Gods."

Gene stopped and looked at me. "I didn't notice that." Hah! It's like I have a superpower. I can read people's body language so easily now. It's always been hard for me before and now I just... know. Gene went back to the rifle. "Well, we're not Gods. Just look at our history. I'd be more inclined to agree if they thought we were demons or something. That I can see. Anyway-" Check complete, Gene slots the magazine and racks the bolt." I'm going to stay on FarReach and watch you. I think you'll be fine, but it's foolish to go out there unarmed and with no backup when they've already shown us they're willing to shoot.

I wasn't going to win this one. "Fine." I said. "But stay out of sight, and keep that targeting reticle off my back."

"I'd never aim at you Melody, you know that."

Without answering, I turned and cycled the airlock. I stepped into the inner door with Gene and we waited for it to finish. The outer door opened and Gene got down on one knee and hunched in a corner, just out of sight while I walked down the short umbilical. I was feeling that giddy nervous feeling again. I hated all this attention, but I also loved it. Have you ever felt that? Ugh. I need a coffee.

I pressed the open button on the iris and the sound.

It was breathtaking.

There were way more people here than FarReach let on, and the mics by the airlock didn't pick up the richness of the sound. It must have been three hundred people standing there, all singing and swaying in time. Even with my nanotech, I didn't understand the words, it must just be sound.

I stepped out and stood there, taking in the wall of sound. It was very impressive to be the one hundreds of people were singing about. All at once, they noticed me and stopped. One of them, an Aviens wearing a... robe of pure white approached me.

I struggled at the description because yes, it's a robe but the cut is...

like a space suit.

With a beatific smile the Aviens said "Holy One! You heard our cries! You have come to us in this, our darkest hour! We are at your command!"

With that, he dropped to the floor, on his knees, his head scraping the floor. Everyone - and I mean everyone - followed him.

Oh no.

There they stayed, nearly shaking with joy. I mean, I guess if you were religious and God showed up, you'd be happy too? Ugh. I hate it.

"Rise please." I said "There is uh, no need to supplicate yourselves before me."

The Aviens stood up quickly and with a rustle of clothes and a clank of pressure suits everyone followed. "Oh, but Holy One, you are too kind. We know The Way. We know how you are to be treated." They said, nodding with each thing they said."

"Oookay" I said. "Why are you here then? What do you need? Oh, what's your name too?"

His feathers puffed out immediately when I asked his name. He was very proud. "I am known as The Smell of Soil after Rain and this-" he gestured behind him "-is my flock. We are more than three hundred strong here on this part of Reach of the Might of Vzzx and there are at least twenty more congregations across the the Might."

There are how many?

Oh no.

"That's... impressive to hear" I say worriedly. "The Smell of Soil after Rain, why is it you are here?"

He nods again "We're here to welcome you, of course! It's not every day a Holy One comes back to the World they have wrought to Right the Wrongs that have been put upon Us."

I hear a lot of proper nouns in his speech. This is going to be more trouble.

Just when I'm about to ask for clarification on which specific wrongs I'm supposed to Right, there's a commotion from the rear of the congregation. Turning, Rain and I look. There is a group of Mariens who are wearing a dark unifo- no, I look closer. Their skin has been colored to look like a dark uniform. That's a neat trick. More worryingly they are carrying batons and there looks to be another one of those pistol like weapons the Aviens shot me with earlier on a belt around their middle.

"Disperse! Disperse!" They shout. "This is an illegal gathering! All religious gatherings must be approved by the council of regents, this is known!"

Rain turns back to the security officers and shouts "Your tyranny will be tolerated no longer! The Holy One is here and stands before us! She hears our pleas! She and the other Builders have returned to liberate us. You will be as dust to them and they will take back their rightful place as ruler of the Known, the Unknown and the Unknowable!"

Wide eyed, I turn and stare at Rain. Then, I turn back and stare at the security guards. They actually are faltering. They believe it too! What is going on here?

From behind them, another Mariens, this time flanked with two of the insect people - I haven't leaned their name yet - approach. This Mariens's coloration is more complicated than the security guards. They are probably the supervisor. I do see that the insect people are carrying much larger weapons too. They're like a rifle, but the barrel on the end has no hole. I wonder if it's some kind of energy weapon.

"Enough!" They shout. "You will all disperse or you will be made to disperse. This-" they point at me "-person is no God. They are Not Holy."

Finally, someone speaking sense.

Rain's feathers fluff up and down, they're upset at that. "You blaspheme! She speaks the Tongue as if it were her own, She is a Builder! They comes in a mighty ship through the disabled Gates as if they made it themselves. She is Holy."

The boss, wavers, but only for a split second. I think I only noticed it because of my newfound ability to read everyone's body language. They have someone they fear more than me. "You must disperse!" He makes a clicking noise and the security guards take out their batons.

Rain crosses his arms and glares at the supervisor. "Make. Us."

Oh no. No no no no.

As I realize what's about to happen, I feel something. I get this overwhelming feeling that I need to not only stop them from fighting, but to demonstrate that Rain is right and the supervisor is wrong. I barely have any time to question the feeling when almost automatically I step between them.

"S̵̳̦͑́͋t̶̨͚̑o̸͎̎̂ṕ̴̹̦̚ ̵͍̜̳̔T̷̛͇̓̆ḩ̸̼̜̀̌͝ȋ̸͕̹̺s̷͚̻̬͋̿͆ ̸͓͊a̶̖̗̞̓͊͐t̶̨̜̒ ̷̝̝͎̄̒Ó̷̳͖N̶̢̬̜̕Ċ̸̱É̸͔̫̹͋̋"

My voice has an odd timbre. Everyone - and I mean ev-ery-one - stops and pivots to face me as if they are compelled to obey.

What's going on?

But, only a small part of my mind can wonder at what I'm doing. I'm on automatic now. With a righteous finger, I point at the supervisor. "Who are you that thinks they have the authority over me here. Who are YOU to threaten these sapients with harm over coming to sing and welcome a Builder. WHO ARE YOU to deny them their right to worship me."

As I yell, the supervisor shrinks down, and eventually is kneeling down head scraping the floor just like the congregation did when they arrived. "I-I-I am known as Gemeli H-H-Holy One" The answer is muffled by the ground.

What am I doing?

"Gemeli, you are out of your depth." I snarl.

Why am I taking like this?

My head snaps up and I look at the crowd. As I glare at them, they all shrink from my gaze.

The congregation looks like they just won the lottery though. They all are smiling and nodding.

I want to stop doing this, please.

I feel a breeze around me but I'm too wrapped up in what I'm doing to stop. It's probably just the wind or something.

I turn to face Gemeli but I'm speaking to the crowd again. "All who come before me have the right to worship. All who live here live at the pleasure of the Builders. All who work to usurp that right are known to Us as enemies. Who are you Gemeli?"

More shaking. "I-I-I-I do not usurp your right, Holy One. I am not an enemy."

"Then rise Gemeli, and take your place in the congregation."

Why can't I stop?

"Holy One, my congregation is in the northwestern lobe near my home."

I say nothing and just look at him. He squeaks and lines up next to Rain's people.

I hear a noise. I don't know what it is. Probably nothing. I turn back to the crowd. "Now then, where is-"

A shot rings out from the rear of the crowd. In my fury, I can immediately pinpoint who it is. It's the Aviens from before. The one who shot at me earlier. They're far in the rear of the crowd. This time they're carrying a heavy rifle. Not an energy weapon by the looks of things, a slug thrower.

Huh.

I can see them slowly sliding the bolt to load a new shell.

I can see one of the insect people - one of Gemili's assistants - start to fall. They were shot by the Aviens.

A shot that was meant for me.

This will not do at all.

Without having any ability to stop what I'm doing, without any desire to stop what I am doing, I reach my hands out together and separate them firmly.

The crowd parts, their feet sliding on the panels that make up the floor. It half looks like they moved, and half looks like I moved them. I have a clear line of sight between myself and the shooter.

With a fire in my eyes, I point at them and say:

S̸̢̯͎͍̮̣͈̤̩̼͎͊͒Ţ̵̢̛͉̮̮̩̹̭̭̬̺̠͇̟͓́̂͒̈́̋͂̑͌̏̓͠͝ͅƠ̸̩̦̞͐̋̏̏̂̈́͊̕P̴̙͙̭̪̞̹̙̮͍̐ ̵̢̨̠͙̜̠̰͖̩̝͈͕̭̟̾̉̎͋T̵̡̥̤̤̲͝H̵͍͎̘̥͚̫͔̹̠̤̻̖̼̪͉̑̓̚͜Ȉ̴̛͙͓͈̪̗̩̤̉̌̈́̈́͒́S̷̡̮̺̟͚̟̼̞̪̻̮̰̹͉͊.

Uh oh.

They drop the rifle, and their knees buckle. Bright blue blood trickles from their mouth. They're on the floor.

No.

I look to the crowd and say "What are those who usurp my rights called?"

"Enemies!" The crowd shouts. Even Gemeli and the insect people guards with him join in.

I want to stop.

"What happens to enemies?" I call out.

"THEY ARE NO MORE!" And the crowd descends upon the Aviens.

Please stop.

In no time at all, the Aviens is... gone. Only a violent blue stain remains.

What am I doing?

"MELODY!" It's my radio. "MELODY! What is happening to you?"

The spell broken, I'm myself again. "What do you mean?" I say confused.

It's Captain Q'ari. "Look at yourself Melody! LOOK DOWN"

I look down at myself.

I'm...glowing? My uniform has been replaced with...

Oh shit.

I'm wearing a gown, like the gown Rain had on, but made up of the material of my uniform. It's a deep royal blue. The nanobots are doing something. Not just my brain, I have enough now that they can effect matter around me.

I look behind me worried. Made out of dust and light and... matter from all around me are,

Wings.

On my head is a,

Crown.

The nanobots can do this?

Of course they can, you're a Builder. Builders build. a Voice tells me. It's the voice of who was shouting at the crowd.

Oh no, now I'm hearing voices. Did the Nanobots imprint a personality on me?

Funny. Calling a part of yourself "A Voice" won't negate the fact that you were the one who controlled the crowd. Won't negate the fact that you told them to obliterate the shooter. Nicely done by the way. No half measures here. Everyone here today and everyone who will see the video feed will be one thousand percent sure you are a Builder.

Stumbling and feeling faint, I turn and run back into the airlock. Before I step back in, I turn to The Smell of Soil after Rain and say "Take your congregation and go. Enough blood has been spiled today. I will come and visit you later." with that kind of promise, he practically floats off the ground he's so proud. He turns and starts directing the group to leave.

I enter the airlock and lean against a wall. I feel sick.

Gene sees me, his eyes wide.

"Why didn't you shoot?" I yell.

"You did your... thing with your voice and the crowd descended on them before I could do anything!" He cried.

I drop to my knees panting. Good, good. The voice - part of me? says. Never let them see you weak.

"FarReach, we have a problem." I say, gasping.

"Gee Melody, do you THINK?" She replies, almost shouting.

"I'm a Builder now, and FarReach?"

"I think the Builders were the bad guys."

Part 13

[kevin-the-bruyne]

You calling khao a fuccboi cz of his insta posts is taking me tf out 🤣🤣🤣🤣 i havent seen anyone being as real about them as you are, it’s a breath of fresh air. i love them even though theyre basically non existent to anyone except eo 😭

oh I can get so real about them. I get so real about them that I get mistaken for an anti on Twitter all the time 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 like no jokes I had to put it in my bio

they really know nothing else in a way that’s actively kinda bad for their rep (though it drives a certain faction of people that I am absolutely part of totally nutso).

Like if this were fake then they’re doing too good a job and they have to dial it back. They have to sometimes look like they remember it’s fake. Like those dispersed moments of character break is really really important for this to be successful in the format of the business model of imaginary couples. Like even if the couple were really in a romantic relationship they would still have to pretend they were fake at times do you understand what I’m trying to say?

and I cannot explain this in words but khaotung at his solo event was pining for first. I just- I don’t remember it being like that at the event with montow??? They’re getting worse at this. Like they hit the soft spot somewhere back in 2023 and have just regressed into diminishing marginal utility 😭😭😭

But also like??? thank god??? for that!!!!!!! I am endlessly entertained! I’m at the edge of my seat. I don’t think any of these men are normal about their fake partners by the way. But don’t you understand them??? Say if you had a friend that you had some ritualistic hobby with. Like everytime a spider man movie comes out you always watch it with them. And then when the next one came out they suddenly watched it with someone else. Like wouldn’t it drive you absolutely crazy? wouldn’t it make you sad?

Like the versions of themselves that are in fake love with each other are THEIR blorbos 🤧 But firstkhao are blorbo-ing a little too close to the sun 🤧🤧🤧🤧 best friends who take care of each other as more than best friends - yessir whatever you say sir 🫡

[makutaservaela]

Vortixx OCs

Chida, Eunzi, Bailim, and Hanjae were a band of petty thieves in the early days of the Mata Nui. Eventually, the law caught up with them, and by the Exodus to Spherus Magna, they had mostly calmed down and separated with some sparing contact. They each use Vortixx Crystals, which work like Great Kanohi in granting powers, but are worn on the back of the head, hidden from view under the headdress.

Chida is the leader of the group. Her crystal allows her to create discs that she can freeze or expand in the air, allowing her to walk in air. After the group dispersed, she began to work in manning tradeships.

Eunzi is the strongest and most dominant in combat, particularly in protecting his sister Chida. His crystal grants him control over metals. After they dispersed, he married Hanjae for political reasons (an act that kept him out of the most difficult and dirty mining work) and took a factory job.

Bailim is the quiet thinker of the group, whose crystal allows him to create 3D holographic models of things he sees. After they dispersed, his artwork and poetry attracted the interest of the Queen of Northern Xia, who took him as her husband (a role basically entailing looking pretty, governing the palace servants, hosting guest, and after the transition to bio-organic, siring her heirs).

Hanjae is the bruiser of the group. As wild and volatile as the fire her crystal lets her create, when they dispersed, she had trouble keeping a job, but generally switched between various positions of security, enforcement, and even bounty hunting. She also married Eunzi to save him from the mines.

Rezen is an alternate identity taken by Roodaka after her slow descent into madness. She uses the name "Rezen" to identify the parts of her that are still empathetic, calm, and rational. She wears the crystal of Thieves, which allows her to steal others' powers.

[drnikolatesla]

What Happened to Nikola Tesla’s Missing Papers After His Death?

In 1943 immediately following Nikola Tesla’s death, the FBI ordered the Office of Alien Property (OAP) to seize all of Tesla's belongings, including the safe from his apartment, his possessions stored in the basement of the New Yorker, up to 80 trunks stored in various storage units around Manhattan, and a mysterious safety deposit box at the Governor Clinton Hotel. This is somewhat of a controversial subject in that Nikola Tesla had been a naturalized U.S. citizen for over 50 years, thus the OAP had no legal right to raid his room. The FBI's justification for allowing the OAP to investigate Tesla's belongings was based on the premise that Sava Kosanovic, Tesla’s nephew who was affiliated with the Yugoslavian government at that time, was entitled to his uncle's estate. Since World War II was currently underway and Germany controlled a large part of Europe, Kosanovic was not trusted so the FBI felt it was necessary to seize "enemy assets" without a court order. However, the main reason they seized Tesla's belongings was because there was word that he had completed a working model of his "particle beam" weapon. This device was a natural extension of his high frequency work where he produced 100 foot long sparks in his laboratory experiments at Colorado Springs in 1899. The next step was to control and direct this energy as a weapon. The device he proposed was a open vacuum tube that could charge small or large particles to millions of volts and project these highly charged “non-dispersive” particles through free air to bring down hundreds of enemy airplanes. Since the U.S. government was already skeptical of Kosanovic and was worried that Tesla’s device might get into enemy hands, they impounded all of Tesla's possessions.

John O. Trump (uncle to former president Donald J. Trump), director of MIT's High Voltage Research Laboratory, and a small team of government officials conducted an investigation into Tesla’s possessions. Since Trump was the only qualified scientist to comprehend Tesla's work, he likely spent half the time going over all of Tesla's contents. In their two days of inspection, the team found nothing of value to the U.S. or to the enemy. As for the mysterious safety deposit box, it was found by Trump to contain a wooden chest containing a 20 year old resistance box used for Wheatstone bridge resistance measurements. This, Trump noted, was a common item found in every electric laboratory before the turn of the century. Although the investigation took only two days, it would take nine years for the government to return Tesla's possessions to his family.

Did the U.S. government secretly hold onto important information and acted as if there was nothing of value in Tesla’s possessions? Presumably we'll never really know, but it is a possibility. First, letters from researchers were written to both the FBI and the OAP about Tesla's property during their impound (1943-1952), and neither department claimed they were in possession of his belongings. Each pointed fingers at each other saying to talk to the opposing party. Another reason to be skeptical is that for years, the U.S. government denied having any paperwork, microfilm, or any details on Nikola Tesla. It wasn't until the Freedom of Information Act was enacted that it was exposed that there were in fact documents and microfilm on Tesla. Furthermore, out of the 80 trunks taken from Tesla's belongings, only 60 were returned to his family. This could simply be that his possessions were broken down to save space, but this detail has caused a tremendous amount of conspiracies on this topic.

Did Tesla really complete his weapon of mass destruction? No one really knows. There are many breadcrumbs that hint it may be plausible. One story is based on a woman whose husband's grandfather used to be one of Tesla's trusted employees. He would tell actual stories of Tesla bouncing beams off the moon. A reporter who once interviewed Tesla in his later years told of Tesla describing his work with cathode-ray tubes where sometimes a particle larger than an electron would break off from the cathode, pass out of the tube, and strike him. Tesla said he could feel a sharp, stinging pain where it first hit him and also where it passed out through him. That being said, the closest we can get to the truth is Tesla's elaborate technical paper on the subject (including diagrams), that he sent to a number of allied nations including the United States, Canada, England, France, the Soviet Union, and Yugoslavia, titled “New Art of Projecting Concentrated Non-Dispersive Energy Through Natural Media" (circa 1935). The paper described the first technical description of his charged particle beam weapon. Tesla was directly communicating with the U.S. government and Prime Minster Chamberlain of Great Britain in an effort to promote his particle beam for defense against enemy aerial attacks. His correspondence with Prime Minster Chamberlain was his attempt to prevent Nazi Germany from taking over his native homeland, but when Great Britain, France and Italy agreed to let Germany annex Czechoslovakia at the Munich Conference in 1938, his communication with the government came to an end.

In the end, we'll really never know what happened to his missing papers, or even if there are any missing papers. Tesla made many statements in his later years that his defense weapon was completed and he was going to give it to the Geneva Conference for World Peace, but it never happened. OR NAZI SPIES KILLED HIM AND TOOK ALL HIS BLUEPRINTS BUT STILL ULTIMATELY LOST WORLD WAR II FOR SOME REASON. Lol jk!

What do you all think happened to his papers?

[ersatz-ostrich]

Wolffe x f!Model!Reader: Thank You

[A/N]: Another chapter taken from a book of oneshots I used to have on Quotev and Tumblr - I think I deleted it two years ago? Whew, time flies. So yeah, this is an old work. If you read my Captain Rex oneshot Droid-Crusher, I wrote this oneshot not long after. I think I wrote this oneshot nearly four years ago, which is crazy, because I feel like my writing has changed a lot since then. I'm really posting this for old time's sake, with a few edits so I don't lose my mind (lol!). This goes out to all you Wolffe girlies (gn) (I'm one of them). Hope you guys like it!

Summary: You are a talented supermodel quickly climbing the ranks of Coruscant's fashion industry—but your life wasn't always the runway or the studio. With your newfound influence, you found a charity to benefit the GAR and its relief efforts. One thing leads to another, and you end up meeting a man you'd never expected to see again...

Warnings: None

read it here on ao3!

"Hey, Boost! Check this out." Sinker beckoned for Boost, who was cleaning out the barrel of his rifle, to glance over at his holopad.

"A fundraiser for the GAR?" Boost muttered, skimming through the article's contents. "I wonder who could be backing this." 

"The Republic doesn't have an endless source of money, y'know." Sinker mused. "But a lot of rich senators and whatnot want to donate to the cause." The two troopers continued reading through the holonet article. 

"Oh, so a supermodel wants to donate to the Grand Army? Not something you see every day." Boost remarked. 

"Y/N L/N, too! Coruscant's top model!" Sinker exclaimed. “She went viral a few months ago and immediately signed to one of the biggest modeling firms on the planet. There’s a huge market for high fashion models in all the super-rich Core Worlds, so she must be raking in loads of credits.”

“How do you know that, Sinker?” Boost asked with narrowed eyes. “Have you been spending your downtime studying the Coruscanti fashion industry?”

“N-no! When I’m bored and we’re in hyperspace, I like to read those trashy celebrity magazines on the Holonet. Y/N’s a sensation, I hear.”

"For what reason would she want to start a fundraiser?" Boost mused. Wolffe, who was examining a map on the other side of the wardroom table, nearly spit out his caf when one of Y/N's photos turned up on Sinker's holopad. He recognized the determined, fiery look in her eyes all too well.

The scent of burning flesh and smoking debris filled the air over Y/N's home planet. Sirens wailed, but the anguished citizens wailed louder. Nothing could possibly be worse for the war-torn planet—but to Commander Wolffe and the 104th, it was another day conducting search-and-rescues and relief missions.

Wolffe clambered over fallen debris, signaling for the Wolfpack to disperse in search of survivors in the burning city. The Separatists had spared no one from their wrath—the entire capital had been torched. 

A loud creaking sound grated at Wolffe's ears, alerting him of a failing structure. Just in time, he saw the already-scorched building sagging under the weight of decimated masonry and scaffolding, a woman trying to climb down the tall structure. She had reached the crumbling and listing balcony with a makeshift rope made out of bedding when more wreckage rained from above, trapping her against the harsh, exposed concrete of the balcony floor. Wolffe looked up and met the (E/C) eyes of the woman, whose gaze burned with unprecedented determination and willpower. Arm outstretched to the clone commander, she made one last attempt to free herself of the wreckage. Wolffe, having done this a million times before, ignited his jetpack and rushed to her side. 

Yes, she was beautiful—she was absolutely dazzling. However, something was different this time around. It was her will to live, Wolffe thought, that struck him as odd. Each and every other survivor he had seen before appeared to either have had the Living Force leached right out of them, eyes empty and dim—or were gripped with intense fear and shock. Wolffe finally heaved off the last few planks of wood off of the woman's ash-covered form, returning her safely to the ground. Finally stumbling onto solid ground, the woman gripped his gloved hands tightly and securely, staring straight into his darkened visor. 

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you."

During the days following up to the fundraiser, Wolffe found it difficult to get your likeness off of his mind. It seemed as if every daily briefing that pinged onto his datapad contained a picture of you, striding confidently down a catwalk with the same look in your eyes while you stared straight at the camera with an air of professionalism and talent. Your metamorphosis stunned Wolffe—he'd never learned the name of the woman he had saved from the burning wreckage the year before, but there was no doubt that she was the model he saw so often in the fashion and beauty advertisements flashing across Coruscant's biggest billboards that he'd never bothered to look at. Your likeness haunted him day and night, yet it was what pushed him to work harder to support the 104th and General Plo Koon. 

On the day that you arrived at the base, you were met by the many squadrons and battalions that were reporting on Coruscant. Cameras flashed from all angles, some from the many gossip columns on the Holonet, others from more prominent planetary news sources. You greeted them with a smile that had taken you weeks to perfect, and the clones stood at attention without fail. Jedi Generals Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda, and Plo Koon welcomed you courteously.

"Y/N L/N. To the military base, we welcome you." Yoda began with a bow. 

"No need to bow to me, Master. I am forever grateful for the opportunity to raise money for the Republic." You replied with a bow of your own. "If anything, I should be bowing to you."

"Is that really her?" Sinker hissed under his breath as he stood at attention with the rest of the 104th. "She's prettier than she looks in the photos." You were dressed casually, but you could have worn a garbage bag and still exuded the effortlessly elegant look of an off-duty model.

"Shut up, Sinker. She'll notice you!" Comet whispered back, subtly elbowing Sinker. Wolffe tried not to pay attention to the clone sergeant's shenanigans, eyes fixed on Y/N.

"Why don't we discuss the details and potential benefactors inside? I have a few ideas." General Kenobi offered, leading you inside. "At ease, troopers." The battalions, in neat rows by rank and seniority, dispersed and returned to their tasks. You were led through a hangar, where you admired LAATs with an appreciative eye, through busy corridors, and finally, to a meeting room of sorts where some holographic images glowed blue over a conference table. 

"After you, Miss L/N." General Koon began, making way for you to stand at the head of the table. "We have much to discuss." Thanking the Jedi Master, you immediately began examining the holos. 

"Senator Amidala of Naboo has expressed interest in your project," General Skywalker began from the other side of the table. "She wants to know more about the high-caliber photo-ops and how you will run your campaign."

"Is that so?" You replied, remaining deep in thought. "I have also received word that Senators Mon Mothma and Aang are also willing to contribute, along with various comically shallow and snooty socialites who have money to support the cause." You joked, noticing General Skywalker suppressing laughter.

"Strengthen public relations, we must." Yoda suggested. "With this program, discrimination of clones, we should stop." You nodded in agreement. 

"That's why I'm here, Master Yoda. This is exactly what I came here to do." You pulled up a holo of some names and locations. "I've been talking this over with my agency and manager. They're willing to let me see this project through, so I've scheduled some times and dates for things like charity events and relief missions."

"Oh, so you want to conduct relief missions as well?" General Kenobi inquired. You nodded in confirmation.

"That's right. I...have a history with mercy missions." You answered with an uncomfortable pause. "In my opinion, they’re just as important as military campaigns, and I hope the general public believes so as well." 

"Very well, Miss L/N. Thankful for your support, we are." Master Yoda and the other Jedi nodded, seeming to have come to a consensus on the campaign's goals. One by one they left, leaving you to admire and explore the base. You started with the hangar, where you found Y-wings, Aethersprites, and Torrent starfighters being serviced. Several clones began whispering amongst themselves upon your entrance while others waved enthusiastically. 

"Miss L/N! What brings you to the hangar today?" A pilot whose helmet was decorated with blue-gray curlicues appeared in front of you, saluting. 

"I'm just having a look around. I'll be spending a lot of time on base during these next few months." You replied with a gracious smile. Just entering the hangar with the rest of the Wolfpack, Wolffe noticed how friendly but professional you were off of the runway and out of earshot of the nosy Coruscanti press. 

"Warthog, how are we doin' on that fighter—!" Wolffe stopped dead in his tracks. It was you. He noticed the change in demeanor that suddenly overcame you upon noticing him. "You..."

The project was blessed with massive success from the start—many civilians began to show their support for the Republic and the clones that gave their lives to defend it. You assisted mission after mission, working not just as the GAR’s covergirl but as the grunt lugging crates, helping the clones with menial but necessary tasks. 

While your fame grew as a charitable influencer and supermodel, you began to spend more time with Wolffe. It was certainly a simple pleasure to sit shoulder to shoulder with the clone troopers of the Wolfpack not as their boss, but as their equal—even more so that you were able to stay by their jaded commander who'd coincidentally saved your life not so long ago—and captured your heart in the process.

The 104th and company milled about the camps, ushering on gonk droids and heaving crates of bacta and provisions everywhere. Watching on from the top of a grassy hill, Y/N and Wolffe took a break from the constant heavy lifting of supplies from supply ships to the war refugees they had come to aid. As a part of Y/N's campaign to promote and benefit the GAR's relief efforts, she would be attending every mercy mission they would be conducting for the next few months as the campaign continued. There were cam droids everywhere to document the effort, broadcasting your likeness as you worked with the clones and Jedi wherever you were called.

The people wanted someone real and candid, not just another out-of-touch celebrity. You hypothesized that your approach to your campaign had made you popular in the media because of how real it felt. 

The hovercams were on you nearly every waking hour of the day. Sometimes you spoke with them, like the popular vloggers on the Holonet. But this time, you were taking a break from all the attention.

"The view is pretty from up here." You began. The breeze tousled your hair, and the sky on this particular planet was especially beautiful at dusk. 

"Yeah, except for all of the soot and debris." Wolffe replied, kicking a stray droid arm down the hill. You stole a look at his pensive face, admiring the scar over his cybernetic eye as a long, stretched-out silence overcame the two of you. "You knew, didn't you? About the fires, and the balcony." Wolffe blurted out. Seeing your expression of surprise, he realized the gravity of what he had said. To his surprise, your eyes softened, reminiscing back to the moment that had changed your life. 

"Yes, I remember." You revealed your left wrist to him. A thick, flesh-colored scar ran along the side of your hand. "I got cut pretty badly by a piece of glass that night." Passing his gloved thumb over the scar, Wolffe pressed a kiss to your hand, lips brushing against the long scar. 

"The first time I met you." Wolffe whispered with a small smile. "How could I have forgotten?" You tried to hide your blush and the tingling sensation of Wolffe's lips against your skin, but your expression betrayed you. 

"Wolffe, I..." The feeling of his arms carrying you to safety, strong and reliable, had been seared into your memory. You'd entertained the thought of meeting your hero and savior again one day, even after the Rodian talent scout had found you working as an underpaid waitress on Coruscant—it was because of Wolffe that you were able to become who you are. He was the one who gave you a second chance at life. "...had you not been there, I would have burned in that apartment on some godforsaken planet with no escape."

"Y/N, I'll stay by your side forever if I have to…." Wolffe cupped your face in his gloved hands, drinking in the features that had been preserved so well in his mind. “...only if you would have me.” 

“Of course, Commander…” You leaned in for a deep, long kiss, no longer wanting to run from all of the pent-up weeks of pining that threatened to destroy all of your self control.

"Thank you," you murmured. "Thank you."

What a trip down memory lane! Believe it or not, there are a lot more oneshots I deleted that I have yet to republish. I can't believe I had the foresight to save them - I guess I didn't have the heart to delete over a year's worth of writing. Until next time! x

Let me know if you want to be part of my general or Star Wars taglist!

[mapsontheweb]

HYSPLIT Air Dispersion model depicting the potential transport of chemical plumes emitted by the East Palestine Chemical Disaster

by u/apathyEndsNow

[soylent-crocodile]

Stag Dragon (Monster)

(model by Safari ltd)

(My partner is really into animal toy collecting; they particularly like dinosaurs, but exposure to Safari has since got me exposed to their dragon line. Which has some genuinely cool, interesting design!

Anyway, a long-term theme you'll see in this blog is Cool Mounts, quadrupedal Large creatures that can be ridden by creatures of various levels. This one, I imagine, is perfect for a druid or ranger in a forest's hour of need.)

CR11 CG Large Dragon (Air)

Dazzling creatures of the forest, stag dragons are rarely seen by humanoids, preferring invisibility or the guise of a fey shape to keep themselves hidden. They are herbivores, browsing on high foliage and fast-growing ferns, although they are deliberately careful not to overgraze in any one tree or spot.

Stag dragons are guardians of the local ecology of their region. They monitor the wellbeing of their undergrowth, of the deer they run with, and the many small creatures from insects to songbirds that live in their home. They tend to allow forage and subsistence hunting, understanding humanoids as part of the ecology, but do not permit civilization's encroach.

In times of crisis, stag dragons are known to take valorous and trustworthy heroes as riders, although this agreement typically lasts as long as the danger.

This beautiful creature is clearly draconic in nature, but its graceful legs and branching horns call to mind a noble stag.

Misc- CR11 CG Large Dragon (Air) HD13 Init:+11 Senses: Perception:+17, Darkvision 60ft, Blindsense 60ft Stats- Str:28(+9) Dex:25(+7) Con:18(+4) Int:15(+2) Wis:16(+3) Cha:20(+5) BAB:+13/+8/+3 Space:10ft Reach:5ft Defense- HP:136(13d12+52) AC:27(-1 Size, +7 Dexterity, +6 Natural, +5 Deflection) Fort:+12 Ref:+15 Will:+13 CMD:40 Resist: Immunity: Acid, Dragon Traits, Slow Weakness: Special Defenses: SR24, DR5/cold iron, Eldritch Grace Offense- Gore +19(3d6+9 plus Illumination), Tail +19(2d6+9), 2 Hooves +17(1d8+5) CMB:+23 Speed:50ft Special Attacks: Breath Weapon (13d6 damage plus illumination, 60ft line, Will DC20 for half, useable every 1d4 rounds) Feats- Multiattack, Improved Initiative, Power Attack (-4/+8), Iron Will, Run, Improved Bull Rush, Improved Sunder Skills- Acrobatics +11, Climb +14, Diplomacy +14, Escape Artist +18, Heal +10, Intimidate +15, Knowledge (geography) +6, Knowledge (local) +6, Knowledge (nature) +11, Perception +17, Sense Motive +17, Stealth +21, Survival +17, Swim +14 Spell-like Abilities-  Freedom of Movement /constant Invisibility, Plant Growth /at-will Greenmist 3/day Special Qualities- Change Shape (A single fey form, Fey Form I) Ecology- Environment- Forests (Temperate) Languages- Common, Draconic, Sylvan, Elvan Organization- Solitary Treasure- None Special Abilities- Breath Weapon- A stag dragon’s breath weapon is a blast of searing light. A creature that fails its save against is blinded for 1 round; all creatures hit are then subject to the stag dragon’s illumination. The breath weapon also destroys all fog it hits, although most magical fogs will return a round after being dispersed. Eldritch Grace- A stag dragon gets a deflection bonus to AC equal to its charisma modifier. Illumination- A creature dealt damage by a stag dragon’s horns or breath weapon must make a DC23 Will save or be illuminated for 1 hour. A creature illuminated this way glows with silvery light; they take a -20 circumstance penalty to Stealth checks against seeing creatures and cannot benefit from concealment, even if invisible.

[hazbinextgeneration]

Housed Hearts Ch2 Apartment Troubles

(This will heavily reference House Hunted 2 by Mortisfox and maybe House Hunted also by Mortisfox. Only the OC is mine.)

-THESE FIRST FEW CHAPTERS TAKE PLACE TWO YEARS BEFORE ROSE MEETS MAISON-

 A coughing filled the air as the greyhorse bus pulled away from the station with a growl from its engine blowing up smoke as it drove off.  It continued down the street before turning around a corner. Leaving the smell of smoke and oil in the air.

"Ugh. This is why I don't like the old models." She shook her head and waved a hand in front of her face to help disperse the foul smell from her nose. "Right then. I should be close to my house. But first thing's first. I'm starving."

Normal Business District. The place where she was going to be staying while on the waiting list for the housing department to find an actual house for her. Admittedly not the most ideal situation but she was sure she was going to be patient. She understood it took a while and she was sure her temporary apartment was going to be fine. However for now she was hungry so she was going to look for a restaurant before heading over to her temporary new home. Couldn't walk around on an empty stomach and she knew the address anyways so finding it later shouldn't be a problem. Grabbing her suitcase in one hand, she began walking away from the bus station and into the town ahead of her. 

It was your typical busy small town with your typical wife variety of stores and various other businesses. 'Normal Business District' as it was called due to just how many companies were established here and how so many stores were opening up shop here constantly. Although she knew some of them were definitely far from 'normal'. It was just a matter of keeping your eyes open...Or in her case one eye. On the surface any normal person wouldn't think twice when looking at all these things. A local clothing store. A bar. There was a few convience stores. Maybe a grocery store here and there. Throngs of people walked around her not even batting an eye at her. Cars of all kinds honked and drove up and down streets. Your typical thriving town area. It was something that was a blessing compared to the tense aura that she used to be in. With a deep inhale she was able to sniff out her target nearby. The smell of hard brewed coffee and various food smells wafted towards her from the air. Ah! A restaurant of some kind was nearby. Perfect timing. She was starving. Smiling and increasing her strides she quickened her pace and headed towards the source of the smells.

She was eventually able to locate the cafe when she turned a corner and there it was across the street. It was small and quant and the smell of coffee wafted out strongly every time someone opened it's door either to go in or out of the cafe. From the large glass windows she could already see a few people inside eating the delicious food. Perfect. Smiling she made her way across the street. She had just made it across the street and a few yards from the cafe's doors when a sentence caught her ear.

"And you're sure this person WAS from the housing department and not just someone who called themselves a realtor or real estate agent?"

She stopped in her tracks pausing at the sentence before turning her head to the right and finding a sight. A petite woman was standing just a few feet away from her talking to a man. Long dark brown hair was thrown over her shoulder in a braid and brown eyes focused in concentration as she scribbled something down on a clipboard she carried. A red sweater and black skirt was her outfit. After she finished writing down whatever it was she was writing, she looked back to the man, seemed to thank him, and then looked around her. Her eyes locked with hers as she still stared and with a smile the strange woman approached.

"Good afternoon!," she greeted her as she stood in front of her close enough to hear with a smile. "You look new around here. May I have a moment of your time?"

She blinked but smiled politely back. "Sure. I'm in no hurry."

"Oh thank you. I promise I won't hold you for too long. My name is Ivy Woodrow," she introduced herself, "I'm the assistant to the mayor of the valley and I'm just doing my monthly census. I have to keep very close track of those coming in and the state of everyone's living experience. So you're a new resident I'm assuming?"

"Yes and no. I've lived here my whole life however it's my first time in Normal Business District. I'm just staying here temporarily until my new house is set up."

"I see." At this Ms. Woodrow hummed and scribbled something else on her clipboard looking between her and it. "I think I remember you. That would make you Ms. Rose Willow correct?" Rose happily nodded. "Ah. We're so happy to have you then. It really is a nice place to live if you know where you're going." She then hummed again and rose a brow. "I do have to ask about this 'house' you mentioned. "It was assigned to you by the Uncanny Valley Apartment Hunters right? And not by a REALTOR?"

"No. Well at least not yet. I paid for a house but it's going to take awhile so I've been told. Until then I'm renting an apartment here," Rose explained before smiling. "Don't worry. I'm not about to fall for those guys tricks."

"Ah. Perfect. Then you're already aware of the dangers."

"REALTORS might be tricky but I don't consider them dangerous unless I fall for their tricks, which I won't. Trust me. I've been living here long enough to know that."

"Ah. Good to know. And about REALTORS. I can't seem to find one of them for my census so just...stay alert," she warned, "I'm pretty sure they've reached their monthly attoinment but we've had some mishaps."

Rose sighed. "As you do with REALTORS. I'll be fine but thanks for the heads up."

Ivy smiled and nodded. "Hope you have a wonderful day. If you need anything stop by the Mayor's office."

She didn't say anything as Ms. Woodrow left and went onto talking to a different person. Rose shook her head before continuing on into the cafe to quench her growling stomach. She was quick to get in line and grab herself a tea and some doughnuts and scurry for the back of the cafe. A wooden seat met her but it felt entirely like memory foam hugging her body. That might've been strange to someone but normal to her. The red tea hopped between smells of florals, fruit, and caramel corn. The liquid tasted spicy then sweet then buttery. Nothing out of the ordinary for valley tea. The ham and cheese sandwich she grabbed just tasted like a plain sandwich. But the cake which looked to have purple dyed sugar with an edible gold symbol on top exploded spicily in her mouth before it deepened into a rich chocolate. Yep. Typical Valley food. She sighed in content just enjoying herself and looking out the window. Just watching the people go by. It was peaceful today. Not a worry in the world as she leasurely ate at her own pace. However she didn't notice the figure approaching her table until he made himself known.

"Hello pal!"

Rose jumped and whirled around blinking her eye and paused at who she saw. And older stocky man stood there perhaps a foot shorter than herself and smiled at her. He wore a plaid yellow coat, greyish undershirt, brown pants, red bowtie, and had a house pin pinned to his coat. He smiled at her with a tooth missing, a small mustache, and a grey haired comb over. And a very obvious cord like appendage sticking out from his neck. 

She recognized what he was in an instant.

He cleared his throat before talking to her. "*ahem* I..." He smiled but paused with a blink. "Uh...Hang on." She watched as he reached into a pants pocket only to pull out a small piece of paper, looked over it, and then stuffed it back into said pocket with a smile right back to her. "Right. Right. *ahem* My name is Heim Baile. REALTOR. And I would LOVE to sell you a house today!"

Calmly she slowly smiled at him and his familiar speech. Ah. A REALTOR. She's definitely seen plenty of them around but none quite like this one. His movements were awkward and sluggish and he seemed to be perspiring a lot. Also how ironic was it that she'd run into one of them after just speaking about them around fifteen minutes ago.

"Um..Yes. so I would love to show you to your future home."

She chuckled before raising a brow. "A house that I haven't even looked at yet?"

He suddenly stiffened puffing his cheeks out for a moment. "Oh. Did I mess it up again? Forgive me. I'm a bit rusty with the whole REALTOR schtick. I would love to SELL you a house!" He corrected himself quickly making her chuckle despite herself. "This is the part where I give you my card. One moment!" She smiled watching as he quickly patted himself down going through pockets until he eventually pulled out a card. "Aha! Got it!"

He held it out to her and she took it from him out of curiosity to peer at it. On it was written 'Heim Baile #463 REALTOR' along with a phone number. And was that a smiley face and heart sticker on it? A few coffee stains creased the sides. Her smile widened despite herself. This was a REALTOR's card?

"Please gimme a call soon. I really need this."

"Hmhm. I'll think about it."

With a gleeful smile on his face, the man turned and quickly shuffled his way out of the cafe. She chuckled as he accidentally knocked over a few things gaining a few angry shouts and frowns from other people. She chuckled as he eventually waddled out the door and disappeared from sight. My my. Quite a fellow. Rose sat there for a moment before shaking her head and pocketing the card. Wasn't going to fall for any of his tricks but it was always amusing to see them try. Oh well. Such was life here.

The rest of her meal was peaceful and soon after she grabbed her luggage and left again. Walking back into the busy streets and walking towards the address she remembered so well. It should be just a little bit aways from here. And it indeed did not take long to find. An apartment complex just sitting there ready to live in. Now they said she'd be temporary set up in apartment one on the first floor until a house with her specific wants was found for her. It was easy to find the apartment and easier to just reach for the handle and just turn it...Only for it to not turn? Rose blinked. Before trying again a few times. Each time it was obviously locked with a click.

Eventually she hummed. "Well this isn't good."

The company said the apartment would be totally unlocked and the key left in the kitchen. She tried the door a few more times to no avail before giving up. She stared at the door for a few more seconds before reaching into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Dialing a number she put the phone to her ear and waited as it rung a few times. After a moment someone eventually picked up.

"Hello. Uncanny Valley Apartment Hunters. How many I help you?",a voice asked through the phone.

"Yes. I'm locked out of my rental apartment. Can I ask why?"

"Yes. We know who you are, Ms. Willow. We were going to call you but-" The person on the other end was suddenly cut off by a loud woman's shriek. It was so loud Rose had to pull her head away. The scream was followed out by...game show music? "Sorry. We were going to call you but we're having some difficulties at the office. We're working on getting the Mayor's assistant over here to solve it. Until then we're afraid your apartment had some slight-" the person was again cut off by some loud laughter and a massive sound of a chainsaw whirring about. Rose just...stared at the phone in shocked silence. "UGH! Listen. I'm sorry but your apartment won't be ready for- Oh! Ivy, you made it! Be right back, Ms. Willow."

Rose continued to stare at the phone. Well...that certainly wasn't something she was expecting but again things were never normal around the valley. The sounds of papers shuffling about and distant arguing was heard but it was hard to hear over the game show music still going on. Although she thought she Heard the words misunderstanding and host. Eventually the voice spoke again.

"Your apartment might not be ready until tomorrow. Our deepest apologies. This usually doesn't happen but there seems to be a mix up. We'll reimburse you for a hotel stay for the night. Go see the sights or something. There's still a chance we'll have this fixed in a few hours. Just... don't go through any strange doors for a while."

"Oh... Alright then."

The phone was hung up and Rose continued to stare at the door for a long moment... before sighing. Well crap. This wasn't good. And she was looking forward to just getting some sleep early. Oh well. She might as well go and get a hotel room for the day then if it won't be ready until tomorrow. Honestly these sudden annoyances were always the worst. She thought she saw a hotel in town as she walked to get here. Might as well go there..but she was calling a taxi. No way she was walking back all the way there with the distance. With nothing left to do, Rose just rolled her luggage out and again looked at her. Now what was that taxi company's number again? She walked out phone in hand just about to dial in the number-

"Heya pal!" Rose jumped at the sound of someone suddenly behind her and looked up...only to blink at the REALTOR from before. A few green leaves clinging to his body. "I had a feeling you were gonna call me. I could feel it in my bones."

Her eye blinked at him for a moment before her brow rose. "Actually I was about to call a taxi. You were just in those bushes weren't you?"

Again he seemed to stiffen nervously. "N-No?....AAAAAAAnyways. What say me and you go look at that house now?" He said changing the subject making her again slowly become amused. "He's just dying to meet ya!"

He was trying really hard wasn't he? It was amusing and almost cute in a way. He looked awkward but no where near threatening. She could tell. ...Ah what the heck. It wouldn't hurt to humor him a bit. She can always call a taxi when she was done being amused.

"Alright. I'll look at the house, but I'm not promising anything,"

He looked surprised for a moment but gladly lit up. "Hey. Don't worry about it! Just gettin' you inside the house is more than enough for.." He paused for a moment humming. "What do they call it? Commission? Yeah. Something like that."

She only chuckled. "Alright. Lead the way. "

He happily turned on his heels and gestured to her to follow as he started to slowly waddle off down the street. "Do you like television shows? There's this one game show program that I always enjoy watching. There's always something different on there every time!"

Game show? Huh. Kinda ironic that she heard a game show music over the phone. "Not much into game shows but I do like watch plant documentaries and gardening videos on the net. I adore gardening. Although crime shows are good too. It's fun to try and guess who did it and what happens next."

"Never really thought of it like that. You like fast food? The burger prince around the corner is always a great place to grab some grub!"

"I usually don't eat greasy foods too much but yeah. They make good burgers. I prefer the valley's teas and cakes myself. It's like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get."

"Mmm. Chocolate."

He continued to walk awkwardly down the street then going across one street and down another street before he rounded a corner. She followed him all the way. This wasn't too far from her apartment anyways so she could just walk back. It was a more suburban area of the Normal Business District and there was your standard houses in between one or two more grocery stores. Eventually he stopped and turned to her with a smile. 

"Here we are, pal!"

Rose turned her eye towards across the street he faced and rose a brow. "You're selling an empty lot?''

"Ah! Nah. I mean the one behind me."

She  turned back behind him. And then paused at what she saw. It was a house yes but it was an absolute DISASTER of one. The house looked old and had so many cracks in their walls, and the roof looking like it would collapse any second being slumped over like that. The windows were covered in dirt on the outside and the lawn barely had any grass. Only in dead patches here in there around the yard as it was littered with trash. Mostly empty fast food containers. She continued to stare at the dismayed house for a long moment.

"....THIS is the house?!," she asked in shock. She didn't mean for it to come off so rude but it just slipped out.

"Hey now, pal. It's a little rough around the edges sure. But with some tender love and care this house can become a home in no time!,'' he tried to assure her but seemed a bit nervous. "Or whatever. You just gotta see the insides. I promise you won't be disappointed."

She continued to stare at the poor sight. This was the REALTOR's main body?! Why did it look so poorly maintained? Even the least threatening REALTOR would have a decent looking main body. What on earth happened to him? 

She slowly nodded. "Ok. Show me the inside."

Heim paused for a moment looking surprised. "Really?! Hot dog!!"

She couldn't help herself when he suddenly gave what looked like a happy Hop but only lifted himself about an inch off the ground. She giggled at him. For a REALTOR he sure acted rather cuter than most others she's seen. She watched Heim quickly walk to the door and open the door, politely gesturing for her to come in. She walked over until she stood just inside the doorway to look in. She wasn't naive enough to walk inside a strange REALTOR's main body. That's how people got eaten. She did peer her head in...and found the inside as bad as the outside. His illusions weren't very good at disguising his inner body. Isolation perked out everywhere from the walls and ceiling and the floors looked so scuffed and worn out. Graffiti looked to be scribbled across the walls and a torn looking sofa. The illusions weren't good at all. The only decent thing inside the place was the Giant TV that wasn't a part of the illusions.

"Well...What do ya think, pal? Not too bad right?"

Rose didn't say anything at first just looking around cringing on the inside. "Well... It's..not that bad. Not the worst thing I've ever seen."

He again stiffened for a moment in surprise before a bashful smile appeared on his face. "Wow. Ah geez. No one's ever said something that nice to me. I..Uh..Dunno what to say."

"I'd ask what you've been fed recently." Her eye looked around at everything before looking back at him. "You're either not being fed enough or the food you are eating isn't nutritious enough. It's not the worst I've seen but definitely a bit of off your mark there." She smiled at him. "Have you tried talking to the mayor about it?"

He continued to stare at her before he suddenly looked nervous. "Er...Is it that obvious?"

"Pretty much. I knew from the moment I saw you. It also helps that your lure cord is pretty visible. But I will say, I'm glad to meet a REALTOR that's different from the others I've seen." She giggled again smiling at him. "And one that can make me smile."

He again seemed to be flustered by her words. "Oh. Wowza. I uh.. Wasn't expecting that. Or such nice words. ... Please forgive me for being a bit forward but...Well gotta shoot my shot right?" Rose blinked as all of a sudden she found her hand being lifted and held by the REALTOR and...was his lure blushing. "Would you give this down-on-his-luck house a chance and let me take you on a date? I don't gotta lot of money but I'll treat you right."

Rose stared at him in shock for a long moment before she burst into a flurry of giggles and couldn't help but smile. "Oh my. Well aren't you forward."

He chuckled nervously. "What can I say? G-Gotta try my shot."

"Can't ever say I've ever been asked out that forward before especially by a REALTOR." His hands felt sweaty and plant like. Like wet leaves after rain. "But perhaps we should take things slow. We only just met and you don't even know my name."

Heim blinked before smiling nervously. "Uh. Yeah. Guess you're right. Haha. W-What is your name?"

She smiled at him. "My name is Rose. Rose Willow. It's nice to meet you Mr. Baile. You're quite possibly the nicest REALTOR I've ever met. But I hope you don't mind if I don't come inside. Y'know how it is."

"Oh. Actually I filled up on fast food earlier today. I'm also not very particularly fond of human. Give me a giant greasy burger any day right?"

"Can't say I disagree with that but then why were you following me around?"

"Hey. What's the point of being a REALTOR if I don't try getting out there every so often?"

She hummed. "Fair enough." A sudden ring through the air making both pause and Rose blinked. Her phone was ringing. "Oh. ..That might be the housing company. Excuse me. I should take that." She gently pulled her hand away before getting her phone from a pocket and holding it up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hello. Ms. Willow?"

"Speaking."

"Great news! We were able to get everything in order with the help of Ms. Woodrow the Mayor's assistant." Oh. So it was the apartment company. "Your apartment is all ready for you now. We are sorry for the inconvenience. We can have a car pick you up from wherever you are to bring you back."

"No need. I'm only three streets away. I'll walk back but thanks for the heads up."

"If you insist. Thank you for going through the Uncanny Valley Apartment Hunters. Operating  REALTOR free since nineteen eighty seven."

She smiled hanging up before looking back at Heim. "That was the housing department. My apartment is ready. I'd better go and check to make sure the movers didn't damage anything of mine. Sorry to cut our meeting short."

"Oh." He looked a little disappointed at that. "So soon?"

"You know where Im living for now. My apartment is the first one on the first floor. You can come visit me again if you want to, or you can stop by the green house in town. I work there. It'd be nice to make a new friend."

"R-Really?! Oh. You're being awfully nice to me. No one's ever wanted to be friends before."

"Just because you're a REALTOR that doesn't mean I can't show you decency." She patted his shoulder making him smile. "Feel free to stop by sometime and see me. I can always use the company."

He nodded. "I will! I'd love to see you again."

"Then I look forward to seeing you again."

With a small turn and wave Rose began walking away from Him and towards the apartment again. Certainly an unusual day. But for now she'd prefer the comforts of her own bed.