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eureka-its-zico · 11 months ago

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A Body of Stars

Ongoing series

Synopsis: With a galaxy at war, it’s hard to distinguish the stars from the metal of UNSC ships. You were told about the war that waged between the UNSC and insurrectionists; your planet opposing them since you were born. Your enemy was meant to be the UNSC and the Spartans they created, specifically John-117 - the Master Chief. Except, all isn’t as black and white as you were raised to believe, and the galaxy holds secrets far darker than you could’ve imagined.

Pairing: John - 117 x F!Reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, Halo TV series/Mass Effect mashup

Warnings: mentions of war, violence

Word count: 11.7k

A/N: Alright. As hyper fixations go, the Halo series (and let’s be real, Pablo is a menace) has my ass in a chokehold. That being said, season 2 was amazing and made me want to work on a small fic that blended the series and my love of BioWare’s Mass Effect. Mass Effect is my favorite sci-fi space game about galactic war, friendship, love, sacrifice. I could rant but I won’t. There will be mentions of certain ME things in here, like the reader having biotics, to go along with the lore of the halo series. So, without further ado: its back story time. I hope someone out there enjoys this and as always, thank you for reading 🖤 much love, Jenn

Year: 2521

•Shadow Sea cluster•

•Lera system•

Destination: Laconix

ETA: 13 hours

The Midsummer Night came out of slip space without a hitch.

Not that he’d been worried. It was one of the few things that Captain Jacob Keyes hadn’t worried about during this current mission. What, or rather who, currently worried him was standing less than ten yards from him and came in the form of his ex-wife. He risked a glance where Dr. Catherine Halsey was hunched over with her nose deep inside another holopad.

Those holopads had been one of the many reasons why their marriage fell apart.

There was no doubting the brilliance her work contributed to the scientific field or the war effort. All of her research was the stepping stone humanity needed in terms of augmentation and the human genome. The contributions Halsey and her Spartans made towards this never-ending battle against the covenant saved lives, but, and it was a big but, Jacob knew that Halsey’s methods were questionable, at best. Hell, he’d been a part of those questionable decisions, driving the helm, while she did what she deemed was necessary.

Vital.

So, Jacob Keyes knew without her ever having to say a word that something was off. The Midsummer Night and the Pegasus holding Halsey’s darling Spartain-III’s were meant to go for a routine extraction. Intel indicated one of the leaders in the insurrectionist rebel groups, Kahn Montrello, was located on a planet within the Lera system of the Shadow Sea cluster. It was a typical snatch-and-grab unless they were met with resistance.

Halsey requesting to tag along was more than just a surprise. It was suspicious. Jacob knew Halsey didn’t do anything without purpose.

“Tell me again why you’ve insisted on inserting yourself into a routine mission dealing with insurrectionists?”

Halsey hadn’t even looked up from the damn holopad to acknowledge he’d walked over.

“I’m just here to gather some data while the Silver Team is dispatched to help your marines on the ground.”

Jacob’s boots scuffed against the metal of the bridge as he moved closer to her. His eyes on Catherine’s back - willing her to turn, to acknowledge him - as her gaze held tightly to the readings she’d taken from a tablet from her lab. The data was transferred to the larger scale computer in the bridge’s main console. Halsey’s eyes roaming endlessly through data Jacob himself knew he’d never understand without her help.

“Come on, Catherine. That may be the bullshit you fed Parangosky and the other admirals, but don’t feed me the same lies and expect it to go down smoothly.”

Halsey broke away for the briefest millisecond from whatever data she was reading. Her eyes skimmed over him before returning back to what was more important.

Research in the name of human exploration always was.

“It’s not bullshit. Data collected in the field is highly valuable for furthering my research; proof to Parangosky the Spartan research is worth her continued funding.”

“That’s a nice speech, Catherine, but I know that any collected data during the mission is recorded and sent back to your lab for analysis. So, when are you going to start telling me something honest?”

Honesty.

Asking Halsey to be anything other than secretive was like asking a tiger to get rid of its stripes. Jacob knew even if she told him - really shared - it still wouldn’t be all of the actual information. Key pieces of information - the most valuable - would be forever stored within her; leverage for another day.

Whatever it was she could see on those holopads had her sky blue eyes wide in excitement. Halsey wouldn’t be able to contain it - hide it - for much longer. If the small rise at the corner of her mouth was any indication, all Jacob needed to do was push a little further. Find the right words to spark a rush of hypotheticals that might turn out to hold some truth. If she didn’t crack yet, it would take one more well-placed question and she would cave.

“Jacob,” her voice was breathy, tinged with unrestrained joy. “I think I found something.”

“What are you talking about, Catherine? Found something?”

More cryptics. More hoops.

A sigh heavy with years of fights - conflicts - departed his lips and Halsey rushed to recover some ground. Her body quickly took back the space he left to place her hand gently on his bicep. The grip was soft but demanding that he stay close; pleading with him not to pull away.

Halsey needed him.

“A few weeks ago the UNSC sent over old documents from companies they’d disassembled. Conatix was one of them.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the confusion that deepened the lines in the crease of Jacob’s forehead and scrunched up his nose. His eyes roamed her face searching for a tell, but if Halsey had one she’d never show it.

“Conatix was an old UNSC factory that produced our warships-“

“Yes, I know.”

“Why would you be interested in anything about warships?”

Halsey scanned the room to make sure no one was watching - no eyes lingering on the two of them - before she directed her attention back to him. The caution that darkened her eyes shifted with a spark Jacob knew all too well.

Halsey had found something. Really found something.

“Usually, nothing of value would be of interest in old documents and schematics for warships but, while scrolling through the files I stumbled upon an encrypted file.”

“UNSC documentation is always encrypted when it’s being shipped out to-“

“To be destroyed, yes I already know that, Jacob,” Halsey cut in. Her body directed back towards the holopad that she carefully picked up. Her fingers darted across the screen hunting for the files in question. “But this was different. It wasn’t schematics or calculations - it was redacted - sealed documents about an incident.”

No sooner had she started Halsey was finished. Her hand reached out to give him the holopad and waited patiently for him to take it.

“Go ahead.”

Jacob looked around the ship's bridge to make sure no one was watching. He needed to be careful, not necessarily for Halsey’s sake, but for that of his crew. He should’ve known - did know - Halsey had a habit, a bad one, to go above the chain of command to get what she wanted. That leverage she saved for a rainy day coming in hot to throw around pawns and pieces as she saw fit to get her way.

Cautiously, Jacob secured the holopad from her and started looking at the documents, or what little he could see. Almost with every swipe all he saw were broken links and documents with holes of information missing. Sentences that formed into two words with the rest gone or replaced by shapes and numbers. An elaborate break in the code.

“I was able to decipher most of them. Get back what information they tried to hide-“

“Catherine,” he whispered her name in warning, not for himself, but for her.

“Jacob - this wasn’t about warships or weapons or schematics. Something happened. A ship they’d used with element zero - eezo - had leaked out over a few colonies. A hole in one of the port engines that wasn’t caught in time.”

“Catherine,” Jacob pleaded again, “This isn’t news or anything that concerns you or me.”

Halsey wasn’t going to back down. He knew she wouldn’t. Not when the sheer joy of finding something undiscovered was close. The science behind furthering human evolution. The moment he realized what this was - what he held in his hands - Jacob knew his eyes were saucers. The sudden shock of realization stunning him to the spot.

“Children, Jacob,” Halsey practically laughed. “The pregnant mothers who were infected by the particles gave birth to children with eezo ingrained into their nervous system. The abilities these files claim they saw…it’s like nothing I’ve ever read.”

In her excitement, Halsey reached out and took a hold of his arm. The startled warmth of her touch was enough to knock Jacob back out of his daze. His eyes skimming one more time over impossible things he saw in diagrams Halsey recreated.

“Even if that was true, you don’t even know if any of them are still alive or where they are.”

With her lips curved up in victory, Halsey plucked the holopad from his hands.

“Yes I do. We’re headed there now.”

————-

“You get caught staring up at the sky again and Caster is going to throw a fit.”

“When isn’t he throwing a fit?”

Your question wasn’t meant for an answer. The words barely made it above a whisper while you kept watch on the green hued light that streaked across the sky like a river. Calling it green felt like you were doing it a disservice. You knew it was more than that - the way it moved with purpose across the endless blue above. The different shades that reminded you of the grass on which you stood and dark as the forest that surrounded you.

“Come on,” Thao called over his shoulder. Your name calling from his lips like it would be enough to coax you forward. “I want to get back to actually enjoy what little of my day I have left.”

“You can enjoy it now,” you reminded him.

It took a few more seconds - another millisecond after that - for your eyes to turn back to the world around you. The snap of a branch somewhere off to your right informing you Thao had taken off without waiting for you to catch up.

“Not when my friends are back at the colony having fun without me. And I’m out here looking for dumb ass yaks.”

A small tut of disapproval clicked at the roof of your mouth. Your stride easily brings you closer to the shorter eleven-year-old boy. It allowed you to gently ruffle his hair. Your efforts were greeted by a grunt of annoyance with his hand grabbing at your wrist to gently shove you away.

“And just think, you would be there now, doing whatever it is you troublemakers do, if you and your friends hadn’t set a flare off inside Caster’s hut. And don’t disrespect the yaks.”

Thao’s eyes disappeared inside his head as your elbow gently nudged his shoulder. You must be making some kind of progress, because this time he made no move to push you away.

“Old man deserved it. Always hoarding the chicken eggs.”

“He owns the chickens.”

“So?”

“So,” you drawled, “it means he owns the eggs. Owning the eggs also means he gets to distribute them however he sees fit.”

“How is that fair? You know he gave Lydia and her kids three eggs last week? Three eggs. What is a family of five supposed to do with that? It’s not right.”

You knew what Thao meant. You understood the feeling of anger that burned into sadness and ultimately to the ash of defeat. Kahn allowed those who proved useful in the fight against the UNSC to have a majority hold on most of the items in the colony. Those who allowed themselves to be shuffled around an unseeable chessboard like pawns.

Willing to die, to give up everything, at his disposal.

All in the name of fighting a government who grew more powerful everyday. The UNSC sharing their own videos of propaganda that showed thousands upon thousands of soldiers equally willing to die for a cause, and Spartans being the unmovable force needed to shift any battle back into the UNSC’s favor. It was this very reason Kahn looked for those desperate enough to join, to do anything he asked, to win.

A devoted father agrees to be a walking bomb to blow up a UNSC building? His family is rewarded with food, wood, and blankets to help make it through the harsh winters. Attempting to infiltrate a building to release a virus, whether you were caught or not, Kahn took care of your family. It could be with livestock, guns for protection, or even the yaks whose pelts made the biggest profit at the markets.

Every loss of life was just another reminder of the men and women who slowly disappeared from the colony. A senseless loss of life. You were still trying to figure out what it was for; what purpose you hadn’t been able to see, because for every life lost in the pursuit of justice against the USNC, their numbers only grew. The colony's numbers, however, weren't so lucky.

“You could turn this war around.”

“I won’t kill for you, Kahn.”

You swiftly whipped your head to the side to rid yourself of the memory. Your eyes narrowing on the green rolling hills on the other side of the treeline. That was where you would find the yaks grazing. You gently patted Thao’ss shoulder - for whatever comfort it would give - before you moved forward to take point.

“That’s because it isn’t fair, Thao.”

“See! Even you agree,” Thao huffed out your name. His small body broke into a jog to match your hurried step. “If anyone in the colony would be able to kick his ass, it would be you.”

Your feet were turning before you’d even realized it. Your body answered the piercing spike of adrenaline in your blood with your hands shooting out to grab his shoulders. The action made you crouch a couple inches until you were face-to-face with Thao. Your eyes scanned wildly across his features reading nothing but uncertainty.

“Don’t ever say something like that out loud again, Thao. Do you understand me?”

“I was only saying-“

“I know what you're trying to say. The answer is no, and if Kahn or any of his dumbass lackies ever heard you even mention something like that we are both as good as dead.”

“But-“

“Tell me you understand!”

If anyone asked why you felt the sudden surge of panic ripple over your skin, you wouldn’t be able to say, or place where it stemmed from. Technically, the both of you were out in the safety of the mountain fields and away from the prying eyes of Kahn’s dictatorship. Lost behind a sea of forest, the rolling fields of green, and poppies that puddled around you like blood.

You’d seen what Kahn and his insurrectionists were capable of. Any whisper - false or not - and the person went missing. Kahn ruled the colony with the fear generated by the UNSC, but cultivated his own like the boogeyman.

“Yeah I get it. Whatever.”

Thao shrugged out of your hold and turned away from you. His pre-teen feet stomped a path out of the tree line and out into the field. A sigh left you, worn and heavy, as you watched his retreat.

I Should’ve been softer…

You let out a huff of air as a hand scrubbed over your face. It was supposed to be a simple ‘herd the yaks back to the colony’ type of day. Not grovel to one of the only people - kid or not - who wasn’t afraid of you.

It was your turn to jog after his retreating form. Quickly, you noticed that he didn’t even look up to acknowledge your presence. He wasn’t sending jokes about being an old lady (you were twenty-four, thank you very much) whose brittle bones could snap under the strain of being a person. You would’ve taken being called an old lady than suffering through the silent treatment.

Gently, you nudged his shoulder with your elbow. When he didn’t turn you tried again and again until, finally, you were rewarded with him turning an annoyed side-eye in your direction. You gave him your best apologetic smile and carefully looped your arm around his shoulders to bring him in close.

“I’m sorry. Okay? I was kind of an asshole.”

“A major asshole.”

“Okay. I’ll accept that major part but only for today.”

“If there was an asshole award, you would’ve taken home the prize-“

“Okay, geez. I get it.”

You both settled into a comfortable pace with your arm still draped over his shoulders. Your mind raced back to the last time you’d been able to do this. Thao had been younger - shorter - and with the rate he was growing, you soon might not be able to reach him. Soon, Thao might not care for your company.

“You know, I am surprised you didn’t fracture an ankle running after me at your tender age.”

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” you grumbled in mock annoyance.

You ended up having to shove him away just to try and hide the smile that threatened to lift the edges of your mouth. The sound of Thao’s laughter at your weak attempt at being mean - he 100% knew it took way too much to even make you raise your voice - made the crack of a smile begin to form.

The yaks were about another ten or so feet ahead of you both. Their massive bodies moved in slow steps while they grazed along the long grass. You weren’t sure if it was their adorable long bangs that made it impossible for them to notice you right away (doubtful) or if they just didn’t consider either of you a threat (possible). Either way, they didn’t startle as the two of you closed the remaining distance. Didn’t jump up to try and kick or gore either of you with their horns when Thao produced the ropes from his satchel.

It took a grand total of ten minutes, maybe less, to have all seven of the yaks securely held in makeshift collars from the rope. Their large bodies begrudgingly followed the two of you as you gently pulled the lead, forcing them to give up their meal of dewy grass and follow you back through the treeline.

“You know,” Thao cautiously began, his eyes skimming between you and the trees. “This might be a lot faster if you just…ya know, float them up.”

“Float them up?”

“With your blue magic.”

This time you weren’t able to hide your smile as you shook your head.

“It’s called biotics, Thao, not blue magic.”

“Blue magic sounds waaaay cooler than ‘biotics’. Who even came up with that lame name, anyway.”

“You can thank the good folks at Conatix for that one.”

One of the yaks pulled back on its lead forcing you to give a slight tug back. You could understand if they were tired after eating, but you really didn’t have time in your schedule for yak naps. A huff of air came from the nostrils of the yak to drive home that it wasn't happy not having its nap. Or maybe it was the berry bush it was after, either way, napping and eating stops were prohibited.

You weren’t aware the conversation had died until Thao’s voice interrupted the silence.

“Is it true that you were born like that?”

His question was timid - afraid he would upset you. You were used to the questions; the stares. You remember sitting with your parents in a room, about Thao’s age, when Conatix came back around trying to clean up their mess. Said mess being spilling eezo from their ships across planets that later infected children. While some pregnant mothers had children like you, exposed to element zero in the womb creating a nervous system made of eezo, a majority were far less lucky. Children born riddled with tumors or horrific physical complications that left them in pain their entire lives.

You were supposed to be a lucky one.

One of the lucky ones they’d been trying to take back with them to their laboratories. A lucky one meant to be bought by a substantial fee that your parents quickly declined. It was the last choice they ever got to make for you before they mysteriously died in a tragic accident off-world.

“Yes.”

You didn’t feel lucky and maybe it was the way the words crumbled out of your mouth. The way they sat suspended in the air in a swirl of regrets and dead wishes that Thao knew you didn’t want to talk anymore. Not about your past or anything that reminded you that what you are - who you are - has felt like one big burden. You wondered, most nights, if there was a possibility that curses could be born.

————

The rest of the walk back was filled with an awkward silence. You weren’t sure if it was one you’d made by your lack of response, or if Thao no longer felt like talking. A part of you feared the image he’d held of you since he was young, full of mystery that made you seem cool, was slowly becoming destroyed. You knew it was a matter of time before it happened.

You were an anomaly.

Children saw you as magical, while adults believed you could perform some kind of mind control or read their thoughts. It was the main reason Kahn wanted you to join the resistance. Who wouldn’t want someone who could read thoughts and control minds on their team? You’d know when and where attacks could happen and make them blow up their ships from the inside. Unfortunately, for Kahn, the only thoughts you could read were your own and, as of right now, they were desperately shouting at you not to lose one of the few friends you had left.

Even if they happened to be a young boy who was notorious for being the most talkative kid in the colony.

With a few more steps up the hill, you both came to a stop at the top of the hill. You took in the thatched roofs of the huts that lay scattered in a misshapen circle of rows. The outer ring of homes were made of clay and the only splash’s of color came from designs being painted on the sides of homes or flowers planted in the yard.

The middle ring was meant to be for men like Kahn and his commanders; men and women of importance so that they lived closer to the final, smaller ring, of storefronts and farmers. The middle circle was left open and featured a large walkway down the center of town and out into the hills.

Kahn specifically had the colony built this way. The walkway was the most important, because Kahn believed it was good for his people to be able to watch those that fought for their freedoms return from another victory against the UNSC. You knew it was more about parading around having people kiss his ass than for uplifting any kind of morale.

It was the same path that Thao and you took now as you brought in the yaks from the mountains. You knew it wouldn’t be long until you got them back inside their pen and with the irritated snorts and tugs on their leashes, the yaks knew it too. The sound of multiple small feet came rushing in on Thao’s side and the faces of a few village children came into view. They made sure to stop just before they got in the way of a yak.

“Thao, can you come play?”

“Not yet. I have to finish this choir for Caster.”

A lot of groaning ensued and you felt your free hand reach over the back of a yak. Your fingers waving for him to give you his leashes. Thao’s brow raised in question and you only answered him by pointing at the leash and waving him again to hand it over.

“Hurry up and give them to me before I change my mind.”

You were trying to be grumpy. The way any elder in town would complain about the youth of today being too soft and not knowing the meaning of hard work and blah blah. You were sure they were all just stuck in super grouchy mode from having to be an adult with responsibilities for too long. And because of that, you knew, instead of looking grumpy, a smile was already brightening up your face. Thao’s face lit up in response and his eyes darted - unsure - from up the path and back to you.

“Are you sure? Caster -“

“Will never know that you didn’t help bring them all the way back. Now, like I said, hand over the lead before I suddenly have a fit of amnesia.”

He didn’t need further prompting. Thao’s hand smashed the remaining leashes into your waiting palm and turned on his heel to run off with the other kids. A soft, “thank you,” calling out behind him.

You didn’t waste any more time watching their retreating backs as they tore down a small alleyway between huts. You had your own things that you still needed to finish today. As you continued on your way, you greeted people who were outside in their gardens or hanging up laundry. Some of them returned your greetings of, “Hello,” with grunts with their backs turned to you or hurried inside. Apparently, if they didn’t look you in the eye or were behind the safety of a wall it kept you from using your mind control powers.

You were willing to bet Kahn had something to do with that latest lie about your make believe abilities. If you wouldn’t fight for him, why not cause a little mass panic in your presence. You being the monster and him, the hero, forcing you to toe the line. No ‘mind reading’ unless it was for the ‘cause’.

As you neared the pen in front of Caster’s shop, you started to rotate the leashes tighter in your hands. You were positive if the yaks felt a slack in their leash, they would attempt a revolt. They also weren’t the biggest fan of the metal pen of broken down ships Caster created to house them; the metal of an old hatch door from a USNC frigate - rusted and covered in moss - groaned as it opened. A sound the yaks knew well and instantly sent their hooves stamping into the muddy grass.

“Alright, ladies, I don’t want any trouble. It’s time to get your butts back in here - whoa!”You shot around with a start as one of the yaks gently bumped its nose against your back sending you forward towards the pen. “None of that,” you mumbled. Your index finger pointing at your chest then back to every single one of them. “Your home, not mine. Now go.”

With a cautious glance over your shoulder you took a step forward leading the herd inside. It wasn’t until you’d begun to remove their leashes that the familiar sound of a man clearing his throat brought your gaze up to search the fence. It didn’t take long for you to find Caster leaning against it. An arm hanging over while the other held up whatever self-righteous bullshit questioning he was about to spew.

“Where’s Thao?”

“He helped me bring them here, Caster. I sent him on his way once we reached the pen.”

“That’s not what he was told to do and you don’t have any authority to change orders.”

Every word reached you like a slap in the face. Caster’s irritation was evident with the click of his tongue. You tried to keep your face neutral; your gaze fixed on one of the yak's as your fingers ran through the tangled fur. You gave one final pat to signal your departure before you walked back to the pen’s exit.

“I wasn’t aware Thao had to be the specific individual to deliver a bunch of yaks inside the pen.”

“Bullshit,” Caster snarled your name. His body closing the distance between you as you stepped through the pen entrance. “You can try and play dumb with me all you want, but we both know you aren’t that damn dense. Thao can’t shut up even for a second in his sleep, and you’re trying to tell me the boy magically didn’t complain the whole time he was with you?”

Caster invaded what little space you had once you stepped fully out from behind the pen. The door hadn’t even closed yet before Caster rushed you, attempting to trap you between him and the metal. The cold gray of his eyes roamed your face waiting for you to break at his intimidation.

One of the Shadow Sea’s three moons would have to explode first before that ever happened.

You jammed the cool metal of the pens chains into his chest. You didn’t bother to see if he would catch it when you released it. You knew he would, and when Caster did, you made sure to take a step towards him forcing the older man two options; hold his ground or back up. You weren’t surprised when he did the latter.

“You’re right, Caster, I’m not that damn dense. Close up your own fucking pen.”

You didn’t give him the chance to reply. The first step you took forced him to take another step back, your shoulder ramming into his as you pushed your way past him.

Could you have gone around?

Yes, but, no matter what, it felt a lot better being petty for a couple of seconds than pretending for a second you cared.

It didn’t take Caster long to find his bearings. The sound of the chains rustling in his hands and a slew of curses thrown at your back were the first to greet you before he yelled after you: “Just wait until Kahn hears about this!”

“Yea, yea,” you mumbled.

You were willing to bet no matter how the exchange between Caster and you went, Kahn was always going to hear how it went. Good or bad. Caster yelled something else at your retreating back. You responded with a wave and continued back down the main path before you veered off course into a smaller path. It was one you knew well since you were a child. One you knew led to your grandparents' hut.

Smoke rose from the clay chimney and you knew, before you entered through the doorway, you’d find your grandfather working to dry his latest clay pots by the fire. Your grandmothers weathered fingers working tirelessly with a needle and her beadwork scattered over the small table. It was only a few days before everyone with goods left to try and sell them at the Market. You moved through the small space stopping to kiss the top of your grandmother’s head before you gently took over for your grandfather.

“And where did you run off to this morning?”

You didn’t have to look up to feel the weight of your grandfather’s stare. His scrutinizing eyes waiting for you to give him a response knowing full well it wasn’t going to be the one he wanted.

“There is no need to worry, grandpa. I was nowhere and everywhere all at once.”

“That sentence alone turned what little hair I have left white.”

“All of your hairs’ already white.”

“Precisely my point,” he groaned.

The soft chuckle of your grandmother cut through the tension in the small room. Your eyes now directed to the open flame and focused on turning the pot slowly with the tongs. The last thing you wanted to hear on top of giving your grandfather white hair and an early grave was ruining a pot he’d worked on most of this morning.

“Would you two stop it? I’m sure she has a perfectly good explanation for why she was missing this morning. Don’t you dear?”

Your grandmother sent a coy look in your direction and you couldn’t wait to completely crush her dreams. While your grandfather believed in hard work, your grandmother believed in finding a good spouse who could provide for the imaginary great grandchildren she’d already named.

Either that or joining the resistance.

“I was out helping Thao rally up the yaks that ran away this morning.”

A sigh so heavy escaped from your grandfather’s chest that you could’ve sworn all your ancestors before you joined him.

“And there it is.”

The soft call of your name forced your attention back to where your grandmother now sat idle. Her hands placing the beadwork and adjoining needles on the table. Her small frame turned on the bench to make sure she had your full attention.

“I’m happy you want to help but you already know Kahn will-“

“Will throw a bitch fit. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

A smack on your arm sent you jolting back in surprise. Your eyes cautiously roaming over to your grandmother to see if she was going to hit you again. With how tightly her lips were pressed together, you had a feeling, with some of the things that came from your mouth, the possibility of her doing it again was imminent.

“Whether you like him or not, Kahn is our leader.”

“No, he is your leader. Kahn will never be mine. A real leader doesn’t sacrifice their people to gain information or so they don’t get locked up inside a UNSC prison.”

“And do you think there is someone more fit to lead if he was gone? Who do you think would run the rebellion?”

“Plenty of more competent individuals could step forward to take his place if he wasn’t aro-“

You realized you sounded like Thao who, hours before, you’d shushed him into complacency. Your fear for his safety was paramount over how right his words might have been. And here you were doing the exact same thing inside your grandparents hut.

“Enough!”

Your grandfather wasn’t known for raising his voice and when he did it was usually out of desperation; a fear that surpassed anger that delved into worry from the unknown. You could see it now etched into every wrinkle that creased in the sagging skin of his sunburnt face. The way he tried to hold onto the anger before it was swept away by something he wouldn’t voice in fear of giving it a name.

“Whether you like it or not, Kahn runs this settlement. He is the only one working here to free us from the tyrant that is the UNSC! At least he is doing something, which is more than I can say for my own granddaughter!”

“Ernest,” your grandmother’s voice cautioned.

“So you want me to just let him use me like some kind of weapon?”

You no longer cared about holding the pinchers over the fire or the clay pot - your grandfather's life’s work - held delicately between them. As you stood up from the stool you dropped the pinchers and the sound of clay cracking tapered over your shuddering breathing for just a moment. You moved away from the fire towards a corner of the room closest to the door. The thunder in your ears drowning out the shouts of your grandmother; your eyes coming in and out of focus as you tried to ease the panic from your veins.

It would only take a second - a fatal second of panic to fill the room with a cobalt hue of flame that would ruin everything.

“Kahn offers you a way to use your gift, to teach you how to use it, and better help our people and you spit in his face!” He hissed. “Your parents gave their life for the cause-“

“And what has Kahn given!?” You hadn’t meant to scream. Each word laced with a grief stricken with rage that only bloomed brighter over time. “He asks families to give their husbands, wives, their children to fight his battles and what the fuck does he do for us?!”

“Why can’t you ever see that you can help save us? Kahn can help teach you how to control it.”

“Help me control it or control me?”

“You ungrateful child.”

His words hissed through the air and buried themselves in the hollow of your chest. Your feet involuntarily took a step back, ready to flee the hut, ready to find peace in the hills of the forest when the collective raised shouts of the villagers rang out from behind the walls.

“UNSC vessels spotted!”

It was the distraction you needed to escape the hut. The shouts of worried men and women pushing you to rush outside and greedily take gulp after gulp of fresh air until the flare, the warmth, of your power began to dig back inside your skin. When you dragged your gaze away from the grass you were greeted with villagers running back and forth. The ones who sprinted down the open lane back out towards the open forest only ended up coming back moments later.

You made your way out into the crowd, weaving in between the bodies to get to the heart of the circle their bodies created. They all stood in large huddled groups; mothers clutching their children and the able bodied men moving in front of them, in front of everyone, to try and guard them. The villagers who tried running down the main road were coming, as if herded, back to the center of the village. You didn’t understand why they were all running back to the middle.

This was a kill zone.

Strategically the worst place to be for any of the resistance fighters if they were going to make any attempt to fight back. It wasn't until you made it to the middle that your earlier rage turned to ice as you watched the UNSC marines, and four very big fucking Spartans, make their way up the middle.

If Spartans were here you knew no one stood a chance. A fight would be suicide. You needed to get back to your grandparents. You needed -

“Attention settlers of the Lera system of Laconix: I am Captain Jacob Keyes of the USNC. We have viable intel that led us to believe that you are harboring a fugitive by the name of Kahn Montrello - a known insurrectionist. We are asking for your cooperation in this matter. We can resolve this matter peacefully, with no need to resort to any unnecessary violence.”

“Screw you! You have no jurisdiction here or any outer colonies.”

Fred. That was his name. Maybe. You didn’t know - couldn’t remember. Your brain couldn’t think past your own rushing pulse or speeding thoughts. He was just pushing past the crowd with angry shouts and limbs flying while he moved towards them. You watched as he made his way towards the marines like a man on fire, and was met by a Marine who burned brighter. The butt of their gun cracking against his cheek sent him spiraling to the ground.

You weren’t sure if you were already panicked or if the sight of blood seeping through his fingers caused it. No matter what the real reason was you knew there was no getting around whatever came next. Like a swarm of locusts, the marines fanned out and moved forward. Their bodies corralled the villagers tighter together and kept any hope of escape at bay.

It was the perfect time for Kahn to make his appearance. His form practically glided from between a lake of terrified bodies frozen in fear, clutching one another, as he opened his arms in welcome.

“You say you wish us no violence, only want our cooperation, and yet attack a simple working man.”

“You need to stay where you are or you will be taken down with force,” a marine answered, their gun trained on Kahn who continued to take careful steps forward.

He responded with his hands showing he wasn’t armed. Kahn made a show to come to a stop in front of Captain Keyes.

“Maybe that was advice you should’ve opened with, Captain Keyes.”

Kahn was treating this like a joke. He was wearing that easy smile of his displaying he didn’t have a care in the world. He was either suicidal, genocidial in willing to let them completely kill the colony or, you realized with a sickening drop in your stomach, Kahn had another plan.

“And you are?”

“I’m Malcom. Another humble merchant who lives here.”

Liar!

The panic that settled like lead inside your gut dropped heavier, threatening to upend whatever was left from your morning breakfast. You didn’t have to guess what his plans were, because Kahn was laying them bare for everyone to see. The only difference between you and everyone else is that whoever he chose to sacrifice for the name of his ‘revolution’ would be met with silence.

Captain Keyes outlined Kahn’s frame with suspicion and a pebble of hope was thrown your way. Maybe he could sense the lie that costed Kahn’s words. Maybe it would be enough for him to call bullshit.

“Okay, Malcolm. And what is it you’re wanting?”

“I want nothing, Captain. I just want to show you exactly who you are looking for.”

Kahn never intended to point the finger at himself - why would he when there were dozens of men brainwashed to think their sacrifice mattered. You followed his finger like everyone else drawn to the imaginary string he pulled and waited to see what poor fool he chose this time.

Except this time - no…NO!

It was your grandfather who took a step forward out of the dozens of bodies. The wooden tip of his cane met the ground with a depth of a shovel digging a grave with each step. Your grandmother reached out her arms - called for him to come back - but he continued to make his way forward. His head held high like he was making a decision everyone should be proud of.

“I am Kahn Montrello. The man you seek.”

Captain Keyes took one look at your grandfather and you could see the disbelief reflected in his eyes. The way they darkened further on a decision you, or anyone else, would ever be made aware of until he made it.

“I’ve never known an insurrectionist leader to give themselves up so willingly.”

Thank god Captain Keyes was smarter than he looked. Your grandfather, however, wasn’t backing down. He squared his shoulders and planted his hands coolly over the hilt of his cane. His head held high enough for his next words to strangle him.

“Any leader should be willing to give themselves up for the safety of their people. Is that what you can offer me, Captain Keyes? The safety of my colony if I come willingly?”

“What are you doing?”

You were sure it was the panic that surged you forward. How you found yourself taking step after step until you were out from behind every last villager and into the clearing with Kahn and your grandfather.

“Stay back!”

“Don’t take another step forward!”

You were vaguely aware of the commands being slung your way. The arms that lifted weapons as you took scrambling steps towards your grandfather who only looked on with distaste.

“Go back with the others. I won’t tell you again.”

It was the voice he’d used countless times since you were a child. A voice that radiated with authority that now only showcased his age. A part of you wanted to follow his orders and run to your grandmother’s side. To be a good granddaughter and comfort her the way she needed.

But she wouldn’t need comforting if Kahn wasn’t such a fucking coward.

“No!”

He hissed your name as he nervously looked out over the marines. At Captain Keyes.

“Be good and do as you're told.”

“I won’t let you do this!”

“And I don’t need your permission-“

“What about grandma? You’re just going to leave her like this?”

“I wasn’t aware Kahn Montrello had grandchildren?” Keyes quipped.

You could see your grandfather open his mouth to reply and you made sure to cut him off before he could say another lie.

“That’s because he doesn’t because Kahn -“

“Apologies, Captain Keyes,” Kahn cut in. “This girl is unwell. Ever since she lost her parents -“

“Don’t you dare speak about them.“

“-she’s been desperately trying to cling to anyone willing to call her family.”

You weren’t aware you were moving forward until you heard the shouts from the marines; the gasps of fear from your own people. You were vaguely aware of the tingle of heat that moved like a shockwave from your fingertips up your arms until it consumed you. In another time, a different life, maybe you would’ve been aware that your biotics had flared to life and enveloped you in what looked like cobalt flame.

A fitting image for the one Kahn so lovingly painted for you. An unhinged woman filled with crazy fantasies and a desperation for family.

The only thing you could focus on was Kahn who stood before you. The coward who easily was willing to give your grandfather up to the UNSC knowing what they do to insurrectionist leaders. The unspeakable torture done to collect secrets, and their executions televised on every available feed for all to see.

With the thought of your grandfather’s future weighing behind your eyes you lashed out. Your hand rising forward to catch Kahn midway in taking a step back. Your biotics held him suspended in the air. You were vaguely aware of what sounded like your grandfather calling your name. The wood of his cane crunching through dirt and leaves to rush to you.

There was more shouting - orders being relayed and metal clicks of safeties being released - and you knew chaos was about to ensue.

“Spartan’s your orders are to grab the insurrectionist known as Kahn Montrello. Marines focus on providing backup and subduing any and all threats.”

A wash of relief rippled through you. The UNSC had come to their senses. They must have realized Kahn for the liar he was. Captain Keyes caught on that the rouse Kahn created with your grandfather was all a lie.

Except that wasn’t what happened.

The marines who fanned out around the clearing were now moving in towards one sole target: you. The Spartans who Keyes sent forward to capture Kahn weren’t headed in your direction, but towards your grandfather who was visibly shaking as he watched two of the UNSC’s giants - their most powerful weapons - move towards him.

“No! You have it all wrong! He isn’t Kahn!”

You released the hold you had on Kahn. No longer was he held suspended in the air as you sent his body flying towards the marines. Your feet were digging into the soil, pitching you forward in a hard sprint, as you barreled blindly towards your grandfather. You could hear him warning you to stay back - ‘stay away’ - but you never were good with doing what you were told.

The closest Spartan,only identified by the numbers 028 on her chest, was almost on him. They were so close it would only take a couple more inches and this Spartan would grab a hold of him and you would lose him. Forever.

You were running on pure adrenaline. Your vision honed in on nothing else but the hand of the Spartan that reached out to grab at his arm. If they got a hold of him, that was it. You called on every cell of energy in your body, your arm drawing back - nerves frying - as the eezo inside your body compacted in the space around you, changing it into a powerful ball that you launched with a scream. The Spartan barely had time to react when the cobalt sphere of element zero slammed into her suit and sent her flying back.

“Riz!”

You had a split second to make half a shield before the second Spartan’s fist slammed against it. The impact snapped like a shockwave of its own. The force of impact sent your feet sliding back against the dirt. The sound of heavy footsteps following your rolling body forced you to spring to your knees as you called on another surge of element zero and sent it flying like a fastball.

It slammed into the Spartan but, unlike the first one, it barely slowed them down. The impact crackled against the air and the force field around his armor allowing your biotics to push them back only a few feet. It was all the feet you needed to scramble on all fours to your grandfather, who was kneeling in a heap in the dirt.

As soon as you slide in next to him, you put up a small force field - a bubble of blue that encapsulated you both just in time before bullets bounced against the shield. Gently, you secured an arm underneath his shoulders and tried to lift him up to you. All while your right hand stayed pressed against the barrier you’d created. Your arms shaking with the strain of holding back another round of gunfire and the slamming fists of a very big, very angry, Spartan.

You were running out of time. The strain of keeping the barrier up, of using powers you usually never touched, left a noticeable trail of perspiration to crown your forehead. If you kept this up much longer, you knew the nosebleeds would start soon.

“Come on grandpa. We have to get up now. We gotta get you out of here.”

“Just let them take me, deheyah*.”

A heavy wave of memory, weighted with emotions thick and stifling, threatened to knock you off balance. The last time your grandfather had ever called you that, was before your parents died. When you were allowed the luxury of childhood innocence and the imagination that the world held the beauty of magic before it was destroyed by the gravity of reality.

“That’s not going to happen, grandpa. I won’t let it happen. I can’t lose you too.”

Your body jerked with the next slam of a fist against the barrier. The impact sent a shutter down into the marrow of your bones and snapped at your nervous system. The pain was immediate and tore a gasp from you.

“You will never lose me. I will always be with you. Wherever you go. Whatever you choose to be.”

“No.”

You shook your head violently forcing him to reach out to steady you. The soft leather of his hand cupped your cheek quieting your protests and forced you to keep your eyes on him.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Earlier. I just - I just wanted what was best for you. I always have. But…only you know what is best for your life. Never stop fighting. Don’t be afraid of who you can be.”

“Why are you talking like this? This isn’t goodbye grandpa. Come on, I have to get you back to grandma. She’s going to be pissed if you just stay here.”

But it was, wasn’t it? You’d felt it when your hands touched the layers of shawls that draped over his chest. It was wetter than it should’ve been. His eyes glassy and unfocused and struggling to keep them on you while he spoke. Somehow, you’d been a few moments too late when the bullets came your way, and those few seconds allowed the hollow point of a bullet to find a hole in the center of his chest.

Blood covered your left hand as another sharp synopsis of pain resonated through your nervous system. Spartan 028, Riz, was back up and hammering away at the sphere of the barrier you’d created. The pain should’ve been unbearable but nothing compared to the last gasp of air that shuddered from your grandfather. It couldn’t compare to the feeling of his body, lifeless, and sagging towards the earth where the weight forced you to place him.

None of this would’ve happened if Kahn wasn’t a coward. If he didn’t use people, the very people he claimed were his. People he swore to defend and liberate - for his own gain.

The anger swelled brighter inside like a raging flame. Every beating your nervous system took holding up the barrier became a dulled sensation as you struggled to breathe around the loss of your grandfather.

The Spartans had stopped but didn’t move back. A woman was off to your right. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Smiling like she was friendly but the mock kindness didn’t reach her eyes. They were bright with excitement; the way hunters spotted prey. A scientist finding a new object to dissect.

“…I’m Doctor Halsey.”

Of course she was. She wanted to dissect you. The same way the scientists from Conatix tried many years ago by trying to buy you from your parents. She was saying your name but she had no right to it.

This Dr. Halsey.

False smile given under false pretenses. Just like Kahn has his fancy glittering speeches that kept hopes high and results low.

“We don’t want to harm you. If you are willing to come peacefully we promise we will leave the colony immediately. No further bloodshed needs to happen.”

The part of you that wasn’t soaked in grief agreed. It was the best call to make - the right call. It promised no more suffering would happen. It meant your grandmother would be safe.

Your grandmother. A woman who lost her son. Her husband. Now her granddaughter. Who would watch her if you left? The thought alone sprang a sharp refusal to your tongue until you stood, your eyes cast down at the warm body of your grandfather. In that moment, whatever reasonable human being you used to be ceased to exist. The only thing left was rage.

Dr. Halsey must have noticed. No longer was she crouched to be eye level with you. She returned to her full height. Her hands placed out in front to shield herself, as if that would be enough to stop what happened next.

“Whatever you’re thinking - don’t.”

Your reply came in a scream that crawled its way from the pit of despair that had lodged itself inside your heart. The loss of your parents, the death of your grandfather, and for your grandmother who would be alone. You used that hurt, bitterness, and rage and used it to erupt your shield into a burst of biotic energy that detonated like a bomb. The sheer force alone sent the Spartans back.

It wasn’t enough but you only needed a minute or two. Just enough time for you to send your biotics crackling along the air in a line until it grabbed a hold of Kahn and pulled him like a slingshot of force back towards you. When he was close enough, you dropped your left hand that you’d use to control the pull of his body, and cocked back your right arm, your palm open, and launched it forward. The slam of the biotics hit home at the center of his chest launching Kahn back through the scrambling crowd of people, with the sickening crack of his sternum mixing with the scream that tore from your throat.

It was all the time you had before the Spartan marked with 117 came into view. His armored fist closes in like a warthog at full speed against your cheek, sending your body spiraling into the dirt. You could feel the earth shift with tremors as he moved to follow you. You could taste the blood from the hit and wondered if your jaw was broken. If you just lost a whole row of teeth.

“John, Incapacitate her only! I need her to be brought back with us. Alive.”

For a glorious moment, your blurred vision swirled only with the uninterrupted view of the sky before the cameo green of Master Chief, savior of the galaxy - or John - 117 - helmet came into view. A joke was brewing on the back of your tongue, covered in humor and blood before his fist came crashing down your line of sight, and the world became blissfully quiet.

_________

You found that the darkness wasn’t as quiet as you’d hoped.

The impact from the punch the Maater Chief, or John - 117 as that woman called him, had launched you into what felt like a nightmare. Held hostage by a paralysis of your own mind. Unable to change the forms of what you saw. The images were vivid. The sounds carried a weight that sat heavy like lead in your skull. It made you miss the pain of being conscious.

You weren’t sure if the screams that bounced around inside your head were real or if they were just a part of the nightmare. Over and over your broken mind played out the moment a Marine’s bullet found a hole inside your grandfather's gut.

No matter how fast you ran, if you launched yourself in front of him, you were never fast enough. Each step you took sunk deeper into the earth as if your legs were trying to race through quicksand. Your own biotics mysteriously grew quiet - refusing to work for the first time in your life.

No matter what the outcome never changed. Your grandfather was gone, and there was no time travel to head back and change that startling fact.

A sickening lurch, one you knew meant a ship was coming out of slipspace, sent the contents of that morning’s breakfast swirling in your stomach. You barely had time to register that it was real, the nausea, and that you were really about to throw up. You’d barely rolled to your side before said breakfast displayed itself onto a very shiny metal floor.

As soon as you finished, you rolled back onto your back. Your eyes fluttered open to take in the fluorescent lights, the cool slated metal ceiling that matched the walls and floor. It was definitely a cell, and you most definitely found out much too late that your wrists were tied behind your back.

When you were sure you weren’t going to upend anymore of your breakfast, you slowly began to maneuver to sit on the only bench they’d laid you on. The pain in the sockets of your shoulders informing you that you’d been like this for quite a while.

You were still trying to gather your bearings when the sliding doors to your right opened. A woman with blonde hair stood at the forefront with a Spartan, the dusk green armor of John - 117, standing protectively behind her. When she moved, he moved. You couldn’t help but consider her a puppeteer and the Spartan the puppet. He didn’t move unless she did and you doubted he would be doing any of the talking.

She entered the room with a cautionary smile and clinical eyes assessing you before she even entered. It was easy to tell she was a scientist and, more than likely, a very experienced one in whatever it was she specialized in.

“Hello, Subject Cobalt,” she said brightly. Her smile never faltered once. “I’m glad to see that you are alright. My name is Doctor Halsey. I’ve come to do an assessment on you and make sure you didn’t sustain any life-threatening or mind altering issues after what happened back on Laconix.”

Subject Cobalt?

Was that supposed to be you?

You eyed her warily as she took her first step inside the cell. The heavy footsteps of Mjolnir armor followed closely behind. If she suspected you were jumpy - a rabbit in headlights, as the old ones used to say - Halsey never showed it.

A few more steps and she was beside the bench. Another breath and she was sitting beside you. The smile on her face beaming and hollowing out her eyes with rapture at what she must have considered a new species. You made a fine new specimen for any scientist, you would imagine. A nervous system full of eezo that lit your body up like an Earthen Christmas tree and the power to wield it like a weapon.

Doctor Halsey was practically giddy beside you.

“I’m going to do a few simple tests to verify cognitive function isn’t impaired. To do so, I’m going to need your assistance. Do you think you could do that for me?”

Your eyes scanned over her as you considered your options. It turned out to be a very short list that was available to you. The only option being to go along with what she asked.

“Okay.”

That one word was all the go ahead Halsey needed to cause her megawatt smile to go up a notch. She must have thought you would be resistant to following orders and she wasn’t wrong but, from where you were sitting, this seemed like the lesser of two evils.

“Splendid. First, I’m going to run this pen horizontally and vertically. I need you to focus on the tip of the pen, and follow it as closely as you can.”

“Okay.”

Doctor Halsey lifted the pen up to eye level, a few inches away from your face, and waited for your eyes to train on the silver point. You hadn’t expected an examination as soon as you woke up. You weren’t sure if you should’ve felt happy or worried about it. If you were one misstep away from becoming a lab rat.

You’d been so deep in thought - your mind considering all the outcomes and possibilities of this interaction ending well - that you completely missed her first question.

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

Another smile. Another deflection. It was enough, however, for you to notice the tightness in the fine lines of her face. It was so small you could’ve missed it.

“Of course. During your biotic episode on Laconix, I noticed your nose started bleeding. Does it do that every time you use your biotics?”

“No.”

The tightness again. This time it was the edges of her smile - suspended in that mock sweetness - that reminded you of your mother. Waiting for you to give more detail without prodding and realizing, rapidly, you feared incriminating yourself. The pen dropped into her lap. Her eyes roaming over your face for a sign - a tell - that she could exploit.

“You aren’t in any kind of trouble. I’m merely trying to help you -“

“Is that what you’re trying here, Dr. Halsey? To be my friend? To tell me I’m not in any danger when you took me off my planet against my will?” You inquired. Her mouth was still suspended open, forming around a word cut short by your desire to not hear anymore bullshit. “It feels like there is more going on than what you’re sharing.”

She schooled her face - even her eyes - to remain emotionless. A perfect blank slate to display only what she wanted without giving away what she didn’t.

“Alright. I watched you. At first, you seemed in control, but after the third or fourth time your biotics displayed themselves, and you overextended their use, you suffered an epistaxis - the nosebleed. Further scans done here in the ship’s medical bay presented signs of swelling and hematoma on the brain. A few hours before you woke up, I had them run another analysis and both are gone. Which leaves me to believe it only occurs upon exhaustion.”

She watched you as she spoke. Her gaze searching, prodding, for signs of whatever reaction she expected but wasn’t getting. You would’ve loved to offer up whatever it was she wanted, if only you knew which specific one she was hunting for.

“Tell me. Do you get migraines?”

“What is this?”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s a lie,” you shot back.

The tone in your voice matched the anxiety rising in your chest. It caused your words to be rougher than intended, alerting the Spartan in the corner who took a step towards you. Only the rising hand of calm - control - from Dr. Halsey kept him from taking another step.

“I think you understand more than you’re willing to tell me or, at least, not wanting to show your whole hand, anyway. You’re a scientist, right? Probably super smart. Smart enough you probably come from some UNSC lab from Reach or Illium?”

“Reach.”

The carefully constructed smile was back on her lips, but this time you could see a spark of something brighten up the soft blue of her eyes. You were doing something she didn’t expect, but her scientific mind found it fascinating. No doubt logging it away to draw it open later somewhere quiet to dissect.

Your lips pouted around her admission. Reach. One of the top three planets, if not the first, for all private and commercial research filled with legal litigation and NDA’s to protect organizations and UNSC labs from the courts of public opinions. It was how Conatix got away with doing what they did to you and the other kids scattered across the galaxy. Only taking notice when it seemed like something that could benefit them. You weren’t stupid. Halsey had taken one look at what you could do - what you did - and only two things came to mind: control or destroy.

You hadn’t figured out exactly which one you were to Dr. Halsey yet.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Halsey didn’t necessarily give you a reason to think it was an outlandish guess. Everything - everyone - was expendable when it came to science and the betterment of humanity. Or whatever the UNSC’s science team's new slogan was.

“Why would we kill you?”

You tried to shrug off the growing anxiety that sat coiling inside your gut.

“To experiment on me. Take me apart and see what’s buried underneath, so to speak. Isn’t that what you people do.”

“You don’t realize what you are, do you? The advancement of human genetics - biology - that is flowing through you.”

“What’s flowing through me is eezo and it cost hundreds of children their lives.”

“Yes, but for one out of a hundred children there is something remarkable. You. The one out of a thousand. A stepping stone towards humans having a place amongst the vast and ever growing populace of space. I don’t want to kill you, Cobalt. I want to integrate you into my program.”

“What program?”

You wondered if madness was contagious. If you asked anyone else, they might have dismissed your words as too harsh. No doubt calling Halsey’s display of excitement for simply that, but you could see her eyes. Underneath all that perfectly concealed pleasant exterior was an intelligence that was willing to break the norms - rules - to get to whatever she needed.

“I run the Spartan program. Granted, you are well past the parameters to become a Spartan, no, I…I want to make a subunit. I think Cobalt, we can help each other, and not only help each other, but possibly end this war.”

UNSC propaganda.

That’s what the war was. Everyone in the outer colonies knew it was just a fancy attempt to stop the growing surge of colonists from joining the insurrectionists. Halsey sensed your doubt before you disregarded her words with a shake of your head.

“No. The covenant is just a UNSC nightmare story to try and get the outer colonies to toe the line. To allow themselves to be governed under your jurisdiction.”

“I can promise you. It’s not.”

“Of course you would say that! You’re a USNC scientist for Christ’s sake!”

“John.”

Somehow, you’d forgotten that big hunk of tin was in the room. Halsey kept you focused on her - solely on her - that when the Spartan took a step forward, the reflection of the room mirrored in his visor, you almost jumped out of your skin.

In his hand was a holopad that he deposited into her waiting palm. Halsey didn’t waste time logging in. Her fingers tapped wildly across the screen with a speed that left you dizzy. When she found whatever it was she’d been looking for she extended the holopad out for you to take.

“This was transmitted to us only a few hours ago.”

Warily, you watched her. Your mind debating if you should take the holopad or tell her to fuck off. It was more made up videos or fancy speeches, you were sure of it. The grim lines of her face, however, left you wondering just how certain you were. It was her turn to place the holopad in your hands. Your gaze on her a few more seconds before it dropped down to the video that played on the screen.

Bright beams. It’s what you noticed first. Beams that erupted from the sky with such brilliant clarity you knew it could only be one form: plasma. You couldn’t understand - comprehend - what you were seeing.

Plasma on that scale was impossible. It should’ve been and yet, you watched as it sliced through the planet's barrier, through molecules, and simple things like trees and mountains. Everything it touched turned red hot like lava from volcanoes you’d heard stories about that were on the original human planet of earth. While the plasma beam continued its destructive course, the magma it left behind flowed behind.

You didn’t understand until you did.

You knew that mountain. You’d glanced at it many times on walks to neighboring villages for trade. Attempted to climb it a thousand times as a child.

“What is this?”

Your disbelief was met with something you couldn’t place from her. Halsey didn’t offer up sympathy. She offered up an understanding of watching everything you love disappear in a wave of destruction. But how could she understand the hollowness, the sinking feeling of dread that gripped your heart and threatened to make it stop?

“It’s Laconix. Shortly after we left the Covenant arrived. They glassed the planet.”

“Glassed? I - I don’t. I don’t understand.”

You were going to hyperventilate if you weren’t careful.

“It’s gone, Cobalt.” That’s not my name. “The Covenant doesn’t take prisoners. They destroy everything. Kill everything. Your planet is gone.”

Gone.

Your home. What was left of your family - your people - your community. Gone. In less than 7.8 seconds of holopad footage.

“But you can avenge them. You can fight for them and to protect every other planet still left out there in the galaxy and I can help you do it.”

Deep down a part of you knew this had been her tactic all along. If reason didn’t make someone join your cause, then using their emotions against them would. You should’ve seen it coming. Took the time to ask more questions but the growing hole in your soul moved on from shock and grief was rocketing towards unbridled rage at lightning speed.

When you glanced back up at her, Halsey knew she had you before you even spoke.

“What do you need me to do?”

As always, thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

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orangez3st · 18 days ago

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All-Nighter Work High

Entry to @clonexocweek - 02.11.25: Quality Time | Event Masterpost

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Summary: One step closer to uncovering the truth. In the domestic comfort of her apartment, Lesiil unravels the web of reasons behind the murders while Marshal Commander Fox is finishing his mundane flimsiwork. Tags & Warnings: inaccurate criminal investigation & its related process, domestic fluff, "he fell first x she fell harder" kinda dynamic, wholesome convo, a smidge of grief and angst, lots of light friendly banter, serial killer case, author wrote an intense analytic background of the case, typical murder investigation, author watches true crime for reference Pairing: Fox × Det. Lesiil Thrace (OFC Crime Investigator) Word Count: 7.4k A/N: Second day of the event! This is one of my faves to write 😄 So giddy to find out you lot are enjoying the previous part so much! Here's fluff as a treat, hopefully you find them cute and amusing 🫶🏼 and a really comprehensive detail of the case for which I turned my braincells on.

𝑰'𝒎 𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒅𝒐

— Routines In The Night - Twenty One Pilots [X]

The initial drama that surrounds the case, Lesiil thinks, is utterly ridiculous.

The first time these murders - or more like the first ten or so victims - occured, the Grand Army of the Republic quite blatantly ignored the bleak reports. Because ten clones mysteriously killed during patrol usually meant nothing as they are always replaceable. At that time, the interval between the murders were quite far apart.

Until the number increased. Concerningly.

Twenty-eight more murders in one week, as if the Corrie Butcher himself took a day off work, took a walk, and went on a spree in that span of five days – five to six victims a day on average.

Naturally, it sparked attention from the inner circle of the Galactic Senate, the politicians feared whoever this serial killer was. If the Corrie Butcher targeted the shock troopers, who stood guard by these important figures, then there was a chance where they would be targeted as well. With that, the conflict won the ultimate scrutiny by the Supreme Chancellor himself that he issued a direct order for the Coruscant Guard to finally investigate the accumulated murders – a total of fifty-five cases by that time, after a whole month of being ignored.

And now, after three whole months, the number increases to a shocking total of 164 cases. Since Lesiil got assigned to the Coruscant Guard, three more of these troopers had fallen to the brutal stabbing of the Corrie Butcher, bringing the total to 167.

Not to mock Coruscant Guard’s previous investigation team, but what have they been doing all this time?

Lesiil had broken this down to the Marshal Commander in one of her daily reports.

One; with 160 or so cases within three months, meaning 54 cases each month on average. The Corrie Butcher makes quick work with his killings, probably went on an uncontrollable and opportunistic spree in one of those nights, as he never sets a target of how many he wishes to kill in one night. There’s always another body near the first one, so the forensics and coroner are able to pinpoint the time of death, additionally with HUD timestamp. Following the victims’ patrol route, Lesiil concludes that the brutal Corrie Butcher is an opportunistic man. He’s aware of the intensity of Corrie patrol routine, blends with the dark, and strikes. Once he strikes, he sees another approaching, and repeats. Every other night – not only a serial killer – the Corrie Butcher is also a spree killer.

It’s as if these clones walk into their deaths, without even seeing it coming. All they saw was a hooded figure before choking on their own blood, the first strike being to the neck.

Two; why shock troopers? This has been the question since the beginning. Although Lesiil has thought of several theories, nothing is certain, even when the variables aren’t deemed too abstract. She favors one that is most probable, though.

Coruscant Guard shock troopers would only have direct altercation with civilians during, most notably, riot control. Escalation of violence incites more pushed force from the Corries, and that incites more violence, but directed towards the troopers this time. Talking about the motive of personal vendetta; there should be something that might be related to the entire case about riot control in particular. Lesiil holds onto that belief, careful not to announce it aloud with utter confidence, yet.

Three; the obstacle that is the Corrie Butcher himself. His criminal record is squeaky clean, his DNA profile that some of the victims’ armor plate or gloves had acquired in shape of spit or sweat doesn't match anywhere in any police database. All that means he was once an innocent civilian, but then something happened, then his sanity was provoked. Right after that, he leaves 160 cases of serial murders across only three months for the Coruscant Guard to desperately chase after. A daring, heinous act like this…

If one wonders how Lesiil's mind works, that's it. For now.

So in conclusion; the Corrie Butcher, once was an unprovoked man, is now a merciless, opportunistic, trauma-driven serial killer who seeks vengeance to the Coruscant Guard. The deepest, darkest shadows of Coruscant had become his best friend, aiding him delivering that vengeful thirst while slipping through coverings beneath the dark and striking men who merely had only been doing their duty.

The Marshal Commander has been understanding and had taken her considerations to his own. Though, Lesiil knows better, so she refrains from being vocal until the situation needs her to – avoiding throwing caution to the wind. She works with her own mind, and her mind is hers only, not for others to judge. Lesiil knows her assumptions aren't for most people, since most people look at her assumptions like the dirtiest filth on their clothes. For these people, her spoken assumptions are nothing but krayt spit.

That's okay. Her mind is her own.

The next week, with the grim note that the victim count has escalated to 173, Lesiil is one step closer.

She had chosen to dive into her Corrie riot control theory. She can always assemble another probability if one fails, anyway.

Thorn kindly provided her with the necessary reports; a total of 11 times since exactly last standard year. From there, she filtered through. She looked for the ones where peace wasn't an option for these civilians – where violence had escalated to the point that non-lethal force had to be used.

She found 7.

Another filtering through. This time, she looked for the ones where people died unfortunately due to escalated violence.

She found 3.

The Marshal Commander glances back and forth between her and the datapad where she stores her findings of the day.

“These are all, Detective?”

Lesiil nods, keeping her expression neutral as always every time she sits for her daily end-of-the-day reports. A glance here and there to his demeanor and a little listening to his skeptical tone, she knows the Marshal remains cautious to her confidence. She's surprised he's got that amount of patience to face, as people dub it, her ‘krayt spit’.

“And where will you take this to?” the Marshal asks again.

“If it isn't troubling, sir,” she starts, “I would like to gain access to the citizen database so I'll be able to filter through again. I need to look at the profile of all these victims, aiming to see their names, physical features, associations, and familial connections.”

That's right. After jotting down the mentioned 3 riots, her search had to stop. To access the profile of these victims, she needs additional access to the central database of Coruscanti citizens. The party who may grant her that access is her own CO, no less.

Sighing, the Marshal leans back into his padded seat. “I can do that tomorrow,” he says finally.

“With all due respect, I need it tonight, sir,” Lesiil affirms, meeting his baffled expression. “Because if I’m right and we need to detain this individual as fast as possible, the whole process of obtaining a search and arrest warrant and assembling a house raid squad afterward takes time.”

The Marshal Commander waves her off. “No offense, Detective, but…” He trails off, glancing away momentarily, and lets out a long sigh. His hand goes to his face, dazedly rubbing his stubble in consideration. She waits. “How confident are you?” he then asks carefully.

“9 out of 10,” she says calmly, “And I am always right.”

A scoff escapes him as he shakes his head.

Lesiil's gaze remains stubbornly fixated onto the man.

Another sigh. “Very well,” he concedes, “But I have other matters to attend to.”

“Flimsiwork, I hope? Not patrol?”

He lets out a low chuckle, “Yeah. One of your luckiest nights.”

Lesiil feels her cheeks slightly heat up in embarrassment. Did she sound too desperate? Was there something the Marshal deemed amusing? Or is it about his crow's feet that emerge whenever he smiles? She won't lie, such a kind of smile that reaches one's eyes is attractive.

“How soon do you need it?” his voice breaks her trance.

“As soon as possible,” she replies calmly, “I'm already willing to work through the night till morning.”

The Marshal looks at her concerningly. “I won't, and can't, allow you to stay overnight here in HQ.”

Lesiil shrugs. She's grown a bit too casual with the Marshal this past week. “I've planned to continue working elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“Why, my apartment, of course,” she answers lightheartedly, “24-hour public co-working space is costly, and while my own dwelling is free, I'd hate spending credits for something I do have myself; private space.”

The crease between his eyebrows deepens in thought. She notices a brewing conflict in his amber eyes, sparking and reflecting the lighting of his office. His luscious dark curls have long forgotten to be combed back and fallen to his brows, the silvery strands kissing his eyelids, making her wonder why he isn't choosing the regulatory haircut. But if it's personal preference and is a quirk, among millions of clones, she's glad her CO is a little rebel himself when it comes to his hair underneath that helmet.

“So,” she interrupts softly to not startle him, “Is it a yes, sir?”

His amber eyes pierce her with an intensity she can't quite define. “That data is sensitive and prone enough to security breach. I can't risk it, so as your CO, I’ll have to supervise you while you work and make sure you utilize it accordingly.”

Lesiil hums, nodding. “I’ll brew you some caf, then.”

“It's not–” the Marshal lets out a long sigh, closing his eyes momentarily. He places his jaw in his hand propped on the arm of his padded chair. “It won't look appropriate,” he mutters.

That's what he's worried about?

“I don't see any issue? I work, you watch me work, and we will be doing that till sunrise or till I can't help my fatigue, or you with yours,” she demands, “I solemnly promise I won't continue my work if you somehow fall asleep.”

The Marshal remains unamused. “You could just wake me up, Detective.”

“Could I?”

“I'm serious, Thrace.”

“I am as well, sir,” she counters as respectfully as she can, “Maker knows how many hundred hours of sleep you've lost. If you fall asleep, I will take a break as well and retreat to my room.”

Another pause as he takes it into deep consideration. Lesiil steals the moment to appreciate his pronounced jawline, how the lighting graciously gives his bronze skin a mysterious silhouette despite his caf-less and fatigued countenance, and the white scar across his nose.

It's an old wound for sure, but she silently wonders if it's still sensitive to the touch.

Before she knows it, those amber eyes are already staring at her, one scarred eyebrow slightly raised in question.

The Marshal catches her staring.

“You're gonna have to brew me that caf,” his gruff voice says with a certain inflection that indicates total smugness in her book.

Refusing to give away any cadence that signals shame and embarrassment, Lesiil lets a smile slide seamlessly into her face. “A deal's a deal, Marshal.”

Fox regrets taking that deal.

Lesiil Thrace’s apartment radiates nothing but comfort, haze, and warmth that once he took off his helmet and stepped foot inside, the serene ambience itself lulls him, persuading him to plop down onto one of the plush seatings and then catch some z’s. Upon the invitation she had said to make himself at home, he was actually tempted to lay down and pass out.

Their respective piles of datapads sit on the cleared dining table, flimsiwork ready to be tended to. What's funny for him is that the table is so huge he could dine there with the usual command vode, despite the fact that the detective lives alone.

BD-6 hops onto the table.

Well. Alone, with the droid.

While the host and current occupant of the refresher down the hall is not around, Fox takes the unspoken invitation to observe and prod about the space. One section of the apartment that intrigues him is the spot where he now sets his feet on, the eyes within hung holostills on the wall staring back at him.

They're all, as expected, images of family and coworkers. There are several holostills of the detective and two people which he easily identifies as her buire and there are another of her with a man about her age, all ranged from the age of childhood to maturity, one of those images is them posing in their university graduation toga, wide grins adoring both faces.

Vod.

Just one, instead of millions.

Soft pitter-patter echoing down the hall catches his attention. Detective Thrace adorns some casual set of sleeved shirt and long pajama trousers, void of any patterns, stripped from the usual sight of a punctual set of shirt and jacket and trousers usually seen in HQ. Dark curly tresses, thick and unbound and looks like just has been blow-dried, fans about her shoulders voluminously.

Thrace is heading down the kitchen, not paying a second glance at him standing by that part of the apartment, and straight up switches on the caf machine.

“Is that your brother?” Fox asks to break the silence.

Thrace grabs two mugs from the top cabinet. “Yes. My twin, actually. Railuu Thrace,” she answers, her back to him as she busies herself. “Friendly to everyone he met. Sociable. Silly man, he was.”

Fox tilts his head down upon instinct.

“Was he a detective too?”

“No, sir.” Thrace finally turns around, leaning back against the counter, hands joined in front of her. “But he served aboard the Triumphant as the one and only natborn deck officer. I believe you’re familiar with Jedi General Plo Koon’s flagship incident?”

He stills. “Abregado... yeah.”

Thrace nods absentmindedly, her storm grey eyes fixing elsewhere. “The General personally delivered the news to our family. He was fond of Railuu, and said his sincerest apologies for being unable to retrieve the body due to the… tragic incident.” She looks up at him with a faint smile. “Railuu was as close as family to the entire 104th. He never stopped talking about the unit whenever we got on holocall.”

He wonders if she had befriended a certain commander of his corps because the man reminds her of her late twin brother.

“My condolences,” he offers quietly, “Must be a good man to earn the favor of a Jedi General and his entire battalion.”

“Thank you,” Thrace nods solemnly, “He was. Really was.”

At the given silence once she turns her back on him again, he can't help but think.

Is that why she regards the clones with so much respect, unlike most people?

Thrace calls out from the kitchen, “I hope you're hungry, Marshal, because I'm starving.” She gets back to her feet after retrieving ingredients from the food preservator, smiling his way welcomingly. “I suppose a little break from mess rations wouldn't hurt, would you agree, sir?”

Fox allows himself a small chuckle. Who, even among clones, would deny a good home-cooked dish?

“Drop the ‘sir’,” he says curtly as he makes his way to sit at the dining table, “We're not in HQ. Fox is fine.”

Thrace turns around. “But we're working.”

He gives a pointed gaze at the half-chopped vegetables.

“Later,” Thrace insists, turning back around to resume her food cutting endeavor. “I may be the host tonight, but you remain my commanding officer.”

BD-6 beeps from his current spot on one of the chairs, something about him making Thrace glaring subtly at him.

“What did he say?” Fox prompts.

Thrace openly lets out a long sigh. “Beedee said he took your side, that I should loosen up now that I'm in my own home.”

“Even the droid gets it,” Fox says, nodding towards the droid, “Why wouldn't you? Should I make it an order?”

She lets out a dry laugh. “I do not think it's necessary, sir.”

From this angle, he can't quite see her from his seat, but he'd be willing to bet she's slightly blushing, if not. Merciful as he is towards his coworkers (that's a lie), he decides to drop it altogether and reaches for the top datapads of his pile to start working on awaiting spreadsheets, settling comfortably on the padded chair, the absence of his top armor has never been so relieving.

Within the hour, they have a quiet hearty dinner, clear the table once again, and start working.

Fox tosses her a data stick. “That’s the key to gain access to the database. I'll have to have my eyes on you while you work,” he reminds her.

Thrace, on her way now to her working space to grab her holocomputer, nods in acknowledgment.

He goes back to his mundane spreadsheet. Letters and numbers and statistics hold a menacing glare at him, promptly smacking him right in the nose for even sighing.

They had collectively decided that working on the dining table isn't helping for the back and shoulder pain that pop up after two hours of sitting. And so they’d moved to the living area and settled down on the rug, legs tucked underneath the caf table while leaning back against the couch.

The Marshal had thrown most courtesy and air of professionalism out of the airlock, seeing him now casually lounging across the plush couch by absolute not pulling ranks earlier.

“Getting comfortable are we, sir?” Lesiil teases without looking away from her datapads.

“Can't resist a good couch, DT,” the Marshal then yawns. Taking it as a cue, Lesiil pushes his caf mug an inch further towards him.

The Marshal sits up and reaches for the mug, observing it for a few seconds before sipping. “Do all your caf mugs have poor police puns like this?”

You have the right to remain silent sleeping

Lesiil chuckles softly. “If that’s your way of saying that I have an excellent sense of humor, Marshal, then I appreciate the recognition.”

He looks at her in disbelief. “No way you made these lines.”

“Of course not. Don't be silly, Marshal. I don't make jokes.”

“Understood. No humor coming from you then, DT,” the Marshal sulks.

“Huh. So you believe that, sir?”

“...I appreciate your humor now.”

“Why, thank you,” she grins widely, but then suddenly she grows concerned. “Are you certain you aren't as jittery as supposed from someone being so high on caf, sir? Because this is very highly out of character for you.”

The Marshal pointedly takes another sip. “Not strong enough to break my character. And did you just say I was never funny?”

“Thorn once said you're ruthless and very exhausted that you never have time to make jokes.”

Her guest and commanding officer merely scoffs, replacing his mug, and reclines back on the couch to return to his mundane flimsiwork.

“Thorn told me you're from Alderaan,” he says a minute later, “You a member of the noble houses?”

Lesiil, not even turning slightly to face him as she's still busy on her works, explains, “I was, but I renounced all my royal titles and the duty that followed. I’ve chosen to serve the people by doing the field work. Not too keen on forever being prim and proper.”

The Marshal goes quiet behind her, probably surprised and all learning the new information. “Is that why you sound too formal to everyone's liking when you speak?” he asks again.

She nods. “I was taught such etiquettes, yes.”

Silence for a beat or two, and then…

“Do you swear?” the Marshal prods again.

Lesiil rolls her eyes. “Internally.”

“Really?” he lets out bemused chuckles, “Like what?”

“If I’m not mistaken, Marshal, I do not owe you anything to the point I have to disclose what swear words I use whenever I like.”

“What, afraid to break character?”

“I’ve always been like this.”

The Marshall snorts. “Krayt spit.”

Lesiil shrugs. “Colloquial speech has just never been in my favor, sir.”

“Drop the ‘sir’,” he insists, his tone serious coming from behind her, “Just Fox.”

A loud sigh flies off her lips. “If I call you by your name, will you stop pestering me about my use of swear words?”

“I solemnly swear,” he mimics her saying earlier.

Another sigh.

“Okay, Fox.”

The Marshal bursts out into a fit of cackles. “Yeah, it doesn't suit you.” He coughs, clutching his stomach. “Sounds kriffing weird comin’ from you. And it's just a single word. It's like your accent just changed, too.”

Despite the sheer embarrassment for being so bold, Lesiil merely shakes it away and sends him a smirk instead. “I believe you see why now, Marshal.”

Good food. Good caf. Good couch. Good company.

Fox is spoiled as kriff.

If he'd rejected this idea earlier, he'd be stuck in his office till late without selfishly getting familiar with such domestic comfort. He's sure if he'd rejected this idea earlier he'd be dead by now by the rawest form of sole regret alone.

The chronometer now shows 0140.

Fox stretches. “You don't wanna take a break?” he asks the detective.

Thrace huffs quietly. “I’m still trudging through these 52 victims one by one and copying the essentials manually to my datapads because the access key is not even giving me full access.”

“Protocols, Detective,” he reminds her, “Can't give you full access.”

She nods. “Perfectly understood, Marshal.”

“Call me Fox,” he says curtly after rolling his eyes.

“Yes, Fox.”

Then before he can stop it, “Can I call you Lesiil?”

Her tone earlier had been meaning to be deadpanning. He knows it. She only wishes to focus on her work.

But the detective now slowly turns to face him, grey eyes greeting his amber ones. The edge of her lips lift momentarily, driving him to glance at them hoping she doesn't notice. But of course, with the Lorrdian blood, maybe she does? Remembering just that, and how accurate the read can be, he suddenly feels his cheek burn the life out of him. But he never backs down from a challenge. He stands his ground.

Accompanied by a certain twinkle in her stormy orbs underneath the warm lighting of her dwelling, he lets himself think he's certain that he's lost it when her voice, absent of any apathetic deadpan and formality, comes out as soft and sincere.

“Yes you can, Fox.”

He holds her gaze steadfastly, relishing how his given Basic name had rolled off her courteous tongue.

“Well,” he starts, leaning away, “I'm taking a break for an hour, Lesiil. If I suddenly stop talking, don't wake me.”

Lesiil smirks cheekily before turning away. “Never planned to, Fox.”

Seemingly grateful for the eventual silence, Fox notices Lesiil is working almost twice as fast, leaving him almost feeling guilty for distracting her, although the purpose was to build a friendlier rapport. Now watching her tapping and running her dainty fingers across datapads, he considers it somehow as a therapy and, really, a break.

After what must've been half an hour of being awake thanks to Lesiil's good caf still running through his system, suddenly she turns to face him again.

He almost scowls. “What?”

Lesiil rolls her eyes. “First off, that tone is unnecessarily rude,” she says calmly, “Second off, I was just checking if you had fallen asleep. As promised, if you do, I will stop as well and take a break.”

“Why break?” Fox mumbles into the throw pillow under his cheek, “Why not a nap?”

“Caf is running within my veins as we speak. I am now quite awake,” she explains gently, the grey storm in her orbs sparkling at the right angle, “And I do not have the mighty tolerance as you do.”

He smirks. “Just watching you work as I'm supposed to do, Detective. It's not as boring as my reports.”

“It is mentally stimulating,” Lesiil admits with a nod of agreement, “It’s always either something new or something familiar, whilst yours is always the latter.”

“That supposed to mean as an insult?”

“What an outrageous accusation, Marshal.” She turns away, unable to hide her smirk. “I would never insult the very system I am working in.” For yet another minute or two, she finally sighs loudly. “And we're now finished. Finally. Beedee!”

The droid, faraway, trills in attention and immediately makes his way over.

Currently, the chronometer shows 0238.

“What will you do now?” Fox asks when BD-6 starts to tinker about datapads.

Lesiil is still acknowledging the droid's questioning boops before answering him, “Beedee will be helping me with the compartmentalizing as usual. This time we're cataloguing the cause of death of these 52 profiles.” She disengages the data stick from the holocomputer. “It’s a quick process, then we narrow it all down.”

He watches her sipping her caf and sighing afterward. “Isn’t 52 too much?” he asks, concern tinged in his voice.

“I admit, yes,” she says, “I would gladly take your generous helping hand if you are offering.”

Wordlessly, he plops down next to her and takes the datapad she hands him. “Catch me up to your thinking, DT. What should I be looking for?”

“Something that catches your eye,” she answers vaguely, “We’ll wait for Beedee first.” Then, as if cued, their datapads ping. BD-6 beeps in confirmation. Lesiil pats his head. “Thanks, Beedee. Now, let’s sort.”

Fox gobbles down the list, swallowing every now and then as he skims through the written manner of death – which all of them were deemed as accidental – and the cause of death – which varies through traumatic asphyxia to blunt force trauma to cardiac arrest.

“What about parents?” he blurts out as he stares at a still of a senior citizen. “What if parents?”

“Statistics show a person is likely to be reacting more emotionally to the death of spouse or spawn. But there have been more cases involving a murderous parent of a dead child,” Lesiil asserts, “So we're using this as the base of our assumptions that we may be looking for someone younger.”

Acknowledging, Fox manages to cross off a third of the list which consists of senior citizens.

“Some of these are parentless,” he says again, “We're looking for someone that comes out of legal marriages?”

Lesiil looks at him with thought. “If we are dedicated enough to go along with this theory, then yes. Good observation, sir. Fox.”

He scoffs, both at her statement and her slipup. “Still a theory, huh?”

“We’re utilizing whatever data is available and making sensible assumptions. Seeing that we have nothing on the Corrie Butcher, not even a clear screencap of an entire face let alone a name, we take another route to find who his name is and what he looks like.” She gives him a look. “No thanks to your hasty investigation team to overlook everything else there is.”

Fox resists rolling his eyes. “In our defense, we were processing this strictly by the book.”

“The book sometimes hinders you,” declares Lesiil, looking deep into his eyes, “If there's another angle, however improbable or implausible that is, rather than wasting time mulling over nonexistent data and waiting for it to pop up, one must dedicate themselves to approach that angle.”

A smirk slides into his face. “Wise words, Lesii.”

“Those wise words circulate around the Criminal Investigations Department quite regularly since it takes shape as our very job description,” she deadpans, then does a double take. “And did you just call me Lesii?”

“What? Don't like it? Own it.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Sir, yes sir.”

His gaze on her lingers on her and her luscious coiled hair for a little longer before he reels himself away from the trance, and begins working on his share.

Emptying his already full cup; that's what he's doing right now. Dipping his hands into investigative police work, a far cry from his usuals; planning senate security detail, mapping out patrol routes, sniffing criminal activity, studying the cruel and hazardous structures of the underworld, securing every sort of security breaches in a moment's notice, bringing in enemies of the state. As quick and intelligent as he is trained, he can never match Lesiil Thrace's level of intellect.

Working with the woman has been pleasant, albeit the presumptive rambling and mind maps at the end of any day. Lesiil knows what to anticipate, what's sensible, and what's critical to prioritize firsthand. The trait puts her several steps ahead.

It's only been a week, not even a month, since her arrival, and now Fox is presented with a good chance of identifying his brothers’ killer at any moment.

Had she been brought in much earlier… many wouldn't have to die in the hands of this ruthless individual.

“Intriguing,” Lesiil hums next to him.

Fox perks up, leaning closer. “What?”

She tilts her datapad in his direction. “This one. Female, Kayl Brando.” A still of a blonde woman. “Her name had been mentioned in the media. Her family sued the Coruscant Guard for her death, caused by asphyxia, because she attended one of the riots where your division had to use tear gas. The media, backed up by the family's given statement and medical records, mentioned she had a generational severe lung injury so the use of your tear gas had been fatal.”

Fox rubs a hand over his stubble as he recalls. “I remember that, yeah. That was seven months ago.”

Lesiil scrolls more. “Seven months ago, correct,” she confirms, shifting slightly to face him. “Could you please provide more context?”

Fox lets out a long sigh as he runs a hand through his curls. “Charges were dropped. Using tear gas when violence escalates is simply within regulations. Technically not our fault she had that injury in the first place.” He shakes his head. “But if I'm not mistaken, that family had been vocal. Raising awareness from the empathic community and pushing more hostility towards the Corries.”

Lesiil takes another glimpse at the shown data. “And right after that, the trend dies, the talks dwindled to nonexistence,” she nods in confirmation, “It seems everything went into a downward spiral for this family.”

Fox shrugs. “Well, they already lost the lawsuit before it even began. Charges were dropped ‘cause the Coruscant Guard, or GAR, did nothing wrong.”

They continue searching. Fox goes to refill his mug with that beautiful caf blend and snatches a packet of Saleucami cheese biscuits from the little basket on the kitchen counter. Lesiil notices but says nothing, yet the look in her eyes is quite encouraging.

Welcome to my humble abode, Marshal. Make yourself comfortable. And I'd very much like your boots off, please. Refresher’s just down the hall.

He meets her gaze daringly, walks backwards to her food conservator, and opens it.

He gasps.

“Never thought of you as a beer drinker, DT,” Fox eyes the three glass bottles inside. “Stressful times call for desperate measures, huh?”

“You may take one if you'd like, Fox.”

“Tempting. Sticking with caf tonight. Maybe another time.”

Lesiil smiles, but says nothing.

About ten minutes later, she asks again, “Did you find anything yourself, sir?”

Gulping down the last of the cheese biscuits, Fox hums in confirmation next to her. “5 more people followed the notion of that lawsuit.”

Looking down at her own datapad, Lesiil skims through the marked profiles, taking the typed footnotes into careful consideration. Maybe there are actual gears inside her head that whir whenever she thinks, Fox thinks.

“Then we are rounding this up,” she says suddenly.

He does a double take. “We're done?”

“Hm, not quite.”

It's 0317 now. Lesiil grabs her work commlink.

“I have to make a few calls to the forensics at CSF and my supervisor beforehand, for the permit and the go. We still have to match DNA samples between these victims and the Corrie Butcher with hopes we’re about to get somewhere.” She looks up at him and Fox catches her knowing smirk. “That must interest you.”

“Yeah, finally, something by the book,” Fox deadpans. “Will that take more time?”

Lesiil shrugs, leaning back against the couch. “I have friends in the division whose sleep I am allowed to interrupt for all I care. This is for a high-profile case, after all.”

“So now they're doing the work? Thank Prime. I'd really like to catch that break right now.”

“Was all that not ‘break’ enough for you, Fox?”

“Oh, it was refreshing, but if I spend another minute looking at a screen, I think I'm gonna develop aneurysm on the spot.”

Another new thing about the Marshal Lesiil has just learned tonight; several cups of caf does absolutely nothing to one extremely fatigued commander to the point she's actually concerned for the prospect of acid reflux.

That, and he is now asleep. Still in a seated position by her side on the rug, arms folded loosely across his chest, legs stretched out under the caf table, head back and flushed on the padded cushion of the couch.

And nothing seems to wake him, even as of now she's contacting her fellow detective partner.

“You’re lucky some of the guys in the lab are still up by this hour, Les,” Eisen the Nautolan speaks through her commlink, “They’re going through it as we speak. Inspector commed me earlier to supervise the whole thing for you as well. It's top priority now.”

“Thank you, Eisen,” Lesiil says in a low voice, being considerate to Fox's state either way, “And about the 6 profiles I've sent you? Is there anything you've found in your search?”

“Yeah. One of them, just recently. Last night, actually. Related to a, uh, Kayl Brando.”

Lesiil draws a sharp inhale. “Before you dive into the explanation, will you please kindly hold for a moment?”

“Yeah yeah, sure. I've got all day, Les. Or morning, whatever. It's 0400 anyway.”

She presses the mute button and turns to the sleeping commander.

“Marshal.” She grabs his forearm and shakes him. “Marshal, wake up.”

Still asleep like dead. She wonders if this is what it feels like to be in Thorn's position, though she's doing the exact opposite of what he'd do.

Lesiil reaches out, muttering an apology under her breath, before carefully pats his cheek. “Fox? Wake up, come on. Fox?”

The Marshal stirs just as she retracts her hand swiftly. But just for good measure, she keeps shaking him awake by the forearm. His lids crack open, drowsy amber eyes peeking through thick dark eyelashes.

“Wha’?”

“We’ve made progress,” Lesiil announces, “I’m currently in contact with my partner, he's gotten something.”

Fox merely nods, yawning and scrubbing his hands all over his face before sitting up properly and cracking his back.

Seeing him refreshed enough to listen to a whole critical conversation, Lesiil disables the mute button and raises her commlink near her mouth. “You may talk to me now, Eisen.”

“Okay, about this Kayl Brando,” the Nautolan instantly replies, “I'd like to confirm again that she really tragically passed away in that riot due to respiratory failure. Underlying cause, as written in her death certificate, is chemical irritant exposure. Tear gas. Right?”

Recognition sparks in Fox's amber brown eyes.

Lesiil locks her gaze with his. “That is correct.”

“That's what I found. Additionally; Kayl Brando was the only daughter to a now divorced couple, Jai Brando and Helne Firrda, both still living on Coruscant. And last night, Ms Firrda called our line to suggest a welfare check on her ex-husband’s house.”

Lesiil recognizes both names as the ones she saw in multiple holonews articles about their lawsuit. Fox wordlessly shares her expression.

“What for? Something happened?” she inquires hastily.

“Hadn't heard of him in three days. Usually they keep in touch, with her being some kind of a support system. According to her and a brief examination of Jai Brando's medical files…” Eisen lets out a long, heavy sigh, “He’s suffering from PTSD and dissociation. And hell of a track record of substance abuse to cope with his grief, too. As personal commentary, Les, I'd say this is chronically messed up.”

She takes a deep breath. “I have to agree.” Fox nods at her in agreement. “And the welfare check?”

“We had someone there just last night at, uh, they knocked on his residence at 2056. I can send you the bodycam feed and transcript real quick, if you're interested. It was just a brief interaction. The ex-wife calmed down.”

Sounds like another hour of observing, but this time with more certainty. “I'd very much appreciate that,” Lesiil says.

“Okay. Sending,” the Nautolan responds. Not long after, her holocomputer beeps in receival. “I'll keep in touch with you when the test results are in.”

“Thank you for your tremendous aid, Eisen.”

“And you doing great as always, partner.”

“What test results?” Fox asks her once the comm call ends.

“DNA, sir. I sent samples of the 5 victims, Kayl Brando included, and the unknown one found on the victims' bodies to the CSF forensics lab,” Lesiil kindly reminds him, leaning back and crossing her arms.

“Right,” he nods slowly, “So we're onto this guy?”

“For now, the anticipation is overbearing and I hope I am not wrong, or all this will be for nothing.”

“It won't be for nothing,” Fox disagrees, his unapproving gaze bearing down onto her, but there's a softness to it that she can only register as fondness. “It's still progress, Lesii. Don't be so hard on yourself.”

With her mug of caf running out two hours ago and the slower flow of adrenaline pumping through her veins, Lesiil allows her tense body to relax and let herself take a breath.

“Thank you, Fox.”

She meets his gaze lazily as the littlest bit of fatigue begins to catch up on her burnout body, with gratefulness blossoming inside her chest for his tremendous trust and support.

Marshal Commander Fox has been nothing but a man appreciative of everybody's work, even though in possession of a blunt mouth and patience as thin as flimsi. Weird, because Thorn said he's especially impatient with everyone, always urging them along and biting back with a bitter and snarky remark. But not with her.

He respects her in return, it makes her feel… recognized. Not recognized as in fame and notoriety, but for her genuineness, her tireless efforts to restore justice, and her sacrifices; time, mental, body, and shame, when bizarre looks are thrown her way whenever she opens her mouth.

But why treat her like she's anybody different?

Among clones, it's understandable.

But when it's only the two of them like this?

Lesiil is no idiot. She notices his signs. The Marshal has been holding himself back. Sitting an inch closer, peering in when interested, acting so freely and relaxed, holding her gaze a bit longer than supposed to, his beautiful amber eyes softening, catching her lips for a split second just a little while ago. The ridiculous amount of trust and bluntness, as if exhibiting his true self behind all the hard shell of a stoic commander of his corps.

Maybe there will be a time, when it's right, when it's fitting, to give in.

But not now.

As much as she perhaps wishes to curl her fingers into his luscious curls, mindlessly counting each of his silvery strands with the pad of her thumb, caressing his shapely jawlines, tracing his scars and kissing every inch of his skin…

It's not now.

Now, there's murder to solve. A serial murder of Fox's own brothers. Thinking about them makes her think about her own brother, who died along with the crew aboard the Triumphant. Railuu loved the 104th like they were his own brothers. To honor his beautiful memory, maybe she would be willing to completely open up so she can share that fondness with the Coruscant Guard and its Marshal Commander as well.

Fox gets up, his mug and hers in his hands. “I’ll get you more caf, DT.”

A small laugh escapes her. “Ah please, no more. Or I’ll be jittery for the whole day. I prefer not to.”

Not saying anything, he continues his pace towards the caf machine for his refill. As the rich liquid pours in, Fox puts her caf mug in the sink and retrieves a new one from the top cabinet before filling it with cool water.

“We still have work to do, Detective,” he says when he returns to his seat next to her. Her glass of water sits nearby. “Don't fall asleep on me.”

Lesiil had been putting her head on her folded arms atop the table. “I am falling asleep on the table as we speak,” she mutters, letting the caf-induced uneasiness in her body calm down.

“The point stands,” Fox says firmly, almost commanding, “I don't want you sleeping when we're one step closer to the truth.”

Her dark curls form a curtain before her eyes as she shifts. “Possible truth.”

“You're the one 100% confident about this, Lesiil.” His tone gradually grows sharper. “Since when we trade places? I'm the one convincing you now?”

She blinks away her fatigue and sits up straight. “Yes, sir. Apologies,” she mumbles, scooting closer to the holocomputer.

His glare on her dissipates. “Don't sulk. Don't be insecure,” he encourages, “Won't do good for morale. You're doing well.”

Because of all that he is, the smile she directs at him is wider and glowing with genuineness.

“Thank you.”

Suddenly her commlink beeps, startling the serene atmosphere.

“Thrace,” she answers.

“Les, have you watched the footage?” Eisen’s voice rings through.

“Just about to.” She catches urgency in his tone. “Has something come up with the tests?”

“That's the thing. You haven't watched it right? I have, so here I'll save you some time.” Eisen takes a big breath. “The guys checked on Brando. He was cooperative at first, but when they asked about how he's been coping with the loss because the ex-wife mentioned it during the call, he straight up went defensive. There was a bit of verbal altercation, but the worse is when he spat on them. Like, literally. Literal ball of spit.”

Lesiil scrambles up and begins to pace. “Please tell me you took it down as a sample.”

“Oh yeah, they did,” the Nautolan tells her smugly, “Wiped it down and sent it to the lab, initially to put it in the system in case they wanted to press charges against him for assault. I love these guys, alright? Karking smart. They didn't even know this gotta be related to the Corrie Butcher case, and the coincidence is amazing. Ocean spirits are loving me right now.”

“Eisen, I am aware your jittery is most likely caf-induced now, but please can we swerve back on track?”

“Sorry sorry, I'm just excited.” He clears his throat. “So yeah, all that. And I didn't even know about it until like, forty seconds ago. Labs done, by the way.”

Fox's eyes are trained on her, his body rigid in anticipation for what's to come.

“And the results?” she asks.

There's a sniffle. “Oh they're positive, Les!” Eisen exclaims into the commlink, “Everything! Everything came back positive. Everything matched. The DNA found on the dead troopers, Kayl Brando's DNA, her dad's DNA. Everything matched, Les!”

Lesiil is already running to change.

“Jai Brando is the Corrie Butcher!”

“Search and arrest warrant has been obtained,” Fox says to his commlink, the machinery hum of Lesiil's speeder filling the space around him, “The Detective and I are heading down to the suspect's dwelling to arrest him as we speak.”

Thorn acknowledges from the other side. “We'll take over everything here in your place, vod. Stay safe.”

The sun is barely on the horizon as Lesiil expertly swerves her speeder through the early morning traffic with lights and sirens, the air of urgency blaring louder and louder every second.

“I must ask you to relax, sir,” she says from beside him, eyes focused on the front.

Fox doesn't even realize he's anxious until he stops his fingers from tapping against his thigh plate, bucket already donned upon his shoulders.

“Brando isn't going anywhere,” she assures him. “We’ll be having an entry team and the command post ready in no time.”

“You're handling this right,” he dryly comments, not knowing what to say.

“It's standard, sir. And, not meaning to set a joyous atmosphere in the middle of a grim setting, but,” Lesiil offers him a reassuring smile, “I hope you’re ready for your first ever civilian house raid experience, Marshal.”

Taglist (Form): @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @msmeredithrose @filamentlights

#clonexocweek #clonexocweek2025 #clonexocweek2025 day 2 #commander fox x oc #fox x lesiil | z3st #coruscant guard #commander fox #serial murder #crime investigation #domestic fluff #read “tags & warnings” above for more #star wars #clone wars #tcw #star wars fanfiction #x oc #star wars x oc

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hellfiresky · 2 months ago

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The rain pauses too

Summary: A chance encounter during a rainy afternoon in Coruscant’s Federal District leads to a fleeting conversation between a weary worker and an equally tired clone trooper.

Pairing: Captain Rex x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2067

Warnings: None

A/N: This is my very first x Reader fic and my first-ever one-shot! Inspired by today’s rainy morning that lingered until midday, paired with Vienna by Billy Joel playing on repeat.

Join the taglist if you’re interested

(Rex picture from TCW and Coruscant from Episode III, Yannick Dusseault. The photo in the middle is courtesy of myself)

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You finger brushed your damp hair back and tucked it behind your ears. The hovertrain was busy that morning, like almost every morning in the Galactic City. You couldn’t remember when was the last time you could effortlessly enter the train and get yourself a seat - you always had to squeeze your way in and hope to god you wouldn’t crash into someone holding a hot caf and spilled it on their shirt. This time, at least, you managed to snag a free grab handle - better than leaning awkwardly against the separator by the door. It was raining again. You wondered if the weather control systems were glitching. There’d been reports about that last month - supposed to be summer, but instead, everyone was layering up like it was autumn. It took a week for the engineers to fix it because, of course, the topsiders raised hell over their ruined summer picnics.

The next station is Orowood. The doors on the right side will open. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform.

A sigh escaped your lips. Five more stations, you thought. You wished you could live closer to your office, but your mid-level salary didn’t stretch to the business district. You wonder how it would be when the war ends - would it be cheaper then? Or would things be worse? And this entire galaxy would go into a galactic-wide dystopia and you would have to find the latest available commercial starship to fuck off this planet and go to some desolate rock like Tatooine? Or worse, a Cthon outbreak might turn the Remnants of Us holoseries into reality. At least that universe had that handsome Kiffar actor.

The next station is Calocour Heights. The doors on the left side will open. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform. Change here for the Federal, Southern, Rotunda, and Uscru Line.

Finally. You muttered the word under your breath as you double-checked your pockets - no pickpockets today, thankfully. You slipped into the river of commuters flowing towards the escalators, and finally broke off towards your usual tapcafe as its shutters slid open. Four people ahead in line. Not bad. You stepped into place, already tasting the first sip of caf. The next few minutes was a blur, it was like your body moving on autopilot to where you work as a communications specialist for the Interstellar Children’s Aid Fund. The next thing you knew you were in front of your terminal, clacking on your keyboard for the next press release on the joint effort between ICAF and the Galactic Senate, a collaboration so mind-numbingly routine.

Your datapad vibrated on the desk, demanding your attention. You scrolled through the business group chats. The protocol group for the Core Worlds Educational Reform Committee hadn’t replied to your request for a quote from their head senator. Typical. You’d sent the request yesterday, clearly marked urgent, but as usual, anything involving Senate bureaucracy felt like trying to steer a starship through a nebula without sensors. You returned to the draft on your screen, re-reading it for the third time, wondering if you could sneak in one of the standard placeholder quotes: "This initiative is a testament to the enduring cooperation between the Galactic Senate and civic organisations like ICAF." You winced. Generic. Sounded like you asked a droid to write it. Still, it might have to do unless the protocol group got their act together.

By the time your shift ended, the rain had returned, misting the transparisteel windows of Galactic City's towering spires. The train ride home felt heavier somehow, and you didn’t even bother to grab a handle this time, just leaned back against the cold separator and let your mind drift. You thought about nothing. You thought about everything. About how things might get worse before they got better - if they ever got better. Funnily, nothing was happening. It was neutral. Your life was neutral. You had a great career, a group of friends that you occasionally have drinks with, a nice one bedroom apartment in Orange District. It was alright.

Along the way, you changed your mind and got off the train at the Federal District where you were greeted by the drizzle. The shoes you’d splurged on last week as a treat splashed against shallow puddles as you turned down a quieter street, a detour you didn’t usually take. It was quieter here. Dimmer. And you liked that. You didn’t usually come to the Federal District unless work demanded it, but today you thought it might be worth reacquainting yourself. Another annual event loomed in the horizon - a grand affair hosted by the Galactic Senate involving a coalition of organisations, including your own. Something about health and youth in conflict zones - worthy on paper, meaningless in execution. You’d written enough press releases to know these things rarely scratched the surface, let alone solved anything. You marvelled at how different the neighbourhood is compared to the other topside districts - always well-guarded and clean.

You spotted the venue where the event will be held and watched from under your umbrella. You could already picture it: the Senate representatives filing in, the Chancellor delivering the opening remarks, followed by yet another speech from your organisation’s representative. Then more speeches, probably a ribbon-cutting ceremony, some small side events for civilians to engage with the cause. Booths would line the promenade, showcasing what the organisations and the Senate claimed they were accomplishing. And, of course, the obligatory doorstop interviews.

“Excuse me,”

A sudden jolt rushed into you. You knew that tone. You’d forgotten where you were for a moment, and now, the realisation hit you. Loitering is probably prohibited here.

“Sorry... I—I was just looking at...” You trailed off, flailing your hand vaguely at the outdoor venue in front of the Senate Building ahead. “I’m from ICAF. You know, the Interstellar Children’s Aid Fund? There’s an event there in two weeks, and I was just—”

“It’s okay,” the man bowed his head and shook it with a quiet chuckle. “Calm down. I don’t have jurisdiction here.”

His tone was disarming, almost amused, and it let you take in his appearance for the first time. He was a clone trooper - you knew that armour anywhere. It wasn’t the same as the ones stationed locally, though. His was a combination of white and blue, looked worn with several tally marks on its vambrace. He also had blonde hair that was buzzed very short. Definitely not a rookie.

“But,” he jerked his head towards a nearby window, “it might be better if you didn’t loiter too long. My brother over there already thought you were a threat.”

He pointed with his palm towards another trooper, this one in red armour. The man stood near a small group, some in full armour, others in those familiar grey uniforms. They were gathered inside a modest diner, chatting over caf and food that steamed faintly against the glass. You could tell by their body language it was their usual haunt.

“Oh,” you managed, darting your eyes between the trooper in front of you and the group by the window. “A threat? Me?”

“I believe you. But Commander Fox over there sometimes thinks a kid standing too long in front of the Senate Building is trying to hack into the Republic’s server. Let alone an adult like you.” You blinked, unsure if he was joking. Either way, you let out a professional laugh - the kind you’d perfected after years of working alongside the bureaucracy of the government. Polite, restrained, and noncommittal.

“Sounds like a… cautious guy,” you said. The trooper’s lips curved into a wry smile, flicking his gaze briefly towards the diner where the red-armoured clone - Commander Fox, apparently - stood with his brothers. “Cautious is one word for it.” It struck you how out of place they looked here, despite the Federal District’s veneer of order. Soldiers in a city that didn’t feel like theirs, in a galaxy that seemed to stretch farther and farther from anything resembling peace.

“Must be exhausting,” you murmured, the thought slipping out before you could stop it. “Always having to look over your shoulder.” The rain filled the silence that followed, soft patters against the pavement and your umbrella. You waited for a reply, but the man beside you stayed quiet. That was it, you thought - you’d done it again. Crossed a line without realising it. You shifted uncomfortably, ready to apologise or maybe just walk away, when he broke the silence.

“It is,” he said at last. “But it’s not just him. It’s everyone, these days.”

You caught his profile as he gazed out into the street. His tired eyes seemed to carry the weight of the world. “I guess we all do, in our own way,” you tried to meet him halfway. “Different reasons. Different things we’re afraid of.”

“You don’t look like someone who’s afraid of much.”

“You’d be surprised.” You huffed a quiet laugh.

Another lingering silence followed as though the conversation had reached an unspoken understanding. You didn’t press him for more, and he didn’t offer it.

“Anyway, you should pro–”

“Yes,” you finished for him. You followed him back across the street. The rain still fell steadily, painting the streets in muted reflections of street lamps and shopfront signs. Ahead of you, a row of businesses lined up - tapcafes with warm, inviting light spilling from their windows, a newsagent with a glowing sign advertising the latest headlines, and a pharmacy with shelves barely visible through the foggy window. Among them was the small diner he’d pointed to earlier. Through the window, you could still see the men inside in various states of relaxation, probably sharing war stories - or so you concluded in your head.

“Not exactly your standard war zone,” you murmured as you took in the scene.

He chuckled softly. “No. But sometimes you have to make peace where you can.”

You studied the way their armour contrasted the casualness of the place. “Do you get many moments like this?”

“Not often,” he admitted. “But when they come, you hold onto them. You take what you can get.”

One of the troopers inside had noticed the two of you and nudged another, who turned to look. You wondered what they thought of this. Of their brother standing in the rain, talking to a stranger who clearly didn’t belong in their world any more than they did in yours.

“Do you ever get tired?” the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “Of always having to take what you can get? Of never having more?”

“All the time,” he let out a deep sigh. “But tired doesn’t mean done.” There was something grounding in the way he said it. No resignation, no, but a quiet resilience you didn’t think you had in yourself. Of having to keep moving through this wheel of life. “We slow down,” he added with a smile, “Better cool it off before we burn it out, yeah?”

“Coruscant by Bili J’ole?” you chuckled.

“Love that track,” he mirrored your laugh, warmth creeping to his tone. “But I guess it was written for non-clones like you. Slow down, don’t be too ambitious, take your comlink off the hook, and all.” He raised both hands as if to say he wasn’t part of that world.

“Well,” you said softly, cocking your chin towards the diner. “I guess this is where you head back to… not being done and not disappearing.”

He looked at you for a moment, and you thought he might say something more. But then he just smiled. A small, tired smile..

“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks for the chat.”

“Thanks for the company,” you offered a small smile of your own.

You lingered for a moment longer, watching as he turned and headed back to the diner, one of his brothers in orange and white armour opened the door for him and slung his arm around his shoulders. Then you turned too, just as the rain eased into a soft drizzle. You folded your umbrella, shaking off the droplets, and began mentally listing your unfinished to-do list for the day.

Neither of you asked for a name. Neither of you looked back.

#hellfiresky #star wars #clone wars fic #captain rex x reader #captain rex fic #the clone wars fic #the clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #captain rex fanfic

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shroudandsaga · 13 days ago

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Roll for Plot - Themes

Less of a 'plot' here and more so what the themes of your story might be. There's a few ones here you could utilize! From adventure to romance!

Genre-Based Themes

Dystopian Adventure (Dark, futuristic survival stories)

Cozy Stories (Wholesome, slice-of-life tales)

Sci-Fi Plot (Galactic conflicts, AI revolutions, alien worlds)

Horror Story (Ghosts, monsters, psychological terror)

Mystery & Crime (Detectives, conspiracies, heists)

Historical Fiction (Epic past-set adventures)

Cyberpunk Story (Neon-lit dystopias, hackers, megacities)

Steampunk Adventure (Victorian tech, airships, clockwork creatures)

Superhero Origin (Powers, weaknesses, arch-nemeses)

Fairytale Retelling (Twisted myths and classic folklore)

Mythic Fantasy (Legends, divine trials, and ancient prophecies)

Urban Fantasy (Magic in the modern world, hidden supernatural societies)

Adventure & Exploration Themes

Time Travel Plot (Past, future, alternate timelines)

Pirate Adventure (Treasure maps, ghost ships, naval battles)

Lost Civilization (Ancient ruins, hidden kingdoms, secret societies)

Desert Adventure (Oasis mysteries, cursed artifacts, sandstorms)

Deep Sea Exploration (Mermaids, forgotten cities, sea monsters)

Space Exploration (Uncharted planets, cosmic horrors, alien wars)

Arctic/Antarctic Survival (Frozen wastelands, ice creatures, isolation)

Expedition Gone Wrong (Trapped, lost, or betrayed in the wild)

Mythical Quest (Sacred relics, divine trials, ancient curses)

Underground World (Caverns, hidden societies, bioluminescent forests)

Forbidden Temple (Dangerous deities, hidden traps, ancient prophecies)

Survival Challenge (Harsh environments, testing limits, forced alliances)

Magical & Supernatural Themes

Witchcraft & Wizardry (Magical academies, forbidden spells)

Haunted House Story (Ghosts, cursed objects, eerie history)

Werewolf & Vampire Tale (Dark romance, supernatural politics)

Demon Pact Story (Deals with the devil, contracts, consequences)

Gods & Legends (Modern-day deities, divine trials, mythic battles)

Ghost Story (Lost souls, haunted places, paranormal mysteries)

Cursed Town (Mysterious disappearances, strange happenings)

Portal Fantasy (Entering another realm, fantasy vs reality)

Necromancy Tale (Raising the dead, moral dilemmas, undead armies)

Magical Artifact Quest (Powerful relics, rival hunters)

Forbidden Magic (A power too dangerous to wield, but impossible to resist)

Eldritch Horror (Cosmic beings, mind-breaking realities, and forbidden knowledge)

Unusual & Unique Concepts

Sentient AI Story (Machines gaining emotions, ethical dilemmas)

Apocalypse Story (End-of-the-world survival scenarios)

A Day in the Life of a Villain (What’s their routine?)

Comedy Adventure (Absurd quests, unlikely heroes)

"What If" Scenario (History rewritten, alternative timelines)

"Stranded" Story (Marooned in space, time, or somewhere else)

Dream or Nightmare World (Lucid dreams, shifting realities)

Secret Society Story (Hidden groups, secret knowledge, infiltration)

Body Swap Plot (Trapped in another’s body—what now?)

Animal POV Story (Sentient animals, animal-led rebellion)

Endless Time Loop (A single day, lived over and over, with no escape)

Reality Bending (Characters slowly realizing the world isn't real)

Relationship & Drama-Based Themes

Forbidden Romance (Love against the odds, tragic consequences)

Enemies-to-Lovers (Hate turns into passion—how?)

Found Family Story (Unlikely bonds, survival, emotional growth)

Revenge Tale (Who’s seeking revenge, and why?)

Royal Court Drama (Betrayals, politics, hidden agendas)

Road Trip Story (Traveling characters, unexpected detours)

Small Town Secrets (Gossip, hidden pasts, unexpected twists)

Fake Relationship Story (What’s the reason? What could go wrong?)

Rivalry Story (From bitter competition to unexpected outcomes)

Reunion Story (Long-lost friends, lovers, or family members)

Doomed Soulmates (A love that is destined to end in tragedy)

Slow Burn Romance (Years of tension before love finally ignites)

#writing tips #writing #writing prompt #writing inspiration #creative writing #roll for plot

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lanthart · 3 months ago

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Galactic☆Routine Update!! 4 episodes Up!! https://tapas.io/episode/3263959

Also you can start reading here. And the Spanish version here.

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mimvaart · 4 months ago

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(Tora) De la serie webcomic y YouTube: @/galacticroutine y

Ilustrador y gran artista: @/Lanthart.Choripan👀✨

Si algún día, llegan a ver esto; chicos, gracias por eres tan únicos y creativos 🪄🥰 Son los mejores ✨

youtube

#themva #Galacticroutine #galactic #gr_fanart #galactic routine #galactic routine fanart #fanart #ilustración #oficial Tora #mi visión artística #arte #Youtube

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xhellnhighheelsx · 10 days ago

Note

11/River prompts, hmm? How about… “You still manage to surprise me.”

River Song has been called a great many things in her life- reckless, impulsive, imprudent, uninhibited. But the truth is, River Song is nothing if not an avid planner.

Meticulous and fiercely prepared, she leaves nothing to chance. Why bother? With all of history at her fingertips, why shouldn’t she treat every undertaking like an open book test? She made a habit of research, of peeking back or taking a cheeky look ahead. She routinely strolls through a bustling street at breakfast only to dig up its ancient remains by dinner.

Similarly, if she wants to organize a date with her husband, she diligently plans when and where to leave her love notes and invitations. If she fancies a romp with Pretty Boy, she need only look as far as impersonating the nearest ancient queen or galactic empress. That face really did have a habit of endearing himself with the aristocracy of any era. When she misses her floppy haired Sweetie, a museum is always her best bet. With a nostalgic streak a mile wide, there's no keeping that man from waltzing through glass covered exhibits, reminiscing about all the ways he’s molded history.

And on days like today, when she goes looking for trouble just for the hell of it, when the secrets locked in an impenetrable bank vault have tickled her fancy, River always, always does her research on the people who built it.

Tapping in the twenty-seven digit numerical sequence, River bypasses any and all security codes with a three thousand year old fail safe password that was programmed by the client who commissioned the place. Juliana Primean, lovely woman, great at golf, had a terrible habit of using her grandchildren’s birthdays as passwords.

A green light grants her entry, the door hissing as it pressurizes, preparing to open. An easy smile twitches River’s lips, because its almost too easy.

The door yields, swinging wide to reveal nothing but bare walls and stale air.

Well, she did say almost too easy.

It isn’t often someone beats her to the punch. Being fashionably late typically suits her just fine. The static in the air tells her she is most definitely late, even if only by a few seconds. Singed neutrinos reek of time travel, and River allows the buzz of it to draw her deeper into the empty vault.

Her heels click across ancient metal, echoing for naught but dust as she comes to a stop at the center of the room. There’s a note, intentionally placed and thoughtfully written, that reads, “Dinner?”

Space-time coordinates in script that could only belong to her husband make for a tempting summons. No sooner has a smirk curled the corners of her red lips than quick fingers are tapping at her vortex manipulator.

Matter shatters and rebuilds around her, smoke and vapor and the sudden smell of something divine.

“If I knew you delivered irreplaceable artifacts, I wouldn’t have bothered breaking in,” River coos in that honey velvet voice she saves just for him.

She hasn’t turned around to greet him yet, but she hears the grin in his voice clear as day as he says, “Yes, you would have.”

When she turns to face that cheeky husband of hers, a small gasp falls from her lips, breath momentarily stolen. There's a table set for two beside a giant wall of glass. Around her is intentionally dim lights and sound-proof walls, and her mind races with all the ways she could put it to good use.

Shame its primary function is a viewing platform. She doesn't have to wonder what for. Beyond the glass is a blazing Protostar, all oranges and purples and electric greens as matter and chemicals condense and swirl. It's the earliest stage of stellar evolution, only lasting about 500 millennia, a blink of an eye in the turn of the universe.

And maybe it's the way his tweed contrasts with stardust or the giddy way he rocks back on his heels, awaiting her approval, but River finds herself pulled toward him, the irrevocable fusion of hydrogen and helium and sharp edges and soft curves.

“This is a wonderful surprise,” she purrs, all joy and baited breath even as her eyes narrow in suspicion. “What's the catch?”

"Nothing!" he sputters and flails in protest, nearly upending a bottle of champagne. "I’m allowed to spoil my wife.”

River hums, studying him. Spoil her he does, often and with enthusiasm. He swings by in a top hat and tails and whisks her away to dance on ice rings and to see nights filled with stars and to watch planets be born. But he’s never taken a page from her playbook, never left her a carefully crafted and impeccably timed invitation before.

River chances a glance over her shoulder, making certain there isn't a carnivorous swarm or hostile planetary takeover on the horizon. Finding only starlight, she turns skeptical eyes back on her husband. “How’d you know I’d rob that vault?”

“Hah,” he barks out a laugh, his left arm leaning against the back of a chair, all self-assured swagger as he pins her in place with a crooked smile. “Two things are always bound to end up in uncrackable vaults. The rarest and most beautiful and impossible thing in the universe-“ he pulls out a chair for her in invitation, buzzing with secrets as he adds- “and the Primean family fortune.”

He’s on fine form today, and doesn't he just know it. The curl in his cheek is insufferably smug and devilishly handsome, and she’d be a damn fool if she didn’t allow herself to be pulled into the gravity of him.

Swaying into his personal space, River catalogs the way his gaze drops to her mouth the way a compass finds true north. Her skin hums from the undivided attention, the delight in her voice a betrayal of her contrary words. “Many ambitious thieves have had a go at breaking into that vault."

“But only you could pull it off,” he whispers, all seduction and sly smirks.

It's her turn to be captivated by his mouth, by the lips of the man who beat her to the punch, who emptied the impenetrable room of all but a handwritten note. “Look whose talking.”

Her husband merely shrugs, knowing full well she’s a sucker for mischief as he explains, “I cheated.”

“Dirty talk already, my love?” Green eyes dancing in that way she knows drives him to distraction, River slips past him, taking her seat before temptation demands she go straight for dessert.

"Behave," he half-heartedly scolds her. The answering hum she gives is warm and low, the rumble of something wicked on her tongue when he blurts, "I want to show you something."

Pity, she much prefers it when he makes her eyes flutter shut. River bites her bottom lip to keep from telling him so. Her gaze shifts to the view beyond the glass, to a black vacuum that swirls with glittering matter and shrapnel from the nearest nebula. She inhales deep, the rich aroma of fine cuisine from some far off time and place delighting her senses.

Bless him, he's gone through such trouble.

"It's gorgeous, Sweetie."

"Hm?" the Doctor looks up from where he'd been digging through his top pocket, eyes glancing to her and then the Protostar. "Oh, yes, I thought you'd like it." Half his arm still buried in his coat, he steps around to face her, nearly tripping over his own feet as he wrestles a small jewelry box from its hiding place. "But this is what I wanted to show you."

Pale fingers crack open the box, holding it out to her. River's breath catches in her throat. "Is this.." she exhales, all wonder and reverence as her eyes drink in one of the lesser known but highly coveted treasures rumored to be stashed within the Primean fortune.

"The Eye of Infinity," he tells her, giddy and full of the very magic that makes the universe turn. "It’s a micro galaxy encased in a Neuron Pearl inside a necklace made of pure Lonsdaleite diamonds." It's complicated and rare and physics defying, and it has nothing on the grin splitting her husband's cheeks as he says, "May I?"

"By all means," she breathes, but the Doctor is already brushing her hair aside, draping it around her neck before the air has left her lungs. Long fingers set to work, diligent in their task. It still thrills her, the way his fingertips brush against the back of her neck, the way his breath ghosts over the shell of her ear.

She wonders how long he’s been planning this. Unlike her, the Doctor is typically a creature of whimsy. No sneak previews, just barreling in and hoping for the best, his standard method of operation. But, with this, River can feel the precision, the planning, the perfection that went into this night.

As his hands fall away from their task, his knuckles trail across her shoulders and down her biceps before gently turning her toward the glass. In the reflection, she sees herself, fresh from a heist and still dressed for the occasion. Behind her, the most impossible man in the universe is grinning like the cat who ate the canary. A flush creeps over her skin at the sight of it, at the feel of the Doctor's breath on the side of her neck as he leans in to get a closer look.

Across her chest rests the most beautiful necklace she’s ever seen, and River’s voice drops an octave, ripe for misbehavior as she sighs out, “Oh, I am so keeping this.”

“I was hoping you might.”

She catches his smirk in the reflection, her interest peaked. “Not like you to encourage grand larceny. Quick, take me to bed before my husband comes back.”

He chuckles at her wicked tongue. “It’s not stealing. It’s a gift, from its owner.”

River’s incredulous brow arches as she turn to look at him properly. “Since when were you the sole heir to the Primean fortune?”

“Since I won it in a game of golf," he offers flippantly, tapping the tip of her nose. He dances away from her then, a flourish to his gangly arms as he removes the lid that's been keeping their dinner warm. "And not the whole fortune. Just the bits I thought you’d like.”

“When you said you cheated…”

“At the golf, definitely.” his coat swishes, hair falling into his eyes as he mimes swinging a golf club.

"I didn’t know you played," River offers, eyes locked on him, because she really isn't hungry anymore. Well, not for what's on the menu, anyway.

"I’m full of surprises," he grins.

Their eyes meet, the gold in his refracting the distant starlight. It's far more entrancing than nebula clouds or priceless heirlooms could ever dream to be.

Her own eyes must be filled to the brim with love and delight and desire. It must be written on her face, her appetite for something besides dinner, because that husband of her flushes crimson, entirely too pleased with himself as River confesses, "Yes, you are."

#river song #doctor who #dr fic #river x 11 #river x doctor #look i wrote something and there's no angst! bet that wasn't on anyones bingo card #my fic #ask #ohthewhomanity

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selfless-solipsist · 1 month ago

Text

°˖✧ The Tea ✧˖° [Planet Janet]

「 ✦ “You ever think about therapy, Janet?”✦ 」

╰┈➤ Planet Janet x Female Reader ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ (Yes really)

> I tried, okay? > Also, I used the gif with Wander because I couldn't find one with ONLY Janet. Besides, it's cute.

You and Janet—what a pair. Who knew that galactic conquerors and sentient planets could bond over tea, pancakes, and a shared love of spilling the cosmic tea about everyone else? Your weekly visits to Janet's surface had become a ritual, a bizarre yet oddly soothing routine in the whirlwind of your chaotic life. Every Sunday, you would make the trek to her, perched atop your sleek starship like a villainess on a throne. As you landed, Janet would practically roll out the green carpet—literally. Vines would snake toward your feet, forming a path of flowers that seemed to sigh at your approach. The air would fill with the scent of syrup and fresh pancakes as if the universe itself conspired to make you stay.

Janet always greeted you with that same excited giggle, which you imagined was her equivalent of screaming into a pillow out of pure joy like an excited teenage girl. You were her best friend, after all, and she made sure you knew it. The cottage she had "grown" on her surface just for your visits was ridiculously cozy—almost too cozy. The walls were covered in alien floral wallpaper that changed patterns depending on her mood, and the place always smelled faintly of whatever celestial garden she had conjured that week.

“I made pancakes!” her voice would echo through the cottage as you stepped in, your heels clicking against the impossibly pristine floor. “Sit, sit! I added extra stardust sprinkles this time!” You would settle into a chair crafted from her vines—comfortable in a way that was almost unsettling—and take your plate, deadpan as ever.

“You know,” you would start, taking a bite, “if this whole ‘planet’ thing doesn’t work out, you could really rake it in as a cosmic brunch spot. These pancakes could end wars.”

Janet’s delighted giggle would practically cause earthquakes.

The two of you always got to gossiping. Janet had her opinions on everything—Maurice (her ex-moon, as she bitterly referred to him), the state of galactic politics, and especially the sheer audacity of some planets thinking they could pull off rings when they clearly didn’t have the gravity for it. And as for you? Well, you had plenty to share about the overly dramatic exploits of the so-called “villains” you occasionally crushed in your spare time. Your dry delivery always sent Janet into adorable fits of hysterics.

Today, though, the gossip session had taken a bizarre turn.

As you casually recounted the ridiculous antics of a wannabe overlord whose “evil laugh” sounded more like a goat in distress, her vines had slowly but surely wrapped around your arms, legs, and waist. By the time you noticed, you were cocooned like a fly in a spider’s web.

“Janet,” you said flatly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Is this about me leaving again?”

Her voice came out soft and wheedling, like a child caught stealing snacks. “I just don’t want you to go... I mean, don’t you like it here? You’re my best friend!”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the vines as if they were a hammock. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t just kidnap your friends. It’s... weird.”

“I’m not kidnapping you!” she protested, vines tightening just a smidge. “I’m... giving you a hug!”

“Uh-huh. And I suppose you’ll be serving pancakes directly to my face next?” The sound of plates clinking made you glance down. Sure enough, a vine was extending a forkful of syrup-soaked pancake toward your mouth. Unfazed, you took the bite. “Okay, points for effort.”

Janet squealed in delight, the entire surface of her planet rumbling like she had just won an award. “See? You’re so happy here! Why don’t you just stay forever?”

“Because I have planets to conquer and people to terrify,” you said, deadpan. “I can’t do that from your cozy vine-chair.”

Her voice turned playful but with an edge. “Oh, I don’t know... I think you could terrify quite a lot of people just by calling this place your new home base. Imagine the fear! ‘The villainess who lives on a sentient planet!’”

You snorted. “Janet, you’re starting to sound like Maurice.”

One whine snapped like a whip.

“Don’t you dare compare me to him!” she snapped, vines twitching in a way that suggested she might fling you into the stratosphere.

“Touchy,” you said, completely unbothered. “What happened this time? Did he park in your orbit without permission again?”

“He said my volcanoes were overkill! Can you believe that? Overkill!”

“Well, Janet... you did incinerate that asteroid last week because it ‘looked smug.’”

“It was smug!” she huffed. “Just floating there, acting like it was too good to get caught in my gravity!”

...

“You’re... definitely over him,” you deadpanned.

Janet went suspiciously quiet for a moment, her vines loosening just enough for you to stretch a leg. You knew better than to press further, but the little smile tugging at your lips said it all. If nothing else, the pancakes would keep you distracted from her possessive streak—or so you thought. She huffed, and the vines holding your arms tightened, almost like a passive-aggressive hug. “Why do you always bring him up? Maurice this, Maurice that. I’ve moved on!”

You arched an eyebrow. “Oh, totally. That’s why you have a crater on your northern hemisphere shaped like a frowny face. Real subtle, Janet.”

“That’s not a frown!” she shrieked, her voice reverberating through the air like a scorned diva at a karaoke night. “It’s modern art! You wouldn’t understand—it’s planet feelings!”

“Sure," You smirked. “Just like it wasn’t weird last week when you redirected a meteor to crash into him for ‘accidentally’ calling your oceans lukewarm.”

“He deserved it!” she snapped, vines flailing dramatically in sync with her voice. “I’m not lukewarm! My oceans are a perfect 78 degrees, with a light saline breeze!”

“And yet,” you said, as calm as a supernova before it explodes, “here we are. You, a sentient planet, and me, a mildly kidnapped villainess, discussing your volcanic breakup like we’re on some galactic talk show.”

Janet let out a melodramatic sigh, the ground rumbling beneath you. Flowers popped out of the soil, as if her emotions manifested as floral overcompensation. “I just want to be appreciated, you know? I put so much effort into everything! My waterfalls, my sunsets, my pancakes—”

“Your pancakes are phenomenal,” you said, mostly to stop her rant. A vine fed you another syrup-drenched bite before you could refuse.

“I know, right?” She preened. “Do you think Maurice ever complimented my pancakes? No! He always said things like, ‘Too much syrup, Janet,’ or ‘You can’t serve pancakes to a comet—it doesn’t have a mouth!’ He didn’t get me.”

“Yeah, Maurice is a real jerk,” you agreed around a mouthful of pancake. “But, y’know, he was your moon. Kind of literally made for you.”

Janet gasped in exaggerated offense. “Made for me? MADE FOR ME?! I’m a planet! I have billions of options! BILLIONS! You’re lucky I even let you visit—” She cut herself off, her vines quickly shifting to a far-too-gentle cradle around you. “I mean, not that I’d ever let you leave. But it’s totally not weird, right?”

“Oh, no,” you said flatly, sipping from a vine that somehow held a dainty teacup. “It’s perfectly normal to be smothered by your bestie every time you try to leave. I’m sure everyone would love being planet-wrapped. So cozy.”

Janet giggled, missing the sarcasm entirely. “See? You get me. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

“Favorite... what? Human? Friend? Pancake-eater?”

“Everything,” She replied, a suspicious amount of sincerity in her tone. Her surface glimmered in what could only be described as a planetary blush, soft hues of pink and green rippling across her landscapes.

You raised a single eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re not trying to butter me up so I’ll stay longer, are you?”

“Me? Never!” She said, giggling nervously as her vines tightened again—just slightly. “But, uh... since we’re talking about it, you could just stay. You’re way too good for all those other boring planets.”

“Janet.” You tilted your head, voice dripping with deadpan calm. “I’m not moving in.”

“I didn’t say move in,” she shot back, clearly flustered. “I just meant, y’know... permanent visits!”

“Mm-hmm.” You looked at the vines still wrapped around you. “Because you’re so good at letting people leave.” Janet opened her metaphorical mouth to protest, but you cut her off with a pointed glance. “Look. I’ll always stay a bit for the pancakes. I’ll even stay to listen to you vent about Maurice and how he ‘never appreciated your tectonic activity.’ But at some point, I do have to get back to my evil empire.”

“But I’m lonely!” She wailed, her voice echoing through the atmosphere like a soap opera star delivering a tragic monologue. “Do you know how hard it is being a planet? The endless void of space, the silence, the meteor showers that no one even compliments me on? And then Maurice—”

“Okay, okay!” You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smirk tugging at your lips. “You can keep me wrapped up in vines for, like, five more minutes. But after that, I am leaving. Probably.”

Janet sniffled dramatically, flowers blooming at your feet in response. “You mean it? Five whole minutes?”

“Yeah,” you deadpanned. “Just don’t forget to feed me pancakes while you monologue. Kidnapping always works better with snacks.”

She squealed in delight, her vines pulling you into an overly enthusiastic embrace. “You’re the best! I’ll make more syrup right now! Oh, oh, do you want a blueberry topping this time? Maybe some whipped nebula cream?”

“Surprise me,” you said with a sigh, leaning back into the cushy vines. “I’m already wrapped up in this mess, anyway.”

Her vines loosened just enough for you to adjust your position, which now felt less like a hostage situation and more like a bizarre spa treatment. One particularly enthusiastic vine fluffed your hair like a cosmic hairstylist who had overcaffeinated, while another twirled a napkin around your neck in preparation for what could only be described as round two of the Pancake Situation. “Whipped nebula cream and blueberry topping it is!” She declared, her voice a bubbly mix of excitement and the faintly unhinged energy you had come to expect. The ground beneath you shifted, a small geyser of syrup bubbling up from nowhere. “I’ll make this stack extra special. Only the best for my bestie!”

“You mean your only bestie,” you corrected, expressionless as ever. “Unless you’ve started taking applications.”

She let out an exaggerated gasp, the kind that made the whole atmosphere shiver. “You wound me! Like I’d let anyone else steal my best friend!” The vines squeezed you slightly—just enough to feel the weight of her emotional gravity, pun fully intended.

You groaned, though the corner of your mouth twitched upward. “Janet, if you keep acting like this, people are going to start calling you that planet. The clingy one.”

“I am NOT clingy!” she shot back, her tone defensive as wildflowers erupted around your chair.

“I’m... selective.”

“Right. Because wrapping me up in vines like a burrito is totally normal behavior.”

“It’s called affection!” she huffed. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy conquering every galaxy with your scary villain smirk, you’d get more of it.”

Your sly smile widened even more, because of course it did. “Oh, Janet, sweetie. I don’t get affection. I command it.”

Her laugh rumbled across the surface like rolling thunder. “And yet here you are, letting me feed you pancakes and braid your hair like a galactic princess.”

“Braid my—” You froze, finally noticing the intricate, alien floral pattern her vines had been weaving into your hair. “Janet!”

“What? It’s cute! You look like royalty.” She paused, a vine plucking a mirror from somewhere (where did she even store these things?) and holding it in front of you. “See? You’re glowing!”

You stared at your reflection, the deadpan expression on your face now juxtaposed with what could only be described as the most elaborate cosmic updo in the history of villainy. There were glowing flowers, swirling patterns, and even a little ribbon made of stardust. “Well,” you said after a long pause, “if I’m going to be an unwilling planet prisoner, I might as well look fabulous.”

“That’s the spirit!” Janet squealed, the landscape shimmering with excitement. “You always know how to make me laugh!”

“Yeah, I’m a real riot,” you said dryly, reaching for another pancake. “Hey, speaking of laughter, let’s talk about Maurice again. Remember the time he—”

Janet’s entire surface trembled, vines waving like an exasperated drama queen shooing away bad memories. “Ugh! Must we bring him up again? He’s so... so lunar!”

“Lunar?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “That’s an insult now?”

“Yes!” she snapped, voice tinged with melodrama. “He’s cold, distant, and always orbiting other things. Do you know how many asteroids he’s been hanging out with lately? Asteroids! They don’t even have atmospheres!”

You snorted. “Sounds like he’s rebounding pretty hard.”

Janet made a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and an actual volcanic eruption. “Good riddance. Let him chase his dumb little space rocks while I—while we—live our best lives.”

“Uh-huh.” You leaned back, letting her vines drape over you like a weighted blanket. “And by ‘best lives,’ you mean trapping your bestie every time she tries to leave?”

“It’s not trapping,” she insisted, although the vines around your ankles said otherwise. “It’s quality time!”

“Sure it is,” you muttered, eyeing the syrup geyser that was now accompanied by a fountain of nebula cream. “You ever think about therapy, Janet?”

“Therapy?!” She recoiled like you had suggested she downsize her volcanoes. “I don’t need therapy! I’m perfectly well-adjusted for a sentient celestial body! Besides, I have you!”

“And there it is,” You raised a fork as a vine elegantly served you another pancake. “Just promise me you won’t sprout another ‘Welcome ___ Forever!’ topiary when I leave.”

She giggled nervously, a suspicious patch of vines shuffling as though trying to hide something.

...

You narrowed your eyes. “Janet...”

“It’s tasteful!” she defended quickly, sounding every bit like someone caught decorating their crush’s locker with glittery hearts. “And besides, you’ll be back next week for pancakes anyway, so what’s the harm?”

You sighed, unable to argue with that logic. After all, who could resist a planet with gourmet pancake skills, top-notch hair braiding, and just the right amount of possessive insanity to keep things interesting? Not you, apparently. “Fine,” you said, a smirk tugging at your lips. “But if you start naming craters after me, we’re gonna have a talk.”

Her vines tightened briefly in what you assumed was her version of a mischievous hug.

As the pancakes dwindled and the conversation mellowed into a comfortable rhythm, you leaned back into her vine-crafted throne, your eyes half-lidded in a syrup-induced haze. Despite her dramatic tendencies and occasional bouts of mildly possessive planetary behavior, Janet had a charm that was impossible to deny. Maybe it was her optimism. Maybe it was the way her laugh echoed like wind through a meadow. Or maybe it was the fact that she could whip up five-star brunch in the middle of nowhere. Either way, you were… fond of her. Not that you would ever admit it aloud in a way that wasn’t laced with your signature sarcasm.

“You know,” She began, her voice soft and thoughtful, “I don’t really say it enough, but… having you here makes everything better. Like, I used to think stars were the best thing about space, but now… I think it’s you.”

You blinked, stunned into a rare moment of silence. The only sound was the gentle rustling of her vines as they rearranged themselves into a cozy blanket over your shoulders. “Janet,” you said slowly, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me.”

“Flirting? Me?!” she gasped, vines wriggling like a schoolgirl caught passing notes. “I—okay, maybe a little! But can you blame me? You’re brilliant, you’re confident, and you eat my pancakes like they’re the only thing keeping you alive.”

“Well,” you said, smirking, “they kind of are. Your cooking’s the only thing keeping me from taking over the universe twice as fast.”

Janet giggled, her surface glowing faintly with soft greens and pinks. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, really. To be… important to someone.”

“You’re more than important,” you said, surprising even yourself with the sincerity in your voice. “I mean, who else would braid my hair, feed me pancakes, and try to keep me as their personal space prisoner all in one day?”

“I knew you got me,” Janet said, her voice dripping with affection. “You always do.”

You looked down, spotting one of her roses growing near your armrest. Its petals opened wide, its soft pink glow shimmering like it was daring you to make a move. You reached out and gently cupped the bloom, tilting it toward you like a hand to kiss. “If this is your equivalent of a cheek,” you muttered, more to yourself than anything, “then… yeah, why not?” Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the petal. The rose immediately sparkled, its glow intensifying until it bathed you both in light. The vines around you trembled like Janet had just been told the juiciest gossip in the universe.

“Y-you kissed me!” she stammered, her voice rising an octave. “You actually kissed me!”

“Don’t get used to it,” you said, though the flush creeping up your neck betrayed your nonchalant delivery. “I don’t go around kissing planets every day.”

Janet squealed—an actual, full-on squeal of pure joy. Flowers burst into bloom across her surface, their petals opening like a cosmic fireworks display. “Oh, my molten core, you’re so cute when you’re flustered! Do it again! No, wait—don’t! I mean, do if you want to, but only if you feel like it—”

“Janet,” you interrupted, amused. “Calm down. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” Her voice was soft, almost vulnerable.

You sighed, leaning back and letting her vines settle around you like a warm hug. “I promise. For now, anyway. But only because you’re bribing me with pancakes.”

She giggled again, her glow softening into a gentle shimmer. “I’ll take it. For now.”

And as you sat there, wrapped in vines, sipping tea made of stardust and stealing glances at her glowing surface, you couldn’t help but think: maybe being a planet’s favorite wasn’t so bad after all.

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littlemissthunderstorms · 1 year ago

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paperwork

tbhc au

soft dom alex x reader

as a ceo of tbhc, work can get stressful. sometimes you just need a distraction! (hint hint being eaten out from under your desk)

———

“5 new engines for the ships. i need them on monday….. what?” you spoke into the receiver. “fine. tuesday. no later than that.” you rolled your eyes, mumbling your routine “goodbyes” and “thank you’s” before you slammed the phone down.

you sighed, leaning your head back in your chair as you gazed out of the floor to ceiling windows that adorned your office. an overwhelming pile of paperwork for new various technological advances crowded your desk, you needed a break. stars shimmered in the void that stretched on and on, sometimes giving you the chills. most times the galactic scene outside of your windows would cure your mind fog, leaving you to admire the vast darkness decorated by swirls and stars.

your thoughtful little daze ended abruptly when the phone on your desk rang out. “tranquility base hotel and casino, how may i help you?”

“yeah this is alex. i have a complaint. why the fuck is there so much paperwork for these goddamn rocket ships?”

you scoffed, kicking your feet up onto the desk. “i don’t know, but i’m exhausted. i think my hair might fall out from all the stress.” you ran your fingers through your hair, head slumping back in your chair again.

alex chuckled from the other line, his laugh forming a soft smile across your lips. “hey, um can i come by your office real quick?” you could practically hear his smirk through the receiver. “sure….we’ve got work do to though so make whatever you’re doing quick.”

without a response, he hung up on you. you put the phone down and resumed filling out the sheets of paper that piled up on your desk.

a few moments later alex gave a quick knock to the door and slid in, closing it behind him. he looked as sleek as ever, navy suit adorning his figure, widows peak prominent with his slicked back hair. his heeled boots clacked on the floor as he made his way over to you.

you looked up, smiling at him with twinkly eyes. the boy planted both hands on the desk and leaned over, kissing you sweetly. you sighed into the kiss, making alex grin like a fool. being the ceo’s of tranquility base, you two had been crammed in your offices for the past week. the only times you were able to see eachother was in your shared suit at night. even then you guys were absolutely exhausted, falling asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

the boy made his way over to your side of the desk, spinning your chair around so it faced him. he then knelt down in front of you, face to face due to the low level of your chair. he cupped your face with both hands, kissing you so deeply you had to hold his shoulders for support. the kiss was soon wet and messy, his tongue slid into your desperate mouth, spilling soft moans out of you.

he pulled away slightly, panting as he rested his forehead against yours. “is that what you came for? a couple of kisses?” you smirked. alex leant back, looking you in the eyes. “well that’s part of it.” a mischievous glint flickered across his dark gaze. “i was brainstorming earlier, i know something that might help relieve our stress.”

you tilted your head, quickly catching on after a few moments. “alex….” he looked at you pleadingly, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “stress lowers your life span, seriously, it’s not healthy.” you rolled your eyes, hitting his chest playfully. “what if someone walks in?” “i’ll lock the door.” he replied. “what if someone hears?” you bit your lip. “they can’t do anything about it, we own this place.” he twirled a loose strand of your hair around his finger, bringing his hand up to squish your cheeks.

you blushed ferociously. “fine.” you chuckled, starting to get up out of your chair when alex pushed you back down. you looked up at him, confused. “stay right there love.” he pushed your chair back in so your arms rested on the desk and made his way over to the door, locking it and making his way to the side of the desk opposite from you.

“what are you doing?” you questioned. the boy flashed you a smirk and muttered a sweet “just relax” before he knelt down, crawling under the desk. you soon felt his hands smoothing up your thighs, moving to unbutton your dress pants. once he removed your pants completely, he leaned in, nudging your clothed core with his nose, smirking at the already prominent wet patch of arousal. you gasped, grabbing ahold of the armrests of your chair.

he rested his hands on your thighs, pressing open mouthed, wet kisses to the part of your underwear that was soaked through. you moaned softly, helping him as he slid your panties off. once they were discarded, alex pressed languid kisses to the insides of your thighs, occasionally leaving a little bite and soothing it with his tongue.

he groaned, watching as arousal soaked your throbbing clit. you slid your chair back slightly, positioning yourself in a way where you were able to see him. “fuck alex…. don’t tease me.” you whispered, panting softly. the boy looked up at you with glittery eyes that seemed to reflect the pools of stars that shimmered outside, planting a kiss to the top of your thigh as he admired how gorgeous you looked with your cheeks all flushed for him.

“shh shh pretty girl, how bout’ you keep filling out that paperwork yeah? s’ not gonna do itself.” he cooed, rubbing his hand up and down your calf. you gulped and nodded as you picked up your pen, trying to focus as best as you could on the papers.

your handwriting stuttered when alex blew on your clit, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips. alex loved teasing you, the little moans that would escape from your lips when he’d run his tip along your folds. or the way you’d wriggle your hips while he kitten licked at your pussy, craving more. but now, he couldn’t hold back. he was practically drooling, needing to taste you.

alex licked a stripe up your clit, causing you to gasp and bite your lip, putting a death grip on the pen. he continued to eat you out, his nose coated in arousal as he darted his tongue in and out of your dripping hole. you moaned quite loudly at the action, moving to wrap your leg over his back, his face nuzzling deeper into your pussy.

you flipped over to the next paper, trying your best to fill it out and be good for him, doing what he said. alex suckled your clit into his mouth, his pace getting faster as his warm wet mouth glided over your heat. you moaned again, gripping the desk with one hand.

putting the pen down, your eyes squeezed shut, your whimpers only escalating. alex noticed this and stopped his movements. “keep filling out that paperwork, cmon, be a good girl.” you nodded and went to pick up the pen again, trying your best to remember addresses and names in your clouded state of ecstasy.

alex wasn’t making it any easier. the man was ruthless, slobbering all over your pussy as he devoured you. you bit your lip, trying to focus when two long fingers slowly started to pump inside you, his tongue on your clit not ceasing one bit. you yelped, quickly covering your mouth with your hand, trying to sign the bottom of a contract with the other.

your eyes squeezed shut again as his fingers curled inside of you at a speedy pace, your mouth parted in a half moan. the squelching noises coming from under the desk were pornographic, making you impossibly wetter.

already, you could feel the pleasure building up in your lower stomach. opening your eyes a bit, you realized you’d drooled on some of the paper, smudging some of the ink. you couldn’t care less. you threw your head back as alex’s mouth moved against a particular spot that only brought you closer to fireworks, his fingers hitting your g-spot over and over again.

“oh fuck alex, right there.” you practically screamed, tears dropping down your flushed cheeks. alex moaned, sending vibrations into your clit as he licked and sucked faster, his thick fingers stroking your walls so deliciously. “fuck fuck fuck fuck.” you whispered, bucking your hips into his face as your orgasm ripped through you.

you screamed alex’s name, nails digging into the wooden desk as your heel dug into the boys back. you whimpered and gasped, sobbing alex’s name as your legs shook. the man knew how to give a women a killer orgasm, that was for sure. alex licked up every drop as you came, he didn’t stop until your hips flinched away from his face, wincing at the sensitivity.

alex crawled out from under the desk, his nose and cheeks rosy and damp from your arousal. he stood up, picking you up from your chair and sitting in it instead, placing you on his lap. he kissed your tears, soothingly carding through your hair with his soft hands.

“shh shh, that’s a girl…” he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. “you did so good.. my perfect girl.” your stomach fluttered at his words, mind starting to de-fog from your insane high.

alex sat you up so you were straddling him, feeling his erection against your bare clit.

“think you can take one more for me honey?”

———

hope you enjoyedd!! might make a part two sometime

taglist: @ultragirrl @inmyownfantasywrld @almluv @raven-ql @ohladymoon @yourstartreatment @missbabyjay @andulina567

(let me know if you’d like to be added/removed)

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys #humbug #alex turner fluff #alex turner one shot #tlsp #suck it and see #alex turner smut #tranquility base hotel and casino

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nevess · 1 year ago

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[ we loved with a love that was more than love ] - Edgar Allan Poe

🌱… description: You and Anakin are getting ready to go to bed. While you're finishing your night routine, Anakin offers to brush your hair.

🍵 … warnings: intense kissing? but other than that, none. Just Anakin fluff :p

🧳 … character/s: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

☕️ … word count: around 1k ; | date: October 3rd, 2023

🗞️ back to the main menu

a/n: more of this beautiful anakin x reader fluff cuz tumblr needs it!! Hope you enjoy it! <3 Disclaimer: i didn’t read it after finishing, so i apologize for any typos :p In other news, im looking for beta readerssss here's the post!

The dimly lit quarters provided a temporary sanctuary amidst the ceaseless chaos of the Clone Wars. Anakin Skywalker and you, both Jedi Knights, had just returned from another gruelling mission, and the weight of the galaxy's conflicts seemed to bear down upon you. But in this quiet moment, as the soft glow of the room's ambient lighting bathed you in a warm embrace, there was a respite from the battles and the burdens you carried.

As you stood in front of the mirror, preparing to follow your nightly routine, you retrieved a brush from the small vanity. The daily toils and hardships had taken their toll on you, and your hair was a tangled mess. It was a small act of self-care, a moment of normalcy amidst the chaos, and it brought you a semblance of peace.

Anakin, who was only wearing his pyjama pants and a silk robe that matched those pants perfectly, watched you from the bed, his eyes filled with adoration. He admired the grace and strength that radiated from you, even as you prepared for sleep. He couldn't help but feel grateful for these moments of intimacy that you both shared, moments that allowed you to be vulnerable and real in a galaxy that often demanded more than you could give.

With a tender smile, he rose from the bed and approached you. "Let me help you with that," he offered, his voice a gentle caress.

You turned to him, surprised but touched by his gesture. "Anakin, you don't have to."

He simply shook his head, a loving determination in his eyes. "I want to."

You nodded, your heart swelling with affection for the man before you. A smile that reflected the immense love you had for him adorned your face as you handed him the brush, and as you sat down on the edge of the bed, he took a seat behind you.

With practiced care and tenderness, Anakin began to brush your hair. His fingers worked through the tangles and knots with such softness and care, as if he was scared of hurting you by pulling slightly, his touch sending a shiver down your spine that expanded through the rest of your body. The gentle rhythm of the brush gliding through your hair was soothing, a loving gesture that spoke volumes.

As Anakin continued he couldn't help but be mesmerized by your presence. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the sensation. The room was filled with the soft rustle of the brush and the sound of his steady breathing, a comforting backdrop to this intimate moment. As he works his way through your hair, he breaks the silence, his voice filled with both intensity and tenderness.

"Y/N," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, "in the middle of this galactic storm, you're the only constant thing in my life. You're like a blazing comet streaking through the chaos, leaving a trail of light in your wake; a comet that leaves no trail of the agony that existed before her."

His words, filled with love and sincerity, warmed your heart. The connection between you both deepened in that shared moment, a testament to the strength of your love amidst the challenges you faced.

When he had finished brushing your hair, he set the brush aside and leaned down to press a tender kiss to your neck. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and you melted into him.

You turned your body to face him, both still on the bed made your way to the center so you both could be in a comfortable position. His eyes were locked with yours, in a silent conversation between souls, no words needed. Your left hand is now placed on his cheek as the other one goes to the back of his neck to bring him closer. As Anakin’s lips brushed against yours the entire galaxy ceased to exist.

The kiss deepened as his mouth pressed to yours with an intensity and passion that left no room, or doubt, he was in love with you; simply by the way your bodies reacted to each other. A fervent exchange of emotions that seemed to transcend the physical world, were expressed in this very moment. Anakin’s lips were warm and demanding, conveying a clear hunger for your love, a deep desire to hold onto this moment and make it last forever.

His hands were both warm and possessive, one placed on your waist as he brought you closer to his own body, while the other contoured your jaw with his fingers with a gentle yet firm touch. With something so small as your bare skin being touched by him, made the world around you fade into insignificance as the electric currents of desire surged between you.

Anakin’s breath mingled with yours a symphony of heartbeats and longing. His tongue sought entrance, and as your mouths danced together, the kiss intensified in emotion. Time seemed to stretch, allowing you to savour every moment of the kiss. The taste of his devotion to you, and the silent promises of a love that could conquer anything. In that kiss, you were lost in a universe of passion, where there was only you, him, and the overwhelming force of your love.

When the kiss finally broke, you both were left breathless, your lips tingling with the lingering connection. Anakin's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze filled with warmth and longing as your breaths were ragged, and your heartbeats echoed in the silence that followed. It was you who broke the silence this time, your voice filled with emotion.

"Anakin, I love you in a way I've never loved anyone before.” Your hand softly caresses his cheek as you continue talking. “It makes my heart beat from happiness to know I have you in my life, to have you as my partner.” You needed him to understand the intense feelings you felt when it came to him. So, before finishing, you cupped his face with your hands while smiling beamingly. “You're my strength, my protector, and the one who makes my heart race. I can't imagine my life without you."

"Y/N," he began, his voice a whisper, "you mean everything to me. When I'm with you, it's like the chaos of the galaxy fades away. You're the light in my life, the reason I keep fighting, and the force that keeps me grounded." His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. "Cherub," he continued, his voice growing more intense without raising the tone, "I would move galaxies, defy empires, and challenge fate itself for you. My love for you is boundless, and it will endure for all eternity."

Both of you were completely wrapped up in each other... Your foreheads lightly touched and you could see Anakin's beautiful smile spread across his face. You would give anything for him to never stop smiling. His eyes shined like bright stars, and just knowing that you had something to do with it made you want to explode with excitement.

He made you feel safe in a world full of mistrust, he made you feel loved in a world without trust. Moments like these genuinely allowed you to not only feel this on the inside, but also encouraged you to show him with words and actions how much you loved him. Anakin Skywalker is a complex human being full of dissonances and contradictions, but you knew that he would give anything for your well-being. You leaned in to capture his lips in another tender kiss, one that sealed your unspoken vows, a promise of love that transcended the trials and tribulations of your Jedi lives.

In that moment, you both knew that no matter what the galaxy threw their way, your love would always be a guiding force, a beacon of light in the darkest of times.

© Nevess 2023. My original posts are not allowed to be edited, translated and/or re-uploaded on another account or platform without my permission, nevertheless, re-blogs are accepted and very appreciated.

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mariacallous · 23 days ago

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The idea of violence being a necessity for the Empire either to send a message or because of a distinct lack of imagination from Imperial officials is an important one. The Empire routinely used violence to solve its problems, whether that was a stormtrooper shooting into a crowd to stop a thief or an orbital bombardment being used to subdue a whole world. This regular application of violence to achieve its ends was, as previously mentioned, often designed to both achieve a localized objective and, where publicly known, make an example. But violence desensitizes people over time. The Empire recognized this and found inventive ways to manifest fresh horrors.

In the Outer Rim, people already lived their day-to-day lives alongside the symbols and consequences of Imperial occupation. When an attack by early aspects of the Rebel Alliance was traced back to the world of Christophsis, the planet was "pacified" in retribution. The language of this act belies the reality of three Imperial Star Destroyers entering orbit above the capital city and opening fire. The purpose of this attack was to create such a fear in the population, and by proxy in the Senate when it was reported by Grand Moff Tarkin, as to render future resistance inconceivable. It was for this reason that the Star Destroyers began by demolishing the city's hospitals.

Closer to the Core, examples and understandings of Imperial violence were very different, and one of the most shocking episodes of Imperial brutality played out on Ghorman in 2 BBY, with the deaths of hundreds if not thousands of civilians protesting against the Empire. This attempt to crush dissent may have been a serious miscalculation by the Imperial officials who orchestrated it. Rather than terrify the wider civilian population into accepting Imperial rule, it showed many with rebel leanings that if even peaceful protest would be greeted with death, then there could be no political solution or compromise. If people were going to die regardless of how they resisted, then it may as well be armed resistance. This would have - as will be discussed in a forthcoming chapter - dramatic and long-reaching consequences during the Galactic Civil War.

The Rise and Fall of the Galactic Empire by Dr. Chris Kempshall

#star wars #the rise and fall of the galactic empire

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binart · 2 years ago

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SRPA Chapter 3

(First) (Previous) (Next)

(Content warning for hallucinations, dissociation & PTSD episodes!)

—

In late evening of the next day, Keith messaged Lance.

All members of their team had retreated back to their rooms (though Hedrox and En suspiciously left together), and Lance had just finished a call with his mom. She apologized like she did in all of them, for crying. But she clearly missed him just as much as he missed her.

As Lance grabbed some tissues from the shelf above his bed to blow his nose with, his phone next to his pillow dinged; the specific beep to indicate one of the old Voltron crew was messaging him. He dove for it.

A text from Keith, “Samurai 😫✨💦” in his phone, read: “Meeting with the team tomorrow. 0700. Deploying in the PM. See you then.”

One thing Lance found really endearing about Keith was his old person way of texting. If someone mixed Keith's texts in with his dad's, they'd be practically indistinguishable aside from the subject of the texts. He scrolled up to their last conversation.

“Good training. En wanted extra pointers. Staying behind for a bit.”

“K, I'll save u some of those spicy green chips u like 👍”

“Good luck........... Chip fiend Hedrox won't be happy. L. O. L.”

“🤣 Thanks for the heads up man! See you soon.”

“Over and Out.”

“🫡”

“L. O. L !”

“🫡”

He set his phone down and buried his face into the softness of his mattress. Then he threw his pillow across the room for good measure. He went about his nightly routine a little lighter despite the homesickness pulling at his chest, and wondered what they'd be doing tomorrow. They still hadn't gotten a replacement for Torat, and Hedrox confirmed there was still possibly a weeks-long wait before they could move on any intel from the bugged base. Maybe they'd be going on a super spy infiltration somewhere? Though there were plenty of other things the Blade of Marmora was doing these days too. They were trying to become a more public-facing organization, after all.

Slipping into a hazy state of half-consciousness before long, Lance only vaguely registered a far away blue flash against his closed lids, and an oddly familiar fuzzy jostling of his arms before falling asleep.

—

0700 on the dot. He arrived at the team meeting room, same one as where they gathered the last time, only now without Torat leaning up against the wall. As Lance walked in to see the others already there and waiting, he wondered what the big guy was doing now. He'd been transferred to a different team, but that was about all he knew.

“Morning, Lieutenant.” Kestin, though usually pretty quiet, was the first to notice him, and waved. Keith looked up from the hologram table he was studying with En and Hedrox, and smiled.

“Mornin'.” Lance was still a little tired despite mostly adjusting to the longer day cycle, but everyone else seemed full of energy. En sharply saluted him, then turned back to face Keith.

“Hey Lance, sleep well?” Lance nodded in between a tired yawn. “Pff, you sure?”

“I got my nine hours, I just had a super weird dream..” He'd dreamt of one of those pretty furry moths back on Earth, except huge, that kept trying to lick his face and sit on him. It was mildly terrifying. “Anyway, I'm good. What's going on with this mission?”

“Big supply delivery to a colony. I'll show you the details.” From all around, everyone approached the table and regarded the screen sat within it. Just as before, a series of images with accompanying text lit up in the 3-d display. Lance eyed a familiar looking planet.

“Elysium-2?” Keith nodded.

“You've seen the news, then. Good. The refugees from the original settlement landed about half a year ago, and we're gonna hand out some medical and food supplies that are running lower than initially projected.”

“And actually—the Blade wasn't the only one to volunteer to offer supplies, but the Inter-galactic Coalition thought it might be good PR for us,” Hedrox supplied as he raised a lanky finger. “Looootta people are still afraid to trust us since, y'know. Most of us are half-Galra and all..”

There was a brief silence, then En leaned forward and regarded his teammate with lowered brows. “A prejudice we shall eradicate, in time.” Hedrox tilted his head back and forth in a strange motion before letting out a watery chuckle.

“That we will! Anyway, what are our roles, Commander?”

“..We'll be working distribution and security. There's a couple of teams on this for the different areas of the settlement given how big it is, and we'll be stationed here.” He pointed to a glowing yellow point on the planet-sphere in front of them. It swiftly zoomed in to show a 3-d rendering of the area. Two additional yellow spots appeared. “We'll drop down and hand out supplies here, and monitor security over here.” One of the dots was placed within a very modern looking building, similar in design to the ones quickly built back when New Altea was being settled.

“There's been reports of potential suspicious movement in the system, so in case anything happens, we want our best on sight.” Keith looked at Lance. “You in?” Immediately Lance's face grew hot. He certainly didn't feel like he deserved to be called their best, but he cleared his throat and gave a assured 'mhm!' regardless. “Good, that's everyone on board, then. We'll go over the specifics of the layout and the expected timeline for everything going down. After that we'll grab our gear and Kestin will take us in.”

Pre-mission anxiety skimmed and bubbled in the pit of his stomach once again, but this time Lance found it a little easier to ignore.

—

Touchdown was at 1300. Kestin joined up in the atmosphere with two additional fighter pilot personnel manning the supply ships to make up B squad; Keith's team, Kolivan's team, and another Blade commander called Thiga's team. Landing went without incident from teams A to D who kept in close contact despite the miles of distance between them. Lance gripped his sniper rifle's strap across his torso tightly when the ship lurched to a stop and snuck a subtle glance at his friend beside him.

For this mission, he'd be separated from Keith. Lance was, embarrassingly, more anxious about that than anything else. It was important for higher profile blade members like Kolivan and Keith (as well as Krolia in D team) to be the face of the operation, and so they would be handing out supplies to the residents. There was potential danger there if the reports of suspicious movement were to be believed, and so Lance was pretty sure that's why Keith delegated Lance to overseeing the security division of their group. He and Hedrox would rendezvous with the blades under Thiga's command in the building across the way from the supply ships, then from there observe to make sure everything went smoothly. He didn't like the idea of Keith openly risking himself while stashing Lance away, but was surprisingly too embarrassed to say anything. His mask was activated, and as the doors to the shuttle hissed open, Lance headed towards the exit.

“Hey Lance.” He turned around to face an also masked Keith. “Watch my back out there, alright?” Lance thought about his only strength—his aim, and how he'd probably be useless if he were at Keith's side like he wanted to be.

“..You bet. Careful out there, Keith.” He nodded, and Lance picked up his pace to meet up with Hedrox.

His nest this time was a lot different from the last; A large office-like space within the building had been cleared out to make way for several massive server-looking machines that were clearly Marmorite-y in design. He had no idea what they were for. Hedrox and Lance entered to find the security team already there and settled in. When they noticed their approach, all but one of the members of Commander Thiga's team whipped up and gave sharp salutes. “Lieutenant!” There were six of them in total, all of various size and race behind their masks, and stood stone rigid in front of him as he shifted uncomfortably. Normally Lance would have loved to be treated with such clear importance, but he was distracted by the unease of not being able to see if Keith was okay.

“Uh, at ease, soldiers.” He wanted to get himself set up at the windowed opening straight away, but realized he should probably do the leader stuff he was meant to do. “Status?”

“Ready and at your command, Lieutenant!” The shortest blade rumbled in the deepest voice Lance had ever heard. “And might I add what an honor it is to work alongside a Paladin of Voltron..!” Lance jerked, then immediately caught himself and stiffly walked over to the windowed opening. He turned away.

“Cool, cool, uh, I'll set my stuff up here, and you guys do... your thing. Let me know if anything happens.”

The stony line of blades once again saluted, and quickly set about their work. Hedrox pulled out some supplies from their blade-issued backpack, and sidled over to Lance.

“You good, Lieutenant..?” He whispered through their personal comms as he set up several tablet devices next to Lance. With his rifle now pointed towards the platform in front of the supply ships where Keith was standing, Lance breathed out a small chunk of worry. His right ring finger tapped the comms button on his palm.

“Why'd Keith make me leader? I dunno how to lead! I'm just here to shoot bad guys if they show up.” Hedrox snorted.

“Oh, I dunno, Lieutenant. Maybe because the Commander always goes on about how much everyone respects you, and how insanely skilled you are, and how much he trusts you?” Lance whipped his head up to look at them so quickly his neck clicked.

“H-He said all that..?!”

“Uh-huh. It's also favouritism for sure, but you still absolutely deserve to be here if that's what you're worried about.”

“Distribution commencing, Lieutenant,” a blade informed from off to the side. Lance studied Keith in his scope next to Kolivan and some other masked blade that was probably that Thiga guy, and swallowed to help with his suddenly very dry throat. En was there, too, loading the heavier of the alien supply crates onto hovering carts.

“U-Understood, thanks.” He pressed the button on his thumb once again. “I didn't know Keith said all that stuff!” Hedrox once again tilted their head strangely as they typed away.

“Really? I thought with how obvious the both of you are about your feelings for each other, you already knew..” Lance nearly fumbled his rifle then and there. His pulse picked up as his face grew sweaty.

“F-Fee—Um! What?!" Quiznack, why were they talking about this?! And how did he know?!

“Lieutenant... Come on. Or, actually... Would it be helpful if I told you how much I love the intricacies of human social interactions? And humans in general. You guys are so cool and interesting, so uh. I tend to notice that sort of stuff.” From beneath his hood, Hedrox's little sunflower bots fluttered to life around him. “But both of you are also super obvious.”

Lance was at a loss for words. Under his mask he knew he was red as a beet as he watched Keith unmask and start handing out supply kits to the forming lines of residents. His ponytail had gotten a bit loose and strands once again framed his handsome face. He was smiling.

“Keith's—I mean. He's—into guys?” His hands were sweaty now too, with his arms beginning to shake from holding them so tightly still. He hoped nothing was going to happen, because his aim was definitely shot!

“Maybe not all of them, but you? Yeah, Lieutenant, yeah. Very. It's really sweet how much he likes talking about the stuff you guys used to do together! Hmm.. I just assumed you two were already a thing, though, so maybe it's not really my place to talk about this. My bad.”

“No, uh, I was—Like I didn't know if Keith was into—“ Lance lifted his right hand away from his rifle to gesture at himself and distantly wondered how crazy he looked to the other blades who couldn't hear their conversation. He retreated back to his position. “So I didn't wanna. Assume? A-Anyway!” Frantically Lance desperately searched his mind for something else to talk about, because this was quickly becoming too much to deal with. “Human behaviours? That's your thing? How'd that come about?” Hedrox chuckled.

“Subject change, understood. Yes! Humans are the coolest—I'm gonna move to Earth someday, so I started studying your speaking and social patterns so it's easier to fit in. And because it's fun.”

From through his scope, Keith raised a hand to his ear, nodded, then continued to pass out supply canisters. “Huh.. Why us? I'm pretty sure there are a bunch of cooler alien species out there than plain old humans.”

“Now that's where you're wrong, Lieutenant! Humans are fascinating. All so similar, yet none exactly the same.” They pressed their back up against the plain, modern wall next to Lance. “..On my planet, conformity was umm.. kind of a given. Our ancestors were actually a hivemind, so.. we stay close to our roots and expectations.” A hivemind? Lance could recall only a single occasion where team Voltron interacted with one of them, and it was super weird.

“Data crunching comes really easily to most of us,” Hedrox continued. “And I actually found out about Earth when I was snooping around the Blade database of our highest ranking members and found—um, the Commander's mom. Super classified, by the way, don't tell anyone I was doing that.” Lance laughed.

“Reminds me of Pidge, but yeah, my lips are sealed dude, don't worry.”

“Coolies, thanks. Anyway when I learned about Earth I quickly discovered all of the amazing things you guys have like movies, and music, and so many different cultures, and—and individuality in general! Also, related, I'm insanely ugly by Yorith standards. Look.” Lance obeyed and turned his head to watch as Hedrox's mask shifted away from his face,

and one of the most shockingly attractive faces Lance had ever seen appeared. Blue tinged skin, rosegold eyes with soft lashes, near-glowing long golden locks curling around a sharp but also somehow soft jawline, intricate neon swirling designs tracing around the outer portions of his face and onto his horn... Maybe not as much of Lance's type as Keith was, but man oh man he was hot hot.

“........Dude. You're hot, what?”

“I know, right?!” Quickly, they reactivated their mask when they saw the other blades turn to examine them. “One day me and En are gonna settle down on Earth and I'm gonna be a crazy popular stone—er, rockstar, that is. That's my dream.” Some of his tiny floating bots scooted out of the window as he curled his legs in close, and Lance wondered what his and En's relationship was. “But only once the empire is totally gone.”

From the opening his rifle was pointed out, excited chatter from the beings below drifted upwards and into his ears. There was a sizable crowd now, and Lance listened to Hedrox as he kept his eyes peeled for threats. “Yeah, I get it. Too risky otherwise. My family's in New Altea just in case they keep attacking..”

Hedrox sighed. “Yup.. The empire invaded my home planet half a millennia ago and everything sucked, of course. But when I was growing up it was at least always.. quiet. Then one day they sent in some giant planet cracker and destroyed it. For some rare material near the core used to make ship parts.” Lance went cold, and thought of his old house, half buried beneath rubble and waves.

“Geez.. Sorry to hear that.”

“It's okay.. I've had a while to get over it. That's also where I met En, actually! He was in charge of the mining operation before he double-crossed the empire for killing most of his crew.”

“En.. worked for the empire?” Sharp, immediate fear pierced Lance as he watched the very same alien pass close by keith with a large hover cart. He obscured his vision of Keith for a moment before continuing on to the residents below. “C-Can we trust him?!” His breath sped up, and his scope immediately honed in on En's masked head.

“Yeah, don't worry, Lieutenant, he's trustworthy. His non-Galran half makes it so that, when he bonds with someone, it's a lifetime thing. He's got a rough exterior, sure, but only to keep his extra soft inside parts safe!” Lance still felt queasy watching them move around so closely to Keith. “And if you need more convincing,” Hedrox began, and pulled off one of his gloves. He lifted up his palm, and it glowed a brilliant color Lance couldn't even put a name to. “On top of all my amazing gifts and genius, I can read souls.” His fingers wiggled. “Hivemind remnants, and all that. He's good people, I checked very thoroughly, since originally I was gonna, uh. Kill him.”

Man, that was a lot to take in. “...Okay, I guess—Yeah, I trust you, at least. I'm just worried about—I dunno, something happening to Keith.”

“I get you, Lieutenant, all of us are pretty much the same. The Commander's the whole reason we were even able to do anything with our lives, after all. We basically owe him everything.”

Before Lance could respond, he noticed a subtle shift of Keith's head, before his eyes widened. A blade made a noise of concern from beside him, Keith shouted something, then En dashed towards Keith and grabbed him. Lance moved to immediately take him out, and then—a massive explosion.

The force of it reached Lance and the rest of the security team as the building gave a violent shudder, though he couldn't see an impact crater. Dust and smoke filled their view, and Lance quickly pressed his comms. “Keith?! You okay?!” Rapidly he pulled his scope around to try and see past the debris. Hedrox sent out all of his drones, then began furiously typing away at his console. For a moment there was no response. Then,

“Ugh.. I'm alright.” Keith's strained voice filtered into his ears, and he coughed. “En's hurt. D squad was just attacked too. Can you see anything from up there?” Lance quickly scanned the horizon again, still just as obscured. Screams and wails came from down below.

“Just getting smoke and dust up here..!”

“Must be a smokescreen. Kestin, what's your status?”

Kestin spoke in a mildly panicked tone into their comms. “The ship's controls are jammed. Something external. If we can get it online I can activate thrusters to help with visuals. Hedrox?”

They were already out the door. “I'm grabbing En, then I'll come help.” Lance turned back and squinted through the obscurity. In the corner of his eye, a hundred or so meters away from Keith, something glowed. Purple. He swivelled and pointed his rifle, zoomed in, recognized the glowing insignia, then fired.

“Your 3 o'clock, incoming sentry drones, guys!”

A small hoard of bright, glowing purple poured into view. They weren't running, no—there were barely visible bursts from jet-boosters coming from the swarm's backs. Some of the other security blades began firing away on their own rifles alongside Lance. But there were what looked to be hundreds. The telltale sound of galran rifle firing began at the same time as another explosion roared off to his right. The foundations shook. Lance couldn't breathe.

Focus. Focus! Find Keith. Keep him safe.

The smokescreen thinned slightly for a moment and Lance spotted Keith next to Kolivan, carrying a limp En with his arm under their shoulders. Another set of glowing insignia's erupted from his right.

“9 o'clock too. Couple hundred drones on both sides!”

“Keep us covered until Hedrox can get us into the ship.” He watched as Keith immediately vanished from his view, followed by Kolivan and then En. From his wrist, he watched as the battery on their cloaking began to drain.

Didn't need to tell him twice. “Roger.” He switched his rifle to rapid-cooldown mode so he could fire off more shots, held his breath, then began to take them out.

Easy. No complexity to their movements. Lining themselves up to be mowed down. Hedrox's cloaking went up, too. More screaming from down below. Couldn't worry about civilians. Keep Keith safe. Exhale, inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire. Exhale. Distantly,

“Alrighty, in we go!” The doors to the shuttle opened, but some sentries from his left had nearly made it there already. Nope, no no no! Not today. Immediately he took them out.

“You six, focus on the eastern sentries!” Lance barked a command to the other blades with him. They were all obnoxiously slow, and he couldn't rely on them to help with the sentries already too close to Keith. He had to do it himself. The sky brightened, and so did the ground, and Lance, once again, took aim.

It was impossible to say how long it was until Hedrox and Kestin brought the ships back online and activated their thrusters. He was lost to the repetition of taking aim, firing, taking aim, firing. His vision swam, his wrist ached, his rifle was his old bayard again, but he was going be damn sure no one could hurt his friend.

And then, wind. The flash of light and familiar sound of the ships bursting to life; a booming twister whipped up the smokescreen that was making his job harder until it was nearly cleared away. Civilian bodies on the ground came into clear view. Don't look.

To his right, through the light filling his mask, too many sentries were still closing in. Still a threat. Keith. Inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire.. No response?

His rifle was overheated. The other blades were still too slow. Useless. He arose from his weapon, and would apologize for bruising egos later on after Keith was safe. The other sniper closest to him was the big one who didn't salute, though was easy enough to pry off and throw out of the space he needed to work. Back looking through a scope, inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire. The sentries fell like flies. He could do this, he could be helpful.

“Lance, status?!”

“East and west sentries just about taken care of.” ..Was that his voice? He sounded weird. Like he was talking through a mile of water. Huh. His bracers had at some point shifted into his paladin uniform again, too. Now that Lance had a second to think about it, that was also pretty strange. Was something wrong with him?

“Huh?!”

“Commander, look—he's right! How'd they—”

“—Com..mand..er! These tactics.. are known to me.. We are being.. herded. Southern f-forces... We must needs—evacuate.” Man, En spoke annoyingly slow. The rest of the sentries to his left and right were already downed by the time they finished gasping out the intel. Lance grabbed another blade's sniper rifle and slipped through the opening of the building, activating his boosters so he could get around to the other side and start taking care of the rest. His pulse was surprisingly quiet as he landed down on the ground next to the corpse of Silvio.

“Heyy, uhh, Keith?” Several miles of water now, his voice was barely audible to himself. He wasn't sure if Keith even responded. “'Think something might be wrong with me. Dr. Nguyen was prob'ly right. I'll tell you after. ” He laughed at how easy it was to admit to Keith now, when he promised himself he'd never breathe a word.

A whisper of a voice. Keith? Impossible to tell. The light in his mask was near blinding, but he rounded the first corner of the building, watched a hilariously massive swarm of sentries arise from a crater in the ground, looked back for a second at the ship Keith was on, then, somehow, looked at it from above.

His bones felt strange. There was wind pushing all around him. Oh, he was flying. How did that happen? He tried to laugh but water came up.

And for a second, he thought he heard Blue.

CLIFF HANGER! okay so one of my goals has been to get across that Lance is a very unreliable narrator, and has avoidant tendencies where he doesn't like to think about the things that upset him (let alone talk about them!!), so I hope that's come across in these chapters! I wanted to vaguely hint at things like, for example, his old therapist (Dr. Nguyen) at one point recommending Lance not becoming a soldier again. Or how Lance planned on never telling Keith about that since obviously Keith wouldn't have invited him to be a Blade if he knew, & would probably feel really guilty! But I also worry I'm being too vague, so. I at least want to offer some clarity and context here. 🤣 Apologies if it's confusing at times!

ALSO. Kosmo has taken to teleporting into Lance's room and cuddling with him almost every night. This will be revealed to Lance later on LMFAO.

#voltron #klance #vld lance #vld keith #vld #srpa

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