#Galaxy Tape Echo

[guitarbomb]

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[peachesofteal]

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / masterlist

Your head is throbbing.

The pain is so vibrant it nearly gives you double vision, broken pieces of memory hanging just on the cusp of consciousness.

Things come together. The soft embrace of a bed, the golden glow of the morning sun. The morning sun-

You shoot straight up. Oh fuck. What time is it? How late did you sleep? You never sleep this late... oh my god... work. The sun is up, you're late.

It takes a second for you to fully understand you're not in your own bed. You're not in your tiny rundown flat. You're in a room you don't recognize, king bed spread out beneath you, grey curtains billowing in a breeze. The windows, the walls, stretch taller than you've ever seen, deep ocean blue painted floor to ceiling, a fancy chair pulled directly to the bedside.

You're not even in your own clothes, instead a pair of ridiculously comfortable sweatpants and oversized t shirt, the dress you went out in nowhere to be found.

Where the fuck are you?

There's a pain in your arm, the inside of your elbow, and you look down in shock to see a cotton ball taped to your skin. What the fuck?

Fear floods you.

You roll, feet and calves twisted in the sheet until you kick them free. Your bladder needs attention, desperately, and you need your phone to call Galaxy's.

"Hello?" It's an odd thing to do to an empty room but... what else are you supposed to do?

There's a door to your right, wide open and revealing white tiled floors, beginning appearances of a bathroom all you need to get up and moving across the incredibly plush carpet.

You squint as you flick the lights on, blinking in disbelief at the grandiosity.

The bathroom is the size of your flat. Glass walled shower, double vanity, white tub triple your size, ends curved upwards. It's not white tile under your feet at all, but marble, rivulets of gold running through each square like rivers.

Holy shit. You navigate to the toilet in a daze, passing the back lit mirror, catching a glimpse of yourself and swallowing your wince.

You look... awful. Exhausted. Hung over. Your face is clean, at least, though you don't remember washing it. You don't remember much of anything.

The Rook. The room you didn't belong in. The men you recognized. A warm arm around your waist-

Oh god. Did you... did you leave with them?

After using the bathroom, you burst back into the bedroom in a frenzy, tearing through the pile of blankets for your phone. Under the pillows, the sheets, everywhere. You check both bedside tables, the bathroom again...

only to come up empty.

The next option is the door. The one in the middle of the wall, farthest away from you. It's different from the other doors, the ones you assume are closets, and you turn the door handle, expecting it to tug downward and grant you an exit.

It doesn't. It's stiff. Unyielding.

Locked.

Nausea tips forward in your stomach, fear drenching your spine, and your fists fly at the wood before retreating, staring back at the door in horror. Air is trapped in your lungs and you stumble, dropping to your knees in the carpet.

Footsteps echo. A lock clicks open.

"Shite." Someone curses, padding over to where you kneel, black spots forming across your vision. Hands curl over your shoulders, forcing your spine straight, though you flinch backwards, trying to get away. "Breathe, little doe, breathe."

"Wh- who-"

"Shhh, jus' breathe for now. Catch yer breath." It's slow, but it comes, eventually tugging and twisting through your chest until it flows easier, no longer stop gapped by your panic.

You see him clearly for the first time.

The man who spilled coffee on you. The one who picked you up off the floor.

"Much better." He coos, and touches your face, thumb brushing your temple. "Let's ge ye up." He guides you to your feet, back to the bed, where you sit in front of him, eyes wide. There's some sort of warmth in the way he comforted you, some sort of care you're sure you've never felt. It scares you. It warns you, cautions you. Danger.

You're in danger.

"Where am I?" Your first question bursts free, and he settles in the chair at the side of the bed.

"Ye're in our home."

"Why?"

"Ye were drugged last night, at the Rook." Oh god. Is that why you feel so awful? "Dinnae worry, sweet thing. We'll find who's responsible."

"Why am I here though?" It's still not making sense, and he gives you a strange look, like the answer is obvious.

"Ye couldnae get home on yer own." His accent is soothing, soft and melodic. Gentle. "An' we couldnae leave ye on yer own."

"My- my friend..."

"She was... indisposed." Your head snaps back.

"Where's my phone?"

"It was dead, so we plugged it in for ye. Have ye brushed your teeth?" He nods to the bathroom. "There's a new toothbrush, razor, soap in there. Shampoo and conditioner too, for ye to shower. I'll put out some fresh clothes." No. What?

"I... I have to get to work. Thank you, for... making sure I was safe but-"

"Ye're no longer expected at work today. An' if ye were, it's long past the time ye'd need to be there."

"Did you call me out?" He nods, and then gestures to the bathroom. "Get cleaned up. Door will be open for ye, when ye're finished."

The clothes provided are your size. Leggings, a shirt, even underwear. You tuck the suspicion away in the back of your mind, logging it along with everything else, before taking a deep breath and pulling the bedroom door open.

There's a man on the other side of it. His shoulder at the frame, back turned away. A big man. Broad. "Erm... hello?" He turns, and gives you a nod. He's dressed casually, jeans and a t shirt, but your mouth dries as you spot the gun tucked into his waistband.

"I'll bring you downstairs." The gun frightens you into submission, and you gulp.

"Okay."

The house is monstrous. Hallways twisting and turning, sprawling out in front of you as you pass room after room until you reach a staircase, following dutifully behind the man escorting you... somewhere.

You come to a stop in front of a panel of sliding glass doors. They stretch the length of the wall, revealing an expansive patio and a sparkling blue pool.

And two men, seated at a table.

Your escort pulls one of the glass panels wide and they both turn. The one that came to the room before gives you a warm smile, while the other regards you with keen interest, like a black cat under a full moon.

You swallow. Audibly.

They thank your escort and wave you over, and your feet carry you forward, nearly against your will.

"Sit. We'll have breakfast." The man who came to your shop to give you the cash gestures to the only empty chair, and you perch on it, straight backed, strung like a live wire.

"Who are you?" It's a multi layered question, but they take it at face value, whether they know better or not.

"Simon. And this is Johnny." You start to give yours in return, the polite custom, but Simon interrupts you. "We know your name, doe."

"Okay..." you trail off. They're both fixated on you, Simon with his head cocked, dark gaze focused like he's picking you apart.

Danger.

"Poached eggs an' bacon okay? Toast?" Poached eggs are your favorite. How are you going to turn them down?

"Uhh... sure?" Johnny smiles, and stands, disappearing back into the house. You take a deep breath.

"Why am I here? Where is my phone?" Simon leans back, broad chest and shoulders relaxed in the chair.

"It's here." He pulls it from his pocket, and you're relieved to see it fully charged. Immediately thumbing through your notifications, you see a text from your boss wishing you well with your stomach bug, and another from Case.

>Hey, idk where you went but I'm going home with someone. You good?

You grit your teeth. Some friend. Off chasing dick or pussy while you were being drugged. Simon cocks his head. "You're upset."

"No. Yes. I'm irritated she abandoned me." He smiles, feline and formidable.

"Not many can resist Kate Laswell once she sets her sights on them. Don't be too cross with her." You glower at the same time a plate is placed in front of you, poached eggs, grilled tomatoes, toast, bacon, avocado, healthy glass of orange juice by it's side. The works.

The drool reflex is nearly instantaneous, and your stomach growls. You can't remember the last time you've eaten a meal this big.

"Please." Johnny coaxes, eyes soft. "We know ye're hungry." The way he says it fills you with shame, like you're some kitten plucked off the street, small and stray.

You are, you suppose. A stray. A castaway. A sore thumb inside this wealth.

You are, unfortunately, not too proud to turn down a meal, though your hand trembles as you grip the fork.

The first bite is perfect. There's something to be said about an immaculate poached egg, whites wispy, yolk dark orange, rich from a nutrient packed diet. You finish the first without looking up, forgetting, for a second, where you are. Who you're with. What's happening.

Johnny chuckles, eyes bright and beautiful, gazing at you with that perfect shade of blue, jolting you from your enthusiasm, and when you glance over, you find Simon's expression subtly pleased.

Something akin to heat, to want, flares in your blood.

No. Stop. You do not want them.

Johnny clears his throat. "Do ye know anyone who might want to hurt ye?"

"What? No..." Hurt you? You're a nobody.

"There were drugs in your system, benzodiazepines. A heavy concentration." You blink.

"Wait... how, how do you know that?" Simon's eyes flicker to your arm, the one with the cotton ball. "Oh my god. Is that what that is? Did you take my blood or something?" He nods.

"We had to know what it was. Your breathing was slow, shallow, and you couldn't stay awake."

"Why were you were in that room? I saw you." They exchange a look.

"You did see us." Simon confirms.

"I was looking for the bathroom." You whisper, shards of memories coming back in foggy clips. "I saw... you had a gun. That man... the one who brought me downstairs, he had a gun too." It comes tumbling out, laced with fear.

"I have gun now. We both do."

"Why?"

"You know why, little doe. Don't you? You're a smart girl." The 141. It's obvious. The Rook belonging to them, the back room meeting.

"You're a part of the 141."

"Very good." He answers, praise flushing your skin hot. No. Stop.

"Eat yer breakfast." Johnny instructs, but you shake your head.

"No. I want to go home."

"We're not a threat to ye, doe. Ye're safe with us."

"I d-don't believe you. You're... you're the 141. You're-"

"Dangerous." Simon finishes for you. "But not to you." The silence is a stalemate, your pulse rocketing past resting.

"Please, eat-"

"No!" You slide the chair away from the table and jump to your feet. "No... I can't be here... with you. I'm supposed to be at work. I w-want to go home." Tears brim, trying to fall, and you wipe your eyes hastily. Johnny's brow creases in concern.

Fuck this.

They can't keep you here. They can't kidnap you, force you to stay. You glance at the fence around the pool, a gate nestled in the shadows of some butterfly bushes.

"Do not." Simon warns, coming to his feet, like he can read your mind.

You take off running. Sprinting, as fast as your legs will allow. The gate is unlocked, thank god, and you blow through it, out to a driveway curving through a forest, towering trees flanking black pavement on both sides.

You're not very fast, but you don't stop. You don't stop until your legs ache and your lungs burn, though there's still no end in sight.

When you pull up, you turn wildly, watching, expecting them to appear in the bend.

They don't, but a car does instead.

You dart left, into the woods, scrambling away from the driveway, tucking yourself behind a tree. Your heart beats in your ears, frenetic, the pace nearly making you dizzy.

You can just barely see it from your hiding spot, and inwardly curse when both Simon and Johnny get out, flanked by the man who escorted you to breakfast, and another.

They start towards the trees.

You take off.

You're spent, and loud, crashing through the brush like a herd of elephants, giving away your position. You do the only thing you can think of, crouch down behind the base of another tree, and hold your breath, scanning the forest and listening. Minutes pass, enough to convince you to move again. You sneak away, one step after another, growing bolder-

Fingers sail through the air and latch onto your wrist. You scream, trying to rip away, glancing up to see Simon's lips pressed into a grim line. Your efforts are nothing compared to his strength, and though you thrash like a wildcat, it's not long before you're pressed up against his body.

"Told you not to do that." He murmurs, free hand cradling your face. His thumb runs along your bottom lip, and you breathe through your nose, jerking backwards, still trying to escape. "An' I wouldn't do that, if I were you. I'll just catch you, and you're not ready for what would come after, little doe." You shiver. His eyes are heated, heavy lidded, dark liquid pools.

"Si?" Johnny shouts.

"Got 'er." The reality of his words sink deep. Got her. They've got you.

You burst into tears.

"None of that, sweet girl, c'mon." He wipes your cheeks furiously, trying to keep up with the pace of your waterworks as Johnny appears at your shoulder and clucks.

"Poor thing. I know, ye're scared, I know. Let's get ye back."

"P-please, please don't. I want to go home."

"Let's get her in the car." He talks to Simon like you're not even there, and then he lifts you, cradled against his chest like a baby.

They put you back in the room. Your room, they tell you, where you'll stay until you can be good.

"We're not goin' hurt ye, sweet thing. But we need ye to cooperate."

They said, again, you might be in danger, out there. At your home. Your job. That someone may be trying to hurt you.

"You were drugged. At the Rook. Neutral territory. Only someone with broad connections and of importance could get drugs inside."

You scream at them to let you leave. You'll call the police, you protest, you'll call someone. They only shake their heads, and lock the door behind you, leaving you to your heaving sobs, ones that zap the life from your body and leave you crumpled on the floor in a wrung out heap.

Hours, minutes, days later, there are arms beneath you. You wake, barely, blinking blearily in the night. They carry you to the bed where you're tucked beneath the covers, warm, deft fingers smoothing over your forehead and your hair, humming something soft until you start to slip back into the darkness of sleep.

"Rest, little doe."

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Rex: I know you work with Cody sometimes, but who do you guys report to?

Hunter: Hmm... good question. Can't say I've got an answer.

My headcanons about the reporting:

Tech writes up a full mission report after every single mission the squad completes during the Clone Wars, even though the higher ups stopped asking the squad for detailed written debriefings almost two years ago, after their first few ops.

(Echo started helping to write up the reports when he first joined the squad, only to be absolutely flabbergasted and lowkey horrified that the generals/commanders never ask for the reports, they just want to know whether a mission CF99 was assigned to ended as a success or failure.)

The reason why no one ever asks for the reports is because, after Commander Cody first called in Clone Force 99 for a tricky operation involving rescuing a dozen key hostages from an overwhelming amount of Separatist forces, Obi Wan was the one who reviewed the exceptionally professional and detailed report describing the squad of 4 clones rescuing the hostages by rappelling smack dab into the middle of the enemy forces and wiping out two entire battalions of droids (including the tactical droids) within 30 seconds with a crazy plan involving one bomb (the bomb wasn't even used on the droids themselves, it was used as a distraction), a knife, a rifle, two small mirrors, the Star Wars equivalent of duct tape, and "CT-9903's impulsive nature."

"Cody, are you sure this mission report is... accurate?" Obi Wan asks in concern.

"Yes, General. Three of the hostages corroborated the story even before the report itself came in. And CT-9902 - the one they call Tech, who writes the reports - apparently records everything, too, so I can verify..."

"No need. I ask only because I thought orders were for this to be a stealth operation."

"Right, well, the sergeant said his squad decided the most effective way to fulfill the "stealth" stipulation would be to not leave any droids operational, so the Separatists will never know exactly what happened."

Thus Obi Wan, realizing the sheer madness that would likely ensue should Anakin ever get his hands on one of these full reports - Anakin doesn't need ANY more chaotic ideas or incentive to go rogue - decides to simply record the mission outcome as "all objectives successfully met." The other generals (and, by extension, their commanders) soon pick up on Obi Wan's strategy and adopt it themselves, though for slightly different reasons (because imagine reporting that a squad using a plan called "rockslide" succeeded where a company + Jedi could not).

And so whenever Clone Force 99 is given an assignment, they are only asked in the debriefing whether said mission has been a success or failure.

(And then Cody calls in the Bad Batch for a mission that ends up involving Anakin, and Obi Wan is just sigh "I suppose this was inevitable. Yes of course this mission ended with Trench's entire fleet blowing up. No, Anakin, I will NOT recommend that Clone Force 99 be assigned strictly to the 501st. We're trying to keep the galaxy intact.")

[undertale-anomaly20]

Mortal Kombat 1 x reader: Prolouge

The screen shows a dark void where sand drops through the neck of an hourglass into a heaped pile. the camera focuses on a single slow-falling grain of sand that bursts into a cosmic light. The light pulses and myriad galaxy clusters resolve in an abyss. the camera passes the many galaxies to focus on one galaxy as it spirals radiantly in the dark.

"Having liberated the Hourglass and become Keeper of Time, my next task was to restart history" Liu Kang's voice echoed out as the camera dove into the Galaxy through its clouds, to the asteroid belt around its solar system, and past a planet or molten rock "Not beholden to past events, I was free to craft a new era. It was with humility and restraint that I approached this blank canvas. After careful preparation, I began work. Painting over the darkness"

The black screen soon had multiple small bursts of light across the screen, then stars as it slowly descended onto the earth's atmosphere horizon where the sun shone in the center of the horizon "After eons passed, I sketched out the realms. After eons more, I brushed them in with life"

the camera soon zooms in on the earth revealing the clouds "In my new era, all beings will have the opportunity to find peace. Whether or not they do, will be their responsibility. For my power only permits me to begin this endeavor. It is the duty of mortals to finish it" The camera flies through the clouds, past them to the landscape below through the mountains to an open land where a lake lays with a statue of two dragons intertwined in the center in the distance. the title appears on the screen

Mortal Kombat 1

The screen fades into black.

The scene opens on a dreary, rainy day as (Name) stands in her empty bedroom packing the last of her belongings. Five years ago, in this world at least, she had been an eager, optimistic young woman. But the events of her last involvement in the Mortal Kombat universe had taken their toll on her and now she was a bitter, stubborn, and hostile woman who had seen far too much. With no family left in the world, (Name) decided to move away and put the past behind her.

As the rain continued to pour outside (Name) packed away her possessions, lost in thought. Her mind was filled with the memories of her life before, both the good and the bad. She had loved and been loved by her friends, by her loves and her daughter, laughed and cried with them through the victories and the loss, and seen dreams come true. But she had also seen heartache and sorrow, The death of Mileena cracked her heart, and the death of Hanzo fractured her soul but her daughter, Calithea, dying in her arms was what truly broke her. The image of her turning to sand in her hands is something she can never forget and never forgive. Logically, in the back of her mind, she knew Liu Kang had to do it but that was snuffed out instantly as she remembered how she begged and pleaded with him to stop but he didn't even look at her nor did he even hesitate to continue. She could never forgive him for what he had done. She couldn't even grieve properly, She couldn't just go to a therapist or vent to anyone because in her world it never happened, and if she did she would have been called insane and thrown in an asylum. The best she could do was go to a doctor for anti-depressants which barely did anything.

Having no person to unburden her emotions too, (Name) was left to suffer such tragedy all on her own. Even though she was sent back to her world she still carried that same pain with her. Everywhere she went, she could still hear Calithea's cries for her.

(Name) sighed as she placed the last photo frame in her box before taping it up. Even though when she was sent back to her world she went from being 28 to 20 years old the same age as when she left. She was now 24 with a 30-year-old mind. She stands back up looking around to see if she missed anything giving the viewer a good look at her.

She had long (hair colour) hair at tailbone length tied into a bun, a white singlet that hugged her curves, an orange oversized flannel, blue denim jeans, brown lace-up combat boots, and a brown hobo crossbody bag containing her Phone, its charger, her wallet, some gum, wireless earbuds, and her anti-depressants that she received from her doctor.

Physically she didn't look that much different from her 20-year-old self apart from the dull look in her eyes and the neutral expression she wears permanently. many of her old neighbors worried for her since she used to be so bright and cheerful and wondered what changed her into the woman she is now.

She sighs putting the box to the side and looking at how empty the room is. Over the 4 years, she had gotten rid of anything that reminded her of the world she once lived in and avoided anything Mortal Kombat-related. She sighs as she picks up her bag and pulls out her phone, checking the weather, to see if the rain won't be letting up. She looked so tired as she glanced at the window realising the rain wouldn't stop till tomorrow. Everything she owned was sent to her new apartment apart from a few things leaving only her wide-flat screen TV, her PS5 plugged in, a Collectors edition box, The art book for the game, and one unopened game out with a note on it. Though she hated the Mortal Kombat franchise the company sent her a test game of the latest one.

Mortal Kombat 1

"Fucking idiots" She grumbled walking over to the unopened game picking it up, with a scowl, and reading the note. It was a small printed note new Roman times print.

Dear (Name),

We are writing to thank you for agreeing to be part of our Beta Testing team for our upcoming game! We are looking forward to your help in making sure that the game is as perfect and entertaining as possible for our players.

We are sending you the only existing copy of the game for you to play through and report any glitches or bugs you may find. We understand that it is only a beta build of the game and that there will probably be some issues, and we greatly appreciate you taking the time to report any issues you may find.

Once again, thank you for being part of the Beta Testing process and helping us make the game as good as it can be. We look forward to seeing your feedback.

Sincerely, WB games

She sighed agitated "I only agreed to do it because I needed the money," She said as she sat on the floor she opened the case and took out the disk. She slipped it into the PS5 slot picked up the remote and turned the TV on "Let's get this over with" she muttered as she set it up to download the game. While she waited she picked up the art book for the game, That they sent to her exclusively, looked through the concepts of the game, and looked at the different locations. after about 2 and a half hours she watched the title screen roll in "Finally" She said closing the book and picking up the controller ready to play.

2 hours later

"WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO TO THE TIMELINE!?"

(Name) looked at the game in shock. She had started with the tower stories rather than the actual story mode. So far she got the gist of some things.

Kuai Liang was a scorpion and was going to marry Harumi, Hanzo was a 15-year-old boy, Sindel was going to die, Lie mei was a kombatant again, Shao Kahn was alive, Mileena and Kitana were twins, Tanya and Mileena in a secret relationship? (Name) groaned pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes in frustration "Jesus Christ Liu Kang...making the timeline a reboot" She said before dropping her hand from her nose as she looked up at the roster for the next ladder. It didn't hurt her that Mileena was with Tanya if anything She felt slightly happy that her former love found her happiness. Her eyes soften "Well done, Beautiful" She whispered.

"Alright. Who's next?" She says as she flits around the screen when she finally lands on Geras selects his character and uses Sub-Zero as the cameo. His first opponent is Kitana and Scorpion. (Name) waits for the signal to fight when the intros are finished the words fight appear on the screen. She goes to move Geras but nothing happens "...What the..." She mumbles and fiddles with the controller. The strange thing is Kitana isn't moving either just standing there. (Name) grows frustrated "Come on Gera! move!" She shouts as thunder sounds off outside the window causing a flash of light across the dark room...When Geras moves.

Facing her.

(Name) is confused seeing him fully face her, as Kitana disappears, and the camera places him at the center of the screen. He places his hands behind his back "My apologies, Lady (Name), for interrupting your work" He states. (Name)'s jaw drops "How is this..." She muttered unaware of the sand slowly sifting across the floor behind her "We do not have much time. I am sorry for this, My Lady" He said looking ashamed confusing (Name) further "What are you-?!" She is interrupted by the sand behind her whipping around her room like a storm causing her to cross her arms over to cover her eyes as her braids flay erratically around in the storm as does her bag and flannel. The camera moves to her feet as they turn to sand and quickly moves up her body soon covering her. The sand formed a tornado around her before the top of it darted towards the TV pulling her in along with it.

Once the storm subsided all that was left behind was some sand on the ground before the screen faded to black

"Forgive me, My Lady...But this universe needs you now more than ever"

The scene changes to the sun that had yet to come up over the horizon, giving the landscape an eerie and missed hue. The sky was still painted various shades of navy blue and silver, fading out into the darkness of night underneath the stars. The air was still and silent as the village of Fengjian lay – untouched by any sound – just the idyllic meadows, the few tall trees, and the distant rolling hills.

(Name) was lying unconscious on the ground, on her back, with her bag around her. She stirred awake as the sunlight hit her closed eyes, making them flutter open. She briefly opens them before squeezing them shut and slowly sitting up holding her head with one hand while using the other to prop herself up groaning in pain "Ooooh...my head..." She said trying to open her eyes. Once she does she quickly takes notice of where she is. She looks around the vast land where she sees nearly nothing but rolling hills and flat fields for farming. She sees buildings in the distance and notices some of them look familiar "...no..." She mutters as she staggers to her feet and stumbles forward a bit recognising the biggest building.

The Fengjian teahouse.

Her eyes go from shocked to angry in a matter of seconds, her teeth gritted "You've got to be FUCKING KIDDING ME!" She yelled in anger. She couldn't believe that she was back in the same universe that had caused her so much pain. The tears started to flow, and she felt her chest constrict with emotion. She had been through this universe before, and the memories of the pain it had caused her came flooding back in a wave of agony. She felt so powerless, so helpless, and her anger grew with each passing second.

She couldn't believe she had been brought back here. It was like a cruel joke, a punishment for something she hadn't even done. She wanted to lash out, to fight back, to do something to make it all go away, but there was nothing she could do. She slowly started to calm down and wipe her tears.

"My goodness. Why are you crying, Young lady?"

(Name) turned her head to face who spoke to her. There stood an old woman wearing a slightly dulled pink and purple long-sleeved qipao dress, with embroidered sleeves, a purple sash around her waist, brown pants underneath, white sneakers, and a cigarette packet sticking up out of the sash a bit. her face showed many wrinkles indicating her age was somewhere in the 70s or even 80s, her hair grey pulled back into a neat and flower-like bun held together with a blue flower hairpin and a kind smile.

Understanding that the woman who stood beside her was the character Madam Bo was a shock and it truly showed "Well?" Madam Bo asked "I...I um...I'm sorry..."(Name) said looking down ashamed "I'm just lost, ma'am, I've-" "I can see that. Not many people walk around dressed like that unless they're from out of the country" Madam Bo interrupted gesturing to (Name)'s clothes and making her look down with a frown "You new or something?" (Name) looked at Madam Bo "Something like that" She replied bending down and picking up her bag to sling it across her body. She dug through it and checked her phone to see if it was working still, thankfully it still worked causing a sigh of relief to escape her. She turned to Madam Bo "Thank you for checking on me but I better get going...I need to find a way to..." (Name) trailed off shaking her head before beginning to walk away.

"I would expect nothing less from you, Viper"

(Name) stopped in her tracks before slowly looking back at, the now smirking, Madam Bo ".....How do you know that name?" She whispered. Madam Bo simply chuckled and walked past her smiling after walking a few feet ahead she turned back to (Name) "Well? follow and find out" She said and continued walking having (Name) quickly stumble to catch up to her.

The scene changes to Madam Bo and (Name) sitting at a table in the teahouse with two cups of hot tea and a large book on the table while her bag hangs on the back of the chair. The Tea House is Fengjian's heart and soul. Villagers gather here to relax, gossip, and enjoy Madam Bo's homestyle cookery. Whether you're starting your day, or winding down at night, the Tea House has a special blend made just for you. (Name) takes the cup of tea thanking Madam Bo "You called me Viper. How exactly do you know that name? Or how you know that name belonged to me?" She asked. Madam Bo smiled "Looks like you don't even know who YOU are, my dear" She replied as she opened the large book to a marked page before sliding across the table to (Name).  The old thick book was a large, rectangular object, bound in brown leather. Its pages were yellowed with age, and some were starting to come loose. The edges of the pages were worn from the thousands of times they had been read and consulted. Its spine was creased, as if its old, leather cover had been opened and closed countless times. Splashed across its exterior was a maroon pattern, which only added to its aged look. If one were to look closely, one would notice small imperfections, like dented corners, which further attested to its years of use. She looked down at the book in confusion then shock.

The book depicted her as some kind of legend. It described her to be a fierce warrior of truth and justice who would use her flames to snuff out those who would harm others for their selfish gain but would shelter those who were in need. The legend for her was that she disappeared one day never to be seen again. On the left side of the book were two paintings of her. In one of them, her hair was pulled back into a braid with a gold ribbon running through it, an orange-colored tunic underneath a gold breast/torso plate, gold wrist guards, burgundy long pants, brown boots with gold thigh guards, one-hand raised holding a ball of fire, looking at it with anger, while the other leaning on a large sword. The other one right was of her wearing an off-shoulder orange crop bra with a gold band under the bust holding an amber gem in its center, her long skirt ombres from orange to cream with deep orange clothes wrapped around her hips similar to ancient Egyptians, gold armlets and wrist guards with a silk cream colored material on both arms connected, a gold intricate collar and a light orange lily tucked behind her ear. Her long (hair colour) hair is loose and reaching the floor as she holds a ball of embers in one raised hand smiling softly at it.

(Name) was in shock and confusion at the picture and looks back at Madam Bo, who gives her a knowing smile, confused even more "I...I don't understand...how am I a part of this..." She held her tongue from saying timeline making Madem Bo believe she was at a loss for words causing her to chuckle "Your legacy has been around since before the time of the great Kung Lao, my dear, crafted into the very walls of shaolin minds and history. The name everyone hears when they see this image? Viper" She says lighting a cigarette "This doesn't make sense though. I'm not Viper...not anymore" (Name) says sadly looking away. Madam Bo looked at her for a few moments and inhaled her cigarette before exhaling "Well then...If you're not Viper anymore what do I call you?" She asked "(Name)...just (Name)" (Name) replied looking back up at her "Alright (Name). I am Madam Bo" "It's a pleasure to meet you, Madam Bo...you said the shaolin know about me?"

Madame Bo nods "Indeed as do a few other cultures. Not sure how many exactly but a few at least. Each one depicts you differently but always with the same face" "Wow" Madam Bo smirks "We have a lot to talk about, My dear"

The scene changes to the morning light streaming into an old dusty room and the dust particles glowed in the air like fireflies. It was the bedroom of an old teahouse, and the furniture was a testament to the rural Chinese designs of the past.

In the corner of the room, there was a wooden bed that was almost a century old. It was made with a dark lacquered finish. The headboard of the bed was a simple design with little child drawings carved into it. On the bed was a quilt made of cotton, and it was the color of sand.

On the opposite wall of the bed was a wooden armoire. The armoire was painted in a bright red color, and its doors were adorned with intricate designs of cranes and bamboo. Inside the armoire were several shelves and drawers, filled with clothing and other items.

In the center of the room was a black lacquered table. The table was of a unique design, its legs were curved elegantly, and its surface was painted with a pattern of white and gold. On the table was a vase filled with fresh flowers, and several teacups filled with tea.

On the wall opposite the table was a large mirror. The frame of the mirror was made of dark lacquered wood, and it was intricately carved with scenes of nature. There were several shelves beneath the mirror, and on them were several items of clothing and other decorations.

On the wall next to the armoire was a painting of a rural Chinese landscape. The painting was done in a traditional style, and it depicted a tranquil scene. The colors were vibrant, and the detail was exquisite.

The room was filled with many other items, all of which were made in the old rural Chinese style. There were several lamps, which were made of brass and glass, and they cast a soft glow throughout the room. There were also several wooden chairs, and they were covered in embroidered cushions.

The walls of the bedroom were adorned with many paintings and tapestries. The paintings depicted scenes of rural Chinese life, and the tapestries were of the same style. The colors were bright and vivid, and they were a reminder of the old days.

The room was filled with a sense of nostalgia, and it was easy to imagine the people who used to occupy this room. The furniture was worn, but still beautiful, and it was a testament to the skill of the people who crafted it. The room was a reminder of the beauty of rural China, and it was a place of peace and tranquility. Madam Bo and (Name) stepped into the room "This is where you will be staying, my dear, it's been many years since someone has occupied this room" She said as she began to walk out "Thank you, Madam Bo" (Name) said smiling softly and placing her bag on the dusty bed.

(Name) is left with her thoughts as she sits on the bed. She looks down at her hands going through her memories as to how this had happened "Geras....why did you bring me into this?" She whispered to herself.

The scene changes to what seems to be a few days later (Name) isn't one to talk to anyone. where she had once been someone happy to talk to anyone now she preferred the solitude and quiet of her loneliness. It wasn't that she couldn't talk to anyone it was that she didn't want to get attached to anyone only to lose them. No smile was ever present on her face and if there was one it was out of politeness. Never out of joy. 

As she strolled through the teahouse, the smell of nutmeg, pepper, and cinnamon aromas filled the air. (Name)'s ears perked up as she heard the faint sound of a raised voice - it was coming from the kitchen. She stopped and listened more closely, attempting to understand just what was driving the commotion.

(Name) ducked her head around the corner and spotted two flustered cooks, one of them with their hair all askew and their faces flush. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening. The stove, close to the center of the kitchen, had gone kaput and wouldn't light up.

The first of the two cooks was a slim man with jet-black hair that hung over his forehead. He had sharp, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with a spark of creativity, and a slightly crooked nose that hinted at an interesting backstory. He was dressed in a crisp, spotless white chef’s coat with black buttons, dark trousers, and spotless safety shoes. To complete the ensemble, he had a white cook’s apron around his waist.

The second cook was a bigger man, but he was also tall and muscularly built. He had a rounder face, and his head was shaved close. He wore an identical chef’s coat to the first cook, but his trousers had thick white stripes down the sides. To finish his uniform, he wore a pair of heavy-looking black boots. 

The large stove, in question, looks aged and impressive, standing at about the same height as a person and spanning six square feet in width and length. Its upper surface is covered in ornate blue embossed tile framed in black metal which gives it a unique appearance. Its sides are decorated with intricate designs, from swirling dragons to blooming lotus flowers, all highlighted with small bits of colorful ceramic.

The stove has two large central openings accessible from both sides and two smaller ones at the back. They are each covered by elaborately designed metal covers. The edges of the stove are made of sturdy iron and each one is detailed with beautiful etchings along each side. There are two large trays located at the front and back of the stove and within each tray are individual removable metal bowls which are used to cook a variety of dishes.

The stove is powered by a large wood or charcoal-filled fire bowl housed underneath. The fire is controlled by two large handles located on either side of the stove. Also underneath, two metal racks act as shelves, helping to contain the heat during cooking.

(Name) stepped closer but hesitated questioning herself if was she overstepping her boundaries or being too intrusive. But she quickly squashed these thoughts, opting to help instead. She cleared her throat and made her presence known "Hey...Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked a bit nervous.

The two cooks broke off from their quarrel and looked at (Name) with surprise. They were hesitant until one of them sighed "How much do you know about old stoves?" He asked "A bit not much but it can't hurt to look," she said as she removed her flannel and knelt by the stove, taking a moment to survey the problem before opening it up. She saw immediately the issue "Well there's your problem! When was the last time you guys cleaned this thing?" She asked, her voice reverberating in the stove "There's a build-up of thick soot within the innards I'm pretty sure that's what's preventing the flint from sparking up" 

For what felt like an eternity, (Name) sank her hands deeply into the stove, searching blindly for the hard-to-find components. She was passed a variety of tools by the cooks, their faces increasingly worried as the minutes trundled by. (Name) worked diligently, her arms aching from digging deep within the machines' innards, her fingertips sore from her search.

Finally, after pushing herself to the brink, (Name) pulled her hand from the stove with a satisfaction- she had done it. Using the tools provided, she had successfully cleaned out the soot and ash build-up and, as if by magic, the flint sparked to life, returning the stove to its full glory. The kitchen staff erupted into cheers, high-fiving her in congratulations. (Name) watched as they celebrated, feeling her heart swell with pride.

The scene changed to the back of the teahouse a month later. There lay a small garden that was a sight to behold. , a collection of lush green vegetation could be found, surrounded by a simple wooden fence. Sitting at the back of the teahouse, the garden was only just in the process of becoming something more than an outlet for (Name).

(Name) had become responsible for the garden's well-being since some of the servers told her about the abandonment it received. Though reserved and unsociable due to her wishes not to get close to anyone, (Name)'s passion for the garden was evident in her approach, and her gentle demeanor often allowed her to be just the right amount of charming with a subtle hint of authority if needed.

(Name) would start her work late in the morning when the sun rose high into the sky, welcoming the day's mild heat. She could be spotted in the garden, trowel in hand, planting various fruits, berries, vegetables, herbs, and spices into the soft dirt. The summer breeze carried the hint of lavender and basil past her nose, making it difficult to retain focus. With the air full of the aroma of soil, (Name)'s dedication to the task at hand was unwavering.

The garden was a place of respite for her from the crowds and gave her the ability to avoid anyone who was involved directly with the Mortal Kombat events yet to come. With the garden rows neatly arranged from one end to the other, it was a sight to take in. The fruit bushes were lined up at the northern corner of the garden and stretched up to the edges side by side, branded with the same rust-colored wooden stakes that marked the entirety of the garden. The vegetables, such as pumpkins, beans, and squash, were placed together along the western side, each one accompanied by its sturdy trellis crafted from wood and metallic wire. The southern section bowed out inwards as the herbs and spices were planted in several mounds along the ground, creating an inviting pathway for anyone ready to explore the area.

The amount of money she spent on buying the already sprouted plants that would grow into fruits and vegetables to speed up the process of gaining fresh produce had left her in debt with Madam Bo even more due to the fact that she hadn't had any money when she arrived. She felt guilty borrowing the money from her but swore she'd pay everything back to her.

Though it didn't look like much, the garden was a beloved part of her life in the village. (Name) enjoyed no words of praise nor monetary reward, but the small glimmer in her eyes when she gave anything produced to Madam Bo to use was all that was needed to be told how fulfilled she felt when she grew her produce.

Tucked away at the back of the teahouse, the small garden was the perfect place to while away the afternoon on a sunny day. The warmth of the sun shining high above was inviting and refreshing. Surrounded by a fence of simple timber, this little sanctuary remained hidden from prying eyes. Here, (Name)'s passion for her work was showcased and appreciated, and it was here that the plants of this proud oasis were brought to life.

The scene changes to the outside of the teahouse at the back away from the garden. grunting is heard from around the corner where (Name) is striking a thick wooden post sticking out of the ground with her fists, which are wrapped up in bandages, and her feet. Her flannel is hung over a fence nearby as she hits the post over and over and over again. Her focus is solely on the post as she hits it ignoring any soreness or sting in her hands. Despite not being able to train for years she never forgot how to fight. Not after her training with the SF, not after her training with Mileena nor after her training with the Shirai ryu. Those memories she could look back on with fondness.

It had been nearly a month since she arrived back in this universe, where she trained in secret where the training post was, it wasn’t until now, as she stood at the back of the teahouse and unleashed her ferocious strikes and kicks against a thick wooden post, that she truly felt alive and in control. Her feet twisted and spun as she moved around the post, her arms jabbing and blocking as she switched between techniques. The air seemed to crackle with electricity as she attacked the post over and over again, a fierceness in her movements that belied her age.

It was different from her training from years ago for sure. In the months she's been here she hadn't been able to conjure a single flame not even a spark. Her fire abilities seem to have disappeared. Once again she had lost another part of herself that she had hoped to find returning to this world as a small consolation. As disappointing as it was to lose them maybe it was for the best. She felt a little less troubled by the fact that maybe she could hide away from whatever Mortal Kombat tournament would take place and maybe then avoid whatever Geras brought her here for.

For minutes that seemed like hours, (Name) repeated her strikes and kicks until her body ached and her breathing became labored. But she pushed on, leaning into each strike and kick, her mind repeating her movements as if she were in a trance. The post creaked and groaned as it withstood her assault, but still, it did not give way. Memories flooded her mind with every strike.

Her first encounter with Raiden and Liu Kang Strike Meeting Scorpion Strike Fighting Shang Tsung Strike Meeting Mileena Strike Her first kiss with Tomas strike Falling for Mileena Strike Losing her Strike Finding Calithea Strike Losing Hanzo Strike LoSiNg CaLiThEa! STRIKE

Suddenly, a force much greater than anything she had previously exerted seemed to pass through her body. She stepped back and released a loud cry, her spinning heel kick connecting squarely with the post. The wood split in half, both pieces tumbling to the ground.

(Name) stood back, panting for breath, yet feeling strangely triumphant. She took a few paces back, her eyes fixed on the broken post then she looked down at her hands, her knuckles red, bleeding a bit, and bruised up, with a nod as she clenched them "Still got it" She said before wiping the sweat off her brow then walking to the fence to grab her flannel.

Unknown to her that watching from the top balcony of the teahouse was Madam Bo. She was smiling with a knowing glimmer in her eyes "And she says she's not Viper anymore" She said laughing to herself before walking back into the teahouse to write a letter to a certain god that there was another candidate for him.

The scene changes to the balcony of the teahouse where (Name) sits alone on the railing and looks up at the moon. She thought of all the promises she made to herself that she never kept. Tears began filling her eyes as the realization that she still hadn't gotten over what Liu Kang did to her nor was she over the fact that no one would know her as she was instead they would see a legendary hero...not the friend who stood by their side.

(Name) raised her spirited drink to her lips and took a sip. The warmth of the liquid felt comforting and she found comfort in the taste. She closed her eyes and let the wind dance around her flushed face. She had been drinking for an hour by now and borderline was drunk at this point but still maintained her balance on the railing.

"Geras...Why did you have to bring me back?"

She opened her eyes slowly staring up at the moon, her eyes melancholic and dulled, as she let the alcohol in her system cloud her mind and speak without a filter.

"You couldn't have let me be, huh? Y-you-you-you think that what? Just because I came to the last two times to help that I'm some kind of go-too for fixing his problems? News flash, Geras, I'm not!" Tears began streaming down her flushed cheeks, in frustration, as her eyes reddened and anger shone through "I'm not some toy you get to pick up and play with and then discard when you're bored! I'm alive, I think, I feel, I have a heart that beats and eyes that can see this world for what it is! A joke and an absolute joke! The story will end exactly the same as it did with the other ones! so why take me away? Why bring me back into this shit when everything stays the way it was written! Everyone got a happy ending except for me! What the fuck is that about!?"

She drops her head low for a few moments before looking back up in pain and sorrow with the look of defeat in her eyes "I've already lost...so much, Geras,...the woman I loved, The man I loved...for fuck sake my own daughter...Haven't I given enough? Haven't I suffered enough by now for you to just leave me alone?" The moon gives no reply as (Name) openly sobs into her hands, her body shaking with each sob. She allows her drunken grief to consume her as she cries unaware of the eyes watching her, from beyond the stars, with regret and remorse dancing in them. The screen fades to black with (Name)'s sobbing slowly fading.

"I am sorry, My Lady, but this is needed for this world...and for you"

The scene opens to 2 months afterward with the sun shining down on (Name) and Madam Bo as they stand out the front of the teahouse. (Name)'s clothes have changed to a white peasant blouse with sleeves to the elbows, a long ankle-length green skirt, brown flats with crossover straps, her hobo crossbody bag with her clothes, and a white wide-brim sunhat with a black ribbon around it. Her hair was in braids again but longer above her mid-thigh. The travel cart was making the last calls for departure.

"You sure you can't stay a little longer, Dear?" Madam Bo asked with a sad frown on her face as she straightened up (Name)'s shirt "Ma, I'm fine really. I promise I'll write to you every week to let you know how I'm doing" (Name) said trying to assure Madam Bo. She had started Calling Madam Bo 'Ma' around a month ago and it just stuck. Madam Bo sighed as she let her hands drop to her side and looked (Name) in the eye "You'd better. I can't have you disappearing on me" "I'll be ok, Ma, I'll come back in 3 months I swear. I just want to travel for a bit and make something of myself I don't want the name 'Viper' being the only thing that defines me" (Name) replied "I know. It was nice having you here but even I know I can't keep you here forever" Madam Bo said before hugging (Name) "Make sure you come back in 3 months on the dot" (Name) nodded "I promise, Ma, I promise!"

"Last call for departure!" The cart driver called out causing Madam Bo to let go and (Name) to quickly dash off to the cart. after a few steps, she bumped into someone causing the hat to fly off and onto the ground"Oh! I'm so sorry! Here let me get...that" The person said gently picking up the hat "No it's my fault really" (Name) said taking the hat from the man. His brown eyes meet hers as he looks at her from underneath his Chinese coolie hat not used to seeing a new face in Fengjian. (Name) quickly turns to the cart and hops onto it "BYE MA!" She called out as it drove off down the road leaving the man to watch her as she fades off into the distance while Madam Bo waves goodbye to her 'daughter' "You're here early today. Aren't you, Raiden?" Madam Bo asked not taking her eyes off the cart "I wanted to come here for once without having to foot the bill for Kung Lao," He said laughing.

The scene changes to a village bathed in moonlight. (Name) had been wandering for what felt like an eternity, even though it had only been a few days. She had turned off the main road in favor of taking the scenic route, winding her way through the villages and hamlets that dotted the countryside. This late in-the-evening air was cool and still, with nothing but the faint buzz of cicadas and distant birdsong to break the silence.

(Name) slowly made her way through the village, the full moon lighting her path as she walked. She saw as the buildings of the village shimmered in the light, their sloped roofs reaching up into the night sky. The dirt road streets were so quiet with only the occasional villager out and about. She could see people walking back to their homes, while some were huddled near the local taverns sipping from their drinks and chatting.

As (Name) walked further into the village she noticed how dark it was, shadowed alleys in the darkness, mysterious buildings lit up by the dimly lit lanterns that lined the roads. The windows of the buildings glowed yellow in the moonlight, settlers were asleep inside their homes. Along the way, she saw Chinese symbols and intricate carvings encapsulated in the walls of the village buildings, which shined in the lantern light as she passed them.

As (Name) walked further, she sensed something was off. She could feel a tingling along the edges of her skin, a warning sign that something was amiss. She kept walking, her pace becoming more vigilant and alert to her surroundings.

Just then, she heard a commotion ahead of her. It sounded like shouting and cursing coming from a nearby alley. (Name) quietly picked up her pace, curiosity getting the better of her.

As she rounded the corner, she was horrified to find a group of roughly seven men standing with pipes and clubs, surrounding a little girl, with black hair and fair skin, who was huddled against her unconscious mother’s body. The girl was sobbing and shaking her mother, desperately trying to wake her.

The little girl looked too much like Calithea.

(Name) felt a wave of pure rage surge through her; these men were preying on this defenseless woman and her child. There was no way (Name) could let this stand. She rushed forward, determined to protect them.

As she barged her way through the crowd, the men stopped in surprise. (Name) felt something stir deep within her, something she had long suppressed but which now seemed to be reaching out in a desperate attempt to protect the two civilians, and before she knew what was happening, she felt the heat beginning to build in her palms and arms. Tendrils of flames started to erupt, curling and folding around each other, growing ever larger and brighter. As she raised her arms, they began to spread outwards around her body.

The men seemed surprised by the sudden display of power in front of them and took a couple of steps back. (Name)'s flames continued to build, her anger and outrage at the injustice of this unfairness morphing and twisting the fire into shapes and colors that she had never seen before.

The flames reached out further, encircling (Name) in a protective flame that extended outwards in all directions, blocking the brutes from getting close enough to do any additional harm.

(Name) stood there, her heart racing and her emotions in a knot, feeling her power but also feeling utterly drained and exhausted. She sent a wave of fire and energy around her, pushing the men away and ushering in a sense of safety and protection for the woman and her daughter.

The men exchanged terrified looks and turned to flee before the furious inferno that had appeared before them. (Name) scoffed at the retreating forms, her hands extinguished and her fury abating.

She then looked down at her hands in confusion. She hadn't used her fire abilities in years thinking they had disappeared, and yet here they were, responding to her anger as if they had always been a part of her. She shook her head, her recent revelations pushed to the back of her mind.

She turned to find the little girl still sitting beside her unconscious mother, eyes wide with shock. (Name) knelt before her and gently asked, “Are you alright?”

The girl nodded looking up at her with big green eyes, Kaitlyns heart sank slightly as that was the only one of the few differences between her and Calithea, "Thank you, Miss" She sniffled. (Name) waved her thanks away "No problem but we need to get you're mum to a doctor. Don't worry, doll, I got her" (Name) said picking up the mother and carrying her on her back.

(Name) quickly found the local doctor’s office after walking with the little girl for a few minutes, thankfully they were still open but the looks on their faces when they saw (Name) carrying the mother and the daughter standing next to her with scratches was a sight. After some medical attention and a few hours of rest, the woman was thankfully alright. (Name) was exhausted by the evening’s events and knew she needed rest. She continued on her journey and soon found the local inn where she was able to get a much-needed night’s sleep.

The following morning, (Name) awoke to a knock at the door. She opened it to find the same little girl from the night before, with her mother behind her, standing before her, tears in her eyes and a silver necklace in her hands "Thank you for protecting my mommy and me!" she once again thanked her for her help, before slipping the necklace into (Name)’s hand and running away with her mother following after her. (Name) looked after her, moved by the girl’s appreciation. She opened her hand to find the necklace with a simple circle pendant. Her heart swelled with the girls' kindness as she slipped the necklace on yet she still didn't smile but there was a slight twinkle in her eyes.

2 months later reads across the screen changing the scene to the village where the sound of a monkey wrench being used can be heard coming from an open shed. (Name) sat in her open shed, her motorcycle in pieces in front of her. The sun was high, beating down on her and the few buildings that populated the area. (Name) had been in this village for exactly two months now, and in that time it had become her home. In the short time she had been there, those in the small town had come to rely on her for fixing their various things.

She nods to herself as she surveyed her work. From where she was sitting, the motorcycle was made up of titanium, steel, and tungsten parts - all put together by her.

(Name) had on long jeans, her white singlet, and her brown boots. Her (hair colour) hair was tied up in a high bun, ensuring it stayed out of the way as she worked on her motorcycle's engine. Not that it mattered, as she already had smudges of oil on her otherwise fair skin. luckily she hung up her flannel on the hook behind her.

Glancing around the village, (Name) thought to herself that it was hot. She thought of the heat that must have been radiating from her shed, and of how she had been there all day with no break - not even for lunch. (Name) knelt in front of her bike and inspected the engine, her brow furrowed in contemplation "Son of a bitch" She grumbled as she worked on putting the engine together. She had to obtain the specific metals so that she could have her bike run on two different fuel sources. Petrol of course to avoid any unwanted attention not like the other option.

Her fire.

She had planned this for the past month and a half. Getting the materials was easy it was forging the parts that were hard for her. Tungsten and titanium don't melt easily. Tungesten melts at 5600* while titanium melts at 3000* She had to figure out how to meld them together with steel so that she could build the bike up from scratch. using the two specific metals made her bike damn near fireproof meaning she couldn't melt it as long as she didn't use her fire at half-strength which was easy enough.

She had been training with her abilities in the fields on some nights away from any civilian life to prevent any injuries to others. They hadn't changed all that much, maybe her anger fueled it a bit too much at times, yes but there wasn't all that much different from what she used to do.

The sun was beginning to dip in the sky, and (Name) knew it was about time to end her day's work. As she collected her tools and carefully put the pieces of her bike back in place.

The cruiser motorcycle was a sight to behold, sleek and powerful, yet elegant and compact. It was a perfect combination of classic looks and heavy-duty performance. Its frame was constructed from a combination of titanium, tungsten, and steel, all of which lent the bike its incredible fire and heat resistance, able to withstand temperatures of up to 5000 degrees Celsius. The black leather seating was comfortable yet beautiful, the handlebars soft and easy to hold onto, and the strong headlight shone brightly during the night.

To complete the look were two side saddle bags, affixed to each side of the bike for storage. These bags were made of tough leather, able to resist wear and tear, as well as provide plenty of space for items.

Yet, the most impressive feature of this cruiser motorcycle was its ability to run on her firepower. In the event of a fuel shortage, the bike would still be able to function from the energy generated by the fire she supplied. This allowed it to be used in areas where fuel was not easily available, making it an even more reliable and attractive vehicle.

The bike was energized by the roar of its engine, capable of moving forward at an impressive speed. By its looks, it was clear that it was designed to be a reliable and steady machine, one that its rider could count on.

This cruiser motorcycle was a sight to behold, a brilliant combination of beauty and performance that was sure to make any rider proud. It was robust and dependable, able to withstand intense heat and fire, and yet still retain its style and charm. Its strong headlight and side saddle bags provided extra functionality, and its ability to run on firepower made it an invaluable tool for remote studies. This hefty, classic-looking bike was a true powerhouse that any rider could count on.

She loved how beautifully put together her bike was as she began closing up the shed with a nod of approval and locked it up. She turned around with her toolbox in one hand and her hoodie in the other as she made her way back to her little house ready for what was to come.

Later that night they came back.

The six bandits were a motley crew, all of them draped in tattered cloaks and cloaked in hoods that hid their true identities. The leader of the pack had a jagged scar running down his left cheek, and the others - six men and three women - were equally as rough in appearance.

They burst through the village in the dead of night, their cackles ringing out loud across the sleeping streets. The bandits wasted no time messing with the villagers' stalls, standing firm with their arms crossed even in the face of the enraged complaints of the angry vendors. They plundered and tore through the booths, grasping merchandise in their hands and stuffing their bags with all they could find. The leader of the bandits went around brandishing a hefty stick, lashing out at anyone who looked twice at them.

The villagers, rightfully scared of the bandits' violent behavior, stayed indoors as the bandits pillaged the stalls to their heart's content. The frightened market-goers looked out from their windows at the chaotic scene developing before their eyes, familiar faces that had been shopping there for years now dreading the thought of the bandits returning. The villagers acted like rats in a maze, waiting for the bandits to eventually release them from their fear.

The six bandits were loud and oppressive, their bulky frames intimidating and their unkempt hair billowing in the night breeze. They were clad in leather and carried daggers and swords in makeshift scabbards. Their boots stomped on the cobblestones as they began to make off with their plunder. The villagers, scared and trembling, waited hunkered in their homes waiting until the bandits had moved on.

But the bandits were unaware of the return of a legend.

"I don't think those belong to you"

The bandits look around trying to find who dared to speak out against them "Up here" They all look up to the building where the moon hangs over.

There on the roof stood a silhouetted figure loomed over them. Her mid-thigh length hair floated slightly in the wind gently, her nose and mouth covered by a black bandana, a black sleeveless shirt, black fingerless gloves, black leggings, black ankle boots with silver rivets on the sides, chains wrapped around both of her forearms, a long black pole strapped to her back and her piercing (eye colour) eyes trained on them in a glare as she stood there in a crouched position with her forearms laying on her thighs.

"What the-" "Drop the valuables they're not yours. If you do that you can walk away without any harm done. You DON'T drop them you won't be walking away from this" (Name) said in a calm and ice-cold tone of voice that sent shivers of fear down some of their spines. One of the women stepped up. "Like we'll listen to you! Fucking coward standing above us up there!" She yelled up making some of her friends laugh. (Name) remains silent for a few moments before she straightens herself up "I gave you a chance. Now suffer the consequences" she says as she walks to the side of the roof and drops into the dark alley disappearing into its inky blackness. It's silent for a few moments and the bandits begin to believe that she is all bark and no bite laughing and mocking her.

until there was a little light in the alley.

In the darkness, (Name) raised her arms and suddenly the alleyway transformed. Fire engulfed the walls and the ground beneath them seemed to ripple as flames lapped up against the stone. She had a scythe in one hand--its silver blade reflecting the orange light as its tip cut through the air. In the other was a chain of metal, glinting in the fire. While the chains were simple silver the Scythe was another story. 

The long scythe was awe-inspiring and had a dangerous air about it. It was a thing of beauty; not that of the clean and inoffensive kind, but rather, of a wild, feral beauty.

The scythe had two distinct colors, complimentary and in perfect harmony: silver and black. The pole was a black design with slim lines through it like cracks in the ground which seemed to show the inside of the scythe, slim and strong. The silver blade was set on a short yet powerful black iron arm, where the design on the handle stood out exquisitely despite its darkness. The blade itself was in the shape of a large fang but still looked very similar to that of a grim reaper's scythe. the design on it was simple for the most part, with no special designs, and no patterns but the edge of the blade was more defined as a lighter silver.

The bandits stood in shock. The female vigilante had come for them and she wasn't here to give them another chance.

She strode towards them, her movements fluid and graceful as the flames danced around her. With one swift movement, she swung her scythe, and as the lines on either side of the pole lit up with her fire, the edge of the blade glowed bright and sent the flames soaring outwards, scorching the faces of the bandits and immolating the stone. The bandits yelled and scrambled, trying to outrun the fire, but the woman was relentless. She swung her scythe at the first bandit severing his arm from above the elbow. He screams in pain but is quickly silenced by her decapitating him. Another bandit tried to charge at her but didn't get even close as she swung her scythe again upwards slicing her left leg off and making her scream and howl in pain. The man and the other two women tried to run from her. A chain flew out from the alley and wrapped around one of the women's throats choking her. (Name) heated the metal causing the chain around her forearm and hand to glow bright with the conducted heat. The glow traveled up the chain to around the woman's neck. She tried to scream but the glowling hot chain was pulled back severing her head and letting it roll on the ground.

(Name) twirled her scythe and sent out a shockwave of flame that engulfed them, burning them to ashes in a matter of seconds leaving two of the bandits alive and on their asses.

The two bandits looked at each other in horror then at (Name) as she loomed over them like a specter of hell the moon shadowing her features except for her glowling eyes that held no remorse. Just a cold dead stare "P-Please! w-w-we're sorry! we'll give everything back! we swear!" The female bandit from earlier stammered as her leader trembled in fear with sweat beading from his head. (Name) tilted her head and narrowed her eyes "....You are to leave everything you have taken from these people...then you will spread a message for me to every single one of your friends and anyone else who wants to prey on the innocent again" (Name) said calmly with venom dripping from her voice as she leaned in closer causing the pair to shake with fear seeing her grip tighten on her scythe still glowing with fire. The wind carried a chill throughout the village, the fire behind her causing her eyes to look like a predator about to pounce on their prey, her hair being highlighted by its light.

"Viper has returned. She is here to bring swift justice to the degenerates of this world, and none shall be spared her wrath"

The two bandits nod shaking and running off with nothing but the clothes on their backs into the night. (Name) stood in the center, surveying the carnage, her hair billowing in the wind. Satisfied that justice had been served, she extinguished the last traces of flame stepped away from the alleyway entrance, and walked down the street retracting her chains back to her forearms.

This was the monster she had hidden. The monster who fed on her anger, her rage, her heartbreak, and her sorrow. She may be a legend in the books but she took her anger out on those who thought they were above consequence.

Gone was the naive 18-year-old girl who looked at this world with wide eyes and a bright smile, gone was the 22-year-old who was in love and hoped for a future where she could have peace, and gone was the 28-year-old who was a mother in bliss ready to be with the man she loved. Now all that remains is the 24-year-old woman who simply existed and never asked for more.

Kindness, for her, was something she would always have but she swore to keep others at arm's length. (Name) sighs pulling down her mouth mask before returning to her small house to clean off her scythe.

As the fires had begun to die out the darkness of the night swallowed her up, leaving nothing but silence in her wake. Justice had been served, and the town was now safe. The screen fades to black.

Grunting can be heard in the darkness along with air wooshes before the screen brightens to an open field.

(Name) stood in the middle of the training grounds, her long scythe in hand. She had been practicing for hours, and her arms and hands were covered in cuts, a testament to her dedication to her craft. Holding the long scythe tightly, (Name) swung it around her like an extension of her arm. She trained for hours every day in the large field, with wooden poles that she had set up in a makeshift training area. The helix pattern of curved metal that took up more than 1/3 of the scythe's length glinted dangerously in the setting sun's light.

Her breathing was even, her stance sturdy as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her eyes, a comforting brown, were focused and intense, her gaze fixed on an imaginary opponent. She didn't train just for the vigilante shtick she did it to release any extra energy she built up otherwise she'd end up being anxious and get frustrated. (Name) raised the scythe and began to move. She twirled it in her hands, spinning it around her body with an almost graceful ease. It seemed like second nature to her, as if she'd been born to wield such a weapon.

One foot moved forward and the other moved back as she shifted her weight again, her eyes never leaving her imaginary target. The scythe flew in circles around her, its sharp blade slicing through the air with deadly precision.

(Name) had been training with her scythe for months now, and it was starting to become second nature to her. She could feel the weight of it in her hands, and the balance of it in her body. She could anticipate her opponent's moves before they even made them, and she was ready to strike at any moment.

She moved forward, her scythe slicing through the air with a deadly accuracy. (Name) was a master of her craft and determined to prove it. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the makeshift training grounds. (Name)'s cuts glistened in the fading light of day, and her breathing was still even and steady as she moved with her weapon.

(Name) had been so deeply engrossed in her training that she hadn't noticed the sun sink low on the horizon. Her arms and shoulders ached from the effort, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She didn't bother keeping track of time while she trained instead she used her determination and anger toward this world's so-called protector to push her forward. She recalls how she had made her scythe with the intention to instill fear in her opponents or any poor unfortunate soul unlucky enough to cross her in any way. She wanted it to be strong enough to withstand her fire much like her bike. Gathering the materials was much easier than designing the weapon.

Since then, she had been training hard, learning to work with any restricting movements with bandages on the skin of her arm, what with all the cuts and scrapes she had amassed due to her intense training with the weapon. Her palms were the worst, the skin on them sore and raw. She brushed a lock of her (hair colour) hair out of her eyes and flexed her fingers.

She was clumsy at first with it in the beginning, getting cut up multiple times, dropping it many times, and missing over and over again but after a few weeks, she was a natural with the scythe. It moved through her hands like an extension of her body, guided by some of her training. She could feel it, a power like no other that thrummed through her, as she continued her training. Her determination, impressive as it was, was beginning to pay off.

(Name) left the makeshift training area and began her way back home. Her feet moved lightly across the ground as she crossed the field, she felt the cold breeze licking at her skin like a gentle caress. She breathed in the fresh, night air. Soon, she was home, her scythe in tow.

At home, (Name) laid her scythe down carefully, its weightless form settling in its place. She rested her head on her pillow and allowed her eyes to close, finally surrendering to the exhaustion of her day. All the while, she knew that when her eyes reopened in the morning, it would be time to pick up her beloved scythe once more.

This was her life now, and she was determined to make the most of it. She did not doubt that she was ready for whatever might come her way. The screen fades to black as the candle nearby is blown out.

The screen shows that enough time has passed to the point of a week before (Name) is to go back to Madam Bo's. She's packing things into her motorcycle's saddles as some villagers come to wish her well. As she places her scythe into its collapsable size in one of the saddlebags the camera pans down her clothes. An orange sleeveless zip-up hoodie open to an inch under her underbust, black shorts, black tight-fitted thigh-high boots, a black mouth mask, and yellow round duo-bubble lens goggles on her head.

"That should be everything" She mutters her mouth opened enough to see her small sharp canines as she adjusts her goggles on her eyes before hopping onto her cycle. She nods in approval as she revs up her cycle, kicks the kick-stand up, and pulls up her black mouth mask  "Atta girl" She praises her creation before taking off down the dirt road into the wide open lands.

The camera pans to a side view of (Name) on her motorcycle giving a full view of the landscape behind her. Her expression was unidentifiable due to the mask and the goggles as dust blew behind her. Her mind focused on only getting back to Fengjian and seeing her Ma again. The camera pans around to the back of her and her hood flutters in the wind underneath her fluttering hair.

She rides off down the dirt road where the camera stops then pans upwards to the blinding sun.

(I promised someone on my wattpad account that I'd post the first chapter of this book in the first week of November so here it is. Understand, however, that the rest of the chapters will take a while to get through since, unlike the previous games, I don't have transcripts of the game to go off of and it'll be hard to watch through the cutscenes of the game and type it up at the same time. until then hope you enjoy the first chapter)

[oceansssblue]

~ 100 FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION –TEN WINNING PROMPTS MASTERLIST

[CLONE WARS&TBB]

— Prompt 4. Angels&Demons AU.

Pairing: Echo/original female character.

Will post here.

— Prompt 5. Superpowers&Fantasy AU.

Pairing: Fives/original female character.

In a galaxy where superpowers are an everyday thing, Li is what people call a "Blink". She has the ability to teleport anywhere; which is certainly useful when you're a fugitive escaping from the 501st. Fives has dreams.

READ HERE NOW:

— Prompt 6. Regency AU.

Pairing: Rex/f reader.

In a world were appearance is almost as important as reality, your family stands at the very top of the piramid. Like every other seventeen year old girl you're nervous and expectant for your presentation in society; and of the delicate decisions you'll have to make.

READ HERE NOW

— Prompt 7. Pornstar AU.

Pairing: Hunter/f reader.

Your manager tells you it's time to find a new co-star. You decide to film with Hunter, a gorgeous sexy clone turned pornstar.

READ HERE NOW

— Prompt 8. Pirates AU.

Pairing: Hunter/ f reader.

You made a deal with Captain Hunter to join his crew of pirates and find the legendary Moon Kyber for him. You made a second deal with Commodoro Palpatine to deliver the treasure to him instead. How can you come out of this conflict of interests alive and with the pirate you've fallen in love with?

READ HERE NOW

— Prompt 9. Mermaids AU.

Pairing: Tech/f reader.

READ HERE NOW

Below the surface, where the world is a myriad of blues and different marine kingdoms coexist, there are two subspecies of mermaids; shallow mers and deep-water mers. You've always been told to be wary of the second ones. A casual encounter starts to make you think otherwise.

— Prompt 14. Telepathy.

Pairing: Tech/f reader.

READ HERE NOW

Tech can't figure out why you seem to shy away from him; so he uses his telepathy to find out. Your thoughts about him are definitely a surprise.

— Prompt 15. Arranged marriage/fake dating.

Pairing: Crosshair/original female character.

READ HERE NOW

Trying to wipe off the smile out of your ex-best friends' face, you tell her you're currently engaged; blurting out the first name that comes to your head.

— Prompt 17. Prince&servant AU.

Pairing: Rex/f reader.

Being written

— Prompt 22. Forced to share heat/one bed.

Pairing: Wrecker/f reader.

When your ship, the Starlight, suffers the consecuences of the wrath inflicted by the pirates, Wrecker and you have to find the way of surviving together. And once you get back to safety... Was surviving all that that was, or is there something more happening between you?

READ HERE NOW:

—

(In construction. Will be linking every story here as I publish them).

Let me know if you'd liked to be tagged!

Reblog is love 💖

[vodika-vibes]

Hi! I'm pretty shy when it comes to asks but I love your writing and I was wondering if you'd be able to write a fluff piece for Atin Skirata with the prompt "i know you can't believe it yet, but i promise you can trust me. whenever you're ready to rely on me, i'll be here for you. i swear it." With him saying it?

Hihi! And I'm happy to write this request for you!

Trust Me

Summary: Atin Skirata wants to earn your trust, more than anything.

Pairing: Atin Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 998

Warnings: Badly depicted mentions of a panic attack

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: So, while I have had panic attacks before, I realized today that I can't quite put into words what I feel, so I am sorry if this doesn't feel quite right. Also, I'm sorry if this isn't quite what you wanted.

Divider by Saradika

War sucks. You know this. You’ve known this since you were a child trying to survive a civil war on your home planet. You’ve known this since you were forced into military service when you were a teenager.

You thought- hoped- that when you finally escaped your home planet that you would never have to deal with another war ever again.

And then an intergalactic war broke out that encompassed the entire galaxy.

It was like the gods or the force or whatever divine entity ruled the galaxy took one look at you, and said “fuck you in particular”.

At least you weren’t fighting in this war. No one was pressuring you into joining the military and fighting for the cause. Because, yeah, no. Not happening.

The downside, of course, is that the planet you now call home is home to a military garrison. A military garrison home to hundreds of soldiers, or more. And it’s not like you can just leave and find a planet without a military presence. Because apparently it doesn’t exist.

And it’s not like you hate the clones. Because you don’t. You don’t even hate soldiers.

It’s just that seeing men in armor carrying weapons sends a stab of panic through your very being, and you know that this is a trauma response to being a child soldier, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re absolutely terrified of the Republic Army.

Or, well, their armor?

You glance up when the bell hanging on the door to the shop chimes, and you grimace when you see several men in armor enter the shop. You send a mental curse to whichever deity hates you so much, and then you duck your head so you don’t have to look at them.

If you can’t see the armor, you probably won’t freak out. Maybe.

“Ah, there you are mesh’la,” You mentally release another curse as one of the clones steps over to you. There’s only one person who calls you that, and that’s only because you’ve been adamant about not telling him your name.

“I’m working,” You say to Atin bluntly.

“I can see that.” He sounds amused, “You’re not even going to look at me when I make today’s guess about your name?”

“Unless you have my datapad taped to your face, I really don’t see any reason to look up.” You reply.

“Wow, that must be some interesting work you’ve got there,” Atin jokes quietly.

“It’s work, it keeps me fed and a roof over my head.” You say lightly. It’s not so bad, talking to him when you can’t see his armor. Too bad he’s always wearing his armor.

And then there’s a crash from the back of the store and your head snaps up. A child in the back of the store bumped into an empty rack and knocked it over, but that’s not what caught your attention.

Your gaze is locked on the black armor standing right in front of you. Your ears are ringing. Your vision starts going gray around the edges as it becomes hard to breathe-

You stumble back away from the counter, “Have to go,” you gasp out to no one, or maybe to Atin, you’re not sure, and you stumble out the side door and into the alleyway, where you lean your head against the cool concrete. 

The sound of blaster fire and explosives echo faintly in your ears, and your hands curl into fists as you try to ground yourself by dragging your knuckles against the bricks.

“Mesh’la?” A gloved hand sets on your back, between your shoulder blades, and you jerk in surprise and alarm.

You see black armor and several ugly curses fall from your lips as the panic increases to the point where you fear that you’re going to just stop breathing. You press your hand against the chest plate and push, and you’re momentarily surprised when the plate actually moves away.

You spin back against the wall, dragging your knuckles even more roughly down the bricks. The pain wasn’t grounding you like it normally did.

“Mesh’la?”

“Not helping,” You manage to ground out.

“How can I help?” Atin asks.

“Away. Just…Go.”

You’re vaguely aware of him moving away, but then you’re too focused on keeping yourself on your feet, and breathing, and not throwing up.

And then something warm presses against the back of your neck and something cold presses against your lips, “Open.”

An order, easy to follow, and you part your lips for the cold thing. 

And then you realize that there’s ice in your mouth, the biting cold snapping you back to yourself faster than anything ever before. Atin is standing next to you, his hand on the back of your neck, and he’s…not wearing his armor?

You shoot him a puzzled look, and a wry smile crosses his face, “I realized that my armor was making things worse, mesh’la. So I took off the chest plate.”

You eye him suspiciously for a moment. You don’t hate him, but you also don’t trust him. 

And Atin’s smile becomes even more wry, as he pulls his hand away from your neck and presses a cup full of ice into your hands, “I know you can't believe it yet, but I promise you can trust me. Whenever you're ready to rely on me, I'll be here for you. I swear it.”

“Why?” You ask, bewildered.

Atin shrugs, “Under all that armor, I’m just a guy, mesh’la. Is it so weird that I want you to look at me?”

You look even more puzzled, and he smiles at you, “You should go back inside, I pulled my brothers out. No one will go inside in armor anymore, I promise.”

“Oh…thank you.”

“I want you to like me, love. If that means making all of my brothers' lives a little more complicated…well, I’m happy to do it.” Atin smiles and guides you back to the door, “I’ll come and see you later.”

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 3]

Warnings & Information: Intended audience is 13+ (18 if you squint). Slightly heavier material. Real-life and Star Wars swearing. We're pretending we understand how both real-life and (the regulations of) Star Wars medicine works. Lol what's the layout of the Havoc Marauder anyways? Fuck it, we vibe. ✌️❤️  Injuries as a result of an explosive device during a secret mission. Uh oh, no surgical gloves (for drama, please use gloves whenever possible in real emergencies)! Mentions of blood and blood loss. Lots of medical paraphernalia: needles/autoinjectors, stitches, bacta, etcetera. Near death. Vague description of nausea and non-descriptive mentions of vomit. Loth-cat is out of the bag thanks to Wrecker once our brave Medic!Reader saves the day. Chapter gets happier/light-hearted towards the end as an apology. As a reminder: we really like italics in this house + doing my best not to be overboard with the Mando’a.

Tryin' real hard to avoid certain fanon characterizations of the Batchers. This whole series is absolutely RIFE with my personal headcanons.

Word-count: 7,761

The enjoyable breakfast at the Batchers' was a week ago. Strange how so much and so little can happen all within a week.

Between her decision to get recertified for battlefield medicine at Tech and Echo's encouragement - it would allow her to move through areas of Imperial control with little impediment with her documentation dated before the inevitable regulation tightening that would trickle down to independent medical facilities and practices - and a mission that an "old friend from… before" of the Batch requested their unique skill sets for, the seven friends had not seen or contacted the other in any capacity since that day. 

Once in the morning when [____] had stepped away from the bottom of the short stack of stairs leading from their front door and wished everyone a good day. Twice in the afternoon to first announce she'd passed the earliest available crunch-test for recertification she'd signed up for around the dining table with Echo's help, then a second time to say she'd bought a private medical vessel after going over some specs with the recertification board regarding her own skill sets. She'd need a starship of some sort if she was going to reregister to be an independently-aligned battlefield medic.

One of Omega's newest drawings had been sent home with the medic at the youngster's insistence. A creature she called an Aiwha breaching the waves, and a doodle of Lula in the bottom left corner sitting in a flotation ring on the surface. It now sat taped to the door of the tiny cold unit in the snug kitchenette aboard the medical vessel. The first splashes of organic, cheerful color beyond the sterility of white and the ominosity of red that covered the interior. 

[____] had decided that she'd close her clinic for the day and take the new craft on its maiden flight; get a feel for the controls, get a sense of how to navigate… him? her? … through the endless starfield of the galaxy this morning. Now getting closer to lunch, she'd originally decided she'd have a quick bite to eat, until a harsh screech of her comms sent the spoonful of warm stew across the little kitchenette table in a violent cough. Maker, what a mess. 

"Captain Rex! Rex, come in! Where are you?! Hunter's been hurt, he-! Shit! We have to fall back!" That was Echo. He sounded so scared over the comms channel. What happened to make such a brave and courageous man sound like a scared child calling for his parents like a monster was about to get him? 

She hit the button to answer the comms before she had a solid plan to answer it. "Echo? What's going on? What happened?"

Someone swore before Echo replied, his voice high and tight. "[__-]! Sorry, wrong comms! Disregar-!"

Like kriff she could. It wasn't just her duty to the insignia of the shattered cross, but a desire to jump in hearing a friend needed help. "No-no; what happened, Echo! What happened to Hunter?" 

"He's been hurt, we have to fall back and get him to a medic on-!" 

"I'M a medic, Echo!" she reminded him sharply, poking her head around the corner of the onboard kitchen unit to look out the viewport of her little medical ship. "Get to my ship! I'm gonna send you my position; if I'm reading this correctly you're… actually not too far from me?" 

The screaming… Maker, the screaming. She could hear him just as the ships were properly attached to allow cross-boarding. Pure, primal agony. She had to hurry up the ladder with a heavy medbag. She didn't apologize when she shoulder-checked Wrecker with all her weight when she found her feet again as he yanked her up the last seven rungs by the back of her suit like a damn Loth-cat's kitten, he could take that kind of punishment without being phased. She had to get to Hunter. Rivers of sweat forged wiggling, jagged and forking lines through the grime and soot caking his half-tattooed face. His bandanna was missing. He'd been wrenched out of most of his ruined, ash-black plastoid armor and left in the bloodied tatters of his skin-tight black bodyglove beneath. Where the blood was coming from only the Maker could have known right now. That would be a headache and a half to scrub out of the thin mattress of the med cot, later. "What in the karking hells…" It looked bad. So very bad. Caught too close to a detonation? She'd seen everything from shredded muscle and bone when she had worked at a large-scale healing center ages ago to deep blaster-burn and blood in every color of the rainbow after a cantina fight in the spaceport as of just yesterday, but this… this was something that made her stomach twist so violently in her fear she was sweeping the room for a spare container just in case.

While not a wet behind the ears nurse, she felt that ancient-to-her overwhelming panic and dread to her very marrow. When someone screamed like this, it was just a matter of time before the far more frightening, chilling silence that came before the end. Before the cardiac crash. The flatline. A funeral. Hunter didn't have much time and she just looked like she was hesitating. She was analyzing as she forced down her feelings and stomach with a heavy swallow. What would he need? Sutures, stim packs, maybe all the bacta-gel and every last patch she had… and a damn miracle. 

She needed to send some people out first. Calling out above the clamoring, crying sergeant on the med cot below her, she started giving orders. "Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, you stay here. Echo, take Omega out of the medbay. Get his bunk scrubbed clean as you can. I need as few people in the room as possible. Now." Echo obediently hustled Omega away with a firm grip around her upper arm just under the armpit, forcing himself to become deaf to the protests and tears. (If it came down to it, Echo was not going to be able to perform CPR very effectively; something he and the medic were painfully aware of after a nightmare of Echo's some time ago.) It was an incredible kindness to not make his sister watch Hunter's suffering. It'd haunt the girl to no end if she didn't- no! No, she wouldn't lose him! 

"Wrecker." The hulking Clone snapped to attention, and [____] hated how she was giving her friends orders like this, how she was treating these men like… like soldiers. That's what we are, burc'ya one of them had once said, but it doesn't take away how much she hated it. 

How much she had initially, strangely, hated it when they spoke to her in their own version of Mando'a and the scraps of other languages beyond Basic they picked up during the Clone Wars and their service with the GAR and little phrases from the native tongues of the Force-wielding Jedi. What she would give to hear it now… something other than the sounds of agony. The threat of tears in her voice. 

"I-I need you to hold your brother down while I give him the stim packs, Wrecker. Do not hurt him, h-he probably doesn't k-know-" Her words threatened to shatter unprofessionally before the stiff crack of skin on skin. Not now. She couldn't fucking cry right now. Hunter needed her! Taking a second, she tried again, voice much more level and clear with the encouraging sting of her own palm burning her cheek. "He doesn't know anything beyond his instincts and deepest memories to save himself right now, most likely. He might think we're trying to kill him. Especially me because I won't have my helmet on." She'd actually left her specialty-helmet back in her starcraft. She hadn't yet calibrated the thing and all its sensitive scanners that cost her a pretty credit. 

"What's that got to do with it?" Tech demanded, failing to notice she didn't even have the damn thing. He never liked not knowing what was going on. There was no time to explain as the equipment screens the medic was turning on and had applied the appropriate sensors to Hunter's body signaled he was close to crashing if she didn't act fast. "Just do what I say: put on your helmets. Wrecker, hold him down exactly where I say. Cross, hold these." Prepping the autoinjectors she'd need, she handed several to the marksman, grateful for his long fingers to keep them all secure as she freed her bandage forceps and the trauma shears from the medpack to cut away more of the ruined upper half of the bodyglove. The sour tang of metal and soot would take forever to scrub out of her nails, cursing as she realized she hadn't restocked her gloves. She'd have to get her hands dirty, and the thighs of her pants would have to serve as the blood-rag in this dire situation. Thank the stars she'd washed her hands prior to boarding the Havoc Marauder and curse the Maker for forgetting to restock such a crucial item like gloves. What a rookie mistake!

She pointed Tech into the farthest corner where he could see this delicate dance against death. "Tech: take notes and shut up. Blue: Emptying. Amber: Emptying. Cross, give me the red, then-" Hunter's chest buckled violently in a too-shallow rhythm under her palms, the lip-wrenching that bore his teeth with every harrowed, feral, bellowing call he was making through all this pain was frightening being that-much closer now. The heart-rate monitor screamed in warning: too high, the possible final hill before the plummet. "Red then the gold! That order is very important!" If she got the order wrong, it would kill him. She wouldn't tell Crosshair that. Not until later. Or ever. "Gold: Emptying! Good! Wrecker, hold his legs, Cross, his head. I’m checking for concussion if I can." If Hunter didn't clock her with a wild, frenzied swing. If they held him down entirely, he would only thrash all the more violently and with all the strength he didn't have, pain receptors long since shot and driven beyond overwhelmed. He'd been cursed with enhanced senses he could never take a break from, never mind whatever standard alterations Clones of this late Jango Fett have. "Tech: no concussion. Previously administered meds should be taking hold soon. Prepping a subcutaneous needle with a weaker sedative. Dosage: two hundred twelve, blue. Wrecker: strap his legs and hips down."

"Ti-tight?" the gentle, boyish giant timidly dared ask through the modulator, dark visor meeting the naked eyes of the medic just when Hunter's screams began to slow, but not the struggling. The monitors blipped rapidly for just a short moment, making Wrecker panic in the pause from the medic as she considered. "For now." 

"'Kay. Whu' then?" 

"Go comfort your sister." Wrecker was hitting his breaking point of being a useful, calm assistant to the freshly recertified field medic. He set the restraints with a tight-voiced "I'm sorry, vod." before he ducked out of the medbay, shucking the plastoid bell over his head with a quavering breath. (Omega might soon be comforting him as much as he was meant to be comforting her.) She'd now have to count on the callous but not uncaring marksman and the over-explaining navigator who was taking his silence seriously if reluctantly. "Cross: I need you to mind his arms for me. He's not going to like this." Hunter had now stopped bellowing, all these drugs dropping him in a delicate, subdued state. Nothing like two sedatives and the strongest painkiller she dared use in the cocktail of stim packs she administered, the monitors telling her in entirely-too-many numbers to the untrained eye that Hunter was stabilizing. Vitals are still elevated and too rapid, but falling at an appropriate speed. If they fell too fast…

Taking his position, Cross did as instructed, putting each hand firmly around Hunter's flexing, jerky wrists. "Yes ma'am." 

"I'm sorry, Hunter." [____] offered fruitlessly, finally speaking to him rather than around him all while gingerly blotting a damp rag around a weeping wound to start stitching his largest laceration first to accelerate the closure before the bacta-gel was applied. "Hang in there, okay? I'm sorry for-" she pierced the lip of ragged, bloody flesh without warning him, if Hunter could even tell what she was saying, "-this." she finished. He heaved a guttural, strangled call of pain, instinctively attempting to wrest his hands from Crosshair's grip and shove [____] away before she jumped back out of reach, twisting and turning his legs in vain under the restraints. "...Nfg! St- … guhm!" 

She steeled her resolve quickly and came back to the bedside, eyes flicking to the cardiac reading. High. "I know Hunter: this is not fun for anyone." [____] promised him, treating the stilted, choked gibberish as proper communication while pulling the threaded needle steadily. Maybe it'd help keep him calm. Just keep talking to him, add in directions to the others as needed. "Hunter, Crosshair is going to hold your arms really really still for a little while, okay? I'm going as fast and as carefully as I can to get you stitched up. Is the pain starting to feel less noticeable since the first stim shot?" That should have been recorded as the painkiller if Tech had peeked at the multiple stim pack and autoinjectors she'd simply dropped to the floor haphazardly once dispensed into unmarred patches of skin between abused flesh and muscle underneath the top half of the one-piece blacks she cut from Hunter's battered body to apply the thin gel-padded sensors. There was no response beyond ragged, harsh inhales and shallow exhales. "That's okay, sweetie," she promised as she fastened off the suture, hushing him tenderly as she painted a thick layer of viscous bacta-gel over the stitching with her first two fingers of her opposite hand, "if not, hopefully it will soon. Here, Cross can move his hands up to your left shoulder now and I can stitch this laceration up next. I'll be gentle, as I can be, I promise. Does this hurt?" She palpated the edge of his injury with the pad of her thumb, wondering if he could even make out such a sensation with everything else his nervous system had been assaulted with.

There was a stifled "en" sort of sound beneath the tight brow-bunching, the best could be done to muster up a "no" if one had to guess. "No?" Forced past pale, slightly bluish lips, Hunter tried with further effort. "N-uhh…" He was going to hurt himself if wasn't stopped quickly and gently. Oh Maker he'd really need some blood… dammit she should have gotten that set up to begin with, another kriffing rookie mistake! "Okay-okay; good - I think that's the stim shot working, then! That's what we want. Thank the Maker. Here, let's try something while I'm working on this in the meantime. Can you hold your breath for me?" A breathing exercise. Make the other readings on the monitor slow down, if she could. Better, but still too elevated for her liking. Hunter's chest spasmed with the effort, indicating that wasn't quite possible. "Easy, buddy, easy… Let's try a slow deep breath instead."

"Nu-hu- I-" It was a spasm in his stomach this time, strong enough she feared the stitches were about to tear torn flesh further, before she understood what was making his body react like this. Nausea. Hunter always had a uniquely sensitive stomach but was in no state or opportunity to soldier through the urgent nausea like any ordinary time. She tore at the emergency release latches to the restraint-leashes on his legs and hips, Cross guiding his brother and leader onto his side so Hunter could safely be sick off the side of the med cot without aspirating on the foul substance if he remained on his back.

Tech broke out of his corner and his silence where he'd been banished with his datapad to assist with the mess coating [____]'s new field-boots and the paneled floor of the Marauder's medbay. He sounded almost offended and childish over the mic and modulator of his unique, non-standard bucket. "Kriff! Gross!" 

"Better than the alternative, Tech." the doctor simply chided the pilot, "and nothing any pair of my boots haven't seen before. Just these girls' first time. Crosshair can you grab a hydropack or something? Once he's sure he's in the clear he'll want to rinse the bile out of his mouth." She saw the sniper's throat bob stiffly, once, three times, before speaking in a distant, strained voice to mask the muted retching.

"Sure." Crosshair was all too happy to avoid becoming patient number two if he lingered here much longer when the doctor glanced down at her boots and remarked that she likes the blue travel-ration bars best as well, to no one in particular. 

She stayed aboard the Marauder to monitor Hunter's vitals and had tenderly cleaned the soot and sweat from his face for good measure, musing to herself that Tech was probably messing around with her control panel of her (yet-unnamed) ship in the pretense of optimizing and calibrating your systems to better suit your occupation and skill set right about now while following after them in the hyperspace lane while she was busy with counting each inhale from the man across the medbay within a minute on the timer ticking away. Once the minute elapsed, she'd let Omega come in and see Hunter for herself. [____] noted how her head rung with the first hints of a building headache and the tugging ache in her throat; she'd had her ears uncovered the whole time Hunter had bellowed in horrid pain while she granted his brothers a barrier of comfort and emotional anonymity beneath their painted helms and dark visors, and had no mic to amplify the voice that instructed them how to assist her. But she felt that the unmodulated waves of comfort would mean so much more to him and prove helpful if he could hear a voice unaffected by a helmet crooning comfort to him. 

The minute elapsed. Fourteen breaths. She made a note of it in the log that Tech had been keeping for her and moved to let everyone know that Omega could be summoned now to finally go see her brother. Wrecker was the only one [____] could immediately find outside the medbay. "Hey Wreck, where's Omega? She'll want to know she can finally go see her vod - but he's asleep, I think." 

"Awh, she's either in the gunner's mount, or in Tech's seat in the cockpit now, I think? Crosshair went to take a long wash cycle in the 'fresher, and Echo's still getting Hunter's bunk reset. 'E's gonna be okay, righ'?" 

She looked over her shoulder back into the tiny little medbay on the shuttle, nodding. "He's been stabilized. He'll need to come to my clinic for a full work-up and blood transfusion just to make sure that he really will be fine with proper time and rest." She tore her gaze away, the sight of Hunter's handsome face so slack in his exhaustion making her heart clench. The brute of a Clone with a boyish sense of humor just gave a quiet bark of laughter, arms looping around his chest much tighter without the shells of his various pieces of armor encircling him, stripped down to his black bodyglove at least above-belt. "HAH! Good luck with tha' for the rest of us… but, he'd probably listen to you, kid. Hunter likes you quite a lot… Has a lot of respect for you."

"Oh," [____] mused in agreement, a touched smile breaking free easily, "yeah, he's told me."

Wrecker looked so dumbfounded, sitting forward and arms unlocking in a surprised stupor. "H-he has?" 

"Well yeah; Hunter's expressed his appreciation each and every time I've helped one of you guys, you know that, Wreck." 

He looked more dumbfounded if possible, that mismatched gaze of melt-worthy brown and stark silver-white widening with a realization that his friend didn't know what he was alluding to. "I-I meant two separate things, ad'ika. M'sorry, I forgot a "and", and it- You don't know he likes you?"

It was now [____] who was dumbfounded, the implications just beginning to sink in. "Likes me, wha-? Wrecker hold on; you mean he likes me in the sense that he might love me?"

"If he doesn't, it sure looks that way!" Wrecker boomed, immediately flinching over the volume of his own voice above a breathy, soft volume. "Oops… Oh I hope I didn't wake 'im. I-I-I thought you knew after that night Crosshair suggested that Hunter accidentally hailed you an' then invited you to come over to our place and took care of your injuries an'-" Wrecker stopped and sucked in a hard, short breath just as his voice became loud again, hearing Omega scrambling down to the tiny medbay. "Cross said he'd heard you were… well first he'd believed you'd had, um, y'know, because he heard you moanin' an' all but- i-it wasn't that! I know now that Crosshair was just making a dirty joke, an' I know it was just a massage, but I… I-I-I thought maybe Hunter had finally gotten his nerves and told you." Wrecker was bouncing between the immature nervousness of a child who was afraid to admit knowing what sex was and the grown-up, prideful tones of recounting a coming-of-age tale. Wrecker was not stupid. Wrecker was not naive. 

And Wrecker was so much more. Gentle-hearted but strong and dependable. Kind, tender and guarded when he could have been rough and uncareful of his strength with his enhanced Clone brothers or the 'Regs'. Wrecker could dislocate a Seppy's shoulder or rip apart a clanker with frightening ease and then use that same hand in the next breath to scoop a fallen, injured comrade from the rubble like he once often held his beloved Lula in his sleep. (He once boasted to Crosshair, according to Tech that "Clankers fear me, women want me!" for… some reason back in the days of the Clone Wars. He hadn't been sure what the friendly competition was on that particular mission beyond how many copper-tops they would lay waste to.) These days, he had been loaning Lula to his sister; while Lula was so important to Wrecker, he selflessly shared most of his scant possessions with his family. So it was no surprise to the medic to find Lula swaddled in Omega's arms when she approached brother and friend. "Hey, Omega…" [____] called to the young Kamino-born girl with a maternal tone, "come to see how your vod is doing? He's resting right now, likely asleep, but you're welcome to go see him now if you want." 

"I'm not sure if I…" Omega stalled, 'want to see him in that state' or 'can go in there' was likely what the little girl wanted to tell the medic, but she only crushed the Tooka doll tighter to her chest with a wave of silence falling over her. "He's going to be okay, Omega, I made sure of it." [____] offered a placation of Omega's worries, silencing a beep of her datapad without even removing it from her belt clip or looking at it. "I can't be too far from him anyways, just on the off-chance those drugs I give him don't play so nicely with his stomach again. Why don't you come back to the medbay with me and see for yourself if my stitches are nice and even while I'm taking his pulse?" She held a beckoning hand toward Omega, a silent offer to comfort her and take her to the medbay.

One could have practically seen Wrecker's heart swelling in his chest as he watched his sister step forward with a timid "...okay." and lace her fingers with the medic's, careful not to bite into flesh with her nails in the nervous strength of her hold. "It's okay to be scared, sweetie. I'm right here with you." [____] promised, leading her back. She'd already covered the equipment screens and dimmed more of the lights, just since the sergeant was so heavily sedated it was more of a medical twilight sleep that he had the potential to wake from at any given moment. His sister took up position by his bedside, studying his tattooed face and the bandages she could see poking out from under a light medbay blanket.

"Hunter's…" Omega whispered, noting how deliberate the medic was to move quietly through the medbay. "... sleeping? Can he hear me?" She probably wanted to sit and talk either to [____] while she watched Hunter, or tune out the medic and talk to her brother. Let him know, if he could hear her, that he was going to be okay. They'd be back home soon. They'd be taking him to [____]'s clinic and she would make sure everything was taken care of. And that there was no reason to be scared. Returning the sentiment once said to her. 

Maker and all the stars in the galaxy… these six Clones had a way of warming her heart. "Kind of sleeping. He's pretty sedated so he doesn't tear his stitching. It's okay if you want to talk to him, just mind your voice of course, sweetie." [____] promised Omega, laying a light hand on the girl's shoulder. 

The medic busied herself with cleaning up the data log or padding it out with information for the next half hour while glancing over the sibling pair every few minutes, making sure she kept a proper eye on her emergency patient and the sister when the young girl was quiet for a few minutes every now and then. "... I was scared I was going to lose you, Hunter…" was a soft whimper nearly-missed under the sound of footfall as Echo joined the three of them in the medbay, a modified datapad strapped to the trooper's scomplink. 

(Tech really loved tinkering around with their equipment.)

There was a ping and accompanying message icon on the medic's HUD. Clever man. 

Doing okay, kid?

>Ask me when the cross is off.

Right, bad question. Still on the job. 

Echo offered an apologetic smile over the top of his datapad to her, mouthing something that contained the word habits. 

So… Wrecker told me what happened before he was sent out. Just finished talking to Cross in the cockpit about it, too. Sounds like it was pretty messy.

>It was. But Hunter's going to be fine, Echo.

No sense mincing words when there was a heavy cloud of strong antiseptic aroma hanging in the air. 

>You guys will want to scrub out the cot in here within an inch of its life.

Careful, burc'ya. Tech may take those instructions literally. 

They chuckled softly over his joke together. She didn't doubt his brother's words. Outside of those she studied with in medical school, Tech was probably the most fastidious individual she could think of when it came to maintaining a sterile environment in the best of times. Something they weren't afforded this go-around, but in all honesty Hunter's chances of infection were fairly minimal due to the regular upkeep of sterility in the attack shuttle's small "sick-storage". In the medic's previous experience, that wasn't typically exercised by the usual sort who utilized these ships; but time and time again all six members of this "Bad Batch" proved they were a far cry from usual, she had to remind herself. 

>You'll probably have to air out the Marauder after he's gone through a ridiculous amount of antiseptic wipes and cleaners.

Oh, there's no "probably" about that… That's a guarantee. We'll be lucky if it's just the medbay.

The medic froze before she sent a return message, seeing a hitch in Hunter's throat as he stirred. His sister just took his hand softly, rubbing a circle into the knuckle of his thumb soothingly. "Shhh… That's just [____] and Echo "talking" in the background; all those beeps are their datapads," Omega chimed in softly as there was a second very brief stir from Hunter, "It's okay… you can keep sleeping. Won't be too much longer until we're home, I think…" 

Wrecker's told me something else, by the way. That he let a "particular secret" out in his words.

>Yeah. Wrecker did.

He told me what he told you. Sorry: didn't mean to make that look like I was prying for information. And, sorry if that was rather… surprising to hear.

>It's… certainly something to think about.

The medic laid down the datapad for just a moment and signaled Echo to wait just a moment, lifting the cloth she'd dropped over the bright screen of some equipment to check the vitals it was set to monitor. Pulse-OX, BP, heart rate. All looked about the same as the last time she checked. 

"Entering upper atmo..." Crosshair mused over the PA of the Marauder, breaking the silence of the ship in a voice bordering on boredom, "We'll be there shortly, suggest everyone get ready to leave for the clinic as soon as we land." No, not boredom. Carefully measured impatience as he was fond of saying. This was their vod who took care of everyone at his own expense (monetarily and otherwise), sacrifice, and personal comforts. It had been quite a long time since Hunter had been hurt so severely that he had everyone scared they'd lose him. Perhaps the last time had been during the Clone Wars. No one could really tell her for sure, but they were sure Tech would be able to give her a little too much detail from something in his records, Omega mentioned offhandedly as [____] updated her data log with the current readings from the diagnostic equipment.

"Don't be afraid to tell him to shut up again," Echo offered with a muted smile and choked laugh, now verbally referencing he's heard about the medic's further directives in his absence from Cross's recollection of events, "You know how he'll ramble your ear off at your clinic when he's trying to mask his fear of something. After what's just happened, he'll probably go blue in the face before he stops." 

"Still can't believe 'e actually listened," Wrecker called from outside the medbay, wrestling past Gonky with a wide crate of something in the crook of his arm, "Techie usually talks your ear off when he's nervous at your clinic." 

"I jus-" Echo started, ready to tell Wrecker he'd just told [_____] that same sentiment, but fell silent when a hand touched his shoulder softly, hushing him with a silent 'it's okay, Echo' when Hunter stirred a third time for just a moment. They were entering the atmosphere, mercifully he stayed asleep as the ship trembled and bounced through the transitional zone. "You call him Techie?" 

Wrecker balked, almost dropping the crate. "Awh kriff, don't tell him I called him tha'!" 

"I won't," the woman promised, carefully tucking back a loose lock of her hair, "I just thought it was sweet. You guys really care about one another. We should wake him just before we land since we'll need to find a way to hurry him to my clinic: would you like to do that, Omega?" 

His sister nodded earnestly at the proposed task, anxious to have some part in preparation to land in the shipyards. "I've got this." Omega promised. "Just say when."

They landed in the shipyards at the height of lunch-rush, which made both Tech and the medic nervous. Tech, always prepared, had a map of the city loaded up on the screen, the fastest route highlighted in yellow when he met the others at the ramp to the Marauder. "Oh dear… there's going to be a lot of foot traffic between here and the clini-" 

"I got this." Wrecker growled confidently, giving Omega a wicked grin as he held out his helmet to her. [____] was about to protest, worried that Wrecker carrying Hunter would injure him, and Hunter, half-awake in a rescue carry, shrunk back against Crosshair's chest. But as soon as his helmet was secured with Omega, Wrecker broke off from the Batch and the medic in a dead sprint at a speed that would not seem possible for someone his size to anyone unaware. People shrieked in fright as the demo-expert charged at breakneck speeds. "MOVE IT! MEDIC COMING THROUGH!" 

Maker have mercy on anyone who didn't get out of his way in time… they'd have to go to another clinic if he toppled anyone over. "Oh boy… better follow after him." Echo groaned, knowing that he'd be best to tail after Wrecker and make sure he was going the right way, or apologize to anyone along the way.

"Ah," Tech marveled, taking the rear as everyone else followed behind Wrecker, watching his brothers' blips on the datapad for just a moment. "That's… one way to do it. But why is he going the way that would take us past our housing?" 

"There's a theoretical shortcut Wreck and I have wondered about," Cross muttered, doing a visual sweep for something before walking just slightly ahead of the stoop of their housing, "hmm. Big guy actually did it." He sounded… rather proud of Wrecker's destructive capabilities. A fence across the mouth to a narrow alleyway had been run down, and from Tech's map, it cut across the horseshoe-structured street from their housing to her clinic by a significant amount. The fence's twin at the far end had been trampled, too. "Come on. After you, doc. Tech, why don't you drop off some of our gear at home and meet us there?" 

"Certainly. Omega, come with me." Tech gingerly unclipped one end of the strap holding the Firepuncher against Crosshair's back and carried it out in front of him, afraid to touch it because he was afraid to drop it. That rifle was Cross's pride and joy, his baby, even. But the less weapons they carried into the clinic the better, understanding that the way Wrecker could still be bellowing to alert people to get out of their way, they'd be drawing a lot more additional attention if they went in with a scared medic armed to the teeth. Negative attention. 

Hopefully his brothers wouldn't have broken down the clinic's doors and remembered to use their emergency key card once he got there, Crosshair thought to himself, stepping deftly after the doctor as she hurried up the space between high-rises. Hunter shivered in his arms, shrinking back against the chill in the shadows and into the far more inviting warmth of a brother. "Cr-Crosshair, w-wait…"

"K'uur…" he wrapped the med blanket back over the bare shoulder it slipped free of, "I'll tell them to get you some clean civvies once we've met up with Wreck. Don't worry." Crosshair had just enough time to realize that wasn't only the problem he was worrying about. That tell-tale jerking in the abdomen. Dammit not now. 

"Doc!! Need an emesis bag!"

Tech and Omega met the rest of the Batch at [____]'s clinic, carrying a change of clothing for everyone in a large supply crate, most of it Hunter's in the way of various tops. They weren't sure if they would need to supply something loose or skintight for the task of redressing Hunter. Wrecker was laid on the floor of the waiting room, a too-small cold pack plastered over his head. Echo was massaging each of his cybernetic legs habitually, looking in pain whether it due to phantom limb pains or because he had tripped in his haste tailing after their strongman. Crosshair… he smelled sour, acidic, and looked at them over his shoulder from the farthest corner with a disgusted snarl, daring them to make a remark about it. Tech could guess why; another gastrointestinal mishap. He swiftly shoved Cross's clean mock-civvies into one of the many clear drybags and zipped it closed before it was tossed to their brother who was looking slightly green around the gills himself, as the saying went. "Here." 

The drybag was snatched out of the air in a blink, and the marksman quickly stalked off down a short hallway to the men's for a second shower cycle in the appropriate 'fresher. He froze when [____] poked her head out into the hallway and called him back, saying Hunter wanted to say something but he'd need to step closer as his brother had kind of lost his voice after the last spell of nausea. "S-sorry, Cross…" Hunter offered from one of the private examination rooms nearby, voice soft and hoarse, as Crosshair had doubled back. 

"Don't apologize to me," The initially cold hum of Cross's voice made the doctor flinch, just out of reflex, but had no initial effect on Hunter (at least negatively), "you can't help the side effects… It was merely bad timing." The additional teasing sentiment was enough to finally invite placation, and Crosshair helped Hunter slowly lay back into the mattress of the inclined hospital bed. "Don't be hard on yourself, sarge. Now, behave yourself for the doctor, hm? I'll be back soon to help get you dressed into something once she's gotten all the scans she needs." 

Hunter's eyes flitted over to [____] at the utterance of the word doctor but were immediately returned to Crosshair before it could have been noticed by the distracted medic. She was too busy taking a reading from some of her equipment to have seen the break in eye contact or the way a wave of red swelled notably across the un-inked half of the melanin-rich skin of Hunter's face. "O-okay…" By Kamino's rain, Hunter looked so tired. He couldn't, didn't want to, remember the last time his leader, his brother, had looked so spent quite like this.

"Okay," Cross echoed, softer, tender, "be back soon." he promised once again.

Omega was quick to take Cross's position when he left the room, waiting patiently until Hunter gave her the go-ahead to join him up on the bed, perching herself on the edge and taking one of his hands free of a pulse monitor. 

"Omega-" Tech started sharply, disapproving. 

The ARC tapped the back of the goggled Clone's head sharply, just below where their inhibitor chips once laid, and Tech whined in complaint indignantly. Echo was not going to let Tech spoil the moment. "K'uur, vod." 

The finger that meant he was going to interject shot up, climbing to the ceiling sharply. "But she-"

Wrong move. 

"K'uur, vod! It's. Fine." 

"Th-the equipment? The… tubing for the blood infusion…?" Tech offered feebly, eyes following the thin medical wires that were affixed to and in Hunter. His voice was impossibly timid and small, feeling himself shrink in his posture under the pale, piercing eyes that made one thing clear. Echo was this close to pulling rank or reminding him that in Omega's affectionate use of Mando'a familial terms he was an Ori'vod like do I call him Ori'vod or Ba'vodu Rex? if Tech was not smart and shut up right now. He turned his head and stared pointedly at the wall painted in a cool gray-green with a chalk-base mix (Soothing Sage, he recalled the color being named), trying to mask the unpleasant wave of nervousness he felt when Echo directed his scrutiny and anger at him like this. 

The medic planted a soft hand on the shoulder of each brother, breaking the spell of tension from years of practice. "Omega knows to be careful." 

"Right, of course… I just…" Nails bit a little deeper into the shoulder of the change of clothes Tech had hastily shimmed into, breaking his explanation. 

Just two words to disarm him. "I know." was all that was simply spoken for the time being. She most certainly did. His analytical nature. The black and white thinking. A filter that was both too tight and too loose with his squad and the scant few he dared label a friend. His bad habits… and she had more patience than all 2,000 seats of the Galactic Senate for him all the same. "Can I get you anything, boys? Something to drink?" 

He shrugged stiffly. Echo's shoulder to the residual limb bearing the scomp link bounced up and back in languid fashion, the flexing of the elbow joint so fluid it looked organic. "Do you have any of those bottled teas?" 

"I have one left, as a matter of fact-" [____] started, moving toward the doorway with a nod when Omega asked if she could have one of the cartons of sweet jogan juice.

"Oh."

Just when he was about to mention that water, no ice, would be plenty fine, the medic continued, halting in the doorway. "And since I know it's one you like, it's been sitting in the itty-bitty cold unit in my back office with your name on it."

"O-oh?" 

Indeed it did. In her tidiest handwriting, she had written ECHO in the usually stiff letters of Aurebesh over the glued label on the bottle of tea, the seal freshly broken for him already. There was a unique personality, a feeling to each of the letters - esk, cresh, herf, osk - that tugged a touched smile free of the cybernetically enhanced soldier's surprise while Omega had some help opening the thick, wax coated paper carton of juice. "Thanks, kid… That was incredibly kind of you to save it for me." Those four letters had been written with thought of him, saving a mutually-enjoyed imported beverage for him. A selfless, conscious choice. 

Sands of Tatooine, no wonder she has Hunter's heart. 

"Heh, you're very welcome, Echo," was sweetly spoken, no indication she was at all distracted by all the individual health-puzzles around her. "Now, I should go make a trade with Wrecker before we check how the blood transfusion is going." She grabbed a second, larger snap-activated cold pack for Wrecker and stepped out into the waiting room to swap it for the comically undersized unit she'd first given him. "Doing okay out here, big guy?"

From how close the voices of the medic and the strongman were now, it was clear Wrecker had gotten on his feet and was following her back to the private examination room. "Heh, feeling better now. Don't worry about me… I'll be fine, ad'ika; wha' about Hunter? He okay? What's with all the tubes? Thought he didn't need as many anymore…" With care and caution to keep his voice low, Wrecker squeezed himself into the doorway and craned his neck inquisitively. 

"Two of those tubes are for blood and plasma transfusions; erm, the ones in his arm anyways. The others are all the same as the ones I used on your ship." Wrecker sighed heavily at the word transfusion, thinking for a second he should brace for bad news. A gentle hand found one of his nervously crossed arms and gave it a tender squeeze. He recognized the squeeze. The medic's familiar, comforting it's okay, don't worry squeeze. "I'm just being precautionary, he's going to be okay Wrecker. He is okay. He might be really damn tired once the transfusion is done; so it's really important that he gets some rest once he's home. No. Stims." 

Hunter just chuckled wearily on the exam room bed, giving [____] a soft, promising smile. "Don't worry. Wasn't planning on it to begin with…" Everything hurt too much, he was hardly in any shape to do anything when he knew he'd cheated death. The stitches itched and burned underneath the cold bacta-gel and the barrier of gauze was minimal comfort. The weight of his thick, textured hair was uncomfortable on his brow with the absence of his bandanna holding it back and up. He was thankful, touched, she'd dimmed the overhead lights directly above him and the brightness was set to LOWEST: AMBER on each medical monitor. "...plus there's an acronym Echo's told us about…" he added softly. 

Dee-something-something. Hunter knew the first word was don't but couldn't recall the rest. Crosshair returned from the men's fresher, the acrid odor of bile gone now. 

"Oh yeah?" their friend pressed, a single brow quirked in interest. "What's the acronym?" The galaxy and all her stars, he hoped the monitors wouldn't betray the irregular beat of his heart when she soothingly swept the hair back from his brow and smiled at him while applying a damp rag when he offhandedly mentioned his face feeling warm. The gesture was innocent, just a habit she's picked up with her profession, he reminded himself. She probably did this for every species in the galaxy capable of growing hair. The "intimacy" - the specific variety he was thinking of - of the act was just his imagining… 

"That'd be 'D3M':" Echo supplied before Hunter could give him the brother, help me out here expression. "Don't. Make. Medics. Mad. Learned that pretty quickly as a fresh ARC Trooper. You listen to the medics and do as they tell you; otherwise they can and will go to your commanding officers and share exactly what kind of secret shit you've been up to to get yourself in the medbay this time." It made Omega giggle brightly against Hunter's side and [____] laugh half knowingly and half in surprise. Cross chuckled softly in the corner of the exam room when Omega met his eye, still giggling. 

 "You mean to tell me you weren't quite so straight-laced well before you joined the rowdy rule-breakers of CF99, Echo?" The smile was entirely playful, or at least meant to be. She'd heard the stories of Domino Squad. (She'd heard a select few stories of a Clone with a jokingly self-proclaimed easiest designation to remember ever! of CT 27-5555, the sole-surviving brother named Fives, through stifled tears and hiccups on a few occasions.) She'd been given enough bits and pieces to know what jokes were safe to make. The ARC just gave [____] an impish grin that the other brothers and sister quickly mirrored. 

Rowdy rule-breakers. 

"Heh! Maybe... Maybe not..." Echo chuckled warmly, lacing his arms across a chest puffed in pride. "I'll let you come to your own conclusions about that, kid." 

Every last one of 'em in their own regards. 

Whatever that secret mission of theirs was with this “Captain Rex” that resulted in Hunter’s injuries, one could only hope they’d managed to hurt the Empire far worse than that.

[MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

[moonlit-stay]

The Countdown To SKZ-MAS: Day 4

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Pairing: Hyunjin x Female Reader

Activity/Tradition: Wrapping Christmas Presents

Genre: Fluff and Smut

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Soft!Dom Hyunjin, Sub!Fem reader, established relationship, unprotected sex, slight thigh riding, clit stimulation, slight dirty talk, slight cockwarming

Other Warnings: None!

Please let me know if I missed anything

-

Color(s) Of This Fic: Dark Red, Evergreen, Ivory, and Gold <3

-

If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything written in all of my work is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

Enjoy :)

-

The sun carefully peeks through the clouds, making the thick blanket of snow that embraces the outside of your home twinkle and glimmer in the natural light. The faint, soft sound of Christmas music plays in the background as two mugs of hot chocolate sit carefully on a nearby table. Everything about the atmosphere was warm, cozy, and absolutely perfect.

You glance around the room, admiring all the decorations that you and Hyunjin had put up together earlier this month. A smile pulls at your features as you shift your gaze to outside your warm home, admiring how beautiful and serene everything looks.

You feel a familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist, the smile on your face only growing wider as you relax back into Hyunjin's hold.

"What are you looking at, angel?" Hyunjin softly asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

"Honestly, everything. I love this time of year; everything is so pretty." You hum out in response.

Hyunjin hums in agreement, following your line of sight out the window. He takes everything in, admiring the beauty of winter and making a mental note to paint the scene later.

"It really is beautiful." He confirms, gently swaying you both back and forth.

It's your turn to hum in response as you slowly turn around in his hold, gazing up at him as he locks eyes with you. You two stand together in silence, gazing into each other's eyes. So much love swirling deep within the galaxies both your eyes hold, singing love songs to one another in a room where the silence almost echoes.

"I love you." You whisper out, unable to hold the words back any longer.

"I love you, too." He whispers back, connecting your lips in a feather light kiss.

You pull away, fond smiles gracing your lips as you peer at the pile of boxed gifts you both still have to wrap.

"Come on, we have work to do." You state, pressing a quick peck to his lips before you head for the pile of boxes.

You hand a gift to Hyunjin and grab one for yourself, passing him two rolls of wrapping paper and making yourself comfortable on the floor in front of him.

You both carefully fold each edge and corner over and around the bare box, watching as the gift comes more alive with each fold of the wrapping paper. You both quickly tape everything in place, looking over the finished products with proud smiles.

After making quick work of wrapping the two gifts, you open a plastic bin full of colorful, shimmery markers that you both could use to further decorate the wrapped presents.

You both draw little designs along the wrapping paper of the present, letting your imaginations run wild as you draw whatever comes to mind for the person the present is for.

You peer across at Hyunjin, a black shimmery marker in his hand as he draws little music notes on one side of the present.

"Is that one for Channie?" You ask, watching as he looks up at you with a small smile, nodding in response.

He peers across at you, noticing the shimmery purple, blue, and pink markers in your hand. He giggles at the sight, watching as your eyes snap to his.

"Lix?" He asks with a smile.

"Yea." You respond with a slight nod, mirroring his smile.

You both finish decorating the presents for your Aussie boys, setting them aside from the rest of the unwrapped boxes. Hyunjin grabs the next gifts, handing you one and sitting back down with his own.

As the hours go by, the playlist of Christmas music loops, rolls of wrapping paper run out, empty tape dispensers stack, mugs of hot chocolate lay empty and forgotten, and beautifully decorated presents lay carefully stacked in the room as you and Hyunjin work on decorating the last two gifts.

"Done!" You and Hyunjin shout at the same time, quickly laying back on the floor to try and ease some of the tension in your backs.

You lay staring at the ceiling for a little while, hearing Hyunjin put the markers away and close the bin before he plops back down on the floor. You sit up, moving the last two presents over to the finished pile.

Hyunjin sits up, motioning you over to him. You sit in between his legs, leaning back against his chest as you both admire the beautiful stack of presents. You point out your favorite drawings to each other, laughing at some of them as pure happiness fills the room.

You turn your head to look up at him, that same look of pure love dancing around in your eyes as you take in his natural appearance. His laughter dies down before he meets your gaze, the same pure love reciprocated in full as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

He leans down to connect your lips again. You melt further into him and the kiss, allowing yourself to let go as the safety he brings holds you in a tight embrace. He feels you relax against him as he lays you flat against the floor and moves to hover above your form.

"God, you're so beautiful." He breathes against your lips, slotting one of his thighs between your own.

You pull him into a heated kiss, needing more of him as you feel the muscle of his thigh rest against your core.

"Need you, Jinnie." You sigh out, rolling your hips up against his thigh.

"Patience, angel." He breathes out in between kisses, pushing his thigh against you with more force to hear a soft moan tumble from your lips. "Bet you'd get off on my thigh if I let you, hm?"

"Yes," you breathe out shamelessly, your hips bucking against his thigh.

He smirks at that, pulling away from your form. You whine at the loss of contact before he gently shushes you, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings and pulling them and your panties down and off your legs in one go. You quickly sit up, pulling your sweater over your head and tossing it with your previously discarded clothes. Hyunjin pulls his hoodie over his head, throwing it with your clothes before he hurriedly reconnects your lips, pulling your thighs apart and laying you back down on the floor.

You reach between your bodies, palming him through his sweatpants. He groans at the feeling, his hips bucking against your hand as he swiftly discards his sweatpants as well.

"Jinnie, please." You whine against his lips, your hands resting on his hips as you pull them closer to your own.

He grabs his length, guiding his tip through your soaked folds with a moan.

"You're so fucking wet, angel. My god." He breathes out, pushing his tip inside you.

Your head falls back against the floor, a moan falling past your lips as your legs wrap around his waist so you call pull him deeper into you. He quickly bottoms out, shuddering at the feeling of your walls pulsating around all of him.

He draws his hips back as much as your legs will allow before he thrusts back into you, moans leaving both of you as he repeats the action. He sets a slow but harsh pace, his mind spinning at how you feel wrapped around him.

"You feel so good, baby." He breathes out, throwing his head back. "Why do you feel so good." He moans out, his hips losing rhythm for a second.

He leans over your form, burying his face in your neck as moans endlessly spill from your parted lips. He nips at your neck, trying to muffle his own noises as his hand snakes between your bodies.

His fingers rub quick, precise circles against your clit, feeling your walls clench around his length as he lets out a loud moan.

"S'close, Jinnie." You moan out, feeling the knot in the pit of your stomach tighten with each thrust of his hips.

"Just hold on for me, baby." He breathes out, his circles on your clit growing messy as he struggles to keep his own noises at bay. "Not done with you yet."

Hyunjin angles his hips to hit that spot deep inside you that has you seeing stars, your breath getting caught in your throat as your back arches off the floor, eyes rolling back as you let out a scream of his name.

"Fuckfuckfuck!" You chant, wrapping your legs tighter around Hyunjin's waist.

"Cum with me, angel." He breathes out, feeling you shake in his hold. "Make a mess just for me."

You cum around Hyunjin's length with a scream of his name, your thighs violently shaking around his waist as he thrusts into you a few more times, burying his length inside you before spilling his release into you. Moans of your name leave his lips as he rides out your highs until the sensitivity becomes too much for both of you.

Your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath, your mind foggy as you feel Hyunjin wrap his arms around you and pull you on top of him, his length still buried inside you.

You both lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling as your breathing evens out. Hyunjin pulls a nearby blanket over your forms, kissing along your forehead as everything goes quiet.

You drift off for a little while, Hyunjin soon following. Your bodies still intertwined as you lay closely pressed together, skin to skin. A gentle peace holding you both close.

-

Main Masterlist

SKZ-MAS Masterlist

-

*·°Author's Note°·*

I couldn't resist doing something artsy with Jinnie for his day. It just makes my heart and soul happy.

I've never drawn on presents like this before, but I honestly wouldn't mind it. I think it would be fun🤷🏼

-

°·*Taglist*·°

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll

Send me a DM or an ask if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!

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·°*Other Tings*°·

©All rights reserved to Moonlit-Stay. Reposting, modification, translation, and plagiarism of any kind is NOT tolerated. Please notify me if you see any work similar to my own.

Released: December 19th, 2022

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Please reblog my works. Share your thoughts if you'd like, even if it's just a simple keyboard smash.

I read every caption, tag, reply, ask, and dm. Feedback is what motivates me to continue to create content <3

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Ultimate Treasure Hunter

Skies and Tannis have a discussion about Psychos.

*Reblogs appreciated*

--

The Fantastic Fustercluck Part 1

“What is the difference between us and Psychos?”

“Um...they wear masks?”

“That was rhetorical.”

“Oh.”

Skies sits on the operating table of the infirmary in Sanctuary III, watching Tannis pace about around her. The doctor had invited her here in order to discuss an experiment she’s working on.

“More specifically, what is the different between you and I and Psychos?” Tannis continues. “Psychos have spread out around the galaxy, but they originated on Pandora. They came about in different ways- experiments, trauma, simply losing their mind. But one of their common qualities is Pandora. So why aren’t you and I Psychos?”

Skies opens her mouth but Tannis cuts her off. “Again, rhetorical. As I was saying, you and I both spent significant amounts of time isolated on Pandora. Anyone else who suffered a similar fate became Psychos, but we didn’t.”

“I surmise that my studying of the Vaults helped me from falling into Psychosis. All that time alone, I remained razor focused on my work. And that focus kept me from losing my sanity.” “Well...” Skies shrugs arguably.

“But what about you?” Tannis questions, ignoring her. “You came quite close to becoming a Psycho, as evident by your own ECHO log.”

She grabs her ECHO device and plays an old recording; one Skies made years ago, when she was alone on Pandora after Jack’s death.

“I think there’s something really wrong with this planet and it’s doing something to me. Not long ago, I was just wandering around when a band of bandits found me. There was like six of them. I didn’t think I stood a chance but when they drew their guns, something just…came over me. I blacked out. But I remember hearing a voice in my head, loud and angry, and shouting ‘kill! Blood! Kill!’ Next thing I knew, all the bandits were dead. I killed them-no. I slaughtered them with my knife. Their blood was everywhere. I still taste it between my teeth. God, and it had been so long since I’ve eaten. There really is something wrong with this planet…with me.”

“I can’t believe you have that,” Skies groans when the recording ends. “I knew I should’ve burned those tapes.

“Yes,” Tannis sighs contently. “Sometimes I like to listen to them while inside my saurian skin and drinking tea. But I digress.”

[guitarbomb]

Universal Audio UAFX 25% off across a range of pedals

This Universal Audio UAFX deal saves you 25% off across a range of pedals. The deal price is for a limited time and includes free delivery. Now could be the best time to buy, as these are some of the cheapest prices for these effects. Universal Audio UAFX 25% off Below is a direct link for all the Universal Audio UAFX deal prices. Each pedal in this offer is 25% off the standard pricing and…

[sleekervae]

Yoü & I [2.3]

Masterlist

A/N: Happy Wednesday everyone!

Warnings: some angst, mentions of depression

--

"I know it's warmer where you are, And it's safer by your side, But right now I can't be what you want, Just give it time"

Charlotte nodded along to the building beat, her own voice a foreign entity as it floated through the air in the -- soundproof -- studio in LA. The demo was beautiful but it needed that extra push to make it a hit lead single. A lead single for an album that was months away from being completed. 

"And if you and I, Can make it through the night, And if you and I, Can keep our love alive, we'll fight, We can meet in the middle, Bodies and souls collide Dance in the moonlight, Where all the stars align, For you and I, for you and I"

The girls were impressed however, with Chloe claiming it was some of their best work yet. It was more electronic than their previous pop/rock sound, with humming bass lines and ethereal echoes that wailed from verse to verse. And Charlotte's voice was the pinnacle, reaching a prominent gravelly growl when she'd sing the long notes, paired with Maria and Kim's backing vocals, it was eargasmic bliss.

Kim was the type of person who used a Pinterest board religiously and was already culminating ideas for what the video would look like: black and white obviously with animated doodles, black paint, and fast-flashing lights. And maybe some mild nudity?

"That's sexier than Brendon Urie in 'Miss Jackson'," Maria said. 

"It's beautiful," Charlotte had to admit.

Chloe slapped her on the back, promptly shocking her, "You outdid yourself, Lottie! So smile a little more!" she told her. Charlotte forced a really big Joker smile. 

Kimberly elbowed the drummer, who now had galaxy-ombre hair. The girls swore with all the hair dye that Chloe must've switched to wigs when they weren't looking. 

"Well... I couldn't have done it without you guys," Charlotte said, smiling at each of her friends. 

"We got to stick together," Maria claimed, "We're all we got in each other," 

With the demo complete, Charlotte gave the approval for the tape to be sent to be remixed and produced for the final product. She was nervous to hear it, but there was also an element of excitement coursing through her. There was immense pressure on following up the success of the first LP with the second, but she was confident with the way Catch the Caper were growing musically that it would be some of the best material they put out yet. 

Charlotte still had reservations about only letting key personnel in on their material, not eager to replicate the first mess of 'Heaven'. The song would still be on the album, but it would be released later on. Maybe within the summer of next year when the album was more grounded for release. And then there was 'Saint', the song that she and Luke agreed would be a shared piece between them, but he insisted it should go on her album. Three songs down, another seven or so to go...

For the two and half weeks they had back home, she and Luke spent some of it rehearsing 'Saint'. Unlike 'You & I', this was a song she was actively getting excited about, heartbreaking yet it held a particular bite that could be the backing track to the lead in an indie movie finally taking back control of her life. Well, there's the saying that we're all the lead in our own stories, Charlotte was still working on getting to the end of hers. 

Luke was supposed to meet Charlotte that afternoon. She left her apartment door open for him, got out her guitar and put out a plate of shortbread cookies for them to munch on while they worked. He was a few minutes late, but Charlotte chalked it up to Luke being Luke. He was always late for shit. 

However, ten minutes late soon turned to thirty, then forty five, then a whole hour. Charlotte sat on her couch, eating her cookies and watching Dr. Who, trying to ignore the fact that she was just stood up. No phone calls or texts were sent, and there was no miraculous knocking at the door. What the hell could he possibly be doing? It wasn't like Luke to stand Charlotte up like this; if he couldn't make it he would call her first. 

Charlotte soon realized she that the cookie plate was nearly empty, and Luke was two hours late. Something was wrong here. Unless she got the date wrong? Maybe she should phone him?

Luke was fine -- physically speaking. Let's just say that he got a little ahead of himself with the time. Melody opened her big mouth again and they went at it, she was upset again because Luke was spending more time with Charlotte on his break than he was with Mel. She did have a fair point, but Luke just wished she wouldn't fly off the handle so over dramatically. He couldn't help it that he was working on something that he was quite proud of with one of his best friends.

A minutes-long fight had elongated into an hour, and soon enough Luke gave up; frustrated and itching to take some control back. And take control he did. Anger turned to an afternoon of passion-fuelled angry sex, both he and Melody taking their stress out on each other in the best way possible. And Luke couldn't deny afterwards how much better he felt by the time the late afternoon arrived.

It was by the end of her fourth Dr. Who episode that Charlotte's phone finally rang. Luke was calling; this ought to have been good. 

"You better be fatally injured or missing a pint of blood," Charlotte said when she picked up, "I just ate three-quarters of a bag of cookies and I'm not proud of myself," 

Luke was standing in his kitchen, dressed only in some slacks while Melody showered upstairs. By the time they were both exhausted he realized the time, and his lust for his girl was replaced by guilt for his friend. Of course he had to call her, but he hoped Charlotte would understand.

"I am neither one of those things, and you have no reason to be ashamed. I think we've all been there," he said, trying to sound cheery.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Charlotte asked, clearly annoyed, "Where have you been? I was about to send out some K9 units," 

Luke grimaced, knowing fully-well how upset she was, "Charlotte, I'm sorry. I-I got a little caught up in some things. I'll definitely make it up to you, though," 

It was then a terrifying thought entered Charlotte's head -- did Melody do something? Throw another mass tantrum? What was she saying to him? About Charlotte, namely.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, now a little concerned.

"I'm okay," he assured her, looking up when he heard the shower water stop running, "I'm sorry, love. But how about I come over tomorrow instead?"

Charlotte noted how quiet his voice suddenly became, he didn't want Melody to know he was talking to her. It was a strange, complicated plight: suddenly becoming a secret to your best friend. If Luke was so afraid to talk to her when Mel was around, then what the point? It was clear Melody was drawing some lines -- so Charlotte figured she should do the same.

"No, it's okay. We leave again in a few days, you should spend the time with Melody," she told him. 

Luke could hear the bite in her voice, "Charlotte, I really am sorry,"

"I know," Charlotte nodded, "I'm not mad at you. I swear. Spend some time with your girl," 

"Alright, I love ya," he mumbled.

"Love you too," Charlotte said listlessly, then hung up without another word. Groaning aloud, she then grabbed the plate and dumped out what was left of the cookies. She felt sick now, and not just from the sweets. She was mad at Luke, pissed off that he blew her off. Then she felt stupid for being jealous of Melody. She was jealous of Melody, but at the same time Charlotte had probably seen more of Luke this year than she had. 

You have no right to be upset with him, his girlfriend comes before you. That's the way it should be. Leave them alone.

Charlotte decided that it only hurt more because she knew how hurt Luke was by Melody. He used Charlotte as a vessel to blow off steam, to laugh for a while, pretend he was something he wasn't when he'd go back to her. Charlotte knew he could be so happy, she could make him so happy. But time and time again, he would go crawling back to her. 

Meanwhile, Luke quickly shoved his phone away as Melody came sauntering in to the kitchen, adorned in only his t-shirt. Her eyes glimmered with the Devil as she stood before him, smelling of fresh coconut shampoo with a smile that could stop any man dead in his tracks. He held her and gave her a kiss on her head, but he averted his eyes to the wall behind her. 

"What do you wanna' do for dinner?" she asked sweetly. 

"Anything you like," he affirmed, "We can cook, we can order in," 

"Let's order in," she decided, pulling away to go for their drawer of various take-out menus. 

Luke watched Melody from where he stood. He felt better, he felt happier, relaxed -- but he didn't feel whole. Then fear settled in, the fear that he was indeed falling out of love with Melody. Because when he looked at her, his mind raced back to mornings with Charlotte, sitting at her kitchenette as she made them both coffee and would go on and on about whatever had captured her interest in a dream she had. Her thoughts were as beautiful as her face.

Melody was beautiful, she shone like a strobe light. But Charlotte was a damn lighthouse beacon, burning so bright and full that she washed Melody out. However, there were some days Luke feared Charlotte may just burn out. 

A half empty bottle of wine sat on the coffee table, beside it an empty glass that Charlotte had just finished. She poured herself another glass, guitar perched in her lap and she began to play again, singing a wistfully sad melody about feeling, well... used.

"You see, I want the world to believe, That there's a light inside of me, But it's time that I come clean. I'm not what I seem, no, Some would say I'm possessed, yeah, But I'll confess I've just been obsessed With life and death and emptiness, I guess. Can't you see all of the change in me?"

The more she drank, the more emotional she became. The more poems she wrote, her voids once filled now flooding out. She was lonely, felt more lonely tonight than she had in so long. She could hear memories of her own words echoing in her head, like a bad dream. 

"Three years I let myself get tossed around in a salad spinner of emotional turmoil. Now I'm watching Luke go through what I went through; we both see the same thing in each other and yet willingly stay in a precarious and chaotic situation. I mean -- that must register as clinical insanity!"

"Well, ask yourself: why did you stay with Ben? When you had every single person in your life telling you how toxic that relationship was, why did you stay?" 

"I didn't want to be alone," 

What did she mean by that? Of course Charlotte wasn't alone, she was surrounded by friends! Friends who told her hours ago that they would support her no matter what. And yet, drunk on wine and emotions she felt more empty than she had in months.

The last time she felt so lonely she had been dumped. Eight months ago, she was tossed aside like a pebble on the street. Ben abandoned her, and in her less than cognitive state of mind, Luke abandoned her too. She was abandoned for something better, something closer, easier. Something she could never get within arms reach of.

"You took these starving limbs, tried to see. Tried to see what they could be, But I thought I'd be something.I thought you'd complete me, That you'd erase all the pain that I felt in my brain. If you filled my heart with love, Then you'd fill my voids above. Now you see, that didn't change a thing,"

She recorded her voice as oppose to write, she gave up writing as her penmanship was a little sloppy now. Tomorrow she'd decide whether or not to put this song on the album. Tonight the only guest in her apartment would be her perilous brain.

[pedaloftheday]

The first episode of our new series, Partners In Tone, is out now, featuring the Galaxy '74 Tape Echo & Reverb + the Del-Verb Ambience Companion, both from our friends at Universal Audio! Head over and check it out now, more to come...

[shadowthestoryteller]

A Snowy Surprise

While Christmas may not exist in a Galaxy Far Far Away, festivities can still commence. The Bad Batch, Domino Squad, Rex, Cody, Kix, Hardcase, and Jesse all under one roof, with a chaotic Realm Walker to manage the madness. What could go wrong?

CW: Language

----------------------------

“Thanks for invitin’ us, Shad! This totally beats whatever dusty and sad excuse for a holiday that the suits attempt to give us.”

I laughed at Cutup’s remark. “Don’t thank me, thank Crosshair. Had to go through him to get approval for you regs to spend the weekend here.”

We all sat around the main living space of the Hideaway, wrapping paper scattered all over the place as a blizzard raged outside. Somehow, someway, I twisted the commandos’ arms and they allowed Cody and some of the 501st boys to spend the weekend; Kix, Jesse, Hardcase, Rex, and the entire Domino squad. The latter group was the easiest to convince the others to let stay, as the official Bad Batch and unofficial ‘bad batch’ got decently close back when Echo got his week off to recover after Lola Sayu. The others were a little more difficult, mainly on Crosshair’s end, but the sniper had sighed and said he’d take the chance. 

To say I was shocked that Crosshair agreed to Regs in the Hideaway was an understatement, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially since it meant he really was growing and moving past his trauma at the hands of the Regs. Even if he still looked like a truly disgruntled cat whenever one of the 501st boys tried joking with him. 

Cutup chuckled and glanced over at the sniper as he wrestled with a roll of tape and an unruly gift. “Not entirely sure he wouldn’t bite me if I gave him the usual Domino thank you.” He snorted and rubbed a bruise on his arm. “Again.”

“Oh, he would definitely bite you again if you hugged him,” I agreed. “Hell, I’m surprised I get away with it half the time.” 

Hevy grinned at me from where he, Hardcase, and Wrecker all were wrangling their own gifts. Both Wrecker and Hevy had bows on their heads, while Hardcase had two stuck to his bald head. “Partner privileges?” the Domino heavy gunner joked. 

I winked at him. “Works for me!”

“I can hear you,” Crosshair hissed, then smacked Jesse’s hand as the 501st trooper tried to help him with the tape. “Piss off, Reg!”

“Temper temper,” Jesse chuckled, earning himself a vicious headlock that quickly escalated into a full-scale grappling match, which traveled around the cabin’s living room like a tumbleweed straight out of Looney Toons. 

Continue on Wattpad!

[effectsdatabase]

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[disdoorted-crows]

the thing about having a ship that travels time and space, galaxies and universes, is this:

at some point, the vocal chords are removed from the throat of a woman and sewn carefully into that of a wooden soldier.

at the same point, thousands of years in the future before, and kitty-corner universes away, the same vocal chords are stolen and placed haphazardly into the larynx of a mannequin without a face.

the two are, from that point, inextricably linked by their voice.

sometimes, the toy soldier will awaken from pretending to sleep, and hear a voice that sounds like the one it stole echoing in its quarters. The Unknowing, it says, It Approaches.

sometimes, nikola orsinov will pause in her hastened scramble to frighten and change, and she, too, will hear a voice. sometimes it emanates from the coffin those two delivermen carry around. sometimes it comes from the tape recorders that always follow her after she's paid a visit to the archivist. it sounds like the one bleeding from her lips like wax, but it is not her own. I Am Not Real, it says. After They Have All Gone, As Brian Has Foreseen, I Will Simply Stop Pretending. What Else Will I Have?

sometimes, the toy soldier will feel something like a hand, shaking its shoulder. sometimes, it won't follow an order, and it will feel its wooden mind bounce around in its wooden skull, as if it is attempting to house a copy of itself.

sometimes, nikola orsinov will perform for her patron, as she is wont to do, dancing alone in a room with empty chairs facing her, and she will feel the urge to sing -- an urge that she never feels aside from these moments.

it's never been enough of a bother to investigate by beings such as them -- a puppet and the right hand of a god are not the best detectives -- but it makes itself known.

and at the end, at the very end, when the toy soldier's strings are cut and nikola orsinov's limbs are separated from her torso in a great fiery explosion, they are one and the same: I Am Alone.

[projectofnapskintprojectofnaps]

Universal Audioの「Galaxy Tape Echo」は、70年代のヴィンテージサウンドを再現するプラグインで、アナログな温かみと多機能性を持つエフェクトです。

この記事では、その魅力とコストパフォーマンスについて詳しく解説します。