#I ordered my first comm recently

[checkthebox]

so tired I feel sick

[sleepiexx]

Can’t Lose You

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader

Note: way late to the party of writing for Ghost but y’know I had my fun

Summary: A mission goes slightly off plan, Simon doesn’t take it too well.

Warnings: he yells at u lmao, mention of injury, mention of blood, mention of stitches

Word count: 1190

Mere seconds after the rest of the team cleared out of the room to take off gear and rest for the night, leaving Ghost alone in a room with (Y/N), he snapped. The stress of the recent mission got in his head. It brewed nothing but trouble for him, anger festering until it boiled over. Namely the part where (Y/N) went into the enemy compound by herself— as she’d been ordered to do— when, unbeknownst to the team, her comms were cut leaving them with no way of telling whether she was alive or dead for a large chunk of their assignment.

It all worked out in the end but that did nothing to quell Ghost’s simmering rage.

“You’re a bloody fucking idiot.” He growled, “It’s like you don’t care about your own god damn well being. You’re completely fucking reckless, do you even realize how easily you could have been killed!”

(Y/N) was surprised at Ghost’s hostile behavior, normally they were on good terms. If he was mad at anyone, it was never her. Not to mention that the situation had in no way been her fault.

She scoffed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and anger, “I was fine! Barely got hurt, I don’t know why you’re getting your panties in a twist over nothing.”

He knew he shouldn’t be this mad, the rational part of his brain could reason that it wasn’t even her fault. But he wasn’t thinking logically, he was thinking emotionally, and to him yelling seemed the only way to express big emotions, “It may not be this time, it may not be the next, but if you keep on like this, some day you are going to meet the consequences of your actions and it is not going to be pretty.”

By then, (Y/N) was pissed, “Jesus Christ, it’s not that serious, Ghost! This is my fucking job! I don’t see you getting onto anyone else like this. What, do you think I can’t handle myself because I’m a woman or some shit?”

“No it’s not that it’s-“ because I love you, “it’s-“

She was sick of the arguing and frankly could not stand the fact that he wouldn’t refute her claim of sexism. She never pegged him as the type, but sooner or later, most military guys showed their true colors.

“Yeah, while you try and think up some shitty excuse, I’m going to go get cleaned up.” She stood from her seat quickly, black dotted her vision.

Ghost watched from behind, confused as she stood there swaying for a moment. Quicker than he could catch her, she slammed to the ground.

He was filled with alarm as he yelled out to her, “(Y/N)!” He was at her side in a split second, turning her onto her back.

“Fuck.” He muttered. She was out cold.

Ghost didn’t even think, it was second nature to help her. He pulled her off the ground, one arm behind her back, one under her knees. With her in his arms, he sprinted to the infirmary.

“Medic! I need a medic!” He screamed as he neared the infirmary.

All heads turned towards Ghost holding (Y/N) in his arms. Any medic who wasn’t previously occupied with an injured soldier ran towards them.

“What happened?” One of them asked, putting on latex gloves.

Ghost was shaken to his very core, even stuttering out a simple response was hard. “She just- she just fell, I don’t know.”

(Y/N) was taken from his arms and moved to a cot where they removed all of her gear. Her green shirt was heavily stained with blood, just below where her bulletproof vest ended.

“Fucking hell.” Ghost whispered. His hands made their way to his head to rake through his hair but he was stopped by his mask. Instead, he ran his hands up and down his head.

He felt horrible. He spent this whole time yelling at her instead of checking if she was okay and she wasn’t. He shouldn’t have been yelling at her in the first place, he only now realized that. He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t even disappointed, he was scared.

They lifted her shirt, revealing a huge gash that was overflowing with blood. The medic who was wearing gloves pressed gauze down harshly on the wound to stop the bleeding as another medic ran to get the suture kit.

14. She ended up getting 14 stitches in her abdomen. The wound narrowly missed her internal organs; had it been a hair's width closer, she’d be in a lot worse condition than she found herself in.

Ghost was mortified, she could have died. She could have died and the last conversation they would have had would have been him yelling at her for something he wasn’t even actually mad about.

He sat at her bedside, mask rested on the table beside him. He didn’t want the mask to be the first thing she saw when she woke up; he figured that it would scare her, and he’d antagonized her enough for one day.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His thumb rubbed over the knuckles on her limp hand. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Simon tilted his head towards the ceiling, blinking away tears. “It’s just… I can’t lose you, (Y/N). I know- I know you are more capable than anyone else at your job. Hell, I’ve seen it, seen how good you are at what you do. But, (Y/N), I love you, and I dread the day that someone gets the upper hand on you and you get hurt and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”

He stopped his monologue the moment he felt her hand squeeze his back. His eyes shot down to see hers blinking up at him.

“Good thing that won’t happen,” she rasped. She parted her hand from his only so that she could reach for his face. “Where’d your other face go?”

“My other face?” He snorted, holding her hand to his cheek.

“Your skull.”

“Oh.” He said, glancing towards the mask on the table. “Didn’t want to frighten you.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to scare me, Lieutenant.”

Simon shook his head, half disappointed that she hadn’t seemed to have heard his confession, half relieved.

“Oh and Lt.?”

He perked up to her calling him, “Yeah?”

She sat up ever so slightly before pulling him towards her in one swift movement, pressing their lips together. He was shocked by her actions but caught on quickly, kissing back with double the amount of passion she kissed him with. Her hands found themselves interlocked behind his neck while his came to clasp around her waist.

As they parted— hands still glued to the spots on either body that they held onto with a death grip— a spit trail kept them connected.

“Gross.” (Y/N) laughed, triggering Simon to laugh as well.

She stopped laughing to stare into his eyes, the ones that gleamed with love for her. “In case you couldn’t tell,” she started, “I love you too.”

[sanzaibian]

I turns off my phone angrily. I have barely touched down to Pudong International Airport, and now I have to call my Shanghai agent about how I’m going to be late, and that “China Eastern”, that company full of crooks, doesn’t even want to compensate my $4200 business class ticket for being 2 hours late.

“Allô ? C’est Julien, je suis enfin arrivé à Shanghai. (Hello ? It’s Julien, I’ve finally touched down at Shanghai.)” I say to my local correspondent, the one responsible for dragging me here.

- Enfin ! Ça fait une heure qu’on vous attend ! (Finally ! We’ve been waiting for you for a whole hour !)

- C’est pas ma faute ! Le vol a eu deux heures de retard à cause de soi-disants ‘vents forts’ vers la Mongolie… et ces escrocs ne veulent rien me rembourser… typique… (It’s not my fault ! The flight was two hours late due to so-called ‘powerful winds’ around Mongolia… and those crooks don’t want to reimburse me… typical…)” I answer, annoyed.

- Bon, de l’Aéroport de 浦東 (Pudong) jusqu’ici… pff… je vais devoir leur dire de revenir cet après-midi… (So, from 浦東 (Pudong) Airport to here… ugh… I need to ask them to come back this afternoon…)” He says, similarly annoyed, though seemingly flaunting his perfect pronunciation in Chinese.

- Ne râle pas sur moi, j’ai rien fait ! Je savais que j’aurais dû prendre Air France, ils n’auraient pas eu de retard comme ces asiates… (Don’t dump it on me, I did nothing ! I knew I should have gone for Air France, they wouldn’t be late like those chinks…)

- Roh… (Ugh…)” He sighs a while. “Je vais m’occuper de tout. Juste… viens aussi vite que possible. (I’ll manage. Just… come here as soon as you can.)”

I turn off the phone. As if I would waste a minute of my life… I’m Julien Blanc, and my time is money, just like the saying goes. As the heir of a multi-million dollars worth banking company, I have investments left right and center, and can’t let the next golden goose escape me.

Recently, a well-known investor, Pierre Zhang, let me know of a promising startup here in Shanghai. While at first I was understandingly skeptical, after all chinks are known for their plagiarism, I did check the project and found it to be unique, and even viable.

While I do know that Pierre Zhang is half one of them, so he does take their side much more than a regular person would, this time he saw a good opportunity. And it will be botched due to an incapable company that spouted nonsense about “strong winds” or something and was late as a result.

Angrily, I stomp in the giant airport halls, guiding myself thanks to my impeccable English – though, just don’t listen to the pronunciation. I’m stopped multiple times for security checks, and I do swear on them a couple of times, but they deserved it for wasting my time even more.

However, as I was striding in the main hall in order to find the metro station, seeing more and more of those chink hooligans, one of them shoves me to the side. He’s wearing a mask like the pussy he is, as well as a ridiculous oversized hoodie, some laughable jewelry and undistinguished sweatpants.

He’s left as soon as I turn around, meaning I can’t berate him. Youth these days are really insufferable. Where I grew up, on the Saint-Louis island in Paris, we weren’t even half as rude as today’s kids.

Scoffing, I continue rushing to the metro, though I kind of feel dizzy. Did he give me a disease or something ? When I reach the metro shoot, I see a barrier with policemen. Apparently they’re scanning for the coronavirus – they’re still doing that ? – by checking our temperature.

I go in the barrier, confident that I’ll pass the test, when suddenly, my path is blocked.

“Sorry, sir, please come with me.” Said a policewoman in her heavily accented English.

- What are you doing ! Let me go, I did nothing wrong !” I protest with a similarly accented English.

The policewoman doesn’t answer me and leads me to a small room in the airport. There, I see a bunch of other people with masks, waiting on seats. Showing me a mask, the policewoman explain :

“You may be sick. Take a mask and wait. - I’m going to be late ! Nothing’s wrong with me, just let me leave !” I say, though I don’t notice my accent shifting a little.

- Wear it or face consequences.” The policewoman insists, dangling the mask in front of my eyes. I sigh.

- Okay, but make it quick. I’ll wear 一只 (one).”

I squint my eyes. How did I say ‘one’ ? It feels incorrect, have I accidentally used French ‘un’ ?

I take the mask and wear it, still squinting. I still feel dizzy, so I guess the policewoman must have been right ? I take my phone out, wanting to send a quick message to Pierre about me being late, but something seems wrong.

When I look on my phone, there’s a weird app named 抖音 that has been installed. I don’t remember doing that. In fact, why is there even a Chinese app on my phone !

I click on it, and suddenly, videos start playing. I squint my eyes as I look at the videos of ch… Chinese people doing a variety of things. First it’s a video of a cat rubbing on someone, and that guy exclaimed “它真的是只饥渴死的猫啊！”, with then the woman filming answering, with a hurried tone “快摸它啊，你干嘛在那儿等呗？真冷啊。”. Even though I don’t understand a word that is said, I can guess that the woman is telling the guy to go rub the cat.

It’s funnier than I expected. Turns out the Chinese have more humor than I thought. Then, another video comes on, showing a guy, looking just like that punk from earlier, saying “穿这种衣服，我干嘛不会感丢人哎？(… these clothes… … lose face ?)”, and the camera pans out to a woman in a cockroach outfit. The punk continues “你已经三十岁了，为什么还在买这种衣服了？(… thirty years old, why still buy… ?)”, the woman answers “你现在我穿什么你都要管吗？(You... right now what I wear… your business ?)”. The punk then comes back into frame, with the woman on the left, asking “没有情侣版吗？哪只手我该牵啊？(There isn’t a couple’s version ? Which hand should I hold ?). Then, the woman shows a tendril, and they hold hands like that. I smile, finding it way funnier than it should.

I don’t really notice how I understand more and more what’s on 抖音 (Douyin), though I do let myself grow limp on the waiting room chair. I guess I don’t have much regards anymore for how I look, after all I’m waiting for a coronavirus test. Nobody’s going to comment on my posture !

The next video shows three guys running, with the caption 三人跑步时能干什么 (What can three people do while running together ?), and I see how their hair bop up and down. I’ve been shaving myself bald for quite a few years, ever since I was balding too much for me to bother with hair, but seeing these guys like that makes me a bit nostalgic of that time.

Seeing them doing stupider and stupider stuff, and smiling more and more as they show bungee jumping, doing pull-ups, playing games, stir-frying and even boxing, I feel a bit weird. Like I can kind of relate, in my youth I also did crazy things, and it would absolutely be something I would have done with my friends. I scratch my head, feeling it tingle, as I continue watching the next video, not even realizing my squinting is less and less strenuous.

The videos continue trickling in, every one more humorous than the last, and I catch myself chuckling out loud multiple times. By now, I understand everything very clearly, and when a doctor comes to do a coronavirus test, I don’t even blink when he addresses me in Chinese :

“少年，请跟我进走。(Young man, please enter with me.)

- Yes, 先生。(Yes, sir.)” I answer, mixing English and Chinese.

Everything is confused as he takes me to a machine, my thoughts mixing French, English and Chinese. Even my clothes feel… less tight than they used to. Almost as if they were melting and becoming glue.

I take place in the machine and he activates it. I feel as if things become clearer while I’m in. Like, for example, why was I stressed just now ? I don’t have anything important to do right now. And why languages are mixed ? I guess it’s because it’s cooler to mix in English…

The machine stops, and I leave it, scratching my straight hair. Had I ? … no, of course not, it’s my facial hair that I shave…

The doctor hands me my piercings.

“Euh, attendez, 先生，有什么不对了…… (Er, wait, sir, there’s something that’s not right.)” I ask, mixing French and Chinese. I really feel like something is not right.

- 什么发生过了？会跟我谈一谈。(What happened ? You can discuss it with me.)

- 我……有个奇怪的感受。Est-ce que 您找到了种疾病吗？(I… have a weird feeling. Did you find some kind of disease ?)

- 没有。但是您不舒服的话我肯定会给您扑热息痛。(I didn’t. However, if you don’t feel good, I can give you some paracetamol.)” He answers me, with a helpful look.

- 该好了。Merci. (It should be good. Thank you.)”

I take the pill he gives me, and put my piercings back on as I go back in the terminal. As I walk, I feel very comfy, as if everything was alright. I look down on my large oversized hoodie with its colorful prints. I feel like I’m in my youth once again… huh, it’s so weird to say that when I’m only... 23 years old !

Suddenly, I get a phone call from a weird contact I don’t remember having, someone named 张皮尔 (Zhang Pi’er/Pierre). I accept the call :

“喂。是谁？(Hello. Who’s there ?)” I ask, with a perfect accent.

- Julien ? Pourquoi tu parles chinois ? (Julien ? Why do you speak Chinese ?)” He groans, then switches to Chinese. “是我问您是谁。是您的电话吗？(I’m the one asking you who you are. Is it your phone ?)

- 当然是。我是个富二代，为啥要偷手机啊？(Of course. I have a trust fund, why would I steal a phone ?)” I slur, my speech becoming more and more relaxed.

- 嗯……那您是谁啊？您认不认识Julien Blanc ? (Ugh… So who are you ? Do you know Julien Blanc ?)

- 是白炬亮。那你到底是谁啊？(I’m Bai Juliang. And now can you tell me who you are ?)

- 是张皮尔……嗯……听我说一下。你有没有多钱会投资？我认为了Julien Blanc要投资新项目，但你还会投资一下。有没有兴趣？(I’m Pierre Zhang… ugh… Listen. Do you have a lot of money to invest ? I thought Julien Blanc would come and invest in a new project, but you can still invest. Are you interested ?)”

I think for a while. It could be great to have some money coming from another place than my parents’ company… plus, I don’t want to have to join it, or risk being cut off from my money…

However, there’s time, I’m still young, and there’s no rush right now… Plus, having work is, like, a lot of work, and I don’t want to work… But I have an idea.

“张先生，你想不想跟我投资？我给了你钱币，你给了我专业，收入分两半。感觉好吗？(Mr. Zhang, do you want to invest with me ? I give you the funds, you give me the expertise, and we divide the profits in half. Do you like that ?)”

After a while, he answers :

“感觉好了。(I think it’s good.)”

[nights-at-crystarium]

on authenticity

My mood in the recent months keeps going from bad to worse. Today I randomly fell into the rabbit hole of checking out other patreon artists, which always grounds me in reality and cheers me up, perhaps in a weird way. Essay incoming \o/

Authenticity is a blob of a word that sounds almost pretentious nowadays. It gets sneered at. You either sell your soul, or you don't earn with your art.

What's authentic, being true to yourself, will vary from person to person. It's like a sliding scale of suffering that you will tolerate in exchange for a coin, while convincing yourself that you have fun.

The harsh truth of modern world is that if your art pays for your living, you've already reached success, no matter how you may feel about the type of content you actually make for that money. Insert the meme furry nsfw art here. Or not furry. Or even sfw, but comms, lots of comms every month. Or merch. Anything that sells. Products first, art second.

Marrying passion and profession is virtually impossible, yet I'm doing it, only thanks to your support. I'm acutely aware that, even as I choose to be "real" and talk about an artist's money-making in a raw way, it's still patreon talk, and yes, I'll plug the link as well, so technically this entire post is an ad *fingerguns*

I just feel so privileged being able to create whatever the fuck I want, literally, I take no comms/requests/guidance on what and how should I draw/write, I post experimental, sometimes provocative stuff, and still make enough to survive. This sole fact should get me through the day, whatever other struggles I may be facing currently (I am. I don't wanna talk about it rn, instead I distract myself with this text), I should always remember the unique place in life I managed to carve for myself.

There are madmen (gender-neutral) who toss $10-20 at me every month. The majority "only" pledges $1, the notorious tier that gets treated as a tip jar with no rewards by many other creators. All of my rewards are the same at $1 and $20 (save for the one-time digital artbook download at $10, just to be perfectly clear), it's a conscious choice and a risk I continue taking because it's how I am. I used to split rewards between tiers in the past, before xiv, and it was a lot of busy work while it made me treat my art less as art and more as product. This pic goes into the cheap box, this pic goes into the expensive box. Every month. It's. Definitely not for every artist.

Logistic hell of splitting and delivering rewards, different posts with less comments per post, also my discord roles/channels would have to be split, nowadays it's just patron, whether you give me $1 or $20, there's no visual disparity, you're hanging out in the same cool kids' club, and collectively making happy noises on Fragments Fridays.

Could I be making more money if I got rid of the $1 tier? Yeah. But, mercifully, after 2 years I don't need to. I legit make enough currently, my only worry is to keep what I have. Patrons don't stay forever, 2-5 people would leave every month, about the same number would join (hence my patreon ads, I need to keep people reminded of it, even if it makes me feel guilty every damn time). I did Research (tm) in the past to find out that my "bleeding" numbers are below average, i.e. it's good, people generally tend to stick around.

I put a lot of emphasis on the $1 because I'm kinda proud of what I managed to accomplish while staying self-detrimentally humble. Literally doing an impossible thing in a world that keeps burning down. So yeah if you've been feeling bad for only giving me $1, what matters is that there's enough $1s to make a difference. Together you're creating a phenomenon, and you should be proud.

There are many stupid little principles, hills that I'll die on, that make up my authenticity. I chose to speak of it here and now in order to sorta sell myself, so it feels hypocritical x'D But if I don't shine a spotlight on this, who will. I'm old and jaded and increasingly terrified of how insincere the internet's becoming. Everything's fake, sugarcoated, polished for sale. My art's always been a scream of defiance against all that, now that I'm more or less established, I wanna scream louder. Thanks for hearing my screams. You can scream with me too if you want.

[thecoffeelorian]

Study Buddies, Thrawn x Reader

Title: Study Buddies

Pairing: Thrawn x GN!Reader; Thrawn x Autistic Reader

Brief Synopsis: Arriving late to a study session, you fear that Thrawn might end up reporting you to your superiors. However, after realizing you've just been bullied by another student, things take a slightly unexpected turn...

Word Count: 1,582

Special Note: I endorse absolutely no empires past or present with this tale, but would instead like to begin an Ascendancy AU where Thrawn secretly works against Palpatine's regime from Day 1.

Also, I based the Reader ever so slightly on Eli Vanto from the novels, so take that fact any way you wish.

Tagging: @whydoilovehim @pencil-urchin @imaginesofthefandoms @bingbongooo @telltale-vixen

@mysticalgalaxysalad @razzel-my-dazzel22 @blackddarling @crosshair-lover @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching and anyone else who might be interested in other things besides smut.

“You’re late.”

Your fellow Ensign, Thrawn—also known on occasion as Mitth’raw’nuru’odo—seems to have no clear emotion in his voice as you slip into the room. Thanks to your arriving a good thirty minutes after your intended hour—without any comm warnings ahead of time, unfortunately—he may very well be annoyed with you.

And, dare you say it out loud, this was also thanks to the unwelcome surprise you had to deal with on your way over.

Unwelcome, and painful, and due for a real bruisin’ as soon as you know how to give one.

At least, that’s the general thought in your head before he turns his blood-red eyes upon you, and not three seconds later, narrows them in what you can only hope is a look of concern.

“And for good reason, I see...the other cadets are acting out again.”

As if to shield yourself a second time, your left hand moves instinctively to the bruise beneath your right eye, the most recent ‘lesson’ that Cadet Karvo, a somewhat richer student, decided to teach you on the ways of the Empire. He hasn’t exactly appreciated that a newcomer from the Outer Rim could so much as get admitted to this elite academy, let alone get two commendations by their instructors in almost as many months...so, naturally, he saw fit to remind you of your place somewhere below his own.

Somewhere between an assistant and a servant, maybe, though judging by the words he used, he would have loved to see you brought a lot lower.

But you, though...perhaps you’re beginning to wonder if your place was always meant to be at this Chiss’ side all along.

“That’s the second time this month, isn’t it, Ensign?”

This feeling grows just a little as he leaves the safety of his desk to stand before you, the distance between the two of you now curiously shortened. You had originally planned to come here for the first of many study sessions, not just for recalling the general knowledge needed to enter the Imperial Navy, but also to help Thrawn himself practice his Basic. Now that he’s meeting you on your level in three short strides or less, however...preparing for exams now seems to be the least of your worries.

“You’re feeling vulnerable and afraid...among other things. I can tell from the fluctuations in your pulse and oxygen intake.”

There goes his Chiss way of knowing what you yourself don’t always want to acknowledge, possibly even to the point of seeing right through all of your behavioral defenses.

“Perhaps some intercession might be in order for your situation...if you are willing to seek it?”

How strange that he could always manage to get under your skin, though without wishing to for a great deal of the time you had together.

“Yes...er, I mean...”

In fact, if you weren’t slowly descending into a state of incoherence, you might just go so far into believing that you found something just a little bit, well...intimidating about this Thrawn. He was well ahead of you in height by at least twelve inches, better gifted in strength and speed, and—in the slang of your hometown—had a mind like a durasteel trap. Hell, by rights, he should have pummeled you at least once in Basic Combat 101, and stolen a few hearts in the process without half trying!

“...I don’t know when—or if—they’re gonna be back. Do...do you think they might try again?”

Surprisingly, though, he’s more or less held back ever since you both entered this Academy for the first time—and even now, as he’s reaching out a hand to check the extent of your injuries, he’s looking less like a mysterious predator from Wild Space, and more like the average doctor you might see at home.

Or, dare you allow yourself to think such things...like some sort of hero from all the stories you read as a child.

“Perhaps...if I don’t find them first. Please look up for me.”

His right hand is nudging your head upward a few seconds before you can fully react, and just like any new patient, you’re obeying him without thinking twice about it. He’s cold to the touch at first, and yet—

“—You might find this approach slightly unorthodox, but nevertheless...do tell me if this feels, ah...buhlungu?”

“ ‘Painful’?”

“Yes. Painful.”

And yet, you’re not exactly flinching away from him, either. There is a slight twinge of pain from that area as he applies a little pressure, what sort of person would you be if you hadn’t felt some manner of aches and pains from an ambush like that one—and yet, almost like some kind of magic trick, you feel a tiny sense of something warm sparking up in the sore area, something very close to heat therapy making that soreness fade away.

In other words, in a matter of seconds, the pain in that once-tender spot has completely vanished.

“Just a little trick I learned, to help cope with my time in exile...there. How are you feeling now, y/n?”

“Uh...better, I think?”

“Excellent. Your eye next, if you will.”

Whatever hesitation you might have felt about this little meeting is now, along with the pain in your jaw, no longer present. Instead, you’re just about leaning into Thrawn’s touch this time, the beginnings of what you can only call ‘butterflies’ starting to flutter around your stomach. In return, the same cold-to-hot treatment spreads slowly across the area beneath your right eye, and you watch in silent amazement as his look of deep, almost scowling concentration softens into a satisfied smile. Clearly, in spite of you once thinking otherwise, he's rather enjoying this.

And, also somewhat in spite of yourself, so are you.

“Where did you learn this...this magic trick? Back on your home planet?”

“In a way...yes. Yes, I did indeed, though I’m nowhere near as skilled as the women of my kind...”

There’s a small pause between you, a slight break in the action as you both decide to take a slight breather. Perhaps it’s just as well, too, if he’s feeling the level of fluctuating emotions as strongly as you have been.

“...They might have tracked down your Korvo in a heartbeat, never mind also convincing him to drown himself without speaking a word.”

Well now, looks like Thrawn is emotional after all. The simple act of bullying hasn’t failed to garner his rage, and if those other cadets aren’t too careful, they might even find themselves on the receiving end of battle practice some time in the near future.

If, you add to yourself, someone else doesn’t also decide to watch him in action.

“Without speaking? Y’ mean...like those Jedi folks?”

He’s gone from smiling to scowling in the meantime, but when he answers you again, some of the venom has started to fade from his voice.

“Of a sort, I suppose. Anyway...just one more thing, if you’re willing?”

Does he even need to ask at this point...? You’ve already grown accustomed to this brand of treatment, so much so that the mere thought of not having one more dose of it is nothing less than agonizing. In fact, you’re not just willing to see all of this through, but thanks to the flurry of feelings rushing through your bloodstream, you’re one breath away from demanding it.

“Please...?”

“There’s...just one more wound I need to get to. Right about...here.”

That must have been the place where Karvo did the most damage upon you, because now you’re wincing at the contact, even shying away from Thrawn despite your true feelings. Kriff that Karvo, and all of his nerfherding friends. Kriff that karking bully for coming between you like this, and not in the good way—

“—It’s all right. I just need a few more seconds to heal you. After that, all your pain will be gone.”

“Do you promise...?”

The two of you aren’t breaking eye contact at this point, a sure sign of trust if ever a thing could exist between Imperials. You’ve only ever managed to do that when strangers didn’t intimidate you, your mother didn’t get too impatient with you, and your father was careful not to allow his voice to become too loud...not to mention, as long as the sound of the people around you never became impossible to bear.

Nevertheless, Thrawn gives his word to you in a silent nod; you step back within his reach, and for the third and last time, that special healing talent of his works its magic. Soon, the pain and swelling in your lower lip are gone, and with them, any fear that you might otherwise have had about this mysterious Chiss.

“There you are, y/n...good as new.”

It isn’t until a minute or two afterwards, when you both have allowed yourselves to exhale and the tension has gone out of the room, that you realize three rather important things.

First, Thrawn’s hand has not fallen back down to his side, but instead remains in place just below the curve of your mouth.

Second, your own hand is now freely touching his face as well.

And third, whether this ends in your first kiss or not, you know that you won’t think twice about giving nothing less than absolute hell to any other cadet that tries to interrupt you today.

After all, your role in this school might belong to the Empire…but this scarlet-eyed Ensign belongs only to you.

[cyborrrg]

DRAGON AGE COUPLES COMMISSIONS

Plenty of love for the Golden Commander from my most recent batch!!

And my first DAO couples request! (I haven't played DAO or DA2 yet but as long as the requests are not too spoilery, I'll take any DA couple^^)

And with the completion of my mini batch...

Slots for DA Couples Commissions are AVAILABLE for September!‼️💜💜

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This MAY BE the LAST CHANCE for DAI Couples Comms for a while since I'll be pretty busy starting October!

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reblogs are appreciated💜

[havethetouch]

Here be pirates

2020 - Siti, Mahdi

2021 - Ila, Mel, Eli, Asa, Ava, Ife, Niv

2022 - Ixtia

2023 - Lev, Ora, Dar, Ira, Ayo, Efe, Nia, Jia

2024 - Nor

Figured I throw them down all in one post because why not most people are not even aware how vast the cast of this lil pirate story is, and those are the characters that got their design down, I have some more that I still play around with a bit on terms of colours and shapes. Aside from Ava and Lev, everyone got their first design try on a quick headshot that felt right and then threw colours on. Ava and Lev just got a ref sheet right away because idk I hit the golden moment with those two. (context: I hate doing refs and it usually takes me ages to do them even if if I have their designs down to a T. Mahdi for example.. is after Siti oldest characters created for this story and I only finally got around to finish his ref what? At the end of last year (2023)? Niv only got her ref like in July of 2024. Like fuck you could not pay me to do reference sheets the only reason I even do them is so that I can hand them to the handful of people I like to buy comms from (and sometimes for AF) who need the visuals bc they cannot just see them in my head otherwise I would not bother.)

The order these are drawn in is also not necessarily the order those characters have been living rent-free in my head either. Like there is Wyn who I vaguely know what he looks like for 3 years now but I have not brought him to paper yet lol. However the first few are. Siti was obviously the first, it started with her, Mahdi came second in my head even though back then I didn't even knew his name yet, he was an integral part in Sitis backstory and had the workname "Mapmaker/Scholar" but I knew while I tinkered with Sitis story that he needs to come back into the picture and then I started developing him. Technically it went like this: In the course of Sitis bg story she is faced with the loss of people she considered family (among them the mapmaker/scholar who she shared the closest bond with) during a vicious pirate attack at sea that she is the lone survivor of but even as I worked on that part I was like... "ain't no way that this fucker died, he is probably messed up but I bet he survived I want him to survive and reunite with Siti down the line" - and then a bit later in my head (mahdi, kicking the door in) "Hello there. I have risen!".

It still takes the duration of a decade before these two reunite. Which is also the starting point of Siti being the captain bc those two yearn for the sea regardless of the trauma.

After came the first five, being Ila, Ava, Eli, Mel and Asa. Ife and Niv followed soon after and then it kinda gets muddy with the rest. I had some rear up louder some just slipped in through the backdoor and at some point I started to design those as well. Nor is the most recent design in the lineup which I adopted from someone else because I had her down at her core but I could not decide on which animal which vibes but I saw demi-reality sell this zebra lady on their TH and I looked once, twice, thrice and went "oh. That is Nor." It be like that sometimes. But yeh so that is Sitis crew, at least those of them that have fixed designs. It is funny to look at the first headshot ever of Siti she changed not really much at all from that one aside from the fact that I got her unique face shapes down better in a way that I could not properly bring to paper back in 2020. So much shit happened around those years too, many losses in my family, among them my own father so many of these characters are intertwined with that grief and brainfog and memory loss that came with that trauma. A wild time that feels like a different life at times and I'm glad to have it behind me now. And I didn't even mean to get so personal about it here but those characters are, like I said, very much intertwined with a lot of that which also reflects in most of the early casts stories. But yeahhhh anyway I keep tinkering around, lots of writing going on in the background among some other stuff I have planned.

[mactavishwritings]

Politics isn't simple

Captain John Price x Director!reader

You have recently taken charge of task force 141 and it's captain

fluff

tw: arguing, injury, violence mention, weapons, john being (lovingly) mean

had this idea and you guys seemed to love it so here we are <3

You were skilled in many things. You loved negotiation. You loved giving orders. You loved being able to take control and commanding a space. It's what made you so good at your job. It's what landed you the role of Director of Special Intelligence.

Your work consisted of sending teams into high steak situations and gaining intel on terrorist cells. You always were on top of your game and so were your teams. You always looked presentable and your representation preceded you. Everyone knew you as someone who would kick someone out of the room just to get the job done.

Recently, you had been tasked to capture and take down Major Hassan Zyani. You were sitting at your desk in a pair of black pants, black heels, and a grey blouse. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail and you were typing up a report when you heard a knock on your door. You didn't look up, but acknowledged the person. "Ma'am, the team is ready for you." Your assistant, Lola, said and you sighed, grabbing your tablet and a few files. "Have they been debriefed?" You scrolled through the team's files, stopping in your tracks when you got to the team's captain. Your husband, John Price.

"John? Jesus no wonder Kate was hesitant." You grumbled before starting to walk again. "Yes ma'am. They're in room 4-1a. They all have tablets, but the captain has demanded physical copies." You rolled your eyes as you came upon the room. "Of course he has. I already printed them. Let's meet these boys, they already sound loud." Lola giggled before she opened the door for you.

Your heels clicking silenced the boys, all eyes falling onto you and your small assistant as you entered the room. You dropped the files on the table before your eyes locked on John. "I heard you demanded physical copies. Don't get used to making them." You smiled tightly at him and his eyebrow raised. "Noted, ma'am. Team, this is Director (Y/N)." You nodded at the four men before you before turning to the map, already having 20 plans forming in your head.

-

You were fuming. It was the 141's first mission under your command and John did everything in his power to disobey every single command you gave him. "Captain, in the building next to you, it looks like there may be some files that we need. Grab those." You spoke into his comms, watching through his headset. "You would sound so much prettier if you said please." Price said as he walked right past the building and the files you needed.

Lola's short legs struggled to keep up with you as you stormed through the base hallways. The boys had already landed and were making their ways to the debriefing room, but you were going to meet them first. "Ma'am! Please slow down!" You heard, but you didn't even care. You soon saw the group round the corner and your steps got louder. It got the attention of Soap and Gaz, who immediately saw the anger all of your face. "PRICE." You shouted, causing the man to stop in his tracks. You stormed up to him and didn't acknowledge the rest of the men. "My office. Now." You locked eyes with John before turning on your heels and storming off.

John immediately followed, head turned downwards. Lola sheepishly walked up to the rest of the 141 and directed them to be debriefed, but they were too busy trying to see into your office.

John sat in one of the chairs across from your desk, looking down at his lap. Your hands were shaking from rage, trying to pour you both a drink. "When I give you an order, I expect you to follow it." You sighed angry. "You disobeyed a direct order from me. We needed those files!" You slammed the glass down in front of John, who sighed. "(Y/N). Please." He reached out and gently grabbed your wrist. Your shoulders dropped as he stood. "Love, breath. I'm sorry."

John moved his hand down until his fingers intertwined with yours. You let go of the glass. "We needed them, John. I am in deep shit as is." You looked up at John and he smiled softly, reaching up to cup your cheeks. "I'm sure you are, darling. Politics are hard. That's why you do it. I do the groundwork." Price leaned down and kissed you lightly.

You felt the stress melt away the moment his lips touched yours. He pulled away and kissed the tip of your nose before grabbing the drink you made him. "I will need to do a lot of paperwork." You sighed, leaning against your desk. "So thanks for that."

-

You were panicking. You and your on base team had just gotten the word that Shepard had betrayed you all. You had no clue if your boys were alive or not. "Ma'am? Shepard is M.I.A. We cannot find him." Lola updated you, her tone angry. Your fists were balled up and knuckles were white. "Bravo team. Check in!" You shouted into the comms, hoping to hear something, anything, from them. You felt your chest tighten and you slammed your fist into the table. "Fuck!" You flipped a few of the chairs around and threw the main table across the room.

"When I find Shepard, I will end him myself." You told Lola as she tried to pull you out of the room. "Ma'am please. Let's go." You cried out once more before storming out of the room. As soon as you got back into your office, you immediately got onto the phone and started calling all of your contacts to try and smooth this over.

John was angry, unsure of who to trust. He didn't even know if he could trust his own wife. Everyone back at the base was considered an enemy until proven otherwise. It pained him to hear you cry for them to check in, knowing he couldn't. He knew that with you being a higher up, you could be compromised.

He guided Ghost and Soap through breaking Alejandro out and guided them back to a safe house. "Have we had contact with the director?" Gaz asked when they all got back together at the safe house. Price immediately tensed before shaking his head, "We don't know if she's compromised so no." Gaz looked at Price confused. "I thought you two were so close. You don't trust her?"

"Don't. Gaz. Just don't." Price pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please. I am trying to deal with this. Yes I do trust her." Price looked at Gaz before looking at the rest of the team. "We need to kill Shepard first and then we can figure out who else was apart of the scheme."

-

You had been stressed out of your mind for weeks. It had been a month since you had heard from your team and you were forced you mourn the loss of you husband. The bags under your eyes were getting harder and harder to cover with concealer. You were at your desk, typing furiously at your laptop, when you heard a knock at your door. "Lola, I told you I am not taking at meetings at the moments. I am so behind on paperwork." You answered, not looking up from your screen. "I'm not Lola and I'm not taking no." You heard a rough voice say and your head whipped up so fast, it almost caused whiplash.

"John?" You stood, feeling your eyes dampen. Your office windows had been closed since that night, blinds closed. John stepped into your office and closed the door behind him, locking it as well. "Hi, darling." You moved forward and he took you into his arms. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. I wanted to, but we didn't know who and who wasn't compromised." He whispered into your hair. You nodded, taking in his scent.

"I almost tore an office apart." You giggled, tears free flowing. "I heard. Lola said she had never seen you so angry." John smiled and tilted your head upwards, leaning down to kiss you sweetly. You nearly melted in his arms.

"I missed you so much. Emma has been asking for her daddy." You smiled. John's eyes lit up. "My baby girl, how is she!" You grabbed your phone and pulled up the most recent photo of you daughter. "Good. Asking for her daddy and her favorite uncle."

John chuckle, kissing your temple. "We'll ask Simon to babysit. He's asking to see her. Plus we deserve a vacation now that Shepard is gone."

-

After you cleaned up your appearance, John brought you to see the team. Simon jumped up to hug you. "You okay?" He asked, causing you to laugh. "Yes yes. I am glad you all are okay." Soap and Gaz hugged you tightly before you sighed. "This is going to be a fuck ton of paperwork."

"Nope. I told you, vacation first." John grabbed your elbow and squeezed it gently. "Okay fess up you two. What's going on?" Soap nudged Price and Simon looked confused at Soap. "Did you guys not know?"

"Yeah, we've been married for 10 years." Price wrapped his arm around your waist and your rolled eyes. "It's painfully obvious. Their daughter is very cute. I babysit sometimes." Simon spoke up. "Speaking of, we may need you to do that soon." You smiled sweetly at Simon, who agreed immediately.

"WOAH WAIT! The Captain and the Director are married? With a daughter! AND SIMON BABYSITS!" Gaz and Soap looked at the three of you.

-

@luhvbot @angelsquid @kinskyy @androgynoushellscape @mochamori @yupnomeh

on my original post, y'all said you wanted to read it so here it is!

[outcaststars]

I've been streaming on twitch for over 4 years. I've made a great community and a wonderful group of friends but I've also had to deal with a lot of aweful people. Recently I've been feeling particularly upset about it all so I'm going to air all my grievances here. TW this mentions bullying, grooming, self harm and abuse. If anyone mentioned in this post trys to comment im just gonna delete it, i also dont care if your fav streamers is here, this is my authentic experience. Also dont go attacking anyone i mention here, the whole point of this is to be better then them.

Rat_emoji

The first streamer I ever had an issue with was Rat_emoji. It all started when I tuned into one of their DbD streams only to find him streaming another, younger, streamers live content.

He had just died to this kid playing Myers, he had TTV in his name and Rat was so mad about what had happened he streamed this kids twitch live to his viewers, all the while making fun of his appearance and stream quality.

A day later I would go back and screen record this whole interaction so I can share that if you want to see it. It felt so disgusting to watch this happen live, he has 100 viewers in chat and they were all being nasty. The only person who told him to stop was drag streamer Suttonfister (i think, 90% sure) who was in the same game and discord call at he time. the whole scene was aweful to witness, it felt like such an abuse of power. Rat didnt directly say anything mean but they made a lot of mean girl comments and didnt moderate anything cruel their chat said, it was obviously intentional.

After this I blocked Rat, it would have been easy to avoid him if he didn't found the stream team "Aussie pride", he got a lot of attention for that and a lot of praise and all of it made me sick. Funnily enough I heard that Aussie Pride was an aweful team to be in. The creators didn't care about the smaller members, planned no events and then disbanded the team with the release of Hogwarts legacy because they didn't want to take a stance on JK Rowling. Honestly it seems like the whole thing was a vanity project. That's why I don't like Rat_emoji.

Dcypherpup

DCpup was the first streamer I tried to network with. He hired me to make some art for him. He wanted me to work on merch for his channel, I declined, saying that I wasnt comfortable with the idea of someone else selling my art. I counter offered to just make him a profile icon, this way we could see how my style suited him and i could work out how to tackle the idea of eventually doing merch.

When the icon was done I sent him the high res file, he asked for my signature (my artist tag, a very small "outcaststars" in the corner) to be removed. When I asked why, he told me he needed it gone in order to upload it as merch.

Naturally I was upset. I explained that we had already made a deal not to do merch yet and I also explained that I was uncomfortable with the idea of removing my tag. I went on to explain why visibility was so important for artists. At the time I was a much smaller content creator and DCpup platform was much bigger.

He apologized and said he would give me a cut of the sales. I said don't bother and reluctantly let him do what he wanted. At the time I was too scared to make enemies so I fell into people pleasing.

I took more work from DCpup because I needed the money and I hoped it would be good for my channel growth. He would upload my work to his store and wouldn't credit me. I was frustrated.

The tipping point was after the final comm I took from him. An animated ending screen. During this process DCpup would message me everyday asking for updates which was annoying. When I delivered the final product he once again asked for my tiny, half transparent signature to be removed. I was so upset and defeated, I told myself I'd fight it but I didn't. I removed my sign from every layer, reanimated the whole thing and vowed not to take work from him.

After the piece was done he wanted to commission me again. I left him on read, then I found out what he was saying about me to other people. A good friend of mine showed me a message he had sent in his stream, telling him not to bother commission me, because I would be too busy doing work for him. I was furious.

Another week later I got raided by someone and told the new viewers to check out my work, it broke my heart when someone who looked at my insta, told me he had no idea I made all of DCpups stuff. Why would he? Dcypherpup went to ridiculous lengths to hide my credit. He was telling people not to contact me and not tagging any comm work with my name. One day he came into my live stream and I was so mad I banned him on the spot .

I wish I had done more to be assertive, live and learn. Funnily enough I found out he posted a big rant, telling people off for supporting JK Rowling when Hogwarts legacy released. Only to be called out for buying it and playing it on his steam, which he had forgotten to make private. He deleted the tweet. What a cunt.

Undertheredmoon and Greenypika

Redmoon is furry streamer that I use to really like. They were funny, had great energy and I would even go as far to say that they were a friend.

All this came to a grinding hault the day he invited furry artist and accused child groomer Daveoverlord to join us on Monster hunter rise live on stream.

Dave wasn't in voice chat and I wasn't reading Redmoons twitch chat at the time, so although I was aware of who Dave was, I didn't realize it was them. When someone messaged me about it a few days later I was mortified, I assumed Redmoon didn't know and I messaged them immediately.

I asked Red if he knew who Dave was and what he had done and the kind of artists he was friends with (cub artists). Redmoon ghosted me, left me on read for a week. I messaged again asking why he wasn't talking to me. He said he was too stressed to deal with this "drama" and didn't care to get involved. He mentioned that if Dave was guilty cops probably would have gotten involved and said he just wanted to focus on his own work.

When I asked Redmoon where he stood on cub porn, he stopped replying. We haven't spoken since.

The same person who told me about Dave joining stream also pointed out that Greenypika was inviting Dave onto his stream. They dm'd greeny and asked them if they knew and greeny said he had no idea and that he'd look into it. Greeny hadn't responded for a few months so I dm'd him with the same message and got the same copy paste reply. TLDR greeny knew and was just lying about it so I blocked him too.

Daveoverlord

Dudes a fucking groomer and now he streams. Blocked.

Cidermarten

Cider and I got into an argument once, the topic of which is no one's business.

His bf weyland got mad at me for it and vague tweeted about it so I decided to start a group chat with them to sort it out. And we did.

I apologised for what I did and cider took some time away from interacting with me. Everyone in this situation wanted what was best. And weyland is now one of my best friends.

Cider and I aren't as close as we could be but that's my fault. They're honestly a wonderful person and I appreciate their friendship. There inclusion in this list is to prove a point later but they're also the only person here who I think deserves success.

Stripeydragon and Break trail.

This one is complicated because it involves someone who ment a lot to me.

Back when the exclusive stream team Break Trail formed, my good friend Marsh joined the team. Being an artist he did a lot of the teams promo art of all it's members. Marsh had a lot of anxieties about the team because he was one of its smallest members and often told me he felt underappreciated or out of place. This feeling for worse when artist/streamer and fellow team member Stripeydragon decided he was going to do a redraw of all of marsh's promo work.

I didn't see Marsh much at the time but when this began he spent the better part of a week in my mod chat expressing how upset he was about it. It didn't help he was already anxious but he felt stripydragon was replacing him and even mentioned a time when he tried to give feedback on stripys work only for him to disregard it. Marsh was really fucking upset.

After stripeydragon posted the work my moderator, Ibn, who had been listening and consoling marsh for a week, decided to comment on the art publically. He said he didn't think stripyes version of the art was better and criticized him of slimming down the fater characters.

I wanna pause this to say I don't condone what Ibn did. He ment well but it wasn't his fight and he shouldn't have commented a critique on something no one asked him to judge. Don't do this. Anyway...

Stripeydragon fucking hated this. Not only did he respond to every tweet, he went into the break trail discord and rallied everyone to defend him and attack Ibn, a lot of break trail members also rushed to the comments to defend stripey and attack ibn. He also posted ibns comment in his own discord to encourage others to dog pile on. This shit got out of hand super fucking fast. Ibn was crying and marsh was pissed. It was betray of trust on Ibns part, but the way stripey responded was downright scary.

Shit was at its peak by the time I woke up (Australian timezone) and I immediately went into damage control. I gave Ibn a huge lecture, I was mad af and told him to apologize. I dm'd breaktrails stream team manager Mari, and tried my best to defuse the situation so that both parties could stop. Everyone deleted their tweets. Ibn apologised a dozen times and Marsh told everyone that ibn was just an asshole.

So the story everyone believes now is that marsh actually loves stripydragons work and Ibn is just a weird jerk. There where no consequences for stripydragons weaponizing a stream team and their fan base against someone on twitter. They're still a member of break trail but the team has been dead for a long time. I understand that Ibn was in the wrong and marsh should have just talked about his issues with his team. But this is another case of someone with a big platform and bigger ego not hesitating to use that to attack others.

Starkymorph

this one is fucked up.

Starky mods for a bunch of break trail members, so he had an inside look into the whole stripeydragon thing. Keep that in mind.

About a year after the stripey incident, I woke up to a message from starky. I had recently finished a commission for starky but apart from that we didn't know each other well.

He claimed that ibn had harassed him on stream by bringing up controversial topics and that because he was my mod he wasn't going to support me any more. I was pretty angry, Ibn was causing trouble again. I dm'd ibn and told him I didn't want to hear what he had to say and instead I just wanted the timestamp on Starkeys VOD so I could see what he did myself.

I watched the VOD and what I saw didn't line up with anything starky had said. He made the whole thing up.

What really happened was, starky decided to bring up "cancel culture" and went on a rant about how it was inherently bad and that anyone who participates in it only does it for "self-aggrandizing reasons". A lot of the shit he said was very thinly veiled right wing bullshit dog whistles.

Ibn asked him to elaborate and said something to the likes of "what about people who cancel pedos and rapists" and starky banned ibn and ended the convo.

Ibn didn't start the controversial topic and he didn't harass anyone. But starky was mad and wanted to attack him, he knew Ibn had a history of starting shit so he came to me with a bullshit story thinking I'd believe him and Ibn would lose his friends. And it almost worked.

I tried to talk some sense into starky, I pointed out that his original message was dishonest. Starky doubled down and made up more lies. He continued to claim that things happened during the stream that aren't in the VOD. He even bought up weylandshere and claimed he was harassing him too, out of nowhere! which if you watch the VOD is also completely made up. He said some ablist shit about "high functioning autism" aswell, its all really incoherent. Non of this is true and I downloaded the VOD so he couldn't hide the evidence.

Starky tried to use my argument with cider and Ibns argument with stripy as evidence that we were bad people. I found this really sinister, because my initial reaction to Starkys story, was that i believed him, pretty much everyone reacted this way. It upsets me that i was almost convinced to distance myself from my best friend because of a lie.

A ton of people didn't watch the VOD and took Starkeys word. Starky blocked me and started asking all his followers and mutuals to do the same. A whole bunch of people sub tweeted about ibn being an abuser and me being an enabler. It was fucking aweful. It went on for days.

This only stopped when Kyziethewolf stepped in and defended me. Even tho starky was one of his best friends, he had watched the VOD and told everyone he was lying. Starky doesn't talk to kyzie now and it really broke his heart.

A lot of people still believe starky and I lost a bunch of mutual streamers support because of this. It's one of the worst attacks I've suffered on twitter/twitch to date.

I found out a few months later he's added "outcast is racist" to the narrative he tells people and there's nothing I can do about that

This also basically ended my friendship with Marsh. I've known marsh for 7 years and hes a friend of Starkeys too. During this whole ordeal he never spoke up, it was only kyzie. I was really upset about this because i feel that Marsh could have made a significant change to how this played out if he had of just stepped in.

When he dm'd me a few weeks after asking if I'm make some free art for his project I told him no. I told him I was hurt. He said he just didn't want to get involved in drama. i think its really harmful to reduce harassment to just "drama". We've stopped talking.

Jayedskier

I met jayed though my friend weyland. I needed a 3D artists and he needed work.

Jayed had recently lost a lot of friends because during COVID he tweeted that people not social distancing at a furcon where putting disabled, high risk, people's lives in danger. Totally righteous imo.

He however also tweeted that anyone who doesn't where a mask should kill themselves and deservingly got a lot of hate and backlash. Lost a lot of friends. Since then he was pretty unwilling to comment on any political shit. Publically that is.

The first fight I got into with jayed was when Ibn reposted a Tumblr thread about the YouTuber keffals, and some of the problematic things she'd done. Jayed loves keffals so he dm'd Ibn about it and started a huge fight defending his favourite YouTuber. I stepped in to try and resolve the fight but no one was really happy.

This argument made jayed realise that he didn't have the same values as the friend group he was in. He liked keffals, he thought it was ok to say the R slur and he felt people should be allowed to support JK Rowling.

He left my discord and I contacted him trying to smooth things over. We talked for a long time and I settled on agree to dissagree the hopes to change his mind on some of these issues.

That didn't happen. Jayed kept starting fights about woke shit, even though he's a self proclaimed "leftist" and it slowly drove a wedge between us. He stopped talking to everyone in our friend group, unfollowed us all on socials.

Artists/streamer and friend Ixu had drawn a big group shot of all of us together. Weyland (who is in this friend group) was pretty angry about the whole ordeal so he asked Ixu for a version without jayed edited out. When he posted this jayed got super pissed about it.

Jayed tweeted about how unwelcoming my community was. Screen caped some DM's and changed the context. I was so angry, I had spent months continuing to offer my friend ship and trying to change his mind. One of the last fights we got into he said he was mad that "people" expected him to show support for Palestine and thats kind of the end of it.

This one hurt because it felt like a betrayal. Jayed you can get fucked dude.

Socksthewolf

This one is super recent and is basically why I decided to write this.

I can't remember how I met socks. They work in the games industry and they have a LOT of money/connections. He gives away a lot of stuff, Donates to people a lot. He very affectionate and Everyone loves him. I even accepted a bunch of charity/gifts from him and in return drew a bunch of gift art.

Socks success made a few mutuals of mine uncomfortable. He had a lot of money to put into stream so his channel grew insanely fast. I'm also told he made comments to some mutuals, comparing channel growth that made them feel bad. He ran multiple giveaways and got partner almost a year after starting stream.

There was some drama between socks and one of his mods. I tried my hardest not to get involved. Socks employs a lot of parasocial strategies in order to retain an audience so he flirts a lot and also has a persona of "I'm you dad" on stream. Idk if this counts as love bombing, but it feels similar.

I heard that one of his mods developed a crush on him and when rejected, he drank himself into the hospital. He almost died.

I spoke with this ex mod about it. He doesn't blame socks for what happened even tho he feels the rejection was harsh. I still feel that socks takes advantage of people with his gifts and parasocial friendship. This is a result of that going unchecked.

One of our mutuals found out about this and was really upset. They tweeted about it and tried to hold socks accountable. Nothing came of it.

I grew distant from socks when he started hanging out with Redmoon a lot. Because I felt close to them at the time I messaged him a about Redmoon and what happened between us. He never replied.

This story takes a dark turn when jayedskier, friend of socks, decided to make that tweet mentioned in his section. Socks also went in on someone jayed had mentioned.

This is about my good friend Weyland. Weyland had had someone very close to them pass away recently. Socks complied some tweets and chat screen caps, and made up a story of weyland threatening to kill themselves.

Some of the messages were about weylands dead friend. Socks knowingly changed the context and lied to make weyland look bad.

I honestly think this is the worst thing on this post. To use the death of someone and the personal anguish of someone and ammo for you bullshit story about them is fucking horrifying.

I replied to socks tweet about weyland, I told him what he was doing was wrong. He told me that he feels bad I'm surrounded by toxic people and that he hopes they get better.

After seeing the way socks treats his audience and the way he lied about another streamer, I genuinely believe hes some kind of abuser. Idk the vibe is REALLY off with this one. This feels worse then bullying, there's an ego about it. I've blocked socks on everything. Frankly they scare me.

Final notes

Anyway that's been my aweful experience with aweful twitch streamers. The whole thing has left me bitter and sad and I no longer want to interact with anyone. idk where to go from here.

Twitch TOS doesn't care what people say or do on other platforms. And with other streamers/mutuals so unwilling to get involved or show support I just feel alone.

I do feel compelled to speak up when I see or experience something I think isn't right. I think a lot of neurodivegant people, like myself, feel that way. But I think it's been terrible for my career. I hate the feeling that I'd be so much more successful if I'd shut my mouth and looked away. Maybe even be partner by now. I know a lot of this comes across as just "furry drama" but i think its reductive to label it as that. Content creators who engage in these kind of harmful behaviors need to be held accountable if we want to see any positive change. And im not saying that means "CANCEL" them. some (not all) of these content creators can still learn and grow and be better. Negative attitudes and dismissive statements of "its just drama" create a space for bullies to thrive

Finally, please PLEASE do NOT under any circumstances harass anyone involved in this post. This is not an attempt to rally the masses to lynch some people, im just telling my story so that next time you see someone come forward with claims about a content creator you like you'll see the situation differently.

If you made it this far, wow. Thank you. Dunno if I'll post the vids/screencap evidence. I don't know if I care enough.

[vodika-vibes]

I‘m deep in my Jango feels again, like who allowed him to be this gorgeous???

anyways, I loved the jaster piece you wrote recently with the cabin-getaway and under the risk of being a copycat, would you mind writing something similar for Jango? Because it was just *chefs kiss*

Summer Vacation

Summary: Jango surprises you with a beach getaway.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 1457

Warnings: Some smut, very spicy. Implications of exhibitionism(?). Reader likes being recorded for Jango and Jango alone, I don't know what I'd call that.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So, I went the opposite way than I did with Jaster! Jango gets a beautiful summer getaway, while Jaster got a winter wonderland. Now all I need is a matching Boba request, and I'll have collected the whole set...like pokemon cards.

“Jango, where are we going?” You ask as you allow him to lead you across the sandy beach, “You said you had a surprise, and then never finished your thought.”

“That’s because it’s supposed to be a surprise, cyare.” Jango replies with a roll of his eyes, even as he laces his fingers with yours and pulls your joined hands to his lips.

“Yes, but I hate surprises. They tend to involve me getting shot at.”

He laughs, a warm and open sound that makes you smile up at him, “Not this one. I promise.”

He leads you down a stone pathway, and you do have to admit the ambience here is rather nice, even if you aren’t, quite, dressed for the occasion. It’s hot, for one, and though the white sandy beaches and the clear blue ocean are lovely, you’re not sure that the sand will agree with your armor.

Or his, for that matter.

Jango guides you to a decently sized bungalow, “Here we are. Our home away from home for the next month.”

You blink at the building, and then up at him, “We’re staying here?”

“Yup.”

“Are there even any other people on this island?” You ask, bemused, as he leads you towards the house.

“Not a one.” He grins at you, “It’s just you and me.”

“Oh.” You breathe out, “I thought this was a job, but it’s a vacation, isn’t it?”

“I did promise you one, didn’t I?” He pushes open the door, and picks up a note sitting on a nearby table, “So, we have two weeks of groceries, I’ll get a comm call before the next food delivery.”

You look around, and inhale deeply, the scent and sounds of the ocean filling you with a sense of peace you haven’t felt in ages, before you frown at him, “Jango, I don’t have any swimwear…or anything at all suited for this weather.”

“Lucky for you that I’m an expert planner, and ordered everything that you might need.” Jango nods towards the bedroom, “Go ahead and see.”

“Alright,” You turn towards the bedroom, and push the door open. The room is large and open, and you note that there’s a sliding glass door that leads you to an outdoor shower, but it also looks like it leads right to the water too.

You take a moment to tug your armor off, neatly setting everything on the bed, before you start opening drawers. The top drawer is dedicated to bathing suits. So you grab one and hold it up. All bikinis, not that you’re surprised, in a wide array of colors, and all of them are impossibly skimpy.

You grin, you really shouldn’t be surprised. Jango, after all, has never been shy about wanting to see you in less. 

Slowly you trail your fingers over the flimsy material, your head tilting to the side as you listen to Jango move around the house, and a mischievous smile crosses your face. 

Quickly, you pull off your bodysuit and your undergarments, tossing everything to the side to be dealt with later, and pull on the bikini.

It fits perfectly, though you’d have been surprised if it hadn’t, and was a lot strappier than you first thought. Tight spandex crisscrosses your entire body, and you hope that Jango got sunblock, or else you’re going to have the stupidest tan lines-

You open the closet and see that it has a few dresses, but much more importantly, there are sandals lining the bottom of the closet. You grab a pair that matches the bathing suit and then step into the hall.

“Jango?”

“In the kitchen!” Jango replies, and you follow the sound of his voice, “It looks like they left recipe cards for some of these meals,” He adds, lowering his voice when he hears you entering the kitchen, “Which is good, because I don’t think I’ve ever heard of some of these thing-” He finally turns to look at you and he stops mid-sentence, his gaze dropping to your bikini clad body.

“Well,” You ask, with a wide grin, “How do I look?”

“Amazing. I knew that would look amazing on you.” Jango replies as he takes a step closer to you and reaches out to brush his fingers along your side. He’s removed his armor at some point, but you decide it’s not important at the moment.

You dance just out of his reach, and Jango releases a frustrated little groan, “Babe-”

You grin as you remain just out of reach, “You know, I’m pretty sure I saw a cabana outside,” You muse thoughtfully, “And I do deserve a vacation-” You take a step back, “I think I’m going to go and lay under the cabana. I’m sure I have a book or two that I can read.”

Jango’s eyes glitter, “Wouldn’t you rather stay inside, in the air conditioning, with me?” He offers, very, very temptingly.

“Hm…tempting, but no. You can come and join me outside, if you like though.” You step closer to him and drag one painted nail down his chest, and only stop once you reach the waist of his bottoms, “I’m sure you bought yourself some swimwear too?”

“I did,” Jango’s voice is soft, and a little breathless.

Your smile is blinding, “Then you can join me outside.” You step back again, and turn to flounce out the room, and you muffle a giggle when you hear him groan.

You make your way to the cabana, kicking your sandals off as you settle on the plush bed, and stretch out. Shielded from the sun, and with a clear view of the ocean and probably sunset, you feel positively spoiled.

Jango joins you not long after, wearing a matching pair of swim trunks, and holding two towels, which he tosses over one of the chairs, “Well now, aren’t you a vision?” He says lazily as he lifts his comm to snap a holo of you.

You grin at him and move to sit prettily on your knees, not quite posing for him, but not quite not posing for him either. And your grin widens when you hear the sound of him taking another photo.

“You like what you see, Jango?” You tease.

“Always.” His voice has taken on a husky quality, “Why don’t you take that top off and show off those pretty tits of yours, cyare?”

You smile at him consideringly, “I have a better idea,” You finally decide, “Come here, Jango.” It’s a request

He obeys you like it’s an order, and he doesn’t hesitate to cross the small space to stand next to the bed, and you move to sit on your knees at the edge of the bed, and he places his hand on the top of your head, “You going to take me in your mouth, cyare?”

You hum and lightly trail your fingers across his stomach and to his hips, “If you don’t mind.”

“Have I ever?”

“There’s a first time for everything,” You reply lightly, as you hook your fingers in the band of his swimsuit and wait for him to give his permission. As soon as it’s given, you gently slide them down his legs, and Jango kicks them to the side.

Jango’s cock is long and thick, and is already so very hard. You lean in and press a feather light kiss against the weeping tip, “You’re already so hard,” You murmur lightly.

“Course I am, it’s you.” He replies easily, and then a low groan falls from him as you lick a strip down the length of his cock and then back up. You know how he likes to be touched after all. “You know what I really want, though, cyare?” He murmurs through a moan as you take the head of his cock between your lips and suck gently.

“What’s that?” You ask, as you pull away and lazily take him in hand and start a slow, teasing, pace.

“You.” His gaze is dark with desire. “Want you to ride me, cyare. Want you to ride me while I record it.”

Your hand pauses and desire shoots to your core.

“Mm, I know you like being recorded, cyare.” He murmurs, “Especially since you know I’ll use the recordings when I’m missing you.”

On one hand, you really want to give him a blow job. On the other hand, his offer sounds amazing-

Jango grins, knowing he’s already won, “Come on, cyare. Get up. Get naked. Want you to put on a show for me. Can you do that, baby?”

Your face heats with slight embarrassment, and you slowly release him, “How much of a show do you want?”

Heat flares in his dark eyes, “Everything, cyare. Give me everything,”

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 1]

Much more recently written fanfic I started to distract myself from the "mild" trauma of Season 2 finale based on ideas that wouldn't work for "Rough Stuff". This fic is absolutely RIFE with my personal headcanons. Clones deserved so much better, and I will be a giant mess when I get to Pong Krell in TWC as I have since started rewatching it.

Warnings & Information: Intended audience is 13+, 18 if you squint. Hurt+comfort material primarily; there is still a fair amount of angst, fluff, and all the good stuff. Reader has she/her pronouns. We really like italics in this house. Peep this for funsies for why I decide to use Mando'a. By no means comprehensive, in no particular order there will be: Mild injury description + care, blood, vague medical terminology (read as: pretending to understand medical stuff), use of restraints, needles (autoinjectors), near-death(s), nausea and non-descriptive mentions of vomit, Star Wars swearing, drugs (both medical and recreational references), minor adult themes + implications, avoidant behaviors, trickery and light mean teasing in the forms of siblings and crushes. 

Series-inaccurate allusions to Crosshair never leaving Bad Batch post Order 66 execution [because while this is an AU fic, I am also very much an Avoidant Mess™], Batchers never meet Cid, fair chance of misremembering any referenced events from TCW series. Series accurate allusions and references to canon violence (AKA: literal war crimes, weapon injuries, etcetera).  

Word-count: 4,637

She couldn't remember the last time she had a really, really bad day outside of her medical clinic. There was a tip-off that an abandoned medical center on a neighboring mining planet within the system had supplies too tantalizing to ignore. Valuable paraphernalia that was being phased out by this emerging Empire, ripe for the taking. Did the mining company really have to build this settlement on the steepest face of the mountain? No, they probably didn't realize how unstable, unsafe and ultimately unsuitable this location was while they riddled the inside of the mountain with tunnels as they harvested precious ore and minerals. This was a boomtown and it had completed two of the three strikes typical of such: strike it rich, strike it fast, strike it down. The people living and working here had to abandon it in a hurry before they demoed the place. This mining company hadn't done their proper research and now the shells of their temporary structures were all that remained. 

But a scrappy little scavenger had found the medical center was still fairly flush with supplies and let the first medic who was willing to help them with their injuries know about the score. 'It'll be dangerous. If you're going, tell a friend so they know to come looking for you if you don't get back after a certain time. But these items are pre-Empire, they aren't making them like that anymore, so you'll want these. Trust me. I think you'll find them worth the risk of a rock slide or two.' 

It. Was. Not. Not really, anyways.

She was just glad to be home now. Put the day behind her. No more rock slides. No more rusted shells of buildings that made for excellent deathtraps. No more falling halfway down the mountain she climbed up in the descent to her ship in the foothills and losing almost every last med supply she came with after slipping on a patch of loose, fine-grain sand just after navigating the maze of the medical center. She had to hobble down the rest of the mountain with nothing to clean out the open wounds and prayed to everything and anything that she didn't contract something that had leached into the rock as the by-products of mining and refinery. She had to stumble into her ship and send a message to her back-up at home that she was 'hurt pretty kriffing bad' but alive and would be back planet-side after dinner; don't wait up for me, I'm too damn tired to swing by after all. Tell the others I'm sorry.

Her instructors in med school would be having a conniption if they saw the way she had tended her wounds so lazily and would never let her hear the end of it for the juvenile, sloppy attempt to bandage the laceration on her dominant arm, but she was too tired to care. (But if she ever saw that scavenger again, she'd kill them for failing to mention several things. The collapsing roof in the west stock room, for starters.) She'd deal with it all properly in the morning. She just wanted to sleep after sucking down two tubes of nutrient paste and a mixed handful of painkillers and antibiotics to ward away pain and infection.

She picked up her datapad one last time and hissed a deliberate dictation into the mic after tugging the knot to the wrapping one last time for good measure. "I'll deal with that bantha fodder in the morning… Home safe. Going to bed. Goodnight." 

She'd accidentally sent it to the wider group beyond the singular contact when five messages popped up in short succession. 

Glad you're home safe. Sleep well, kid. 

likewise

GOODNIGHT!:)

Yes, goodnight. 

We'll see you in the morning, burc'ya. 

Hopefully she'd feel well-rested with the sunrise. Crawling into her bed, she dropped heavily on her side and clutched a well worn Tooka doll in her favorite colors named after her very first childhood pet to her chest as she drew the covers up over her shoulders. Maker, she was so tired. It wouldn't take long before sleep came for her, feeling the first beckoning pulls on her eyelids after just a few moments. 

Her comms gave a harsh screech, jolting her awake in her bed. Just when she had drifted off… This better be important. An actual karking emergency. Someone who had her personal frequency had better be dying if they were contacting her. "What."

There was a lot of shuffling and keypad beeping on the other end of the comms channel, but no one spoke right away. Just when she was about to either call out a hello? or simply disconnect her comlink, she heard someone speak up. Clone Sergeant Hunter. "Tech is this really necessary to keep the-"

"If we want an accurate oral temperature, yes." 

There was a groan over the channel, then the sharp rustle as the comms got bumped or adjusted in Hunter's hand. "Well the longer I have it in my mouth the closer I feel to gaggin-"

She shot upright in her bunk, slightly grossed out and confused all at once. "What the kriff are you-!?"

The two Clones on the other end of the comlink gave their own startled shouts, realizing they had a disembodied voice suddenly joining their company. "[____]! How-?" 

She was quick to cut Tech off, pulling the comlink closer to her face to amplify her furious tone of voice. "Did one of you seriously call me - in the middle of a medical check - when I'm trying to sleep!" 

"Sorry, [____]." Hunter mumbled shamefully. "Must have switched on my comlink by mistake… Didn't mean to disturb you when I know you've had a hard day." What an understatement, Hunter. The impulsive venom in her mouth was hard to hold back, encouraged by her frustrations and discomforts bubbling over. "Hard day made harder thanks to you." She regretted it in a heartbeat. Thank the Maker the enhanced Clone wasn't in the room with her; he'd probably have been able to hear the way it skipped a beat if he was able to sense the beginnings of seismic activity, smell the way she felt her body begin to shiver in a forming, cold stress-sweat as the shame of her anger washed over her. 

"You're right: let me make it up to you." 

She was told to come over to the Batch's housing. Crosshair opened the blastdoor for her before she even had a chance to knock to avoid waking anyone sleeping if she used the buzzer. "He'll be in the main area."

"What, no "Hello, taking care of yourself like I told you to?" tonight, Cross? Even as a joke, after the day I've been having, to lighten the mood?" 

There was a half-hearted scoff (or maybe that was a soft laugh) from the Clone at this."That's more Wrecker's thing," Cross drawled in a casual voice around a toothpick, sidestepping to let her squeeze inside, "and I'm not really interested in pretending I can't see that you are not taking care of yourself."

"No, of course not Mr. Sharp-eyed, Snarky Sniper. 'Cause I fall down the mountains of abandoned mining settlements for kriffing fun." 

If Cross was phased by the uncharacteristic anger of the medic tonight, he didn't really show it. Just a little twitching pull of his upper lip on one side and half-lidded eyes that betrayed a bit of amusement and disappointment. "Mmp. C'mon, kid. I'll see if I can't find a half-decent ration bar somewhere around here for you." 

"Not hungry, Cr-"

"Don't care." He interrupted in a brusque tone, not giving her the opportunity for excuses. Crosshair was the kinda guy who didn't like excuses, either in giving or getting, and could be quick to shut that kriff down. It was refreshing sometimes, but tonight it was just another mild annoyance of [____]'s day. 

Whatever. She was going to go find Hunter where Cross said he'd be rather than waiting around in the entryway forever. "Skipping meals again, are we burc'ya?" As a medic, she often missed out on a meal or two while she was aiding the galaxy's sick and injured, and the unintentional habit carried over when she wasn't at the clinic. Something that made her friends fret over her like this. "For once I had all three meals. Only thing I swear went right today…" There was a pause as the medic heard a comment from the small kitchen on the left from the common room and she added with a gentle sigh, "aside from not breaking any bones during that nasty fall, too I guess." 

Hunter looked relieved and genuinely proud of her, sincerely surprised she wasn't tired and hungry like many nights in the past. Crosshair just turned on his heel back into the kitchen unit without breaking his stride, after a little shuffling around in the cabinets [____] could hear the sink running. "Well that's… good! Proud of you, kid." 

"...Than-"

Cross set the glass of water he'd filled for her in lieu of the ration bar down on a low table in the common room in the middle of the light conversation she was having with Hunter. "Here. I'll leave you two to it. Goodnight."

"U-um, thanks, Cross. Goodnight…" Cross nodded nonchalantly at her, next turning to his brother, who was quick to avoid his eyes before Crosshair just turned and left the two of them. Leave you two to it, what did he mean by that that had Hunter looking so nervous with a wave of color creeping up his neck from under the collar of a fresh nightshirt? "What's going on, Hunter? Do I need to be worried about something? Something show up on the health check? Do you need some nysillin tea or- s-something?" 

Hunter shook his head, a tender, reassuring (and touched) smile slowly building. You could take the doctor out of the clinic, but you couldn't stop her from thinking about her job. "Nothing's wrong, k'uur... Just thought I was feeling a little under the weather, but I'm perfectly fine. It's nothing more than just making it up to you after waking you. Plus, for once, you won't have to patch your own wounds. Why not have someone take care of you the same way you take care of others?" It was the same thing he'd said to her at the end of their first of many interactions in this seedy little travel-hub. The time she'd undoubtedly saved Crosshair's life after he'd picked up a nasty little parasite while slogging through the swamps of some distant planet. Kashyyyk? It was probably Kashyyyk. 

[____] was in a sour arrangement then with some smugglers with hair-trigger tempers to come and go as they pleased with her small clinic, and these Clones had been kind to remove the problem clientele "with discretion" as a way of paying her back. She'd saved their "stubborn vod". They saved her and now trusted her to treat their injuries no matter the cause, turning up at odd hours for the oddest of injury or malady. Complete faith in her in a hostile galaxy who now wanted… whatever it is they wanted with these Clones. She didn't ask. She didn't want to know. 

She'd heard the stories from those who fled the war encroaching nearly every part of the galaxy. She'd heard of the war crimes, seen the horror and gore and bloodshed step into at least two of the medical centers she once worked in… known of an Order 66 and what became of much, if not all, of the Jedi… She didn't want to know. They often didn't want to tell, beyond giving vague recollections when they were making arrangements for short-term prescriptions for sleeping supplements with the medic when the nightmares were overwhelming. 

Much like scouting the abandoned medical facility in an old mining boomtown for various 'sillin supplies, life seldom goes the way you wish. 

"C'mere, ad'ika. Let's get you patched up." He patted the space beside him on the couch in invitation, pulling a medkit closer with the other hand all while looking at her with the same softness he often reserved for his sister. When [____] first met him, she could have sworn Omega was his daughter. "Unless you're not okay with that." Hunter added, addressing her hesitation he could hear in the rhythm of her pulse, her heart. 

"I'm fine with it… just really tired and brain's kinda closing shop for the night. Sorry." Taking the seat indicated, [____] sunk back into the furniture, sighing. She didn't want to bring up why she was hesitating on him. He carried enough guilt as a participant in the old GAR… Hunter broke the seal on the new packet of medical tools, prepping everything he thought he'd need. "Don't be, ad'ika. Now, have you taken something for the pain already?" 

"Rhetorical question for a medic, don't you think?" The tired, teasing question was met with a single chuckle. He knew she would have, he was just making small talk. "Anything else? Ask me if I'm taking any other kind of stim packs, or maybe I should lie about eating all my recommended fruits and vegetables?" It was a laugh from Hunter this time, deep and hearty and genuine from his chest. 

"Are you?" Picking up a pre-moistened cleaning wipe from the little packet within the medkit, Hunter removed the sloppy wrappings around her dominant arm that [____] had applied before trying to call it a day and properly deal with everything in the morning. Dried smears of red lay underneath the gauze, something that made Hunter's gut drop slightly. Either she had done an uncharacteristically poor job cleaning her injuries, or these were more intensive than believed and they were slow-bleeders that hadn't scabbed over completely. 

"Tck…Can't say I'm any better than most of my patients, if I'm honest." Hunter hummed slightly, gingerly blotting along the length of the mild laceration. It had to have been an unpleasant injury after losing all her emergency supplies and nothing to ease it right away until she stumbled back to her ship. It looked fairly deep to him, but couldn't be certain. "Mmh! That stings." 

"'It's supposed to, little guy. Means it's working.' I swear Cross could have killed you with a look if the parasite wasn't actively killing him over being called a little guy like he was a kid." 

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Tech." [____] half-heartedly mocked Hunter's sharp recollection of their first encounter, trying to stifle a coming yawn. That time felt so long ago now; longer than it actually was. "I was only trying to keep him calm and comfortable. I see a lot of children at my clinic so it's a habit I've de-developed… excuse me, sorry about that. People… don't exactly love doctors." 

Hunter paused mid-blot, giving her a firm look to show her he was serious. Something in Hunter didn't like the way she'd said it, it didn't sit right with him. "Nonsense, cyar'ika. People love doctors; they just don't love going to them. Big difference. Trust me." Trust me like I trust you he wanted to say. He wouldn't. He believed it was mutually understood, no need for explicitly stating so (partly an old habit in thanks to how he communicated with many a vod during the war). "People…" Hunter tried further explaining, leaving out the "like us" he again believed didn't need to be said "...might be embarrassed, or fearful, or worried about going to the medic, but they understand they need to go because the medics will be able to make them better. They don't hate the doctor; they hate the doctor's office…" Hunter paused, digesting his own words with a questioning expression as he set aside the pre-moistened wipe, now soiled. "Now of course I think I just sound like I'm condescendingly explaining your own job to you." 

"Heh. Don't worry about it. Too tired to care," the weary medic offered with a reassuring smile, leaning into the backrest of the couch with a slowing blink-rate. "I'm just more concerned about staying awake, while I'm the patient for once, for you." 

For you. Something about it was unintentionally sweet to Hunter and made something within him flutter for a moment. That was happening a lot lately, every time he thought of her. He kept chalking it up to his enhancements and memories of the Kaminoans testing him and the others that remained of the experimental unit, the sharp sterility of antiseptic that lingered in her clinic and her clothing and her hair that sometimes turned his stomach, or simply a disconnected unfamiliarity with those who were not Clones… though, while perhaps he never felt truly connected with them and the way some called them the 'Sad Batch' (or called Omega a lab scabber) when they thought they could get away with it, they had still been his brothers in arms in the war.

A war they were still running from. One they nearly lost Crosshair to after 'things went screwy on Kaller' as Wrecker put it once. What an understatement… if Hunter hadn't been so insistent with the Shock Troopers down in the brig that the Batch stayed together to the point that they tased Hunter to shut him up instead of extracting Cross, then Crosshair likely would have been siphoned off to some corner of Tipoca City and had the activation of his inhibitor chip nudged along into unpleasant possibilities Hunter had nightmares about in addition to so many things he'd seen… done, during the Clone Wars. It'd been difficult, and he'd hated part of himself for it, but as they made their initial escape from Kamino, he threatened to stun Crosshair if he didn't kriffing shut up about following orders they didn't even understand for five minutes! so hard he wouldn't wake up until they reached the next star system. 

There had been so much bickering. They still bickered even after Captain Rex got in touch with them, somehow, after they left Saleucami visiting the Lawquane family (which had been tricky and Tech worked the loophole that Crosshair could not report Cut for desertion because it had been the GAR when he went AWOL and now it no longer existed, it was the Empire now, right? half to death before Crosshair reluctantly let it be), and they got their chips removed in the rusted out shell of a Venator on Bracca and had been lured into a trap set by Tarkin back on Kamino. Because if Tarkin could not have this SpecOps force, nobody in the galaxy could; he'd aimed to wipe them out and they'd narrowly avoided being swallowed in the eternal seas of the closest thing they had to a homeworld. 

It took a long time for the bickering to stop. They were at their throats for a while still until… Crosshair had gotten really, really sick. 

That's what led to this friendship with a medic who had been willing to help them nearly a year ago. Though lately, it was feeling… different.

"Hey…" [____] broke the building silence while Hunter had been searching for a bacta patch, and Hunter initially worried he'd done something to tip her off to the personal burdens, the memories, he shouldered. "...weird question for ya, if that's okay." 

"How weird?" Hunter tried, careful not to let the hesitancy and budding anxieties show in his voice. There's the karking things. He'd probably need a couple of them to make sure he had it covered so it would heal up nicely, quickly.

"Oh, not very. I just wanna pick your brain a bit." 

Ah. Just curiosity. He affixed the first patch over the first half of the laceration, careful not to prod the bruised flesh with unnecessary pressure. "Alright, pick away." 

"What is… your favorite memory? When you're having a bad day… what's the thing you think about that always cheers you up?"

"Heh… your day was really that bad that you're looking for advice from a soldier, doc?" Hunter teased, applying a second patch over the laceration. He wasn't sure what he could truthfully answer with while he was carefully measuring out a length of sterile gauze to hold the patches in place on her dominant arm, there being too many little, fleeting happy moments rather than significant memories to spin some story from. But he'd try. "I guess for me… it's less what I think of and more of what I do after a bad mission. Clean my gear. Tidy up my rack. Buff out my helmet-" 

The medic smirked, a solitary, quiet laugh interrupting Hunter's train of thought. 

Oh, Maker… he'd forgotten the suggestive context behind the phrase she often heard in the infancy of her profession in the midst of the Clone Wars. He'd heard she'd get the stray Clone on occasion at the large health center she was employed at once on a different planet but didn't know how much truth there was to it. "K'uur: that was not a euphemism." 

That was met with a nervous giggle that made his stomach flutter. "S-sorry; old habits, and a non-professional setting where I can actually laugh." [____] offered meekly, face flushing with color while he wound the wrapping around her forearm. "C-continue, Hunter, please. 'Buff out your helmet' and...?" The unspoken what else on her tongue was permission enough to show she was serious about him continuing. 

"And… check in with the others, I suppose. Make sure that everyone is okay. Spend time with them. Strengthen personal bonds."

A lot like what the two of them were doing now, he supposed. The unintentional check in. Taking care of her injuries while they sat side by side in the common room as the rest of the Batch were sleeping. Except maybe for Tech who often tinkered away on his datapad or the desk he'd squeezed into the room he shared with Wrecker (who wasn't bothered by a roommate with a propensity to dink around with some little gadget or piece of equipment when he was sleeping or resting) at these hours. Or Crosshair, who was often awake and asleep around the same times Hunter was, since they'd have muffled "conversations" through the walls when neither could sleep on occasion. But all was relatively still and quiet in each of his brother's rooms, and the steady rumble of the noise machine in Omega's room meant his sister was asleep. 

Drumming rain and swirling waves. The perpetual ambiance of Kamino. He hoped the little machine replicating the soundscape engrained in her memories wouldn't cause her to dream of the Venator class ships bombing the cloning facilities tonight… 

While Hunter had been lost in his senses, his worries, the medic had been busy mulling over his words. There was a ghost of a smile taking the place of the pained frown she previously bore. "That all sounds… really nice."

The last injury tended to, Hunter set everything aside and gave [____]'s shoulder a tender double-pat, feeling the tense muscles under his hand as he held his hand there after the friendly gesture. "There you go, ad'ika. All patched up." 

"Thanks, appreciate the help Hunter. Could I… trouble you a little further by crashing here for the night? I don't think I'm in a fit state to get back home around now. Far, far too tired." It was definitely not a safe time for a woman to be walking by herself without a blaster, nevermind a tired, injured woman who'd been an invaluable friend to Clone Force 99. He'd never have sent her home to begin with, giving how deeply her chin dipped into her chest with fatigue. "No trouble at all; you're welcome to take my bed, if you want." Hunter offered, giving her shoulder a friendly squeeze. He'd sleep out here in the common room so none of his brothers would get any funny ideas if both he and the medic emerged from the smallest of all the bedrooms in the housing together. 

Why the Sith's hells did he just think that?

[____] winced in mild complaint, laugh laced with pain. "Ow, that's quite a grip there, soldier!" 

"Sorry," he apologized, "didn't realize how hard it'd be. You carry a lot of stress and tension in your shoulders, ad'ika… I can feel how stiff your muscles are. I… have some experience with providing some relief for that, thanks to all the practice I've had with Wrecker and Tech. Tech's posture is a mess-" He rolled the palm of his hand against her shoulder experimentally, gauging the pliability of the tensest muscle, and she leaned into it eagerly with a whimpering 'oh, Maker…!' surprising even herself. Hunter decided he'd stubbornly pretend not to imagine how not-so-innocent the sound was, to keep talking about his brothers and ignore the heat in his lower belly, another flutter of his heart. "Tech spends hours hunched over his datapad, or some little gadget, or spends hours in those rigid crash seats in the Marauder with his muscles wound so tight he's practically locked in place. Wrecker takes such a beating each mission it's just… uh,"

"A w-way of taking care of him afterwards?" She helped him where he faultured. 

"Yeah. That's one part of it. Here, turn so I can get both shoulders." He had her melting under his touch quickly, the practically unhurried worship in this massage he was working into the medic's shoulders, neck, and the dominant arm. The muscles were so stiff and taut under her skin, under his ungloved hands. They were afraid to speak and break the reverence of this moment, the silent work of friend helping friend between each little involuntary sound of great relief or wince of brief pain as each tight, brow-bunching knot slowly surrendered. Her breathing pattern slowed as every minute elapsed between them beyond the gentle moans of relief as Hunter methodically kneaded the muscle free of tension with dexterous fingers. He wouldn't need to dig in so deeply like taking care of Wrecker's messes of well-defined muscle, for which he was grateful, to make any kind of progress, or go so tenderly to start with like he has to for Tech (on occasion) that the goggled Clone sometimes became a little impatient because he wasn't feeling any external relief. He could dip his fingers just a little deeper and just a little shallower, like those perpetual waves of Kamino replicated on Omega's sound machine, as he worked one muscle at a time for the unlikely friend who sat with him on the couch. 

It felt roughly the same to strengthening the bonds of the squad to Hunter, but again there was that fluttering in his heart that suggested this was so very different when he realized that when he moved back to [____]'s neck one last time, at her asking, and planted one of his palms on the opposite side of her face to keep her steadied as he dug little circles around the tight muscles under the base of her skull with his thumb that she took one last deep breath and was soon asleep in half a heart's beat between them. 

Hunter froze as he was, face hot in panic with the reality that he was now entirely supporting, for the moment, a female friend who was upright and asleep in his hands. Not knowing what to do just as the medic became more limp, he effectively locked himself in place when, on reflex, he caught her upper body against his before lowering it into his lap. A move he'd done a hundred times when one of the squad was this close to fainting out in the field.

Oh, you're kidding me… why the kriff did I do that?

[MASTERLIST] [NEXT]

[honeybewrites]

Writing Share/WIP Wednesday Tag

Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tag and @the-golden-comet for the tag!! I'm using this for my Wednesday posting schedule. Two birds, one stone, all of that.

Rules: share some writing!

I recently redid Rage and 703's first interaction and figured I'd post that! I think I've posted some snippets from it before, but this is the "full" scene, or at least until a scene change. Or I decide to rewrite it again...

Anyway! Hovering at about 1k, so a little long, but most of my posts are haha! Enjoy :D

The projections suddenly disappeared, vanishing like ghosts. Taking off the headset, there was no one else in the training cube. She knew better than to think it was a malfunction. No. Her training had been stopped for a reason. Taking off the rest of the gear, she set everything aside, standing and waiting in the center of the small room. Hands clasped behind her. Back straight, staring ahead mutely. Waiting for whoever would deliver her next orders. Two minutes later, she heard Master Gerd’s footsteps. Followed by another pair she didn't know. The steps were heavy, long strides. Highly likely to be another male, though not a Master she was familiar with. The door to the cube opened. Master Gerd walked in, followed by a man. He was tall. Well built. Not as old as Master Gerd, but at least middle aged. Suntanned skin, white and gray shoulder length hair pulled back in a bun. A goatee completed the look. He didn’t wear the standard Mors black suit, but his clothes were certainly expensive and protective. The intricate knife on his belt and bulging bag with the Mirralian government insignia told her he was a respectable figure. One that was well above herself. But his eyes… they were like brewing storm clouds. Dark, dark gray, with a hint of white lightening when the light hit them right. Only there was no ferocity in them. They were gentle. Like soft rain in early spring. It was odd, to see that gentleness in a man’s eyes. What was more strange, was the fact he smiled upon entering the room. One that reached his eyes. Perhaps there was something wrong with him. What man would smile upon seeing her? Other than a perverted one she was tasked with seducing. Though his smile didn’t look like a perverted one. “She’s efficient. Loyal. Well trained and obedient. She won’t be near as difficult as your last Asset,” Master Gerd said to the man before turning to her. “Due to your increased injuries and… questionable mission tactics, you are being assigned a field handler.” She had become more careless in her missions. Leaving more messes and bodies behind. Coming back bloodier each time. Master Gerd had been growing more frustrated with it. Especially over her lack of tidiness. He’d said as much. Repeatedly. He couldn’t punish her directly for it, since she completed her missions effectively, but that hadn’t stopped him from finding other things to punish her for. The message was still clear. The momentary death and reviving needed after her last mission must have been the final straw. Though assigning her a field handler seemed a bit… unorthodox. She had grown more messy, true, but her completion rate had skyrocketed. She was completing missions normally reserved for squads or duos, alone, well under the allowed timeframe. Especially compared to before… no. Those weren’t things she should be thinking about. It wasn’t her place to question orders. She was trained to follow them. Nothing more. “This is Master Ronan Airvix. You will treat him with proper respect and you will obey his orders, just as you do mine. If I hear of disobedience, there will be serious consequences, is that understood?” “Yes sir,” she said listlessly. “You’ve been assigned another mission. Debrief and objective has been sent to your comm. Airvix will be accompanying you. You leave tomorrow morning.” “Yes sir.” He turned back to Master Airvix, waving a hand in her direction. “Do what you will with her until then. She’ll comply. Though try not to do too much damage to her before departure.” Master Airvix laughed. Forced and uncomfortable. “Of course. Anything I need to know about her history?” “Her file has been sent to you. If you have further questions you may ask Healer Asurr, myself, or her if you wish. Though she likely won’t know the answers you want. She’ll need three hours before departure to prepare her gear and stop in Physical for her pre-check.” “Right, got it.” Master Gerd left without another word. The door didn’t make a sound as it closed behind him. Leaving Master Airvix and her alone.

She kept her position. Waiting for his instructions. “I know Gerd introduced me as ‘Master Ronan Airvix’ but you can just call me Rage.” He chuckled a little. Hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Most people do. Nickname I earned myself in healing school. Uh, what else? Oh, I’m Mirralian, certified healer, and uh, I’m blind. Wasn’t born blind, result of an accident, but I’ve learned to live with it. Doesn’t stop me from ‘seeing’ and it’s helpful at times. What about you? What’s your name?” “Asset 703,” she said.  She wasn’t quite sure what to make of his little rambling about himself. Perhaps he just liked to hear himself talk? No. That didn’t seem to fit his personality. It seemed to make him uncomfortable if anything. So why would he bother? “Well, yeah I know your number, but what’s your name?” “Asset 703,” she repeated. This must be some kind of test. She didn’t have a name. Or at least, she wasn’t supposed to. Her number was all the identification she needed. Master Gerd had punished her many times when he caught her responding to a name.  Her name would never be spoken aloud again. It would remain buried deep in the crevices of her mind. Right next to the memories of them. She would keep those memories safe. Far out of the reach of the Mors. It was the only thing she had left to remember them by.  “Don’t the other Assets call you something else?” He asked. Brow scrunched. Frowning. “I’ve seen them call each other names before.” Many of the Assets did have names for each other. Most of the Masters didn’t mind. Even Master Gerd turned a blind eye to it.  But they were just Assets. She was different.  The other Assets didn’t talk to her, nor she them. If she was assigned a mission with them, they avoided her. She returned the favor and kept to herself. She was well aware her presence was unnatural. Disorienting. Unfavorable. There was no need for her to be close with anyone. She had learned her lesson on relationships well. Never again. “I go by A-703.” He shrugged. Eyeing her oddly, but otherwise accepting the answer. “Gerd said you have to report to Physical for a pre-check?” “Yes sir.” “Er, you don’t have to call me ‘sir.’ Rage is just fine, really.”  Was this some other test? To make sure she showed him the proper respect? Did she continue addressing him as Master Airvix and disrespect his wish? Or did she address him as Rage as he asked her too and disregard proper honorifics and manners? Either way could be perceived as insubordination.  “Might as well go to Physical now if you’re done here. I need a few things from them and I want to know you resting levels.” He started walking towards the door, talking still. She followed. “Gerd had mentioned something about you having genetic altercations? Something about Asurr working with you?” “Healer Asurr is my primary healer.” They were far more than her primary healer. She was still unsure how much information this man was granted. If he was digging for information, and he used it, linking it back to her, Master Gerd would have a serious punishment for her. It would be best if she remained quiet. Observed. Until Master Gerd had given her clearer instructions.

First off, tagging @nczaversnick @yourpenpaldee @wyked-ao3 @elsie-writes and anyone else who wants to hop on!!

And because I'm doing this for my posting schedule, I'm using my tag list. You guys don't have to hop on the game if you don't want, but if you do, consider yourself tagged!

If anyone wants to be added/subtracted from the tag list, you can comment or DM me!

General Tag: @orions-quill @fractured-shield @anaisbebe

EoWC Tag: N/A

[nahisummerhold]

Not All Losses Are The Same

Wiping sweat from her face, Nahi made her way back to the camp. It was no wonder she got odd reactions from the people of Dornogal, she was the crazy woman running up and down stairs late at night. Sleeping was a luxury that had yet to grace the performer, so exhaustion was the next best thing, at least exhausted she could relax, trying to make herself sleep was an impossibility. Not only was she used to keeping bar hours but her life was turned on its head, and only bats could sleep upside down.

The evening had offered her a chance to connect finally with Fio, Dice and Kai, it made her feel a little less alone. It was odd, feeling alone, she spent years cultivating a lifestyle that had her excluding most people, and yet it was now that she was in a group of mostly strangers that she was experiencing the sensation of isolation. Meeting Stellan had been interesting, there was an edge of dark humor to him that made her a little uncomfortable considering the subject, yet she didn’t really mind it. Life around her wasn’t exactly comfortable in any way so it fit right in with all she was feeling. 

Dalaran had been discussed, but she wasn’t really sure how to work through all the losses in her life, so the topic was like a bee circling around her and she was standing perfectly still hoping it would just go away and spare her the sting. She was glad that at least some people she knew, like this group, were alive, the thought of all those she would never see again, or the things she would never see again, made a knot form in her throat that felt like she couldn’t swallow past iit. This had been a constant companion since Dalaran was lost. If she was honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she would feel comfortable for a very long time. The decision to join the mercenaries was probably good for her, when the ground shifts under your feet sometimes it was best to just dance along with it. Everything was moving in her life and this was just another shift in trying to find the tempo of this new chaos. Maybe that was why she had latched onto those text exchanges with Pathyn, it was a bit of comfort, he had been a constant in her life for a couple of years, even if the relationship had shifted so very recently.

When she talked about settling the score in her mind and Fio had questioned it Nahi had stumbled in her thoughts. How do you explain that music was so much of your life that you thought in it? The score was the flow of it in her thoughts, right now it sounded like an orchestra of children on their first week of practice, and Nahi needed to begin to mold that into a piece that might not be beautiful, but it would be ordered at least. 

Once she was settled in and finished stretching she picked up her comm and made a nightly check in. Nahi to Iren: How is my favorite step-father?

Iren: Missing his favorite daughter. Nahi: When mother is more settled. Is that going any better? Iren: Losing home has made her swings more drastic. I don’t know how she sensed the fall but… Everything is safe, right? Nahi: Yes, I got everything out that I could. Wish I could have taken the house itself for you.

Iren: You did what you could Nahi. Stop feeling guilty about this, you didn’t cause the fall.You got us into a new home and have taken care of all you could prepare for, except the fall itself. Have you found some new places to work? How is the apartment?

There, there was separation she was trying to avoid in her life, except this time she was hiding her family from what she was doing. Maybe she would never be able to really reconcile who she was. 

Nahi: The apartment is great, I got everything tucked in that I could. Little pieces of home, you know? Found some work, but not much for me to do yet. It is hard, war and all but I am sure everything will settle into a new pattern. You should get some sleep.

It was so much easier to obfuscate through text.

Iren: Your mother is struggling with a day to night schedule, so I am up with her as it is Ysoli’s night off. 

Nahi: I am sorry Iren. I would be there if I could.

Iren: Stop it. You can’t fix this and we all agreed this was the best for her. Once you reconcile that in your heart you will probably admit this will be good for you too.  Nahi: I should get some sleep, I want to work on some dance practice in the morning. Iren: Go daughter, I love you. I miss you, make us proud. Nahi: I love you too. Give mom a kiss from me, just don’t tell her it was.

Some losses were not from the fall.

( @fio-renze @dicenne @kaisinasunblade @inistellan for mentions @themercenaries )

[mooonjin]

Imma rant rant a sec. I never seen a Clone fic (or fic in general for that matter) where the reader is masculine but not a dude, and I even experience body and gender dysphoria sometimes bc of it (especiallywhen the reader is thin with long hair).

So if you don't mind helping a sad she/they masculine nb person out, could you right a Hunter or Tech x Masc!Reader fix where they save their man and he falls even more in love with them

Falling For You

Notes: hi anon!! first of all terribly sorry you had to wait for sososo long and second of all i hope this is kind of what you had in mind? thought captive x rescuer or whatever suited it and ALSO hope i did the masc thing okay !!

Pairing: Hunter x masc!f!reader

Summary: During a mission for Cid's client, the Batch is separated from their Sergeant and with quick thinking, you were bound to get him back. That was the seed for a new relationship.

Warnings/Tags: imperials, no y/n mentions, only one mention of your pronouns (i think) ⁠— tell me if I've missed anything!

Hunter had found himself separated from the Batch during a dangerous mission on a remote Imperial outpost. Another one of Cid's crazy clients that needed the groups help. Unfortunately, the "remote" outpost was, in fact, not remote as Cid specified. This resulted in Hunter's separation, pretty much fending for himself whilst the group trudged to the Marauder for a swift and hopefully safe pickup.

As he navigated the dingy corridors, there were several blaster fire echoing in the halls only a few blocks down the outpost. He was being hunted and being hunted fast. Every corner he turned, his head pounded, his sense constantly filled with energy that didn't seem to stop waning.

His instincts were sharp but there was an often thought that the odds were stacked against him.

"Keep low, these damned troops are always on our tails." Echo said sternly as the group, minus Hunter, ran down the dim corridors to find the Marauder.

"I am having difficulty tracking the Marauder with the rising energy from this outpost. Whatever Cid's client needed is certainly out of our reach."

Great, another problem. As you were running, you couldn't stop thinking if Hunter was alright. Obviously the Sergeant is capable of handling himself but his recent capture on Mt Tantiss didn't help these thoughts disappear. You had to swallow any response to do something foolish in order to go help Hunter. 

The sounds of alarm echoed throughout the outpost as Imperials gave chase, their footsteps pounding against the creaky, metal floors. Hunter was panting but keeping pace as blaster bolts whizzed past him. His enhanced senses allowed him to anticipate the movements of the pursuing stormtroopers, narrowly avoiding their shots and grenades.

He was also worrying about you and his brothers.

As you and the Batchers ran through the corridors of the outpost, you were nearing an eventual 100m vicinity to the Marauder. Worry settled like a heavy stone in your mind. You gave the group a proposition.

"I'll go get Hunter, we'll regroup on my comm signal." You said hastily, quickly dashing around a corner before anybody could protest.

"D'she really just leave?" Wrecker's confused voice spoke up.

Hunter found himself in another tight spot. Literally. With broken hallway doors, Hunter's way out grew thin. The constant noises of blaster fire continued to echo as Hunter maneuvered through the corridors and away from the Imperials, to no avail. 

Ultimately, he was cornered, the heavy footsteps of Imps surrounding him. Hunter attempted to calculate his next motive, the chance of being gunned down increased as more and more Imperials gathered like vultures. 

Many troopers ordered him to unarm himself, the growly, modulated voices ringing through the halls. He tightened his grip around his blaster before eventually dropping the gun to the floor, kicking it over with both hands in the air. 

The troopers tightened their encirclement around Hunter, grabbing both his wrists to cuff them. As they were about to move out, a sudden commotion echoed through the corridor. 

Then out came two rolling smoke bombs.

The canisters gave a quick hiss, spinning in circles as the air immediately filled with dense clouds of obscuring smoke. Three troopers guarded Hunter as blaster fire had erupted almost a second after, in an attempt to shoot down the sudden presence.

You.

You swiftly rolled into the clouds of smoke, pulling out your DC to gun down the three troopers surrounding Hunter. One of the Imps put up a fight but with a quick kick to the stomach and a trip to their ankle, they fell to the ground, a blaster hole sizzling on their back.

Hunter watched your agile figure take down the troops, caught in a trance. 

"It's good to see you." You unfastened the cuffs, in hopes not to waste time before the clouds began to dissipate. Multiple voices faded in and out, orders being thrown all over the place all because of your successful chaotic rescue.

Hunter was in hypnotised as you unfastened his cuffs. He looked at you through his drooping curls, admiring your facial features. The way you carried yourself with a quiet confidence, your every action purposeful and precise, left him in awe.

"Where are the others?" He rubbed his wrists before grabbing his DC off the ground to start shooting. The smoke clouds eventually disappeared, everybody being able to see everything as clear as day once again.

You grunted, taking down a troop, "Heading to the Marauder, we're regrouping on my comm signal."

Hunter gave a small smile amidst of the dangerous action, grinning at your consideration to come and rescue him. He was captivated by your aid and your selflessness. A tender affection blossoming, even in the middle of such a situation.

The two of you began your run to the extraction point as you leaped over fallen debris and ducked under busted pipes. You sprinted, briefly turning your head back to shoot at the tailing Imperials who were determined to capture you both. 

"Coming up on the extraction point, Tech!" You commed.

The corridor behind you was filled with white crusted Imperial armour of troopers, swarming the trail like hungry ants. Blue blaster fire flying past your heads, one actually hitting your shoulder.

"Agh!" With a grunt, your armour hissed at the burning shot. Hunter was quick to use himself as a meat shield from any other oncoming blaster fire that could affect you. He knew you could push through, he knew how strong you were and right now was not the time to stop and rest.

"You're okay, keep going." You could hear his deep, modulated voice behind you, causing you to form a small grin despite the pain.

The distant sound of engines grew louder as the both of you finally came up to the landing pads. 

With Hunter still running behind you, you grabbed his gloved hand, almost dragging him towards the Marauder. An evident blush on Hunter's face, although being hidden under his helmet. In the howling moments of escape, the two of you ran hand in hand towards the shuttle.

The stairs lowered, Crosshair standing with his rifle aimed at the Imperials trailing the two of you. He was your cover as the two of you boarded the Marauder. 

The shuttle was quick to leave the outpost, immediately entering hyperspace. You panted, blushing as you looked down to find your hand clasped in Hunter's. Embarrassed, you gently retracted your hand, taking your helmet off. 

You hissed, sitting down as Tech came over to inspect the blaster shot. Hunter took off his helmet, giving you a kind smile and a small nod of affection. He stole glances at your strong figure, still admiring your act of saving him from the wave of Imperials.

His heart became entangled in a web of admiration as you were being patched up. He'd like to think you took the shot for him, boosting the thought of unexpected love.

-

Post-Notes: currently constructing my masterlist and getting through all my requests!!

~ ~ ~

@elsastoes @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @imalovernotahater @backyard-bear @namesmox @jiabeewrites

my taglist form!

[eos-writes]

The Captain

We fell into Sublight speeds, the enemy troops hailing us with hundreds of thousands of voices. Our Weapons don’t stand a chance, no way to even activate them before an emp hits our shields. We are lucky, it doesn’t kill our most important systems, but it does kill our weapons and shields. They know we are now sitting ducks. We can’t speed up away from them, the forcefields keeping us in shooting distance.  

I look at captain Dartel. He is the first human Captain I’d seen and served under. Slightly biting at his thumb while all the transmissions are coming in at my station, me being the communications officer. The Cretiruna from the Battle stations are silently looking toward the captain too, knowing them they are already running all sorts of tactical scenarios in their head in which we are getting boarded. I connect to the telepathic network of the others of my species on board. We are almost sure that the highest possibility we still have for a successful mission is to send the message from here. 72% Chance of failing if we send now, 95% if we don’t send anything right now. 

“Captain.” I try to get Captain Dartels attention, ”Captain Dartel, if we send our message right now, we have the approximately highest chance that it gets through, shall I prepare the message?” I already start pulling out the message from the telepathic part of my mind. “No, don’t send it.” The strength and sincerity in the captains voice startles me. 

“Not?” I carefully ask, sending a telepathic question on how to notice if a human has gone haywire. His gaze, strong as I’ve never seen before, locked into one of mine. “No do not send it, I think I may have a plan.” With that said he turned around into his own little comms console. He activated the direct connection with engineering, asking loud enough for the entire bridge to hear, “Engineering? How much sublight power can you get me?” 

Engineering is also headed by a human. He isn’t quite as wise as our captain yet, so his voce is somewhat shaky as he answers, “Well I can get you up to light captain, if I guess correctly what you plan, but please don’t.” I don’t understand what he’s hinting at, and looking around I can clearly tell no one else knows what the humans are talking about. Captain Dartels slowly closes his eyes for but a second. “Don’t try to talk me out of it. Now begin charging the engines, I want a firework.” He turns to me “Ship wide, please.” I nod, opening the official telepathic paths as well as the technological paths for ship wide transmission of what the captain has to say now. 

“This is my last action as your captain, this is an order to abandon ship and to not give up any information to the enemy, even if there is a chance to finish the mission. Board the escape pods, force fields are going to let them through. All controls are now relayed to my station.” With that he quickly taps on his consoles, apparently entering coordinates leading to the approximate middle of the enemy forces, “I know many of you may not understand my plan, but trust in me one last time. I’ll see you all on the other side.” As he says these last words he has a weird glint in his eyes. I can’t discern whether it is just the lighting that shimmers weird in his eyes or what. 

I close the transmissions again, before asking “But the weapons are down, the ship is unarmed there is nothing you could do anymore!” He has a seemingly sad emotion in his gaze as he turns towards me, “Yes that is also what they will believe, but I recently read some old stories from the cradle of humanity. This scenario reminded me that no spaceship is ever unarmed and that a captain goes down with his ship. Now I believe I have given the order to abandon ship.” 

I have problems keeping up with the others from the bridge, my mind in telepathic connection with the other octoids, sharing what I just heard. Some Cretiruna see me struggling and help me. I thank them as they help me to the octoid escape pod. Unlike the other races we just need one, so as I cram myself inside, I notice I’m the last and hit the launch confirm button. It is nice and comforting to the others minds this close, but I am worried as to the actions of captain Dartel. Why did he order us to not send the message? Why is he ordering to abandon ship? These questions and more race through us as we start flying. 

We decide to watch the ship. We see it starting to speed up, flying straight into the middle of the enemy ships, accelerating until it hits light speed. Then the light flash hits us before we can comprehend the clash of space grade metals against another. We were just about to cross the force field holding the ship in, but it disappeared signaling that most of the enemy ships must have at least lost power. The energy released by our ship crashing into the enemy at light speed was enough to immediately obliterate it, the mid-size battle cruiser of Tanik class it crashed into as well as a good hundred other ships that were to close by. The rest of the enemy forces doesn’t look much better, with many, many destroyed or seriously damaged and out of power. 

Not long after we were caught by rescue ships and were able to deliver our message. The mission that we all thought was lost turned into a success. After destruction counts came in, we noticed that our captains move took care of a good 83% of the enemy forces and he was postmortem ranked up to admiral. The enemy, now seriously low on forces decided to enter peace talks. After asking around a bit our little octoid group got to know that the move admiral Dartel did was known as “Kamikaze-flight”. We weren’t assigned to another human captain since. I am unsure whether that is a good thing or not. 

Felt like writing so here have this little short story around a ship that may never be named... also I joined the queue for an ao3 account...so I will eventually start posting there

[pandoramsbox]

Sci-Fi Saturday: The Man from Planet X

Week 27:

Film(s): The Man from Planet X (Dir. Edgar G. Ulmer, 1951, USA)

Viewing Format: Streaming Video (Amazon)

Date Watched: 2022-01-28

Rationale for Inclusion:

So far the 1950s has yielded films about a flying saucer that was not extraterrestrial in origin, an accidental trip to mars, and a trip to the moon. What we have not had yet is a tale of aliens visiting the Earth, at least until this week.

The Man from Planet X (Dir. Edgar G. Ulmer, 1951, USA) was selected for inclusion based upon the fact that it was the earliest film of its subgenre released during the 1950s. It beat out the more widely known The Thing from Another World (Dir. Christian Nyby, 1951, USA) into release by roughly a month. My being a fan of director Edgar G. Ulmer's pre-Code horror film The Black Cat (Dir. Edgar G. Ulmer, 1934, USA), which pitted Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi against one another for the first time, also was a factor in this film's selection.

Reactions:

The plot of The Man from Planet X boils down to a first contact situation that goes from problematic to outright messy because of a bad apple scientist wanting to exploit extraterrestrial technology. Overall, my partner and I regarded the film as stereotypical and fairly unremarkable, but it had a couple of interesting quirks. 

Instead of setting the action in the southwestern American desert, as many sci-fi films of the 1950s would, the action takes place in the atmospheric Scottish highlands, which gives Ulmer a chance to exploit skills and imagery picked up as a set designer in the German silent film industry. 

More noteworthy, the visitor from Planet X (Pat Goldin) communicates via musical tones. This method was unique at the time and would inspire a more spectacular interpretation in Close Encounters of the Third Kind (Dir. Steven Spielberg, 1977, USA).

However, what stuck with me after the film ended was that the Earthlings may have murdered refugees from a dying planet. Late in the film, one of the men who first encountered the alien, American reporter John Lawrence (Robert Clarke), discovers that the alien is from the mysterious planet that is passing closely to the Earth on its way out of the solar system and mind controlling villagers in order to turn its crash landed ship into a wireless relay station to communicate with their comrades on that planet. Planet X is doomed, and the aliens are trying to escape to a healthy planet. The villagers not under alien influence decide the best path forward is to destroy the spacecraft turned comm station and prevent the invasion, which they do, along with the visitor from Planet X.

Since the alien cannot communicate their intentions to anyone other than the exploitative and cruel Dr. Mears (William Schallert), I found myself wondering if the aliens were actually invading, planet annihilating locust types as later seen in Independence Day (Dir. Roland Emmerich, 1996, USA) or simply desperate refugees. The villagers assume malevolence on the alien's part in turning their neighbors into mind controlled worker drones, but given that the alien failed to be understood by the benevolent Professor Elliot (Raymond Bond), and the man who could understand them attempted to murder them, perhaps it was a desperate attempt to save their race.

My interpretation definitely comes from a lifetime of watching Star Trek and witnessing countries regularly refuse aid to refugees of war and political persecution. Despite the fact that the Holocaust was a relatively recent memory for the filmmakers, I do not think they crafted their narrative with that in mind. Ultimately, I have to tell myself, "The filmmakers probably didn't spend this much time thinking about the plot or its symbolism, you shouldn't either."

The Man from Planet X was built using interesting ideas, but does not make use of them as well as future filmmakers and storytellers would.