#Planets look pretty much like stars to the untrained eye

[thefirstanomally]

If we could see the planets even half that well, we would be in extreme danger.

[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

[allronix]

Carth and Force Sensitivity (crossposted from Reddit r/kotor)

This is for @k-she-rambles:

Okay, so while we're shooting the bantha crap over on KOTOR fan theories, u/134340Goat mentioned my all time favorite "Have you been chewing spice?!" fan theory when it comes to KOTOR: Is Carth Force Sensitive?

So this one starts with a story. I mentioned my brother in law, who is pretty much Keeper of the Jedi Archives. Seriously, he's an English teacher and my sister is a librarian. They met at a sci fi convention and their first date was Phantom Menace. We're taking not just geeks, but geeks who can throw the damn bookshelf at you. Brother in law bought KOTOR on the day it launched and turned it into a week long binge watch at his house. And because brother in law is that kind of geek, he's translating the characters into the West End D6 system. I'm watching him do a playthrough, and he's got Canderous and Zaalbar at Ajunta Pal's tomb.

Allronix: Huh. That's odd. Why aren't commenting on anything when Ajunta is speaking?

Bro in law: Oh. They can't even see Ajunta. You have to be Force Sensitive to see a Force Ghost The stronger your Sensitivity, the better you can see it.

Allronix: Really? Then how come Carth can see it?

Bro in law (gets the "holy shit, I gotta confirm this" look): Really?! He just sees something out the corner of his eye or something?

Allronix: No, he sees Ajunta just fine. Understands what the dude's saying too.

Bro in law instantly rolls back to his last save, swaps Zaalbar for Carth, and sees the bit in question.

Bro in law: Oh. Dear. (Goes over to make some quick scribbles on Carth's character sheet)

Okay, so maybe that was a lore fail. I didn't really think about it too much until I hit that False Level Up glitch and ran around with Carth and Mission as Sentinels. Now, while I couldn't really see Mission as a Sensitive, that little bit with my bro in law nagged at me. And became a "once you see it you can't unsee it." Apologies to TV Tropes, where some of these were my additions to the Wild Mass Guess entry on this topic.

Any one of these on its own is pretty easy to blow off. After all, man is career military, and knows All this Shit is Weird. I also like to think of Sensitivity as a spectrum and not a switch. If all life is connected by the Force, then all life would be Sensitive to some degree or another. It’s just a matter of to what degree. It’s only as the list gets longer and longer does the case start looking damning...

What are the odds of surviving that attack on the Endar Spire, getting to the escape pods, sharing the last escape pod with the mindwiped Sith Lord, piloting through the chaos, landing in what passes for the "good" part of town, remaining uninjured, pulling the badly injured mindwiped Sith Lord from the wreck, evading Sith detection while all this is going on, and just happening to find a dump of an apartment where the landlord's not asking questions? That is one amazing string of coincidences and good luck. Get that many in Star Wars, and it's definitely The Force sticking its nose in things.

Piloting the escape pod to land in the Upper City, piloting the Hawk through the Sith Blockade of Taris, the random Sith patrols, the escape from the Leviathan, and the fleet around Lehon along with the crash landing that left the ship easily repairable. Now, compare to Atton who we know to be an excellent pilot and drawing on The Force who still manages to crash the ship at least three times.

He's a scary good judge of character if you're interacting with other NPCs. If you watch him with other NPC characters, he's got a pretty good compass as to which characters are being helpful and which ones are full of shit. The only one he calls incorrectly is Rukil, who is probably also an untrained Sensitive (the age, the "marked" comments) and half senile, which is probably throwing him.

Related to that, his distrust and wariness about something not adding up with the PC, the Jedi Council feeding the party a line of bull, that things just aren't adding up. And on all of it? Dead on. He's 100% right about the Player Character, he just expected something a little less crazy than "that's Darth freaking Revan."

If you play Female Revan, then Carth's the one who gets fried in the torture cages on the Leviathan. Saul comments how strange it is that Carth takes so much punishment and still remains conscious. Now, this is a low level thing, but in lore, Force Sensitives have drawn on it to keep them alive or conscious under duress. Explicitly, the first sign we got that Leia was a Sensitive when she withstood the Imperial torture droid.

Another of his scary ass judge of character feats? In the comics, Zayne (who is on the run from the Jedi, who framed him for the murder of his classmates) has a vision that Mandalorians are coming for Serroco. Saul? Laughs it off, throws Zayne in the brig. Zayne's own friends don't even believe him. Carth gets one of those creepy hunches and starts calling in "duck and cover" sirens as far as he can broadcast, which sends seventeen cities and millions of people heading for shelter. It saves their lives and Carth is called a hero for it. Armed with another hunch, he disobeys Saul (remember this is before Saul nukes Telos) and lets Zayne "escape" from custody. Mind you, not even the Jedi or his party members believed Zayne. Carth did.

Carth makes a lot of creepy weird offhand predictions about the future. He says he knows on some level he'll be there when Saul dies. That certainly pans out. He makes an offhand prediction that the Jedi have set the party up to take a fall. Right again. He tells a female PC that she'll have to make a choice soon, one she can't walk away from. And then we get the temple top. He even blurts out that "I sensed you would have to make a choice soon, and that was it*, I can feel it!"* If you specify a LS Female Revan, his recording for T3-M4 says he's had a hunch Revan would leave without warning. Again, spot on.

Specify a LS male Revan, and Carth will remark to Bastila that seeing the Exile reminds him "there are worse things to lose." The only other people who can see just how screwed up the Exile is are the Jedi Masters, Chodo Habat, and the Force Sensitive party members.

Specify a LS female Revan, and Carth will insist that he would know if Revan were dead (again, scary ass intuition) and that there's an "emptiness" where she used to be. Now, remember one of the things about a broken Force Bond? It would simply be "empty, a wound."

You know how your party members in KOTOR 2 feel upset or even horrified as they realize they feel compelled to protect Exile and can't being themselves to leave, even when said actions are kicking puppies? And how they swing wildly from being crazy, almost stalker level possessive of them to being scared out of their wits and clamming up when you try to pry anything out of them? And the more potent (and untapped) their Force Sensitivity, the more they get hammered with the effect? (Mira and Atton in particular) Yeah. Now, Carth's "I don't wanna talk" looks a bit different, doesn't it? It could also account for that romance arc, especially if you roll a DSF Revan and go for that "everyone dies" ending.

Again, Ajunta Pal. Seeing a Force Ghost? Yeah. Some degree of Sensitivity needed. Understanding what he's saying? Yeah. Takes a bit more than that. And Carth makes a weirdly insightful comment about the Dark Side on top of it.

Notice that this a wall o text argument already, and I'm now just getting to the "Yeah, his kid is able to throw around mid-level Dark Side powers and packing a red lightsaber." Given the jawline and the muleheaded attitude, no way Morgana was fooling around with the pizza delivery boy. That's definitely Carth's kid, and that's definitely Force Sensitivity. Now, while it can skip a generation (see Theron Shan), it tends to run pretty heavy in families.

Lastly? Gee. He comes from a planet settled by and heavily populated by descendants of Force Sensitives who failed their training. I'm also willing to bet some bastard children of Jedi get passed off as "foundlings" and "orphans" and dumped there, too. Jedi are forbidden attachments, but not sworn to celibacy, so...yeah, bastard kids are gonna happen. There's probably a Jedi or two in that family tree. It's circumstantial evidence at best, but it still supports the case.

Now, any arguments I missed? Counterarguments?

And the million credit question: If there's a character who gets to break this news to poor Flyboy, who do you think would actually take that on? How do you think Carth would take that kind of news? And what, if anything, would come of it?

I kinda figure Jolee might be the only one nuts enough to poke that with a stick...I also kinda figure "Sentinel" would fit best. Consular? Hell no. He hired Mical for that. Guardian works with the feats, but the whole "ferreting out deceit and injustice?" Yeah. That's Carth.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 75

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

Koen arrives shortly before ten in the evening. A paper bag full of bottles of booze under one arm and a tattered and weathered backpack slung over the other; looking slightly worse for wear, even for him. He’s always been dishevelled and unkempt at best, but the pace and the intensity of the job has taken its toll on him; his beard thicker and and boasting more strands of gray, his face and body remarkably thinner and marred by both old and fresh bumps, bruises and contusions that will definitely scar. But that old familiar glitter is still in his eyes; the one that speaks of mischievousness and trouble and gives away his quick and sometimes cutting tongue before he even opens his mouth. The last three weeks have been hell on everyone involved; physically AND mentally. Bodies being consumed by near constant pain, little sleep and poor diet while their brains are subjected to fear, stress, and the overwhelming worth that comes each step out the door and onto the street.

But it’s almost over; the finish line finally in sight. With the list complete, only Mahajan himself and Asif’s people remain; the latter extra hurdles they never expected to confront. No one ever stopped to consider that Mahajan’s reach extended further than India, or that anyone would be able to get to Neysa and Aarav. Nathan is nothing more than a ‘tag along’; extra weight that has to be carried. And his true involvement and whether or not he IS the mole, is yet to be determined. To an untrained eye, it would be easy to see Nathan as another victim; the multitude of injuries and the defiance caught on video. But there’s too many unanswered questions to just let him off the hook. Too much suspicion and things that can’t be explained revolving around his disappearance and sudden reappearance, and it would be foolish -and possibly deadly- to let your guard down around him.

“Am I ever fucking glad to see your ugly face,” Koen says, as he sets both bags down on the kitchen table and then tightly embraces Tyler.

This isn’t one of his usual hugs. It’s warm and genuine; filled with enormous relief and a little gratitude that they've both survived long enough to get a moment like this. And when he pulls away -holding Tyler at arms length, a hand coming up to clasp him on the back of the head before tightly cupping it- there’s something even more unfamiliar in his eyes: a shimmer of tears and honest, pure affection. Normally Tyler would jump on it and rib his old friend about something like that; in the same way Koen would do to him if the situation was reversed. But now is not the time. The last three weeks have felt like three years; everyone involved is exhausted and hurting and relying on nothing more than adrenaline -the hope of it all sending soon- to keep them going. And there’s the strong possibility that someone -or more than one person, even- won’t make it out alive. The realization that the person standing in front of you might not survive and this could very well be the last time you ever see them.

“You good?” Koen ruffles the hair at the back of Tyler’s head. “How you feeling? You sure look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

“I’m alright, I guess. Could be better, could be worse.”

“What’s the pain like? That guy fucked you up pretty good.”

“I’ve had worse.” It’s not entirely a lie. When he’d woken in the hospital seven years ago, the agony had been intense; there hadn’t been a single inch of his body that hadn’t hurt. Since then he’s lived in chronic pain. Some days he’s able to manage and others he can barely get out of bed in the morning. This is a new level of discomfort; increasing and worsening mobility issues, the pins and needles in his right hand, the need for more and more meds to just take the edge off.

“Well you look good. Hell of a lot better than the last time I was with you. Which doesn’t take much, considering you were covered in your own puke and piss and I had to undress you and toss you in the shower.”

Tyler smirks. “I remember when that used to be a sign of a really awesome Friday night.”

Koen cracks a grin at that. “We’re both getting way too old for that shit. And you’ve past it, thank Christ. I honestly thought one day I’d show up at your place and find you dead. About time you smartened the hell up and got your shit together.”

“Guess all I needed was a kick in the ass.”

“A kick in the ass from the right person, you mean. ‘Cause I spent years kicking you in the ass and it did nothing but make you worse. I guess the kick had to come from a hot little brunette to have any effect on you.”

“Yeah…” Tyler grins. “...I guess it did.”

“Can’t say I blame you. She’d be all the motivation I’d need, too. Figure we should be both thanking our lucky stars that she came around when she did. Had it even been a couple months later…”

“Trust me; every day I’m grateful for that. Every goddamn day. For the past seven years.”

“Good. Because you should be. Because even though you were a fucking wreck, she stuck around. She could have easily taken one look at you and thought ‘damaged goods’ and hauled ass on out of there. And to be honest, I wouldn’t have blamed her. You were a lot to handle. She must be made of tough stuff, because she wasn’t afraid of your shut or to put a foot up your ass.

“She’s still not afraid of that. And she is. Tough. Strong. A lot stronger than she gives herself credit for.”

“That’s exactly what you need,” Koen declares. “A strong woman. Someone to challenge you and to keep challenging you. Although I do question her sanity. No one in their right mind would hook up with the likes of your sorry ass.”

“I lost my sanity a long time ago,” Esme says, as she descends the stairs. “Why do you think I have five kids? Do you think anyone with a shred of sanity left would do that to themselves?”

“I thought it was because he couldn’t stay off ya and you don’t know the word ‘no’.”

“I admit, it IS hard. He’s devastatingly handsome and can be very persuasive.”

“Devastatingly handsome?” Koen scoffs. “Sweetheart, you are blind as shit. How’s it going, kiddo?” He embraces Esme warmly, then presses a kiss to each cheek. “Looking lovely, as always.”

“Now who’s blind as shit? I look like the offspring of a dumpster fire and a train wreck. But I appreciate you trying to feed my ego.”

“Don’t even argue with her,” Tyler says. “For every good thing you bring up, she’s got five bad things that exist only in her own mind.”

Esme sighs. “In case you haven’t noticed, Tyler is either completely blind, or totally biased. Koen, if your wife asked you if she looked like a mess...and not a hot one...would tell the truth?”

“Telling the truth is the reason I have so many ex wives. But in all fairness, my ex wives WERE messed. Had any of them looked like you, I’d probably still be married and the happiest sonofabitch on the planet. Now tell me…” he slings an arm across her shoulders and pulls her into his side. “...he been treating you right? Because if he hasn’t…”

“He’s been a complete gentleman. Except for the times I don’t want him to be. And those are X rated and not for your precious little ears, so…” she presses a kiss to his cheek, then moves towards the fridge.

“I do not need to know about all the kinky shit you two do. You been keeping him in line? Making sure he pulls his weight? Because you tell me just one bad word, and…”

“He’s been amazing. Even more amazing than usual. Sorry, Koen; I’m not leaving him for you. Not yet anyway.”

“So you’re saying there’s a chance?” He grins, then nudges Tyler with his elbow. “You into sharing, mate?”

He scowls. “Fuck you. That’s my wife. What’s wrong with you?”

“Remember that one girl in Melbourne? About twelve years ago? The blond with the big…”

“There’s a woman in the room!” Esme pipes up, and snags a vitamin water from the fridge. “I do not need to hear these things.”

“You didn’t mind sharing her,” Koen points out.

“That was a random at a bar. That…” Tyler nods in Esme’s direction. “...is my wife. The mother of my kids. I don’t share. Not when it comes to her.”

“As much as I’d love to stay down here and listen to raunchy and disturbing stories from my husband’s sexual past, I have a bubble bath calling my name,” Esme says. “And quite frankly, I prefer to pretend he was somewhat innocent and virginal when we met.”

Koen snorts. “There’s been nothing innocent or virginal about him since he was about fourteen.”

She frowns. “I’m ignoring you now. I’m turning my ears off. Because I do not need to hear or know about these things. I’m going to go upstairs and pamper myself and do girly shit and you two can stay down here and talk about your sexual conquests. But I swear to God, if my ears start to burn, I will beat the hell out of both of you.”

“I would never do that,” Tyler assured her. “Talk about you like that.”

“He lies,” Koen speaks up. “He talks about you like that all the time. The things I know about you…”

“Fuck off,” Tyler snarls. “I’ve never talked about her like that with you. That’s wishful thinking on your part.”

“I’m just warning you both.” She places a hand on her husband’s hip, standing on her tiptoes as he leans down to press a soft, brief kiss to her lips. “I am in no mood for fuckery.”

“What are you in the mood for?” Koen quips, the mischievous glitter back in his eyes as he bounces up and down on his heels. “I hear chubby, balding guys can really get shit done.”

Tyler glares at him, then slaps him upside the head. “What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s my wife.”

“Sorry Grandpa Koen,” Esme smirks. “I’m a one man woman.”

“Grandpa Koen?” He feigns insults, a hand clasped over his heart. “That’s harsh. Why do you have to break a bloke’s heart like that?”

She grinning over her shoulder as she climbs the stairs. “Goodnight, boys.”

****

Two hours and a bottle and a half of scotch later, they sit at the kitchen table, reminiscing on days long past. Military missions served together and the camaraderie and the rare laughs and lighthearted moments while overseas. Hiking and camping and hunting trips that they’ve taken -along with Rata- and the handful of times they’d simply packed up and travelled for weeks on end; nothing where they ended up or how they got there.

He was nineteen when he first met Koen; fresh out of basic training, too cocky for his own good, and in desperate need of an attitude adjustment and real experience to knock the chip off his shoulder. Koen had been a staff sergeant then; already grizzled and combat weary and sick of the ‘little shits’ like Tyler that passed his way; the ones with their heads shoved up their own asses, who thought they were something special for getting through training in one piece. Koen had made it his personal mission to make his life as miserable as possible; treating him lower than dirty in order to rid him of what Koen had called ‘pukey personality’. He’d seen something in that nineteen year old kid; the promise of becoming a damn good soldier. And it had worked; all the physical and mental punishment completely broke him; transitioning him into someone he no longer recognized. It had unknowingly led to the worsening of some things; the toxic masculinity that had been beaten into him thanks to his old man, and a propensity to drink way too heavily. Being that good of a soldier...as nothing more than a killing machine in his eyes...had made him feel invincible; each successful tour leaving him feeling ten feet tall and bulletproof. And had eventually led him to the job and that sick and twisted desire to seek out one suicide mission after another.

“You alright?” Koen asks, as he pours himself another drink. “You got a little quiet on me there.”

“I’m alright,” Tyler confirms, and runs a palm along the side of his glass. It’s only his second of the night. Starting off by promising to pace himself; not wanting to drink too much considering the amount of painkillers -well beyond the prescribed amount- he’s been taking. But he’d quickly realized it was more than that. He simply didn’t enjoy it anymore; all the cravings and the need and the taste for it somehow disappearing since the incident a week and a half ago.

“You sure? Haven’t seen you look THAT serious in a long time. What’s going on?”

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“Sounds intense.”

“About as intense as it gets.”

Koen sips his drink. “What’s it about?”

Tyler pushes his glass aside and reaches into the side pocket of his cargo shorts. Pulling out a handwritten letter -two pages long- sealed in an envelope. And he issues a heavy, shaky sigh and offers it to his friend.

Koen’s eyes narrow. “What the hell is this?”

“If anything happens to me, you have to give this to Esme. I need her to read it. She HAS to read it.”

“Fuck you, Tyler,” the older man snarls. “I’m not taking no death letter.”

“You have to. You NEED to. If anything happens to me…”

“Stop talking that shit. I won’t listen to it. I won’t…”

“I need you to fucking do this!” he snaps, then roughly grabs his friend’s hand and shoves the letter into it. “She needs to read it. And I need you to give it to her. You keep it and if anything happens to me, you make sure she gets it. This is important to me, okay? I need her to read it. And I need you to promise me that you’ll make sure she does.”

“Why wait? Why wait until it’s too late? Why not tell her these things now? So she knows. Wouldn’t you rather she knows before? Why the fuck…?”

“She knows. She knows I love her. She knows I love her with everything I am and everything I have. But there’s things in there I can’t say. Or I feel like I can’t say properly. And I NEED her to know those things. If something happens to me, it’s important she knows. I need you to do this.”

Koen downs half of his drink and then stands up, reluctantly sliding the envelope into the back pocket of his jeans. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that? The things I don’t fucking do for you. Taking a goddamn death letter.”

“Just promise you’ll give it to her. If I don’t make it out of here, promise me you’ll make sure she gets that. You have no idea how important it is to me.”

“I’ll make sure. What about your kids? They might like something from their daddy. You know...if…”

“I already did something for them. A video. Ovi has it. He’ll make sure they see it. And that Addie will watch when she’s old enough to understand.” It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell him about the new baby, but mere though of it...the realization that he could leave a pregnant wife behind and there’d be a child he’d never get to see- is just too fucking painful. Ovi knows; he’d made the kid take a vow of secrecy after telling him to make sure all the kids saw the video when they’re old enough. Even the one that’s still inside their mother’s belly.

“Well let’s hope she never has a reason to read it,” Koen says. “And that those kids never have to see that video. You do whatever it takes to get your ass out of there. Alive. And I’ll do whatever I have to on my end to make sure it happens. This isn’t it. It CAN’T be it. Not when you just found all of this. A wife and kids. A family. A REAL goddamn family. This can’t be it.”

“I sure as fuck hope it isn’t.” He doesn’t bother to hold back the tears that manage to escape; hot against his skin as they slip down the sides of his nose and his cheeks. His chest burns and aches. Not the kind of agony that comes with anxiety, but the suffering that comes with heartache and grief and tremendous loss. Not even the swallow of scotch -in an attempt to clear the lump of emotion from his throat- helps, and he places an elbow on the table and his palm against his forehead. Eyes closed as he struggles to keep it together.

“It’s alright,” Koen’s voice is surprisingly quiet and calm, and there’s an audible creak as he leans forward in his hair; hand both heavy and comforting against the back of Tyler’s head. “It’s alright now, son. It’s okay to be like this. You can be this way with me. I got you.”

“If it was just me, I wouldn’t give a shit,” his voice cracks with emotion as the tears continue to fall. “Seven years ago, I wouldn’t have cared if I made it out. But now I have her and I have my kids and I can’t...I can’t leave them. I’m not ready to leave them.”

“No one says you’re going to. It’s not a sure thing. You’re a tough, stubborn bastard.”

“I don’t want to die. I don't want this life to be over. Before her, I was ready. I wanted to die; I wanted all the bullshit to be over. I hated my life and I hated myself and I didn’t fuck care if someone put a bullet in me. And I then I met here and everything changed. I changed. She didn’t look at me like I was a pathetic, cowardly piece of shit and she made me feel things I hadn’t felt in a long time and I never thought I’d feel again. And maybe it was wrong; how things happened, where they happened. But it felt right. For the first time in a long time, something felt right. Something felt good. It felt fucking amazing. And I should have pushed her way. I should have stopped it. But I didn’t. Because I didn’t want it to stop. I didn’t want to lose her.”

“It was a weird situation maybe,” Koen says. “But it doesn’t mean it was wrong. Look how things turned out. Look at the life you made. Together.”

“I don’t want that life to be over. I don’t want to leave her. Or my kids. I want to grow old and gray with her and I want to see my kids graduate high school and go to college and get married and have kids of their own. I want ALL of that. But I’m fucking terrified none of will happen. That when I left my kids this morning, that was it. That I’ll never see them again. That I won’t even get to see Addie take her first steps or celebrate her first birthday. There’s so much I don’t want to miss and I’m scared I will.”

“I know…” Koen’s fingertips dig into his scalp as he firmly massages it. “...I know…”

“Everything that is good in me is because of her. Because she found it and she brought it out. And she’s the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. Her and those kids. And I’m not ready to leave them.”

“And you’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn’t happen. And so will I on my end. I’ve got you. I’ll bust my ass to make sure you get back to your family. You hear me?”

“Yeah,” he nods, and uses his elbow to push his friend away. “I hear ya.”

“You good? You get it all out?”

“I think so. I guess I needed to do that; get it out.”

“You’ve been trying to hold it together for her,” Koen reasons, and returns to his seat. “But even guys like you need someone you can fall apart with. And I guess that someone is me; lucky bastard that I am.”

Tyler gives a small laugh, then uses the back of his hand to clear the remaining tears away. “There’s something else.”

“Jesus Christ. Are you trying to kill me?”

“Esme knows what she has to do; if something happens to me. She knows to take the money and the kids and leave. But I need someone to keep their eye on them. I need someone to make sure they’re okay. No matter where they end up. And I know this a hell of a lot to ask…”

“I’ll do it. You know I will.”

“Wherever they go, I need you to go with them. You don’t have to stay forever. Just until she’s doing alright and the kids are settled and doing okay. And if you could do that for me…”

“I already said I would. I’ll make sure they’re alright. Nothing will happen to them. Not on my watch,”

“But I swear to God, if you even think of making a move on her, I will come back and haunt your ass.”

Koen laughs at that, then reaches across the table to tousle Tyler’s hair. “You’re going to be okay, you hear me? You’re going to get out of this. You’re going to walk in there, get shit done, and you’re going to walk back out and go back to your family. And then all of this...all this talk...will have been for nothing.”

“I hope so,” Tyler says, and downs the remains of his drink. “I really fucking hope so.”

****

It’s just past one in the morning when he steps into the master bedroom, moving about it’s darkened confines with the aid of the moonlight. Removing the holster and gun from his hip and placing it in the top drawer of the nightstand, then slipping out of his shorts and t-shirt; tossing both on top of the open duffle bag that sits in front of the closet. And he briefly lingers at the side of the bed, listening to her soft breathing and watching as her body rises and falls with each inhale and exhale. Sound asleep; on her side with her back towards the door.

The pain in his chest and the knot in his stomach return with a vengeance; those thoughts of possibly never getting those moments with her again. He can’t get it out of his mind; how close he’d been to ending things only to find someone -when he hadn’t expected to- capable of snatching him off that ledge. Seven years. Spent with the person that saved him in every way a person can be saved. Who has proved time and time again that she loves every inch of him; all the good, all the bad, and everything in between. Every imperfection, every scar; both inside and out. Who taught him what it was to love again; to actually laugh and smile. And who has helped him make even more life; selflessly giving up her own body to do it.

How do you ever tell that person how you feel? Especially when you don’t think there’s words that can even come close to describing it?

Slipping into bed behind her, he presses his front to her back; lips in her hair as he trails his fingertips across her shoulder and slowly down her arm. Over the curve of her elbow and down to her wrist before moving along the top of her hand and then each finger. Memorizing every inch through touch; her skin soft and beautiful. Pressing a kiss to the back of her head when she pushes her fingers through his and tightly squeezes.

“What time is it?” she sleepily inquires.

“It’s late.”

“How late?”

“Just after one.”

“You been drinking?”

“Just had a couple,” he admits, then moves their joined hands down to her stomach. Smiling at the feel of that little bump. It’s smooth and it’s soft and even after four others, it’s incredible. The mere thought that there’s a living being in there. One that he had a hand in making. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“I shouldn't have had any. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic, yeah?”

“Honestly, I’m surprised you HAVEN’T drank. That you’ve fought as hard as you have. I wouldn’t have blamed you or thought less of you if you’d slipped. This has been hell on earth.”

“I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I NEVER want to be him again. You deserve better than that. So do our kids.”

“You’re a good man, Tyler Rake. Regardless of what you think about yourself sometimes. I knew it the moment I met you; that you weren’t like everyone else. It was in your eyes. There was this softness and this vulnerability and it was unlike anything I’d ever seen in any of the other mercs I’d come in contact with. You were different. I remember the first time we were here, and we’d have those long, serious talks that went into the early hours of the morning and I’d wonder how the hell someone like you ever got mixed up in a world like this.”

“Yeah, well we both know the reason behind that. I didn’t exactly hide it from you.”

“But you could have. And you didn’t. Right off the hop you were so honest and raw and it was...I don’t know it...it was beautiful.”

“Oh fuck...not THAT word.”

“It was, “ she insists. “It WAS beautiful. Because you were just so out there with everything. You didn’t hold anything back. There’s nothing you DIDN’T tell me. You told me about your mom and you dad. Your ex. Austin. You were just so breathtakingly real and honest and it was refreshing. To be with someone like that. Who didn’t try and pretend to be something he wasn’t. It was raw and it was emotional and I SAW you. And you let me see you. That was definitely not just two people using each other for sex. Now, had you just rolled over and gone to sleep…”

He laughs into her hair. “I never wanted THAT.”

“It was surprising. Not the things you told me, but the fact you told me at all. I didn’t expect that from you.”

“I didn’t expect that from myself,” Tyler admits.

“Why did you do it? Just open up like that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just trusted you. Guess there was something about you that made me feel comfortable doing it. A lot of what I told you? No one else knows that stuff. Not even Koen. Guess my instincts told me you were good people. Very good people.”

“You thought you could scare me away didn’t you. When you told me about Austin. You thought that would make me think less of you.”

He nods.

“You made a mistake. You were younger and you were scared and you made a bad decision.”

“Worst possible decision.”

“It didn’t even come close to scaring me away. It made my heart hurt for you. And him. But it didn’t make me think less of you. I could never think less of you.”

“So no matter what, you’ll always think the sun shines out of my ass?”

She giggles. “Always.”

He raises his head to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then rests his cheek against hers. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay. I hadn’t been sleeping for very long. I’m having a hard time. I miss the kids.”

“So do I. But Koen called and checked up on them for us. Everything’s fine. They’re happy and they’re safe and they haven’t beaten the shit out of each other. Yet.”

“Yet,” she laughs. “That’s the key word. And we both know who the one beating the shit out of people will be.”

“Yep. Your daughter has quite the temper.”

“She’s just my daughter now, is she? And who do you think she gets her temper from?”

“You.”

“Oh bullshit. She’s just like you and you know it. And you’re proud of it, too. Don’t even try and deny it. I know you how much like that fact that she’s your mini me.”

“She’s my baby. My first. Well, my first after...you know…”

“Your miracle baby.”

He smiles and places a kiss to her temple. “Exactly. She’s one that made me a dad again. Never thought in a million years I’d get another chance at that. And then she came along. I mean, you did have a little part to play in all of it.”

“Just a little. I only carried her for nine months. And then what happens? She comes out just like you. Even the nurse in the delivery room had to point it out; how she had your eyes and your nose and your ears and your hair. I was like, well fuck you too then.”

Tyler laughs and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“I remember when the nurse gave her to you and you just tucked her into you and she stopped crying and she just looked up at you with those huge eyes.”

“And I cried.”

“Yeah…” she smiles and tightens her hold on his hand. “...you cried. And it was beautiful. You were so happy that she was finally here. I think it was the happiest I’d ever seen you. It was like all the pain and all your past was just gone and your face was so soft and so perfect. Nothing existed outside of her. And you looked at her like you couldn’t believe she was even real.”

“She was beautiful. She still is.”

“I think at that moment...seeing you with her...I fell so in love with you. Even more than I already was. And it was kind of crazy and scary, because I already loved you a hell of a lot. I didn’t think it was possible to love someone THAT much. Sometimes I still don’t. I’ll watch you with Addie or playing with Declan or helping TJ and Tanner with their homework and I’ll think ‘God, I love him’.”

He grins against her ear. “And you have the nerve to call me sappy?”

“I can’t help it. I’m feeling all sappy and emotional. I think it’s the fact we’re back here. Of all places. It makes me think about us. How we started and where we’ve ended up. All good things. All very good things.”

“I was thinking about when I woke up in the hospital and you were there. How you were the first person I saw and I was so fucking relieved you were there. I didn’t know if you even made it off the bridge. And even if you did, if you’d stick around.”

“Of course I stuck around,” she releases her hold on his hand and rolls over onto her side to face him. “I went to all that trouble to keep you alive. You really think I wouldn’t stick around to see the result of my handiwork?”

“I guess not.” He presses a kiss to the tip of her nose then drapes a leg over her and places a hand on the small of her back.

“You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re worried, aren’t you. About tomorrow. Or today. About me going out there.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You know how you always say you’re not a rookie? Well neither am I.”

“I know. But it doesn’t make me feel any better about it Especially when you have my baby in there.”

“I’ll be careful. I’ve had seven years of learning from the best. And Koen will be with me. He’ll make sure I’m okay.”

“He better. Or it’s his ass.”

“You have to trust me. I’d never do anything to put myself...or this baby...in harm’s way.”

“I do. I do trust you.”

“What if I can’t get the information? What if no one will give me any? Then we’re totally fucked. And not a good, fun way either.”

“If that happens, we go to plan B.”

“You let them know you’re here.”

Tyler nods.

“What’s plan C?””

“There is no plan C.”

“Maybe there should be. So we don’t have to rely on plan B.”

“Baby…” he skims his knuckles up and down her spine. “...we talked about this.”

“I’m allowed to change my mind And I’m changing it. That is NOT a good idea; letting them know you’re here. What ever happened to the element of surprise? It goes a long way. They want to lure you here, but they don’t need to know you’re here.”

“I’ll only go to plan B if you can’t get me information.”

“Okay…” Esme frowns. “...that is a lot of peer pressure. I haven’t done this in awhile. Since before Addie.”

“Addie’s only three months old. It’s not like she’s a year or a couple years.”

“So what? Ten months? Since I did this kind of thing? We found out about her during all of that.”

“Who’s the one that found out where Ovi was?”

“That took me four days.”

“It took Nik a week just to narrow down Dhaka,” he points out.

“Four days is horrible. My track record was way better than that before. Four days is embarrassing.”

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“I should have had it in twenty four hours. Thirty six at the most.”

“I’m kind of glad it took as long as it did. I had a pretty good five days.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that much. It wasn’t a TOTAL failure. But four days? For me? That is shameful.”

“If it makes you feel better, it only took two from the day you showed up on my porch to convince me to sleep with you.”

“Oh, I had to convince you now, did I? You admitted you would have done it the first night had I wanted a booty call.”

“Well then you should be very proud of yourself. It only took you a couple hours to convince me to give it up.”

“Sorry if I don’t feel my ego inflated because you were horny and desperate.”

“Hey, if I’d been desperate, I would have fucked Nik.”

“That…” she scrapes her nails along his jaw and then taps a fingertip against his chin. “... is a very good point actually. I’m glad you held out an extra couple of days. I hope it was worth it.”

“It was SO worth it.”

“I was very impressed. When I see you naked. I had expectations.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You did?”

“I did. Very high ones, actually. You lived up to them. And then some. You definitely fit the old ‘big hands, big feet’ adage. I wanted to see if it was a myth. I quickly found out it was not.”

“You also thought the G spot was a myth.”

“I found out pretty quick that it isn’t. You were really on the ball those five days.”

“Had to leave a lasting impression,” Tyler reasons. “Wanted you to come back for me.”

“You left a lasting impression, alright. One that lasted nine months and weighed eight pounds, three ounces. That’s quite the impression to leave.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not. That’s the one good thing...the one amazing thing...that came out of all that bullshit. Besides us.”

“Nice to see you finally admit we’re a good thing,” she teases. “I think we’re pretty amazing. But hey, that’s just my humble opinion.”

“We are. We are pretty amazing.”

“And we’re stronger together than we are apart. You’ve always said that. And that’s why we need to trust each other. With this. We have to trust each other more than we ever have. That’s the only way we’ll get out of here. That we’ll BOTH get out of here.”

He gives a small smile of agreement, then runs his palm up her back and all the way to the nape of her neck; squeezing lightly as he pulls her into a kiss. Long and slow at first; closed mouth upon closed mouth and their bodies brushing against each other. It’s her that takes the first step towards turning it into something more. Fingers pushing into his hair and tightly gripping it; pressing her body against his as her tongue pushes its way past his lips and teeth. Quickly transforming the moment into something much more desperate and needy.

“I want you,” she breathes, her lips finding the side of his neck, teeth scraping against the tattoo and the scar that mars the skin. “I want you and I need you. I need to feel you inside of me.”

He shudders at her words, then leans his weight into her and pushes her onto her back. Her fingers still in his hair and her eyes fluttering closed as his hands and his mouth behind their slow, torturous worship of her body.

[animebw]

Binge-Watching: Pokemon Johto Journeys, Episodes 22-26

In which we get a neat little superhero story, and Ash continues to grow in impressive ways.

Holy Flying Scorpions, Batman!

It’s safe to say that our current media landscape in the US is pretty oversaturated with superheroes. Hell, even the anime scene has huge titles like My Hero Academia and One Punch Man taking up a lot of the conversation. But I still enjoy a well-told superhero story, and of all things, Pokemon actually tackles the concept really well in the episode about Gligar Man, an amusing mashup of Batman’s cape-and-cowl aesthetic and Superman’s high-flying metropolis grandeur. That even looked like the Daily Planet in his sizzle reel, for crying out loud. But what I like about this little yarn is how surprisingly nuanced it is about the whole thing. It paints Gligar Man as a genuine do-gooder who helps the kids out, even as it acknowledges he’s kind of a bumbling washout who’s seen better days. And it lets the characters instantly figure out the obvious twist of his secret identity so they can actually explore his character more deeply. Hell, he even started dressing up as a superhero for a marketing scheme at first; it was only when he saw how positively everyone responded to it that he decided to go legit and turn super-heroing into a full-time career. But now he’s facing down the prospect of retirement and not sure how to pass the title down, considering his daughter just wants to let the whole thing die. There’s a full Marvel movie’s worth of backstory, legacy and character drama packed into this tight 20 minutes, complete with Not-Batgirl swooping in to save the day and help continue her father’s work to tie a neat little bow on it all. I would unironically pay to see a full Gligar Man film based on what he got here.

Older and Wiser

Elsewhere, Ash’s surprising climb toward maturity continues to be one of the coolest parts of Johto. There’s a really great moment where he’s coaching a little kid on how to listen to her Pokemon’s needs instead of rushing headfirst into everything, and when she says he must know everything, he respond with,  ”Trust me, I just made the right mistakes.” That’s a legitimately fantastic line, and it speaks to why I buy Ash’s journey so much. He has screwed up, many times over, and he’ll continue to screw up well into the future. But by making all those mistakes, he’s been able to learn and grow and get better one step at a time. He’s reached the point now where he’s regularly the more experienced trainer schooling young upstarts on the proper way to battle. The Heracross/Scissor smackdown was a really fun battle on a pure spectacle level, but it also showcased Ash’s ability to pull more stubborn people out of their shells and show them how to trust in the natural unpredictability of battle, like he’s learned to do across countless false starts. And when he later gets into battle with an untrained Cyndaquill and he’s thrown off by the Pokemon’s weaknesses, he quickly regroups and learns to roll with its incredible agility to bring them to victory. My little dude’s legitimately kicking ass now, and it’s really fun to see. The Azalea Town gym leader better watch their back!

Best of Team Rocket

-Wow, are we sure Jessie isn’t a Pokemon? She just used Hair Whip and Fury Swipes back to back!

-”We must fight to protect the integrity of costumed action figures everywhere!”

-The fact they’re so committed to the costumed supervillains bit is sending me. They aren’t even using their Pokemon!

-”My schoolmates were so envious they beat me every day!”

-”We’ll run ahead of them... and dig a big hole!”

-”Um, what does ‘download’ mean?” Ah, the early 2000s.

-”I’m downloading his whole computer!” asldjasdlkasdkjasdkj

-”Next time Team Rocket comes up with a motto, I’m demanding script approval!”

-”I’ve already had an alysis!”

-”You said take it out for a spin.”

-”We all scream for Eye-Beam!”

-”But it doesn’t seem so bad as long as you can look up at the stars above.” I love their relationship, man.

-”I’d give my right arm for a drink right now.” “I’d give your left arm as well.”

-”And we’ll just start drinking!” “Yes! Wait-”

-”From now on, use the secret weapons right away!”

Odds and Ends

-”Oh, Brock, why can’t you ever be serious?” ldkfsdkfj wasted

-When suddenly, Heidi of the Swiss Alps 2: Electric Boogaloo

-”Oh Misty, why couldn’t she be 10 years younger!” Brock isn’t into MILFS confirmed, I guess.

-”If you ask me, it looks like it doesn’t have a trainer.” “I am its trainer.” “Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t ask me!” pfft

-Alright, I know there’s a mythology reference in Muramasa/Masamune, but I’m not sure what. Curse my lack of Shinto knowledge!

-Okay but why would Brock, who was a gym leader, not be on the database? This just strikes me as lazy writing.

-”Good Quill Hunting” I’m firing all of you.

-sdkfhsdkfh Team Rocket just can’t catch a break this episode can they

-Uh... holy crap, Cyndaquill. That’s a flamethrower, alright.

-Wow, I didn’t know Slowpoke’s eyes glow in the dark like that. Freaky.

-Something tells me the sloths in Zootopia were inspired by these Slowpoke.

-God dammit, you’re making me yawn.

And next time, it looks like we might finally solve the mystery of the GS Ball! It’s about damn time. See you then!

[sasuhinasno1fan]

My starlight- Shallura Week Day 1

I’ve been a big shallura shipper since the start and when it came out that Shiro was gay, it didn’t change as I headcannoned him as pan anyway. I was a bit worried when a lot of people changed their stance and had asked if anyone, his charaecter, creators, anyone had said he was exclusively into guys. If he was, I’d put my ship to rest but still love their very good chemistry as great friends. No one said there was and then I found out through @breezycheezyart​ blog, when I was looking for her Juniberry art to use as inspo for this space related quest I’m doing that’s gonna be a Sailor Moon au, that @shalluraweek​ is still happening. Back in like, maybe the first year, maybe after s2 came out, I saw shallura week but didn’t do it because of writers block, so I’m really happy that I can do this and celebrate one of my fav vld ships. When I was looking for insporation on tumblr, I found a lot of Star Wars art so I decided to go with it. I’ll be honest, I found the Star Wars movies kinda boring growing up but Clone Wars was the only thing I’d willingly sit through, so my info might not be totally correct. Probably cause I love Ashoka so much. Anyway, please enjoy. Star/Sky

Shiro moved quietly across the room, heading for the door when he heard someone call his name.

“Shiro? Where are you going?”

he turned to look at his Padawan who’d only come back an hour ago from hanging out with Senator Lance, the two the same age and equally good at fighting and breaking rules. He needed the distraction after coming back from their last war effort. They’d lost a lot of good men and going up against Sendak, who’d run off again, was never fun. Keith had collapsed into bed once he got back and Shiro waited until he knew for sure he was knocked out before getting up to leave, but it seemed Keith wasn’t as knocked out as he thought.

“The Chancalor asked me to do something for him.”

A lie. Not for a second did he trust Chancellor Zarkon, who always seemed to find a way to insert himself into Jedi issues, but also seemed way too interested in him.

Keith thankfully thought the same. “We’re not that guy’s errand boys.”

“I know, but he does hold the power. I’m sure we’ll eventually find a way to get away from his grip and end the war too. I’ll be back soon. We have shore leave and you don’t have classes, why don’t you join Senator Lance for breakfast tomorrow? You can take Pidge with you.” he said, mentioning one of the other Padawans Keith was friends with.

“Alright. Be safe ok?” Keith said before disappearing back into his room.

Shiro didn’t like lying to Keith, he really didn’t. The kid was a special case, being raised by a Sith Lord who didn’t care much about Keith, willing to turn him into an assassin. He was older than most Younglings but as a newly knighted Jedi himself, Shiro insisted Keith could be trained and offered up his own job if he was wrong. So far, he had the Council eating their words that Keith was untrainable. Break rules? Yes, but only the rules he thought didn’t make much sense to him within the code. Keith might be a special case but he was Shiro’s family. It made it so much harder to keep the secret he had.

He took a speeder to the more costly apartments of Coruscant, where a lot of Senators tended to home themselves when not at their home planets. He easily made his way to one apartment, home of someone who was more than just a Senator. He easily typed in the passcode and walked to the balcony when the door opened. Standing outside on it, was a woman. Her long white hair seemed to shine in the city lights, like it was made of the stars he’d fallen in love with.

“Hey.” he called.

The woman turned, her blue purple eyes widening when she saw him.

“Takashi!” she ran over and he swept her up in his arms. “I missed you. Are you ok? I heard what happened.”

“Everything is fine now. I’m with you.”

Poster boy for the Jedi Takashi Shirogane in a secret relationship to Senator Allura Fara? The scandal, but Shiro could care less. He’d still been a Padawan himself when he and his master had gone to Allura’s planet to try and help them stop in invasion from happening. He was instructed to look after the girl, who was practically royalty, but he quickly learned she didn’t like being protected. While they could argue whether or not she was putting herself in danger, in the quieter moments, they grew closer. Even after they grew older, the invasion stopped and their meeting few, the feelings they’d gained never faded. When they could meet again, it was like they hit unpause and doubled up the feelings. He broke the rules of forming attachments and formed the ultimate one, he fell in love. They were going to marry in secret when the war broke out. They wanted to, badly, but they knew a connection that intense would put them both in danger. For now, only sweet kisses and secret meetings could happen. But once this was over, once he was sure Keith was taken care of and a Knight, he’d leave. He’d leave to Order for her. He didn’t even have to think about it. Unless they changed their views on a few things, he would leave to be happy then force to give up something he couldn’t.

When he could, he’d sneak out of the Temple and come to Allura’s apartment. To most, the two were good friends. The only one privy to their relationship was Allura’s Protocol Droid and Shiro’s former master, who he could never lie to. Here, he could relax away from the rules of the Order and just be Takashi.

He pulled away to look at her, the woman who took his heart. “What about you? Any senators who’s heads you want to rip off?”

“The list is ever growing, but let’s forget about that for now.” she said hugging him close again, hiding her face in his chest, where she always felt safe.

Shiro pulled her close, easily hiding his face in her hair. When he’d first seen Allura, he asked if her hair was made from stars. She’d gone red, redder even when he started calling her Starlight. It was a soft as a cloud inn the sky and smelled like the flowers that grew in this special garden they had always gone to on her home planet. She told him that while they looked pretty, they could also be used to make a powerful parallelizing agent. They were Allura in a flower, beautiful with looks and a warrior with her electric whip and blaster. She might be able to quell rising wars with her powerful speeches, but if there was ever a time she needed to fight, you only needed to point her in the direction. She never felt like she needed protecting, even when every part of Shiro screamed to.

This woman, someone he was willing to turn his back on his teaching for, his Starlight, made him feel like a better person. She was his drive to end the war that affected their whole galaxy. And when it was finally over, he would get on his knee and ask for her to finally be his.

[sunflowerhae]

Translucency

;Kim Doyoung

;language

;platonic soulmates, established friendship

i could feel the air on my skin.

i could hear the crashing of the deep waves below my body from where i laid.

they sounded distant, and unfamiliar, yet so known to my untrained ear; like a song i had heard, long ago, but forgotten the lyrics to.

if i laid completely still - not a twitch of my legs, not a flutter of my eyelids - i could imagine myself crashing onto the ocean flow, hearing, blown out and breathing, forever halted as i drifted into death; my body slowly dissolving into flakes of sand and meals for my predators.

if i concentrated just enough; i could feel myself leave my body.

yet, the feeling of someone kicking my thigh softly and mumbling my name lured me back into my plane of existence, and for a moment, i had to remind myself who i was and what i was doing.

grass, laying down, eyes closed, y/n - right.

“y/n, did you hear me?” Doyoung’s voice finally peered through my dizziness, as i slowly peaked my eyes open, only to look up at the taller man currently blocking the sun from burning my eyes.

Doyoung was my angel.

not my literal angel, of course. He was as human as me, as human as anyone could be, anyway. While i understood that calling someone my angel would imply an unhealthy relationship - one where i depended on him - it isn’t too far fetched from the truth, unfortunately. for Doyoung was basically my angel. We had met many many years ago, when i still regularly smiled and he was still at least in the 5’8 feet range. we were both wide eyed freshmen in college, and were both the unfortunate conclusion of what happens when you decide to look down at a map when walking instead of looking out for slightly taller strangers. the memory still brings an ill-fitted smile onto your face.

“oh! sorry!” he was awkward, that you could tell, and had hair that you just knew he got off of a justin bieber album, but you didn’t want to judge him based off looks.

instead, you decided to judge him based off of the incoming bruising that would most definitely show up on your ass by nightfall.

“it’s okay!” you tried a smile, but felt like it came off as a grimace. so instead, you just moved to pick up the bag and map that you had previously held in your hands. when looking down, you saw a hand come into you view, momentarily blocking you from picking up your map. upon looking up at the korean justin bieber, you saw he was smiling wide at you, while introducing himself as Kim Doyoung, and-

“-from Guri-si!”

after that moment, you saw Doyoung pretty much everywhere you went. it wasn’t long until he walked up to you and asked if you liked coffee. and when you said you were more of a tea person yourself, he gladly accommodated to your needs, going on about a new tea shop on campus he was just dying to try out.

yet, it wasn’t a surprise by anyone that you and Doyoung had never kissed, let alone had sex.

it wasn’t a surprise, because no matter how anyone tried to look at it, you and Doyoung just did not seem like a couple. did he always find a way to touch you, whether that be a locked in side hug, a secret pinky holding under the table, or a singular hand playing with the crusted tips of your hair between his fingers? yes. did you two continuously pout at each other whenever you wanted something from the other, almost to the point where one could describe it as aegyo? occasionally. and did Doyoung sometimes kiss you on the cheek, or the forehead, as a way of parting? it could be said.

but, all of that could be and simply was the cause of two people who could be soulmates in another life - and probably were - and were in love with each other - just, platonically.

Doyoung was your angel.

to you, he held the stars in his hand and pushed the planets around the sun. hell, he was your sun. he always knew how to make you happier. how to take your fake smile and push it until it felt as real as he did when he called you a dork endearingly. when you sat across from him at a restaurant you couldn’t remember the name of, and you both laughed about something your shared friend johnny had said not a couple days prior, he felt as real as the same feeling of hearing waves crashing from the cliff you and your two year best friend were currently occupying.

“sorry?” you mumbled, sitting up.

“i said, why did you call me to meet you here? what is this place?” he scrunched his nose in detest after taking a small glance towards the cliff’s edge, before looking back down at you, and moving to sit next to you.

“haha, what do you mean? Happy Birthday!” you entrapped him in bear hug the minute he was comfortably sitting next to you, and he laughed while gripping his hands onto your forearm currently wrapped around his chest.

“thanks, y/n/n. but seriously, we have never been here before. what is this place?”

“i’m not really sure. i was driving by, on my way to this coffee place down the road i wanted to try, when i saw this spot and had to stop. i was going to stay for just a second, but it was so pretty i had to just..inhale it all. i wanted to share it with you, pretty nice way to start your 28th birthday, huh?” you smirked.

“i guess..” he trailed off and looked to the right, away from you. something was wrong with him, you quickly learned.

“hey, what’s up? you seem down on the one day of year you’re legally not allowed to be.” doyoung didn’t say anything for a minute or so, and when he looked back at you the sun perfectly revealed the gloss and red of his eyes.

“i’m 28 now, y/n. 28. and i feel like i’ve done..nothing with my life. people my age are getting married, having kids! shit, i’ve barely paid off my car. i just, where did the fucking time go?” he looked out at the ocean in front of your figures, and you softly placed your hand over his left shoulder, and said nothing. In your 27 years of life, you had learned that sometimes, people didn’t need words to feel the emotions you shared, and in the 6 or so years that you and doyoung had been friends, you didn’t need verbal confirmation that he understood how you felt about the situation.

“you don’t need to always have it figured out.”

you replaced your hand on his shoulder with your head, and you two stayed there for another hour or so, eventually talking about the plans for the day, before getting up and agreeing to go to that coffee shop you wanted to try.

by the end of the night, you finally found doyoung sitting on the balcony of Taeyongs apartment, where a surprise birthday party for him was under way. you walked up and shifted into the seat adjacent your best friend.

“hey loser, i was wondering where you were! you missed it, drunk jungwoo did a body shot off of an even drunker johnny. i swear that old man is going to blow his back out one day.” you laughed, while taking a swig of your gross beer.

“hey, i’m barely younger than him. what does that make me?”

“Just as old, honestly” you both laughed, and continued staring down at Seoul’s still busy streets.

“i hope it was a happy birthday, doyoung.” you said, softly, after some time. Doyoung turned back to you, and gave you a small, all-knowing, smile.

“it was, wasn’t it?”

;lowercase intended

[kylosupremeimagines]

Knights of Ren OCs

So after watching the Rise of Skywalker, I am immensely disappointed with how the Knights of Ren turned out. And I’m pretty sure many others are as well. Of course, all the hype for them was great and we were left wondering about them for years only to be let down with a lack of importance for them in the movie. 

I’ve had these OCs for quite a few years now and after what we got with the movie, I thought that it would be great to share them! It’s a diverse group of Force Users, all of them coming from the temple, which means that there is some lore changed since I created them before the movie/comic came out. Either way, I still think that they’re great! 

(*SPOILER FOR TROS IN THIS PARAGRAPH!* Also, in reference to Cazalin: I created her long before this movie even came out, and I originally wrote her as the granddaughter of Palpatine through Sly Moore. It’s an important part of her character. Despite how the Rise of Skywalker turned out - both with Rey being a Palpatine as well as what Palpatine did with knowing he had a grandchild - I’m not changing that about her. So it looks like Rey now has a Knight of Ren Cousin!) 

Cazalin (Main OC with RPs)

(Willa Holland)

Name: Cazalin Zera Crandora-Palpatine (Granddaughter) 

Alias: Caz Ren 

Rank: Knight of Ren, Commander

Gender: Female

Birth Planet: Corellia 

Species: Human/Umbaran Hybrid

Affiliation: First Order, Knights Of Ren 

Age: 29 (Born 6 ABY)

Skin: Pale | Has light blue/Purple markings around eyes and on lips

Hairstyle: Wavy | Thick | To Lower Back | Braided

Hair Color: Warm Brown 

Eye Color: Pale Green (Umbaran Gene)

Scars: Lightning scar due to Snoke going down entire back/parts of her right side, cybernetic left arm from starting just above the elbow (has synthskin), various smaller ones.

Positive Traits: Her drive is something that pushes her constantly. She puts pride in her work and wants to make sure that the First Order works to its highest ability. Deep down, however, she knows that much of what they’re doing is wrong and part of her hopes to one day put an end to Snoke so that he can’t treat the people of the galaxy with as much abuse and control as he does some of the knights (especially Kylo). Sure, she was full of anger at first for Luke, but that doesn’t mean she’s a complete monster.

Negative traits: With the passion she holds, Cazalin tends to be extremely stubborn. She likes to stick to one plan if she can help it and rarely dives away from her original plans. It mainly comes from her constant anxiety of failure thanks to the high expectations Snoke has on all of the Knights. She also doesn’t let a lot of people in. But even with the few that she holds close - like the other Knights of Ren - she sometimes feels to be a burden to them thus opts not to turn to them in times of emotional need. Therefore, she has a lot of emotions building up which can be dangerous in the wrong situation.

Likes: meat, studying holocrons, the idea of making changes to the Order, soft blankets, training, sleeping in silence. 

Dislikes: Manipulation, the ocean, bug creatures, snow/the cold, her family (from childhood)

Motivations/drives: Her main motivation is the idea of growing stronger to later kill Snoke so that the Knights can take command with Kylo as the Supreme Leader. 

Character Flaws: She suffers from trauma that can cloud her judgment with emotions, and she tends to push herself too far to the point of utter exhaustion during both training and missions as a way to “punish” herself. 

Combat  Strengths: Agility, use of force lightning 

Combat Weaknesses: Physical strength, patience, can get provoked due to emotions

Main Weapon: Saber Staff | One Hilt | Two Blades | Two Red Crystals

Background/History: Cazalin grew up on Corellia with her mother Shalla (half human, half Umbaran, Child of Palpatine and Sly Moore), father Devron-Rell, and twin brother Drexen-Thel. Devron was close with her when she was a child, and he had encouraged her to embrace her powers while her mother didn’t want her using them, knowing the history with her own father, even if she wasn’t close with him at all. She lost her father due to a shipment accident at the shipyard, and with Shalla’s refusal to let her use her powers untrained, Cazalin ran off and eventually found herself at the temple. She and Ben became close friends, relating to him in the fact that a dark entity reached out to her through the Force. Later, she joined him and some other students to join the First Order. 

Dralin 

(Henry Cavill)

Name: Dralin Novar

Alias: Dralin Ren

Rank: Knight of Ren 

Gender: Male

Birth Planet: Ord Mantell

Species: Human

Affiliation: Black Sun (Previously), First Order, Knights of Ren

Age: 40 (Born 5 BBY)

Skin: Fair

Hairstyle: Sleek

Hair Color: Dark Brown 

Eye Color: Blue 

Scars: His left ring and middle fingers are cybernetic from losing them, Scar on the right hand from getting stabbed as a teenager. 

Positive traits: Despite his embrace of negative emotions through the dark side, many of the other Knights are rather unsure how Dralin is able to stay so calm. He’s patient and prefers to wait things out until he feels as if it’s the right time to strike. The man also holds respect for his fellow First Order Members so long as they are competently doing what they are supposed to. He allows room for error as long as there was a clear effort put in that showed no signs of total ignorance. He is also a man who seeks out knowledge, interested in certain aspects of sith alchemy or other like aspects of the Force. 

Negative traits: Opposite to his usual calm demeanor, he is terrifying the instances when he’s pissed off. He will often snap necks to prevent things from getting too gruesome - partially because of his OCD and dislike of getting excess blood on his tunic. He likes things to be swift so he’ll do what he can to avoid violent confrontation so long as circumstances allow for it. IT proves bad in certain situations when the other knights believe violence is needed. Because of that, he doesn’t work too well alone with Orus, thus they don’t go on certain missions alone together. 

Likes: Force Knowledge, peaceful resolve when possible, fancy wine, people who waste his time, opera music (loves going to The Galaxies Opera House on Coruscant.) 

Dislikes: Complete incompetence, ignorance, disorganization, people who don’t speak up when they have something important to contribute to a conversation

Motivations/drives: He genuinely wants to keep order in the galaxy, and believes that the First Order is the way to go.

Character Flaws: Sometimes he doesn’t see that diplomacy will fail and always insists on staying on his original route on trying to negotiate rather than doing the hard things that are necessary unless there’s no turning back from it. 

Combat  Strengths: Patience, talking his opponents down

Combat Weaknesses: Dislike of excess blood on his tunic, balancing his saber and force abilities when he uses them connected. 

Main Weapon: Curved Hilted Sabers | Attachable Hilts | Two Red Crystals

Background/History: Being born before the fall of the Galactic Empire, he had a few memories growing up about them. It’s Because his parents were workers at the Ord Mantell Deep Dock that he lived on the planet under the control of the Empire. His parents often were caught up with work so he had to take care of himself, therefore learning not to expect much as well as to respect people who fight for themselves. He had his basic needs met with having enough food and other similar things. He eventually ended up meeting Volgoth and getting involved with the Black Sun to better support himself. But it ended badly he escaped with the Devaroian to survive on their own for a while until joining Luke to learn the ways of the Force. 

Isa 

( https://www.tvovermind.com/darth-atroxa-cosplay-star-wars-old-republic/

Name: Isa Covell

Alias: Isa Ren

Rank: Knight of Ren

Gender: Female 

Birth Planet: Ryloth

Species: Twi’lek

Affiliation: First Order, Knights of Ren

Age: 33 (Born 2 ABY)

Skin: Ren

Hairstyle: None 

Hair Color: N/A

Eye Color: Gold

Scars: Cybernetic Implants above right eye that serves as a way to better hack into technology 

positive traits: Even if she can be ruthless sometimes in her actions, that doesn’t mean that she’s always so merciless. In fact, she will normally keep to herself and not say much unless needed. Therefore, she will be observant with her surroundings. Isa is very committed to her knowledge of technology and occasionally works with First Order to develop new ideas. In her free time, a lot of the time she will focus on technology as well as practicing hacking into systems. There’s a training room for the knights dedicated to this practice Because she was insistent that the others learn tricks For when she isn’t on missions. 

negative traits: She is a bit of a mystery, as she seems to lack some basic emotions. It’s not that she doesn’t feel at all but she’s become numb to certain feelings. Therefore, she can be a mixed card and hard to read, unpredictable if you would like to call it. It frightens many in the first order Because they’re all terrified that with one wrong move, they will have their heads. There is no telling if she will tear you in two or if she will merely bush things off and forget about them. Also, she tends to “pop” out of nowhere and scared people with how quite she was. 

Likes: Sweets (Guilty Pleasure), technology, massages. 

Dislikes: Medication, when people stare at her, people who try to talk too much, talking too much herself, red meats, mentions of her past. 

Motivations/drives: She doesn’t really seem to have one, but rather just does things to do things. 

Character Flaws: The fact that she’s pretty lacking in the emotions department. 

Combat  Strengths: Not showing her emotions to the enemy (Therefore, being unpredictable), Use of technology (she’s great with decoding and hacking, plus has a lot of knowledge about technology overall and knows how to use it against her opponents.)

Combat Weaknesses: Stealth (Prefers to run right into a fight rather than wait to get things over with), 

Main Weapon: Saber With Retractable Handle | Red Crystal

Background/History: Isa comes from a family of Twi’lek refugees that gave birth to her a couple of years before the Emperor died. She doesn’t remember anything from those days but ess met with the after-effects of the empire when her family tried to rebuild everything they and their people had lost. With all that her parents were doing, she tended to be forgotten about and neglected. Therefore, forming social bonds was never a strong suit for her with the lack of a proper social and emotional upbringing. It played a part in her difficulties of understanding the proper functions of emotions or how to handle them. Let’s just say she’s not too great at making friends because of such an upbringing. 

Jerex

( https://forums.tomshardware.com/threads/swtor-making-a-char-the-resembles-darth-maul.2540321/ 

Name: Jerex Donos

Alias: Jerex Ren

Rank: Knight of Ren

Gender: Male

Birth Planet: Unknown

Species: Zabrak

Affiliation: First Order, Knights of Ren

Age: 32 (Born 3 ABY)

Skin: Red (Black Markings)

Hairstyle: None

Hair Color: N/A

Eye Color: Yellow with Red Ring around the iris 

Scars: Scar along mouth (think Heath Ledger Joker(

positive traits: Despite being a more aggressive Knight who isn’t afraid to express his emotions, he tends to be calmer around the other Knights. He trusts them all with his life and holds high respect for reach other them; they’ve all got their strong suits and always prove to be valuable assets to the team. Deep down, Jerex genuinely cares for the others even if it is not obvious. He understands his emotions well and how to use each one to benefit him in battle. They never overpower him as he is always in control of his actions, therefore being effective in pushing back the complete influence of dark side where many others would fail. 

negative traits: Unlike someone such as Dralin, Jerex has little patience with people unless they are of a close rank to him, primarily being his fellow Knights of Ren or the Supreme Leader. He will usually go into a fight ready to get aggressive and dirty, but will not let himself go crazy like Orus might. He has some restraint, but only when it is extremely necessary for the occasion. Because he has a hard time finding reasons to respect others, he tends to just ignore anyone that he doesn’t believe is worth his time. 

Likes: Combat training, Warm weather, watching Volgoth and Orus bicker, lack of strict rules for himself on missions, meditating in the dark. 

Dislikes: Volgoth pushing him to drink, using bacta to heal his wounds, droids (some people suspect something happened in his past), 

Motivations/drives: To grow in strength, based on physical abilities and connection to the Force.

Character Flaws: His disrespect for some lower-ranked members of the First Order. 

Combat  Strengths: Stealth, utilizing his emotions in battle.

Combat Weaknesses: Speed, inability to properly use saber and offensive force abilities at once. 

Main Weapon: Spinning Double-Bladed Saber | Two Red Crystals

Background/History: One my see Orus of having the most mysterious background of all the Knights, but Jerex is a total Mystery to the point that even Kylo has no idea where he comes from. One day, he just showed up to the Temple with Master Luke and nothing was ever said about where he came from. The others don’t bother to question him about it as he had never shown even a drop of interest in telling them anything about himself. All that they can piece together is that he had a tough childhood that made him serious as an adult. 

Orus

(Megan Fox)

Name: Orus Valara 

Alias: Orus Ren

Rank: Knight of Ren

Gender: Female

Birth Planet: Unknown, though suspected to be Nar Shaddaa

Species: Human

Affiliation: First Order, Knights of Ren

Age: 28 (Born 7 ABU)

Skin: Pale

Hairstyle: Down | To Breasts

Hair Color: Black 

Eye Color: Icy Blue

Scars: Faint scar above eyebrow, burn marks starting on left hand trailing up to her elbow. 

positive traits: She’s very dedicated to her work as a Knight of Ren, and when she finds the group she feels the most satisfied with (The Knights of Ren in current times), she will devote herself to them. Unless one of her own were to betray her, she would never do harm to them - unless one of them gets on her nerves. Though, she is not afraid to speak her mind so you will know when you cause her issue. With the small chances, if someone happens to get her attention, you may be able to break her walls and be one of the only people that she thoroughly enjoys being around. Only a few people in her life have seen her affectionate side. 

negative traits: Ever since she was a child, she took some form of pleasure in other people’s misfortunes because she believed that she was damned by the galaxy, this thinking that no one deserved something good unless they pushed to earn it. In her days as a Knight of Ren, she used it to fuel her acts of torture and interrogations. She is known as the best in the entire Order to get information out of prisoners or just to make them suffer for their misdeeds. Orus is the one who deals with anyone that betrays the First Order. 

Likes: Her Light Whip, peace and quiet, sensing fear in others, successfully finishing a mission, flying out to space to “float in the void” in a ship alone. 

Dislikes: People who push her buttons (Which is very easy to do), getting wet, Nar Shadda, excessively optimistic people. 

Motivations/drives: She takes some pleasure in making people suffer, almost as if she believes that they deserve it from the galaxy being hard on her with her 

Character Flaws: She lacks empathy much of the time for people she doesn’t care about and therefore can someones be excessive with how she treats people. 

Combat  Strengths: Control of the whip, lack of empathy

Combat Weaknesses: Tendency to get to extreme with fighting, her bloodlust.

Main Weapon: Light Whip | Red Crystal Broken Into Smaller Pieces To Allow For Whip Effect

Background/History: She keeps much of her background hidden from others as a padawan, never telling anyone where she comes from or the past that she derives from. However, when they joined the First Order as Knights of Ren, she slowly started to open up a bit more about her past. It started with Volgoth’s insistence of her drinking to “loosen up a bit,” to allow herself to relax, which led to her admitting about her past. When she realized that there was no going back, she revealed that she was abandoned as a child and left with the Hutts and gangs of Nar Shaddaa. She surprising survived, and picked up on her violent behaviors from watching the cartel do nasty things. And of course, she had some seriously horrific things done to herself. Those things she refuses to talk about with anyone. 

Volgoth 

Name: Volgoth Garr

Alias: Volgoth Ren

Rank: Knight of Ren

Gender: Male

Birth Planet: Devaron (Grew up on Ord Mantell)

Species: Devaronian

Affiliation: Black Sun (Previously), First Order, Knight of Ren 

Age: 38 (Born 3 BBY)

Skin: Red

Hairstyle: None (Horns) 

Hair Color: N/A

Eye Color: Brown

Scars: Slightly chipped left horn | Scar under right eye | Busted knee with cybernetic implants to fix the injury

positive traits: Volgoth is very open with his surprisingly light-hearted side, at least with the other knights or when he’s out for fun. He brings the much-needed humor to the group through trying to lift their spirits with sarcasm. With most of the others, he is always expressive and platonically affectionate, wrapping his arm around someone’s shoulder for fun as they talk. He’s also daring, some say that he’s stupid but he likes to see himself as a brave soul willing to do anything no matter the cost. 

negative traits: Growing up with a gang, he tends to get overconfident at times. It affects his training when he doesn’t expect whoever he’s sparring with to go so hard on him. Or during a mission, there are a few rare cases where he might come close to compromising it unless even if the others are there to fix things. Overall, he isn’t a bad guy but his need to enjoy things in life occasionally lead to him not taking his duties as seriously as he should. He also was utterly oblivious to the fact that Zira is in love with him before the others said something. 

Likes: Zira (In a relationship with her), Alcohol,  Nar Shaddaa, Snazzy music

Dislikes: When Orus won’t lighten up, being told to tone it down with his actions, being in space/on ships for too long, going more than a day without even a small sip of alcohol. 

Motivations/drives: Being able to enjoy life even if it means doing a few not so ethical things. 

Character Flaws: His arrotance

Combat  Strengths: Ability to run off of pure instinct, daring nature (won’t back down from anything and will attempt crazy things he may think will lead to victory.)

Combat Weaknesses: Balance (Can get clumsy at times), occasional arrogance

Main Weapon: Saber With Elongated Hilt | Red Crystal

Background/History:  Most of his life has consisted of being around the Black Sun thanks to his father having associations with the group. With them, he would run jobs for them even at a young age but also learned how to enjoy himself. They pushed personal pleasure to be one of his drives in life. Volgoth eventually met Dralin and taught him to do things for himself every so often to gain personal pleasure. The two left when Volgoth did something to piss off the Black Sun. They stole a star ship together and were on the run ever since, avoiding any Black Sun. They finally had nothing to worry about when they joined the temple in their teenage years. 

Zira

( Togruta from Star Wars by Maja Felicitas Photo by eosAndy )

Name: Zira Vale 

Alias: Zira Ren

Rank: Knight of Ren

Gender: Female

Birth Planet: Shili

Species: Togruta

Affiliation: First Order, Knights of Ren

Age: 31 (4 ABY)

Skin: Yellow

Hairstyle: None

Hair Color: (Lekku/Montrals) Bluish Grey

Eye Color: Purple

Scars: None

positive traits: Out of all the Knights of Ren, Zira is the most compassionate. She first followed the others when she saw the errors in Luke’s ways as well as hoping to make sure that the others did not fully submit to the dark side as she cared for all of them. She’s an experience and Force healing techniques, therefore serves as the group’s primary healer. She’s almost like the “mom friend” of the group, making sure that they’re all doing alright and occasionally checking in on them. She’ll even go as far as to do it via holo if she’s not close to them. 

negative traits: As she’s a Knight of Ren, she sometimes feels out of place being as compassionate as she is. There are moments that she hesitates doing certain things expected of her but will still comply as she remains loyal to Kylo and the other Knights. Orus questions why she even stays with the Knights of Ren giving her compassionate nature, to which Zira will defend herself. In order to not need to get aggressive, she will use the force to manipulate people into doing what she wants. In this, she surprisingly doesn’t despite when she needs to do it, Because she justifies it by saying that there are just people in the galaxy that need to comply and she’s not afraid to influence them in necessary. 

Likes: Meditation, learning new Force healing techniques, floral-scented bath soaps, the beach, gold jewelry. 

Dislikes: How often the others get injured, being excessive in combat, how Orus treats some prisoners, being told to let everything of her past die

Motivations/drives: She wants to keep balance in the order and show some officers kindness when they can’t find it anywhere else. 

Character Flaws: Of course she is a little too sensitive and compassionate in her line of work but still stays for the tiebreak. 

Combat  Strengths: Healing herself or allies, Control of emotions

Combat Weaknesses: Empathetic Nature

Main Weapon: Two Saber Tonfa | Two Red Crystals

Background/History: She doesn’t remember much about her childhood before Luke found her while she was young. Feeling that she was Force-sensitive, Considering that Ben was Force-sensitive and his sense of duty to pass on the legacy of the Jedi, it was part of the reason why he decided to form the Temple in the first place. Leia would help with her much of the time until he put together the temple, where he eventually brought Zira and Ben; as well as a few other Force-sensitives that he had gathered. 

[gabriel4sam]

Three conversations Obi-Wan had after the Death Star

Obi-Wan survives Vader and tries to take care of three young souls.

 Under the cut, a little fic written for @kenobi-gen-exchange, beta by the awesome @wrennette

Leia had entered the Death Star like she was descending into her own mausoleum. In her exhausted mind, it was fitting, in a way. The monstrous contraption which had destroyed Scarif would be her last step before the grave.

Then, there had been a too short Stormtrooper, a walking carpet, and a sarcastic rogue. There had been shots fired, and a garbage chute, and hope had reignited, like a spark starting a bonfire. The plans, the plans of that monstrosity were the best chance the rebellion had and now, she could deliver them…if they escaped.

Now, around them, the TIE fighters bark a deluge of fire, like a pack of small, savage beasts tearing at the throat of a larger animal.

Trying to tear apart, in fact, because the ship of Han Solo has teeth and he and Luke are sitting at the turrets, fighting back. Sitting in the cockpit, Leia watches, her heart in her throat. If they die in this battle, the death of Alderaan will be in vain. She wants to live, with a lust for life she thought lost when she saw her planet explode.

She wants to live, to avenge Alderaan, to tear the Empire apart. A cold shiver runs along her spine, changing her blood into ice in a wave of unknown fury, more dangerous for the calm that surrounds its core. She could murder, in that state of mind. She thirsts for the blood of Tarkin, of Vader; for their pain, to see them lose everything they hold dear, and make them watch, just like they made her. Just as a part of her recognizes, distantly, that her control of her emotions is better than that, normally, that she was raised better than that, warmth engulfs her and the ice recedes. General Kenobi has put his cloak around her shoulders.

“We will live today,” Kenobi says simply, “to rebuild,” and Leia wants to tell him she wants blood, revenge, she wants to throw away her principles to see Vader and Tarkin burn, but their gazes meet, and in the calm blue of his eyes, she sees a bottomless grief, like she carries in her heart.

“My father was happy, at the thought of seeing you again,” She says instead, and Kenobi smiles, old and kind and nothing like the brilliant, headstrong general of the stories, but his arm around her shoulders feels like an anchor, strong and sheltering, like a port in a storm.

“Sadly,” he says, “I know a little about losing my people. I won’t lie and say it will be alright.”

“You’re not very comforting.”

“But I will say this: it will get better, and an objective helps. A mission.”

“What was yours? When you escaped after the war?”

“Well, you and young Luke, of course. Luke, more specifically, but you were never far away from my mind.”

“What?”

“Oh, yes. Of course, you don’t know. We always said we would tell you together, and dear Bail and Breha were people of their word. Oh dear…. The Death Star, first, then we need to have an overdue conversation.”

She wants to pursue this conversation but he pats her hand:

“Allow an old man, whose mind is not as sharp as it used to be, a moment to gather his thoughts.”

“You can’t be serious! It seems like …like you said… Luke,” Leia whines, tumbling head first into a maelstrom of emotions, forgetting every notion of protocol ever drilled, with great difficulty, into her stubborn head, and General Kenobi’s mouth twitches.

In all his stories, her father never told how infuriating the man could be!

 **********************************

 The Death Star is dust, and Han’s head, which was only sought by Jabba, the thrice damned slug, and two or three exes with a grudge, will very probably be on every bounty hunter in the galaxy’s list in the days to come.

And yes, the Imperials.

That pesky problem of every Imperial who will now want him dead for helping the Rebels. Oh joy.

What was he thinking! He hadn’t even been drunk!!

On the edge of Yavin’s base, as the Rebels are packing up with military efficiency, despite an impressive collection of impressive hangovers, Han’s mounting worries look every minute more like full-blown panic, until a shuffling gait draws his attention.

Han isn’t a naïve farmer like Luke. He understands why the old man, whose steps were surer than the most limber Imperial spy on the Death Star, suddenly makes the same noise as a Gungan on dry soil. Kenobi smiles, light, self-deprecating, and Han glares harder. Despite himself, Han feels the poor, innocent, totally not dangerous, definitely can’t kill people with my mind, old man act works, as it had on Tatooine. It’s exasperating, especially since Han is old enough to remember Jedi shenanigans on the holo news. It shouldn’t work on him.

Kenobi sits next to him, and together, they watch the Rebels bundle up machines, explosives, parts, and sometimes a droid who doesn’t escape them quick enough, which spawns a quarter hour of comedy, as R2-D2 rescues his counterpart with violence Han didn’t expect of an astromech .

“Luke and Leia are very young,” Kenobi finally says.

“Hm, hmm,” Han answers. There. Totally not incriminating. He’s capable of learning, no matter what Chewie growls about his head and its contents.

“The crisis is reaching its boiling point,” the old man continues, not deterred.

“Long time coming,” Han can’t stop himself from adding.

“And they would certainly benefit from some guidance,” Kenobi half-smiles.

“They have the whole Rebel crew,” Han immediately says, “and also, aren’t you supposed to be subtle? Negotiator and all that.”

“I didn’t think you would appreciate being manipulated,” Kenobi remarks, and despite himself Han feels it working, that undisguised demand. Manipulated, yeah, he would hate that, especially from the man who is supposed to take care of Luke and Leia.

Those two will be trouble, he’s sure of it.

More trouble than the Death Star, even.

Oh, by the kriffin stars, they’re gonna get killed like two idiots. Luke has no survival instinct, and Leia isn’t much better, and he had only known them for a few days, he’s sure they can do worse than what already made him sweat. And Han isn’t touching on the hypocrisies of his opinion, coming back to protect Luke against Vader or not.

“Are you manipulating me by pretending you don’t want to manipulate me?” He asks, his glare making a fiery comeback.

The old man smiles.

“Snake,” Han grumbles, and apparently Kenobi takes it as a compliment, because his smile, from old and benign, turns mischievous. But it’s a smile which invites Han to share its joy, not a smile at Han’s expense, but a smile with Han, and despite himself, Han answers it with his own.

**************************

Luke is helping prep the Y-Wings for the flight to their rendezvous point, since all the X-Wings are ready. Working helped. Working, he understands. Flight engines don’t suddenly sprout family members. They don’t lie for years, pretending to be the more or less harmless and slightly touched in the head friendly neighbourhood hermit, when they are in reality space monks turned bodyguards for secret children of long-ago murdered friends. And also, perhaps he wouldn’t have needed a secret bodyguard, if he had raised under a false name, like Leia!

Oh Force, like his sister Leia….

Leia isn’t as angry as himself about their long hidden brotherhood, but he suspects that’s because the trauma of Alderaan and the necessary work for the Rebel Alliance are taking precedence.

Give it a little time. He’s pretty sure the spine of iron he already found in her is matched by a temper of much more volatile components.

Luke feels Ben entering the hangar. Every minute almost, the Force opens him a little more to sensations he doesn’t understand. It’s like an avalanche, and Ben explained it’s because Leia and him are working together, that it would be much harder if one of them tried to do it alone.

It’s terrifying.

It’s comforting.

It’s like a promise he will never be alone, as he can feel the nervous energy of every Rebel, and Ben and Leia more closely, the old man a point of light like a flame in the night, and Leia more turbulent, like a slash-and-burn fire, destructive perhaps but with a promise of more life reborn from the blaze.

It’s comforting, but when he’s angry with Ben, it’s a little inconvenient to feel themselves linked together like that.

“Came to tell me about more long lost family members?”

There is like a ping in the Force, almost a bell sound and Luke wouldn’t have understood, days before. Now he throws his wrench on the floor, unconcerned with their audience.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!! Ben!!”

“Luke, this isn’t –“

“No, not, let me guess, it’s a triplet. And it’s Han! Or better, Chewie!”

“Luke!”

The young man turns and on the old Jedi’s face, he sees what he didn’t feel in the Force, untrained and nascent, no matter his powers. On Ben’s face, he sees despair, worn like a twenty-year old wound, and still bleeding.

“Ben?” Luke asks, and suddenly he’s nine years old again and Ben just conveniently found him lost in the desert; he’s thirteen years old and Ben just conveniently rescued him from a slaver’s ship that wanted to fatten its pockets before leaving the planet; he’s fifteen years old and Ben just happened to pass the canyon where he was cornered by a Tusken raid.

Now that he thinks about it, he should have understood some things much sooner.

“Luke,” Ben says, and he stops. Luke puts his two hands on the hermit’s shoulders.

“I’m there,” he tries to reassure.

“Luke, there is something I haven’t told you and Leia, but it’s so terrible, I haven’t said it since the day I told it to Owen and Beru and I’m not sure I have the strength…”

“It will be okay,” Luke says, “you know it will. You’ll rely on us and it will be okay. You’re not alone.”

And if Ben’s eyes are perhaps wet, Luke doesn’t say it. A little awkward, he goes for a hug.

No matter what, they are not alone. Not one of them. The rest of the Rebels have made themselves scarce, but he suddenly feels Leia, at the other end of the hangar. She felt something like off and came to them. Behind her, Han is ranting, not aware yet of the current of tension between the three Force users.

Luke thinks of a little hut in the middle of the desert. He thinks about Owen and Beru, and Bail and Breha who he will never know.

“No one of us are alone,” Luke says with conviction and he knows, with certainty well beyond simple instinct, how true it will always be.

[dalekofchaos]

Why I believe Rey is a Skywalker

Rey’s story throughout The Force Awakens indicated to be something more. And The Last Jedi ignored everything JJ Abrams was building up to. And this is just me pretty much saying why I believe Rey will either be revealed as a Skywalker or how I believe Rey will take up the mantle of Skywalker.

Star Wars has always been about family, specifically the Skywalker family.

It makes so much sense and Rey’s arc in TFA only makes sense if she is a Skywalker.

Anakin grew up on a desert planet, Rey and Luke were both left to be raised on a desert planet

Lor San Tekka was on Jakku with a map to Luke’s location and could have possibly watching over Rey through the years like Obi-Wan was for Luke.

Rey says to BB-8 that she is “classified? me too, big secret.”

In the trailer for The Force Awakens, Luke says this. “The Force is strong in my family. My father has it. I have it. My sister has it. You have that power, too.“ this was either taken out  for it to be planned for the sequels since Luke appeared at the end of TFA, or JJ Abrams decided on to have it be used when he returns for TROS. You don’t put a line like this for just teasing and promotion. This was deliberately said for a reason.

Rey’s face lights up when she realizes Luke Skywalker is real and after Han told her and Finn about Luke

Han Solo takes a special interest in Rey. He offers her a job(he also offered Luke a job) and he’s only known her a couple of hours max. He doesn’t offer Finn a job. Why does Han Solo stare at Rey anytime she says or does anything, like when she managed to fix the Millennium Falcon before him even though she had no experience of it or when Rey said she had only see a place so green in her dreams. Han sees Luke in Rey and it’s obvious Han knew something about Rey. Why would Maz Kanata ask Han Solo “who’s the girl?”

When someone asks “who’s the girl” it cuts to a different scene. It is deliberate. Would they really purposefully cut to different scenes to keep up the suspense if Rey really were a nobody?

Rey is called to the Skywalker Lightsaber. When Rey touches the Lightsaber, she has force visions. Visions that only surround by Luke Skywalker’s legacy and her own abandonment. Luke’s fight on Bespin, Obi-Wan, Luke’s lessons with Yoda, The Corredos of the Death Star, Luke’s temple burning, The Knights of Ren, her being left on Jakku. Why does THAT Lightsaber call to her? No other Lightsabers have ever called to a random person. There is nothing within the Clone Wars, Rebels or even in Legends to Lightsabers calling out to their particular users. The Lightsaber called to Rey for a reason.

Maz specifically says “that lightsaber was Luke’s and his father’s before him and now it calls to you!” Would a Lightsaber that was passed down to Anakin and Luke, a Lightsaber that later rejects Kylo Ren really call to a nobody?

Rey fights off Kylo Ren’s force probe. Until TLJ novel ruined it by saying “Rey downloaded Kylo’s skills” thus by taking away her agency and not letting it be HER abilities. Rey in TFA was so powerful she was able to fend off Kylo’s interrogation. Her awakening begins there. She learned to use the Jedi mind trick. Kylo even says to Snoke “ She's strong with the Force, untrained but stronger than she knows.” Why would Kylo say this if Rey simply downloaded his abilities and lose when HE mastered those abilities?

Rey like Luke witnesses the death of her mentor

Rey force pulled the Skywalker Lightsaber. After Rey did this, Kylo says in the novel “it is you” why would Kylo say to a nobody “it is you”??? Kylo has been spending the vast majority of the movie torturing, hurting and killing Rey, only during the duel that he offers to teach Rey the ways of the force. Only when Rey closes her eyes and tapes into the force, is Rey able to defeat Kylo Ren

So many of Luke’s music scores happen during specific Rey scenes

Leia hugs Rey when she had no idea who Rey is, this is their first meeting and when Chewbacca IS RIGHT THERE(WHY DOES LEIA NOT GRIEVE WITH CHEWIE??)  Why was Rey sent to go fetch the legendary Luke Skywalker? Why not Poe? The man sent to find Luke’s map. Why not Leia? Luke’s twin sister Leia has the strongest connection with him. Leia herself said she wanted to find Luke and bring him would Leia really risk it all by sending someone she just met to find Luke? Someone she and Luke has no connection to? Leia realized too that Rey was her niece and thought it was best for Luke to tell her on her own because the Skywalker Twins are dramatic. Leia knew that Rey and Luke needed this and she hoped Rey could bring Luke back over her. It makes absolutely no sense for Leia to send someone with no connection to Luke or herself to find Luke. 

The script for TFA says Luke knows who she is. IT IS LUKE SKYWALKER. Older now, white hair, bearded. He looks at Rey. A kindness in his eyes, but there's something tortured, too. He doesn't need to ask her who she is, or what she is doing here. You can see clearly that Mark Hamil acted the his best out of that scene despite no lines. Yet this exchange is changed pointlessly in the beginning of The Last Jedi. He throws the Lightsaber and treats her like an annoying kid who won’t get off his lawn.

Rey has said she dreamed of Ach-To, the very place Luke went to.

Luke says in the TLJ graphic novel that Rey reminds him of himself so much.

Rey forges a force bond with Kylo Ren so easily. A DAY PASSED, A DAY. There was NO TIME SKIP! Rey has no reason whatsoever to trust Kylo. He killed Han Solo and hurt her friend. Her first instinct when seeing him was to shoot Kylo on sight with a blaster. Why does Rey so easily go from wanting to kill Kylo to saving Ben Solo and saying “he is our last hope” Who else in the saga is bonded? Luke and Leia. Rey and Kylo are bonded as cousins and as family. Kylo wants Rey to join him, like Vader wanted Luke to join him. Rey’s biggest weakness is her desire to find a family. Despite everything he’s done, Rey subconsciously wants to save Ben because of that desire to have a family. Kylo was lying about Rey’s parents, he was just trying to get her to agree to join him. Convincing her that she had no one and was no one would make her more open to joining him. Kylo is a proven liar and manipulator time and time again. If you so easily believed Kylo Ren, then congrats you are easily manipulated.

Luke specifically says “I can’t be what she needs me to be”

Kylo Ren is said to be based off of Darth Caedus/Jacen Solo. Rey is said to be based off of Ben Skywalker. There is always truth in legends.

John Williams doesn’t believe Rey’s parents were nobodies.

And i will defend Rey being left on Jakku. A lot of fans who defend Rey being a nobody will immediately say “it’s not in Luke Skywalker’s character to leave Rey on a graveyard of a planet.” They are correct, Luke would not. Rey’s mother would for her protection. Luke probably walled off all memories of Luke Skywalker and left her on Jakku and asked Lor San Tekka to keep an eye on her, like Obi-Wan did for him. Rey was left

Luke’s antagonistic attitude towards Rey in TLJ. He doesn’t want to involve her in his family’s destructive nature, he can’t involve her in the fight, Luke pushes her away hoping to keep her safe, yet still interacts with her because he cares. Despite Rian Johnson’s character assassination, he can’t take away that Luke Skywalker genuinely cares. 

Luke teaches Rey and has passed on everything he knew after he became a force ghost. Something must have happened in all that time. He even tells her “We’ll always be with you, no one’s ever really gone.” There will be a reveal on Rey’s parentage. Whether Luke is her father or not. The character of Zorri Bliss is being hinted at being Rey’s mother. Zorri Bliss is said not to take any sides during the war, perhaps her neutrality is because of what she had to do to ensure her daughter remained safe. Even if Luke is not her father, Rey can still be a Skywalker. Rey will take up the mantle of Skywalker. Rey has finally found her family and her place in the galaxy. Rise Of Skywalker means Rey and her connection to the Skywalkers, it’s about Rey even if she’s not a true Skywalker. The entire trilogy is Rey’s hero’s journey and her character arc. She started as a scavenger abandoned on Jakku. She found a purpose aside from desperately waiting for something that will never come. The Force Awakens was Rey’s awakening. She found the force within herself and saved herself and her friend. The Last Jedi was about Rey finding her place and eventually becoming The Last Jedi. She found that her place was not following the teachings of the old Jedi or with Kylo Ren. Her place is becoming the new generation of Jedi and Rey herself becoming a legend. Rey will take the mantle of Skywalker and become the beacon of hope the galaxy needs.  

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (109/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[21 February, 233 Before Age.   Interstellar Space.]

"Six Saiyans all at once?    You must be slowing down in your old age, little mammal.    I remember a time when you defeated fifty without breaking a sweat."

In the sickbay of Luffa's star-yacht, Dr. Topsas applied bandages made of his own webbing to Luffa's wounds.   On occasion, he would hold out a section of his silk with two hands and smear a medicated gel onto one side with a third hand.   Four other limbs supported the weight of his massive arachnoid body.    He used the eighth to hold one of Luffa's hands as he worked.    

"They were tougher than usual, that's all," Luffa said.    "And I knew you'd be along to patch me up, so I didn't bother blocking their hits."

"Yes, of course," Topsas said as he wrapped up Luffa's right shoulder.   "You meant to shred your forearm like this.  Forgive me.  It can be difficult for my untrained eyes to tell the difference.    What seems to be a careless mistake is actually a masterful forgery."

"Ow!" Luffa said.   While she had been watching him tend to her arm, one of his other limbs had stuck something into her thigh.  

"A regenerative serum," Topsas explained, "to help repair that tendon in your leg.  Most Saiyan patients might have caught me before I managed to inject them with it, but you acted as if you were completely unaware.   It pleases me to see how much you trust me, Luffa."

"Look, I know you two missed each other," said Zatte, who had taken a seat on one of the other examination tables in the sickbay.   "But could you cut the banter for a few minutes and tell me what's going on?"

"Some clown named Trismegistus is powering up Saiyans and sending them after me," Luffa said.   "If Dotz hadn't foreseen their attack on Planet Lubegev, they would have wrecked the place and waited for me to hear about it and walk into their trap."

The revelation startled Zatte enough to make her forget her earlier impatience.    "You mean they wanted to fight you?" Zatte asked.    "That's crazy."

"I think you just defined the Saiyan species, Ms. Zatte," Topsas remarked.  

"They weren't that crazy," Luffa said.   "Their combined power gave me some trouble.   Plus, they were very well-trained for fighting as a group.    Pretty sure some of them used to serve in the Royal military.   These guys would have been pretty talented, even before Trismegistus got ahold of them.   With his Jindan treatments, they were pretty impressive.   If they hadn't lost their nerve in the end, I might have been in some real danger."

"Define 'danger'," Zatte said.  

Luffa looked at her and smiled.   "They might have killed me."

"Yes, but let us remember that they did not kill you," Topsas said as he waved a diagnostic scanner across Luffa's back.   "You prevailed over difficult odds, as we have all grown accustomed to seeing.  Then you returned to the ship, where you will make a full recovery, much to the relief of your long-suffering wife."

"Thank you, doctor," Zatte said.  

"Hey, I told you I was okay when I came on board," Luffa said.  

Zatte pointed at Topsas.   "I just like to hear it from him, all right?" she said.   She looked at Dotz, who was lying in one of the beds, with an intravenous drip in her left arm.   "I'm sorry, I should be thanking you.  If Luffa hadn't known about this in advance, it could have turned out much worse."

"Oh, uh... well, I'm afraid I wasn't much help, ma'am," Dotz said.    "I only forecast one Saiyan, not six, and I had no idea they'd be so powerful.   If anything, I should be apologizing..."

"Oh, come on!" Luffa shouted.  "You guys are acting like I lost back there.   I had my back against the wall and I still kicked their asses!   It was amazing, at least until the end when one of them turned coward.    Isn't anyone happy for me?"

"In a word, no," Topsas said.  

"Hell no," Zatte said.

"I still feel guilty about it," Dotz added.

"Well, too bad," Luffa harrumphed, "because this won't be the end of it.   I may not have precognition powers like Dotz, but I've fought enough battles to know this Trismegistus isn't finished yet."

"What are you saying?" Zatte asked.

Luffa hobbled over to a chair and took a seat.   With most patients, Topsas might have questioned the point of getting up from an exam table to sit in a chair only a few paces away, but he had learned to pick his battles carefully where Luffa was concerned.    

"Those guys who jumped me on Lubegev had the same upgrade as Jolok, the Saiyan who put Dotz in a coma and tried to take me out on Quadzityz," she explained.   "When Jolok and I fought, he told me he was defying orders by running off to fight me, but he did it anyway because he thought he could catch me off guard and take all the glory for himself."

"...And?" Topsas asked.

Luffa rolled her eyes and groaned.   "Think about it!" she said.   "If there were only seven of these jacked-up Saiyans, why wait to deploy them?  Why draw it out, long enough for one of them to lose patience and run off to go into business for himself?  The reason is that there's a lot more than seven.  Trismegistus is trying to build an army of Saiyans with these powers.  These six were supposed to be the first wave.    A test, to see how well I'd do against them.  But it would take a while to move that many pieces into place.   Jolok couldn't wait that long, which is why he tried to start things early."  

"The first wave?" Zatte asked.   "Luffa, you make it sound like this is the start of a full-scale offensive!"

"Hah!    You always say the sweetest things," Luffa said.   "To be honest, I have no idea how many Saiyans are in league with Trismegistus.   Once those six fail to report in, he'll know they weren't enough to beat me.  So next time he'll send eight, or ten!  If I beat them, he'll send more, assuming he has more to send.   But I think he's thought that far ahead.    One thing's for sure.   There's plenty of Saiyans out there who'd love a chance to take me down, even if they have to gang up on me to pull it off."

"And how, little mammal, do you expect to defeat these enemies when you're still recuperating from the last battle?" Topsas asked.

"By doing the one thing those bastards would never expect," Luffa said as she rose out of her chair.    For a moment, she seemed to strike a heroic pose, like a wounded warrior preparing for an epic last stand.    Then, she shuffled over to the bed next to Dotz and lay down in it, pulling the covers over herself.

"I'm sorry, but what would that be?" Zatte asked.  

"Following my doctor's orders!" Luffa exclaimed.   "My body will get stronger with every battle I fight.   As long as I stay one step ahead of my injuries, I ought to be able to keep up with Trismegistus' attacks.   He thinks I'll run myself ragged trying to stop his goons, but I'll tackle them on my terms, not his.   And then, when he's finally out of options, he'll have to give me what I want."

"What's that?" Dotz asked.  

"King Rehval," Luffa said with a satisfied smirk.   "If that bastard's not already mixed up with Trismegistus, then it's only a matter of time before he will be.   They need each other.  Trismegistus has a way to increase a Saiyan's power, so if he really wants the most out of it, he'll have to use it on the strongest Saiyan he can find, and that's still Rehval."

"What if you're wrong?" Zatte asked.  

"Then I'll deal with it," Luffa said.   "For now, all I can do is fight these guys with everything I've got."

"But what if that isn't enough?!" Zatte shouted.  "What if they're too much for you?"

"Take it easy, would you?" Luffa said.   "We can always ask for a second opinion."

Dr. Topsas cleared his throat before speaking.   "I have little experience with such matters," he said, "but if you sincerely wish to hear my advice, then I would recommend--"

"Not you, Doc," Luffa said.  "Dotz here is a fortune teller.   She may have gotten the details wrong, but she knew when and where the Saiyan attack would happen.  I bet she could predict the next one if we give her a chance."

"I'm not worried about where the Saiyans will strike next," Zatte said.   "What I want to know is whether you'll still be alive when it's over!"

"Well that's easy enough," Luffa said.   "Dotz can read my fortune, can't you, Dotz?"

Dotz was taking a drink of water when Luffa said this, and nearly spit it out.   "I, uh... I'm not sure if I should get involved in this..." she said.    "I wouldn't want to cause any hard feelings between the two of you."

"Don't swear it, Dotz," Luffa said.  She reached across the space between their beds and offered her hand.    "Zatte and I have been through tougher situations than this.   And I'm a lot stronger now than I've ever been before."

"That isn't the point," Zatte said, putting her hands on her hips.   "Dammit, you always get this way when you smell a worthy adversary."

"It's great, isn't it?" Luffa replied as Dotz began examining her open palm.    "I feel like a kid again, hunting dinosaurs in the wild.   I'd probably have trouble keeping still, but Doc wants me to rest, so it's sound tactical advice."

"I should really get to the bridge," Zatte said.  

"What's wrong?" Luffa asked.   "You don't want to know my future?"

"Oh, I'm sure you live to be a hundred, and you conquer the whole galaxy or something," Zatte grumbled.  

"I'm sorry," Dotz said, "but I'm having some trouble."

"What is it?" Topsas asked.    With a speed that belied his bulk, he moved to Dotz's bedside and checked the readings on medical sensors.  

"No, I'm fine, doctor," she said.    "What I meant was that I can't seem to read Luffa's palm."

"What is it?" Luffa asked.   "Bad news?"

"No, it's..." Dotz swallowed hard as she tried to find the right words.    "Well, it just... stops.    Unless I'm doing something very wrong, Luffa, you have no future."

"How very  melodramatic," Topsas said.    

"Cool," Luffa said with an impressed smile.  

"Wh-what?!" Zatte asked.  

Dotz looked at Luffa's hand very carefully as she ran her fingers across her palm.    "I've never seen anything like this before," she said apologetically.  "I've been telling fortunes for thirty years, and I've never..."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Luffa said.    "You're not fully recovered from your run-in with Jolok, so maybe that's got something to do with it.   Besides, my species makes its own destiny.   It'd be kind of boring to know how the movie ends, right, Zatte?"

But Zatte didn't answer.    When Luffa looked up, she saw her running out of the sickbay, sobbing.

*******

[21 February, 233 Before Age.  Interstellar Space.]

Cardune's entire life had been leading up to this moment.    He had been so blind in his youth, wasting his talents on pointless battles, siezing just enough plunder to break even.    Marriage, family, success, they had all been hollow pursuits, but he did not regret those years, for even these had been part of the plan that had been laid out for his life.  

He loved Trismegistus, more dearly than he had loved anything before.  The Thrice-Blessed One had transformed Cardune, perfecting him into his true self.    In his former ignorance, Cardune had come to him seeking strength of the body, but Trismegistus had given him so much more than that.     It made so much sense now.     What good was physical might without harmony of the spirit?   Only by balancing the mercurial and sulfurous essences in his soul could Cardune achieve his true potential.    This was Jindan, the power that turned an ordinary Saiyan into the Universal Reagent.    Through Cardune and others like him, Trismegistus would transform the entire universe.    

There were difficulties, to be sure.    No path worth following would be easy, least of all the Sacred Way.   Cardune had sacrificed much in exchange for his newfound power.   Trismegistus had taught him that this was the way of alchemy.    It was best to forget what he had given up, so as to fully embrace what he had received.    This was easier said than done.    Often, Cardune caught himself thinking about his partner, and their daughter and son.    Mostly, he wondered what had become of them after he was admitted into the cult.    Once, he thought he had seen his daughter serving as an attendant to one of the high priests.    It was hard not to be relieved, even proud, but this wouldn't do.    Cardune had given up his family, so it was no longer his place to worry for their safety, or to take comfort in their prosperity.    

This was why his joints ached from time to time.   His emotional indiscretions interfered with his spiritual balance, which diminished the effectiveness of the Jindan formula in his body.    Meditation helped.     While it never seemed to improve his condition, it at least distracted himself from the pain, and kept him from dwelling on things he couldn't control.    Like the clock on the wall of his quarters.  

Trismegistus was an alchemist, possessed of the secrets of creation itself.    For the Thrice-Blessed, remaking the universe was no different from a child mixing vinegar and baking soda.    He never called himself a god, though somehow this seemed to make him seem even more noble, as if he were laying silent claim to something even higher than divinity.    The Saiyans who belonged to his flock would become his Holy Reagent, the means by which he would effect his great work, but the kinetics of this act were a complete mystery.    Mere acolytes like Cardune could not hope to understand.   He was a glob of clay wondering when the potter would begin.  

Cardune could only act on what he knew, which were the orders he was issued.    He was given command of a starship, and he and his crew traveled to a particular location and held their position until the time was right.    Their supplies were limited, as Cardune was expected to lead his crew in ritual fasting at certain intervals.    Cardune found the hunger useful for diverting his attention from his own problems, but the other officers relied on their assigned consorts to distract themselves from their empty stomachs.  

Sex was held in high regard within the Jindan cult.    Trismegistus taught his followers that it was a means of balancing bodily humors.  Through repeated physical intimacy, they could rid themselves of those essences they did not need, and replenish essences which they lacked.    Ever a prudish species, the Saiyans found this polyamorous philosophy deeply disturbing, but this was part of the price for the Jindan power they all shared.    Trismegistus had arranged a complex system to determine who was to sleep with whom.    Higher ranking members were given greater freedom of choice in this, while the lower members had none.    As the commander of his ship, Cardune could have anyone else on board whenever he wished, but he preferred to decline this privilege.     Whenever he took a consort for the night, it only reminded him of the husband he gave up to join the cult, and so the entire exercise was self-defeating.    He only partook as often as he did in order to set a good example for his crew.    

Mostly, he spent his off-duty hours waiting in his quarters, letting his hunger and restlessness argue with his faith.    His orders were to hold his position in deep space, maintaining radio silence and a cloaking field to avoid any possible detection.    For three weeks, he and his crew had been cut off from the rest of the universe, waiting for a sign to move out.   If it pleased Trismegistus, they would die here, waiting for his sign, and the ship would serve as their cosmic tomb.   At times, Cardune wondered if their master had forgotten them.    He forced himself to repeat the mantras he used during meditation, in an effort to refocus his devotion.

And then, at last, the sign came.    Cardune hadn't known what to expect.   There was no subspace radio transmission, no voice speaking to him in his mind.    Just a feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a sudden urge to find his spear.    All of Trismegistus' followers were issued spears.   Along with the Jindan power and the Mindworm, which guarded them from telepathic assault, the spears were said to be the third of three blessings Trismegistus bestowed upon his flock.   Cardune was never told what the spear was for, just that it was important.    Now, as he found it leaned against the wall of his quarters, he began to appreciate its importance.    

The head of the spear was shaped like the barbed point of a harpoon, and now it glowed a dull red color, though Cardune could feel no heat when he touched it.    Instead, he felt an almost instinctive understanding that this was the moment he and his crew had been waiting for.   Trismegistus had cast them into the darkness, and now he was summoning them back.   And suddenly, the mental anguish Cardune had endured these past three weeks seemed to melt away.   Gazing at the spear, he felt there was nothing he could not do, and he knew that his entire crew now shared the same feeling.    

With a newfound sense of purpose, he stepped out of his quarters and headed for his post to order his ship into action.    

*******

[21 February, 233 Before Age.    Interstellar Space.]

On the bridge of Luffa's star-yacht, Zatte had finished crying, and somewhat awkwardly tried to get on with the work of checking the ship's systems.      She could sense Luffa approaching the entrance to the bridge.    For those who could sense ki, it was hard not to notice Luffa's presence on board.    While she had the chance, Zatte turned away from the door and wiped her eyes one last time, in an effort to look a little less pathetic.  

"Hey," Luffa said as she stepped through the doorway.   "I would have been here sooner, but Doc thought I should give you some space."

"It's okay," Zatte said.   "I'm fine, really."

"I'm sorry," Luffa said.   "Whatever it is I've done, I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," Zatte said, finally turning to face her.   "You can't be sorry for what you are.   I'm sorry.   I lost it back there.    I let you down."

"What are you talking about?" Luffa asked.  

Zatte turned and took her hands into her own.    "You want to fight," she said.   "It reminds me of the day the colony fell.    You were covered in Tikosi blood, and we both expected to die there.   You always told me how much you enjoyed that battle, and how impressed you were with me."

"I guess it is a lot like that," Luffa said.  "I probably got a little too excited about this Trismegistus thing."

"I know you love this sort of thing," Zatte said.    "But it scares me.    It always has.  Fighting is one thing, but against the kind of odds we faced on Dorlu Prime?   I know that's a dream come true for you.  Most days I can handle that.    Today, I slipped.   She said you had 'no future’ and I just couldn't..."

She pulled Luffa close and wrapped her arms around her tightly.   "I want you to have a future!" she said.    "I want to be there with you, and fight for your cause, and I'll burn for you if I have to, but I want to grow old with you too!   I want one of us to die in the arms of the other, and if it's me, then I want you to leave my corpse behind wherever it happens to fall."

"Hey, I already promised you that at our wedding," Luffa said.  "Dorlun funeral, all the way.  I won't let your death get in the way of the living."  

"And if you die first, then... then..."

"Of course," Luffa said, returning her embrace.   "If we make it that long, that's what we'll do.    But there's no guarantees.  We won't make it there unless we fight for it.    Every step of the way."

"You're right," Zatte said.   "It's just... it's hard sometimes."

"It's okay," Luffa said.   "It really is.   You're allowed to be weak sometimes.    Weakness is part of getting stronger.   Look at me.   I took a real beating on Lubegev, and now I've got to stay in bed and heal up."

"Can you really beat them?" Zatte asked.    

"I think so," Luffa said.  "But I won't know until I try.    That's why I have no future, Zattie.    The only future a Saiyan can have is the one she takes.   It's whatever I make for myself."

They held each other for a time, and then an alert sounded from one of the bridge consoles.    Luffa pulled away from Zatte to check it out.   "It's a recorded message from the Federation Council," she said as she read the display.   "What the hell do they want?"

She tapped the console to begin playing the message, and the main viewscreen displayed the image of a bald man with brown skin and a red military dress uniform.  He smiled somewhat insincerely as he spoke into whatever recording device he was using.    "Madam Federatrix," he said.  

"Ryba Booth," Luffa said aloud, though she knew he couldn't hear her.  There was a somewhat one-sided rivalry between them.    Booth commanded a military dictatorship before Luffa forced him to co-found the Federation along with three of his adversaries.   He longed for greater power over the Federation, to extend his personal rule to other worlds beyond his home planet of Despye, but Luffa's influence over the Federation made this impossible.   She was too popular to outpolitick, and too powerful to overthrow.   His only chance was to wait for her to fail on the battlefield, and then he could use his command over the Federation starfleet to usurp her position.   The smile on his face suggested that he felt closer to that outcome than he had been in some time.

"If you are receiving this message, it is because I am unable to reach you directly.   The Federation is under attack by an enemy fleet.   I have deployed our own fleet to intercept the invaders, but intelligence indicates that many of them are Saiyans.  Should any of them manage to land on an inhabited world, my ships may be incapable of dislodging them."  

Luffa and Zatte exchanged concerned looks.   "If these are anything like the Saiyans you fought on Lubegev--" Zatte began.

"I know," Luffa said.    "Booth may have no idea what he's dealing with..."

"I'm including tactical charts with information on the planets most likely to be invaded.   I believe the Saiyans will attempt to concentrate their forces on Gudgid III, so I've--"  there was a disruption in the message, as the audio briefly devolved into static-- "hold the line for now.  The Ninth Wing may be vulnerable, but--"  Static again.   "--ommend you join the battle at coordinates J58 by 126."

There was an interruption in the playback of the message.   The image of Booth became distorted, and though he appeared to be speaking, the audio was gone.   Luffa looked over to the navigator station, but Zatte had already there, plotting a course.    "It'll take us four hours to get there," she said.

"Then we'd better hope Booth can last until then," Luffa said.  

"Luffa, you're hurt," Zatte said.

"I know," she said.   "I'll have to get creative when we get there.   Let's take a look at his charts..."

"Luffa, you said you would rest," Zatte reminded her.

"I just want to take a look," Luffa said, "and then I'll go back to-- This... this can't be right!"

"What's wrong?" Zatte asked.  

Luffa tapped a few keys on the console and put the charts on the main veiwer.   "Look at this," she said.  "Booth's showing Saiyan activity in at least two dozen star systems."

"Two dozen?   But what about Gudgid III?" Zatte asked.  

"I mean, they could converge on Gudgid," Luffa said.   "Normally, that would make sense.   Harass the border, keep the defenders spread out while they try to chase you down, and then concentrate your forces on a planet worth sacking.  Booth's analysis is sound, or it would be if these were garden variety Saiyans.    But if we're talking about Saiyans as strong as the ones I just fought... If these are more of those Saiyans jumped up with this magic power, and if they're all working for Trismegistus, then they could do more than just sack one planet and run for it.  They could hold an entire sector or two if they play their cards right.   It might take weeks to clear them all out!"

As Zatte looked at her wife's face, she saw her expression grow increasingly concerned.   There could be no doubt now.  In four hours, Luffa would fight again.  And again. Perhaps she would prevail, but at what cost?  This was the question Zatte wanted to ask, but she didn't want to break down into tears again, and so she asked another question instead.

"Even if we do clear them out, what'll be left of the Federation when it's over?"    

NEXT: Fight Fire With Fire.

[allronix]

Replaying KOTOR 1: Part 14

1. Ah, Lehon. Lovely planet to look at. Shithole to be stuck on. 

2. So our choices are the priests who want to hoard all the knowledge or a batshit insane cannibal warrior tribe? Yup. Planet officially sucks.

3. So we pulled a mind rape to learn the language, played both of these tribes like cheap flutes, got what we wanted out of the deal, invaded their temple with our troops, and left them holding the bag. Gee, we REALLY were Kreia’s apprentice. 

4. Again, screw canon. This would be the best place to hide Mandalore’s mask. It’s close enough to the Star Forge to watch for any Mando ships. It’s loaded with all kinds of hostiles, many of which are under our control. And it’s a monkey paw trap for any ship who is stupid enough to come by without authorization. 

5. Clearing the place out is fun, but boy...I’m glad one of the mods I put on this thing is a merchant camping out with the Elders so I can offload the garbage 

6. Looks like the experiments worked, as there are a few Rakata sages who are casting Consular spells to help out the Revanites 300 years later. 

7. Gotta love Jolee “Screw the Rule Book” Bindo. And he brings my Cathar sister as backup. A Sith has to work alone because they can’t trust the people they’re with. A Jedi thinks he has to work alone because he can’t get attached to the people he’s with. Realizing that your friends are your power is the best “screw them both.”  

8. That puzzle in the catacombs is a big time headache. Especially if you somehow disable solo mode and your party walks all over the thing. 

9. The temple top. Now, I modded my dialogue to have a little extra pain coming from Bastila, but...wow. Player punch, even if we all saw this one coming from three miles away. But gotta love the fact that this location is pretty much marked with a bit “shit happens” sign from here on in.

10. The fight would suck more if I didn’t have two of my besties for backup. But  how could I go against them? How could I turn my back and hurt all those people waiting for me on the Hawk? 

11. Oh, Juhani. Can I give you another big hug? Because the whole grove thing? The slave auction? You’ve totally paid me back. And if you didn’t have a nice girlfriend and I didn’t have a nice boyfriend, we would totally be buying a Subaru and renting a U-haul together. Will you accept sisterhood? 

12.  “I told you you would have to make a choice eventually, that you would be tested. I think that was it! I...I can feel it!” - SERIOUSLY, Flyboy. It’s not a matter of IF you’re an untrained Sensitive, it’s a question of would you cross-class better as a Guardian or Sentinel.

13. Mission, dear. Mom and Dad are having a moment. Please don’t tell us to “get a room.” Just avert your eyes, youngling. 

[spectrumscribe]

Things change, except they don’t.

Part of my Voltron/TMNT AU, they’ve escaped death by space lasers, but now they’re about to land on an alien planet. Karai’s family life never does get any simpler, does it?

Previous fic. First fic.

—————————————————————

There was a pause of relieved silence, when they all exited the wormhole and left the Galra ship behind. Karai breathed out a silent sigh, and let some of her instinctive panic drain away. Whatever had happened to her on that ship, it hadn’t been good, and seeing it again had caused an uncontrollable swell of fear in her.

Karai brushed her bangs out of her face, tucking the shock of white back behind her ear, and got ready to call a sound off of her brothers’ conditions. But before she could-

“I can’t believe we’re in space,” Leo said in a quiet, but definitely excited voice.

There was a beat of silence, and then everyone groaned.

“What? We are!” Leo said, gesturing at the planet their giant apparently semi-sentient lion was flying them towards. “This is incredible, we’re about to land on an alien planet. You can’t tell me none of you are excited about this.”

Karai shook her head, and reached out to muss Leo’s short hair. “I almost forgot, you’re a total space nerd.”

Donnie made a distressed sound, face palming. “We’re billions- probably trillions, if not quadrillions- of light years from earth, stuck in a giant alien robot that may or may not be leading us right to our doom, we have no way home, and oh-” He shoved his tangling, damp hair out of his face. “-I’m still wet. So no, I am not excited, Leo.”

“Well sorry,” Leo said, hunching his shoulders. “I just thought that at least one of you guys would be. We were all training to do this sort of thing.”

“I was only there because Donnie sent the most cryptic email in existence,” Raph said, and Karai could hear her brother rolling his eyes. “I would’ve been perfectly happy just staying on earth.”

“And I quit the garrison,” Mikey added with a shrug. “So I dunno about Karai, but I’m pretty sure none of us want to be here in this mess you got us into, Leo.”

And there was Leo’s responding bristle. “Excuse you, I had nothing to do with this,” Leo said snappishly, trying to turn his head away from flying them to glare at Mikey. Karai grabbed the sides of his head, and forced Leo to remain focused. “This thing has a mind of its own, and I have no control over it taking us down right now.”

“You say that like it’s supposed to be comforting,” Donnie muttered, sparking similarly muttered agreements from Raph and Mikey, and starting off Leo’s irritations again.

Karai clapped her hands together loudly, snapping her four very endearing, but very frustrating siblings’ attentions back to her. “Okay, so we’re going to fight later and land now, alright?” Karai wasn’t really asking a question. That was more so an order. “We’re about to break the stratosphere, so I’d like to think you could all get your collective shits together long enough that we don’t die on an alien planet. Can you all act like reasonable adults until then?” She gave her brothers a stern look each. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

Her brothers all dropped their eyes away, mumbling yeses and okays, and Karai sighed. Nice to see that even with an enormous and unsettling amount of her memories missing, the year she’d lost hadn’t really changed her family.

Well, maybe a little. She didn’t recall Leo and Mikey fighting quite this much, or Mikey making plans to drop out of pilot training. Or Donnie having more hair than all of them combined. Or earrings.

Raph seemed to have remained the same. Gruff but concerned, as always. That was one thing that Karai could hold onto for some sense of normalcy. Now if Karai’s head would stop throbbing now and then, and she could tone down the awareness of her arm being gone and replaced by alien metal, and she could remember what the hell had happened to her all these months… she’d probably feel better about everything.

Like the fact that they were nearing the planet’s surface, and they still had no control over that. Leo could level them out, prevent their entrance from being at a tilt that made Raph look greenish, but Karai’s brother could turn them back around. Not that there was really anything to go back towards… the stars surrounding them were completely foreign to Karai, and they probably wouldn’t get lucky with a wormhole again.

And then there was the Galra warship bearing down on earth, searching for the lion robot they’d just barely escaped in…

Karai’s head gave a throb, trying to think of the Galra. She didn’t even have context for the ill feeling in her gut, but she very nearly gave a full body shudder at them. Her shoulder ached, and she was still adjusting to how her new arm felt. It was weird, and uncomfortable, but also… something that she felt like she’d had for a while, and only just noticed.

Karai took all those thoughts, and bundled them up for much later. Much, much later. Focus. She needed to focus on making sure her brothers didn’t all get their untrained selves killed. Martial artists they may be, but deep space explorers they were not.

Karai felt Mikey push his way to the front, knocking his elbow against Karai’s side and then Leo’s back of head. Donnie and Raph were pressing themselves to the windows, watching avidly- and with trepidation- as the ground got closer. The two sets of conversations brought a smile to her lips, despite their dire circumstances.

She might not have remembered the year she lost, but she could feel the length of time since she saw them. Her four very rowdy, very stupid, very lovable brothers.

They were a long ways from home, but Karai felt like she’d gotten back a piece of it anyways. Four pieces, in fact. And those four pieces were enough to give her strength to push away the fear for their missing father, and for…

Shini.

Karai repressed the swell of aching worry, and forced herself to remain present. Drifting off right now would get one or all of her brothers killed, and Karai as well. She needed to be vigilant and at the ready, especially since they tended to attract disaster when they were all together.

Karai sent up a quick prayer that today would be one of the few times they didn’t bring every conceivable disaster onto themselves. Please, for the love of god. There were already so many things going wrong, they didn’t need more.

Karai’s eyes went wide as they flew over a swell of hills, and an enormous structure came into view. The white steeples stood out against the peaceful, rather earth like landscape. Spiraling towers coming straight out of an ocean cliff side, pristine and totally… alien.

That was a pun. Dammnit. Mikey’s old tendency towards puns was still sticking to her; Karai never could fully shake it.

“Is that a castle?” Leo asked, then grumbling as Mikey, Donnie, and Raph all tried to shove their way to the front window. As the three of them did, they nearly squished Karai completely, and she took the elbows and shoulders to her bodily person with a single sigh, and a sense of tired fondness.

Ah, family. That was one thing that never did changed.

Karai repressed a smile, and started to shove her brothers away. Time to whip them into semi-functional order, and see what new problems were waiting for them on the ground.

    First thing Karai noticed as they disembarked was that they could breathe. That was a pleasant occurrence, since there were exactly zero air tanks in the giant space cat.

The next was that the winds were very strong around the seaside castle, and that Donnie clearly regretted taking his hair out of its braid earlier. His long hair got whipped up in the gusts of wind, and flew right around to smack him in the face. His exclamation of dismay and frustration was almost as funny as his flailing to remove the hair from his mouth.

“I swear to god, I’m just going to rip these stupid extensions out,” Donnie half shouted, yanking his hair out of his face. Mikey started snickering, which set off Leo, which set off Raph, and Donnie turned on all of them a ruddy cheeked glare. “Oh yeah, ha fucking ha, laugh at the idiot who put up with this for months because you’re all disconnected assholes. Brilliant plan. I’ll see that you’re plagued by spam mail for the rest of your days.”

“Oh for- Donnie, bend down,” Karai said, shoving a still snickering Mikey out of the way. Donnie turned his embarrassed glare on her, and she stood with her arms crossed. “You heard me. Bend down. We don’t have time for you to fuss with your air, and if you get distracted during a fight you’re screwed. Bend down so I can braid it again.”

Leo coughed something that suspiciously sounded like a joke about hairballs and angry cats, and Donnie shot him a furious look. “I will ruin your online life, Leo,” Donnie hissed. “Don’t tempt me. You know I could.”

Karai snapped her fingers, and resisted the urge to kick the back of Donnie’s knees so he would just bend already. “Bend, Donnie. Or better yet, just get on the ground. You’re too tall for me to do this any other way.”

Donnie grumbled, finally electing to ignore the laughter from their siblings, and knelt down so Karai could reach his hair without cramping her arms.

The black strands were tangled pretty badly, but Karai had been dealing with Shini’s hair for years. She knew how to handle wily long hair, even after exposure to zero gravity and space adventures. Karai gently tugged the hair into order, and set about braiding it into something that would hold up in a fight. If they had more time, she’d suggest cutting it off, but Karai didn’t have any tools with her to do so.

It was weird, feeling but not quite feeling with her metal arm. Only her flesh hand could feel the textures of the hair; her metal one only picked up that something was there and that she was touching it. It was… unsettling. A bit sad as well, since it wasn’t something she could change.

“Hey, Don,” Raph asked suddenly, eyeing the castle warily. “How high are our chances that this is a trap and we’re all about to die?”

“Aren’t you cheery today,” Karai said, tightening the last parts of the braid in her hands. She held out a hand to Mikey, and crooked her finger. “Elastic, please.”

“Astronomically high,” Donnie replied to Raph with a heavy sigh. “And before you ask, the chances of us getting home in one piece, or even at all, are sitting in the negatives right now. We’re hooped and all I can say is that I should have expected this sort of insane ending, dealing with you four.”

“I don’t know, maybe thing will work out,” Leo said, staring up at the lion robot. “I mean, she got us all here, and kept us safe from that battleship, so… I think we’re doing okay? No one’s dead, and no one’s come outside to shoot us or anything. Maybe our luck will hold.”

Raph reached out and smacked Leo’s shoulder. “Well now it won’t, since you went and jinxed us.”

Mikey scoffed at both of them, and produced an elastic from his pockets. Karai knew her brother always had one on him; something to play with in his hands when he got twitchy. “If we all die, it’s on Leo,” Mikey said offhandedly, handing Karai the elastic. “Not me.”

“No one is dying,” Karai said in her most big sisterly voice, the one she always needed to use on her brothers when they were looking to start trouble. She tied off Donnie’s long braid, and patted his head. “There you go, Donnie. All done. And now we go inside and not die, and see what all…” She gestured at the castle. “This is about.”

Donnie stood up, running a hand down the braid now holding his hair back. He gave Karai a small smile, looking down at her with a grateful expression. “Thanks,” Donnie said, dropping the braid and pushing his glasses back up his nose. “It was really starting to annoy me. I don’t know how Shini does it.”

Karai thought about her missing friend, and shook her head at the twinge of pain. “Honestly, I have no idea either. It’s short hair or no hair for me.”

“You’d look pretty badass with a buzz cut,” Mikey commented thoughtfully. “Channel some Furiosa or somethin’.”

Karai scoffed. “I’ll do it when you do it, Mike. See how you look without those curls of yours.”

“I think I’d look damn good,” Mikey replied, tossing his hair dramatically. “Better than you or Leo do, at least.”

“Wow, rude,” Leo said, raising an eyebrow. “At least our hair is military approved; you got three demerits one time just because you couldn’t get your helmet on within a reasonable amount of time.”

Mikey turned on Leo, and looked ready to start yet another catfight between them both, but Raph’s interjection stopped the fight before it could begin. “Can we focus on the alien castle matter?” Raph said, pointing at the imposing structure. “Because that’s still a thing, and just because no one’s shooting us yet doesn’t mean they won’t.”

Right. Castle, aliens, mystery to solve. Fun times.

Karai squared her shoulders, and stood up straight. No more time for sibling banter; they had important things to attend to. “Alright you four, fall in and don’t get lost. The first thing we need to do is find a way in, maybe a side door or-”

The ground rumbled suddenly, and the wide front doors to the castle began to open. The huge hallway revealed inside slowly lit up with torches, coming up as the light of day spilled into the corridor.

“Ooooor we could go through the front door,” Karai said, pursing her lips. She did not like where this was heading.

“We’re all going to die,” Donnie muttered belligerently as they started towards the doorway. “And I have to do while wearing extensions.”

“Cheer up, Donnie,” Karai said, patting her brother’s shoulder. “You look alright now that it’s out of your face.”

Donnie’s responding groan brought an indulgent smile to Karai’s lips once more, and she gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. He’d put up with a lot the last while, all for her and their family. The steadfast loyalty and care Donnie gave their family never seemed to falter, even with the fights he and their siblings had on and off over the years. The months using his old pronouns must have been rough, and Karai sympathized with her brother’s troubles.

She’d sit down and spend some time with him later, maybe help get those extensions out. For now though…

Karai steadied herself and her nerves, and led her brothers into the cavernous hallway of the castle. Unsure of who, or what, they’d find there.

Next fic. (pending.)

[giraffles]

Fill Your Veins With Gushing Gold

so the royal au is something spawned with my rad rp tumblr fam, and I've been meaning to write stuff for it for like 5ever. I owed Star a little thing as a thank u for commissioning my bae, so this happened and then spiraled out of control. :'D will there be more in this verse?? probably, because I have a Problem.

ANYWAY, have some saiyan OCs being in lesbians with each other. C:

Fill Your Veins With Gushing Gold (Wakamei/Cassava)

Slow down, it's a science She's been waiting to bring you down

Cassava is the head of the Royal Science Division. She has no need for attachments, emotional or otherwise, but she should know by now that life has a way of surprising those who study it.

you can also read it here on AO3!

 "Cass," Noria's voice held a hint of nervousness, "Are you sure this was a good idea?" It's not like the Speaker to be nervous. Noria is the epitome of grace and poise, duty and honor, bloody knuckles and hymns to the moon. Noria can be relentless, obnoxious, needlessly prying; but she doesn't do nervous. Cassava frowns at her, filing away this information for later with a flick of her tail.      "It's an excellent idea," Cass counters, "They're native, they're in abundance, and they're powerful. Why shouldn't I use them?" Noria sighs. "They're sand worms."      "Yes, sand worms," She returns to her tablet, organizing data streams and ignoring the look the other saiyan is giving her, "Genetically engineered to do my bidding." It makes perfect sense. The giant, desert dwelling creatures were a plague on their planet, carnivorous  and venomous and dangerous. It was rare in their modern time for anyone to be eaten by one, unless the saiyan in question was exceedingly stupid, but they could still do damage to the young or untrained. In the wild, the sand worms were nothing more than untamed beasts; in her hands, as a product of her mind, they could instead be a great weapon. Cass personally had little need for field work or combat, so she found alternate ways to be useful. Even when she was young, she was putting their greatest minds to shame with her intelligence and ingenuity. The entirety of the royal palace's science department had been placed under her direction years ago. So, was it not her place to decided what to do with it? Noria is quiet. Cass continues to fiddle with numbers and outputs. Behind a clear polymer barrier, an enhanced sand worm thrashes about.      "The king isn't going to like this." Noria says finally.      "I don't care."      "Of course you don't," She laughs, "But maybe you need a new hobby."      "I'm perfectly fine with my hobbies and lack thereof, thank you." Cass bristles, because she knows where this conversation is heading. They've had it too many times before, and Noria is nothing if tenacious. There is no way in Vegeta-sei's twin suns that she is going to take a mate. "You should find a mate." Noria suggests anyway.      "No."      "I can introduce you to some nice boys," Noria steamrolls on, "Or a nice girl or five. Or even--"      "For the last goddess damn time, no!"      "Don't be like that."      "I'll be however I want to be," Cass snarls, "And I could do without your meddling in my life." She could tell Noria to get the hell out of her lab. Noria might even listen, though it would only be a matter of time before she returned to hassle her. The Speaker is never far from the palace, when not attending to religious duties at least, and she makes a point to insert herself into Cass' space. There is no escaping her. So Cass growls and stomps over to a different table where DNA samples are cooking away in various stages of experiments. Noria follows.      "I think you would like my daughter," Noria leans against the edge of the counter, and if Cass was a fighter maybe she could have thought about throwing her across the room, "You would balance each other well."      "Noria," Cass grinds the words between her teeth, "Get the fuck out."  

The tests are going well. Of course they are, this is her project, her metaphorical child-- it's perfect in every way. Cass doesn't make mistakes. There are setbacks, petty grievances at the limitations of science, even a few learning experiences. But there are no mistakes. Though she does find that there aren't many volunteers who want to help with the combat data. The saiyans are are warrior race, and yet she's surrounded by cowards. It's the one thing she can't do herself. There could be an argument made for how many ways Cassava is unsaiyan herself. The war drums that pound in the blood of so many others are silent for her. Raising her own fists in violence does nothing for her, and truth be told, she has little head for battle. Strategy does not interest her beyond what she can dream up to augment their fighting forces. Hell, she's never felt the drive to find a mate (or two, or three, like some do) and settle into a domestic life. Such things are wastes of time; they make no sense to her, and there is no reason she has to participate. No, she'd much rather be here, in a windowless lab, surrounded by logic and wonders of her own design. Here things made sense, or if they didn't, she knew it was only a matter of time before she unraveled their secrets. There are no distractions today. Noria has abstained from bothering her, and her assistants have long since fled the premises for activities like food and sleep. But Cass can't stop now, not when she's so close, it will only take a little longer, a few more tests-- Someone hesitantly knocks on the door. Cass can't imagine who it might be. Most know better than to disturb her, or like Noria, don't care and will come in unannounced. Yet this person does not. The gentle knocking comes again.      "What?" She snaps, "I'm busy." The door slides open, and a saiyan she's never seen before peeks around the edge. She's of average height, round faced and certainly no older than Cass herself. She's not apart of the royal guard, as she wears no uniform or insignia, or even anything else that would identify their profession. Few scars can be seen, and she does not dress conservatively, although few do, and it's the height of summer. Cass can't help thinking that she's seen those eyes before. They must be lost.      "Well?"      "I was sent to check on you," for all her timid actions the stranger smiles easily, "And make sure you weren't 'working yourself half to death', as mother put it." The pieces fall into place rather neatly after that. Of course Cass knows those eyes; the subtle shade of deep emerald, the way they look innocent while plotting a galactic downfall, it's all too familiar.      "You're Noria's." Cass was going to have to murder her. There had to be some way of taking her out and making it look like an accident. Though the statement was spat like poison, the newcomer is unfazed. She waits in the doorway, tail swishing, posture relaxed. "What are you working on?"      "Nothing that concerns you." She snorts. "Well, obviously, but I was curious." Cass doesn't want anything to do with her, especially if she's the spawn of Noria, but something in the way she talks gives her pause. She hasn't had anyone to yell at in hours,  and the dead ends Cass keeps hitting are starting to grate on her. And, maybe, she can actually scare this one off so that they'll never come back.      "Fine. Get over here." The saiyan's eyes light up and Cass swears she bounces as she moves, bells and burnished metal on her clothes chiming in the silence of the lab. She is taller than Cass, but not by much, and this close she can tell she's at a fighter in some context. Latent power thrums through the body standing so near to her, putting Cass' measly power level to shame. But that is all irrelevant, because she has work to focus on. Cass expects her to grow tired or bored with the explanations of splitting proteins and recoding biological data, but she listens with rapt attention. She's sure most of the information goes over the saiayn's head, but she's interested and listening, which is more than Cass can say for some people. She asks questions, and the scientist does her best to elaborate, though she's never been one for pretty words or working metaphors. Cass tries to find the right way to frame a particular concept and swears up a storm when she can't; the stranger laughs. And it's something bright and new, giving her pause as the sound illuminates the dim room.      "What's your name, anyway?" She asks, realizing Noria was remiss in mentioning it. Or maybe she had and Cass had ignored her.      "It's Wakamei," the saiyan in gold and green answers, "But Waka is fine too."      "Wakamei," the syllables lay heavy on her tongue in a way no others have, "Give your mother a message for me; tell her to fuck off." The last ditch effort to scare her away fails as Wakamei only laughs again. 

Wakamei becomes a steady presence in her life, her protests and reservations about it being pushed aside until they fade into the void. There is something endearing in her determination, in her casual visits and easy conversation. She is not deterred by Cass' bad moods, ferries food to her on late nights, and sometimes brings strange samples from her adventures past the city gates. Wakamei annoys Cass far less than most of the people on this goddess forsaken planet, and that is saying a lot. She refuses to talk with Noria on the matter. She also refuses to even begin to think about what this might mean. It's a concept too alien and terrifying to consider, on top of the fact she's absolutely abysmal at reading people and their emotions. She wasn't made for this; her place is dark corridors and organized logbooks, not the battlefield of feelings and desires. Cass can feel herself teetering on the edge of the abyss, so close to topping over the point of no return. She puts all those stray feelings in little black boxes and packs them away, putting them up on a shelf far away from her conscious habits, to be unraveled at a later date. Or maybe never. Never was sounding better and better. It's on a night with only a sliver of a moon in the sky that everything goes wrong. Cass is outside, for once. Sometimes even she becomes claustrophobic in her workspace and seeks out the open air. The sky is dark, something that happens only briefly on their planet caught in a binary sun system, and not even the city lights can drown out the stars. The air is still, the sounds of civilization fading into the background, and Cass chooses to think about something other than work or intrusive women, like who the hell named all of the constellations anyway. Assigning shapes and meanings to points of light, ones that will change from planet to planet, is so nonsensical. That doesn't even look like a water jug, or a hill cat, or anything else that's more than abstract. But she supposes she understands the fascination with them. After all, it's where her race comes from, and where they travel to so often. They are apart of an intergalactic community now, and considering the saiyan's mysterious origins, most likely always were. (No, they still hadn't figured out where the ships carrying their ancestors had come from, all those centuries before. There are few records of their arrival, and even fewer accounts of what happened to the ships in question. And then they had other things to worry about between the Tuffles and Arcosians.) There is also something deeply soothing in counting stars, even though she's soon to lose track of where she is and that naming each by sight alone is impossible. It helps to clear her head. At least, it usually did. Which is why she didn't notice the commotion coming from the royal palace until someone came to collect her.      "What do you mean it escaped?" Cass growls, trying to keep the alarm out of her voice. Her terrified assistant repeats again that yes, one of her beloved pets has somehow gotten out of its pen and is currently attempting to burrow through the walls of the palace. This is impossible; she designed the containment units herself, and the worms should be docile until called upon. A failure on this level is unfathomable. Against her assistant's protests, she storms down to the lab. Cass has to pick her way around the rubble, and she grows more furious by the moment, though who exactly her anger is directed at is undetermined. Herself, maybe, for making a fatal error somewhere along the way. Or, some idiot of a science tech who hadn't followed her instructions and had released the worm unintentionally. If they weren't already dead, she was going to kill them. Slowly. Feed them to the sand worms, maybe. She comes across the creature in question, heaving and flailing as it knocks away anyone who tries to subdue it. It's a precarious situation, because the royal guards can't go all out without the threat of taking down the whole structure. And that would certainly not sit well with the king. So Cass walks up to the worm, brushing off those who try to stop her, and stands before it with arms crossed.      "Down," She commands, staring down into it's ringed maw of teeth that swirl and snap, "Stop this at once." The sand worm does no such thing. Which is unthinkable, because she has programmed them on the genetic level to listen to her whims. And yet the world slows to a crawl as it lunges at her, making to devour her unprotected form while she grapples with the impossible scenario before her. Something-- Someone?-- slams into Cass, knocking them both prone, though there is still the sent of blood in the air and a cry of pain that rings in her ears. Everything goes dull, her senses and perception of time, narrowing down to the arms wrapped around her that pull her away from the rampaging beast. Adrenaline and disbelief keep her world distorted for long moments, disorienting and causing long lost fear to bubble up. Cass clings to her savior for dear life.      "Cass," a voice chokes out, "Cassava, are you alright?" Reality comes back to her kicking and screaming. It's all too fast and too loud, as she becomes hyper aware all at once, and it's more than a little overwhelming. She can't find her tongue nor the words to say anything.      "Cass?" Wakamei says again, those soft eyes filled with worry, which presses strange sensations into the marrow of Cass' bones, "Please, say something."      "Fine," She trembles, "I'm fine." Which is more than she can say for Wakamei, whose shoulder is torn open and spilling dark blood. Combined with the acidic venom of the sand worm, she should really have that treated sooner rather than later. It will burn and scar, and fill her body with poison if left unchecked. Wakamei seems heedless to the damage she's taken, instead looking at Cass as though she's the only thing that matters. And that's not right, because no one looks at her like that. She didn't have worth until she stepped up and carved out a place for herself, graduating from a sullen child with no friends to a surly adult who insisted she didn't need any. Wakamei has put herself in harms way for her, and Cass can't stop the swirling emotions that are clawing their way out of her chest. Wakamei goes to say something, but doesn't have even a moment to breathe before Cass is kissing her. It's desperate and stumbling because Cass has never practiced, never had that want or need before now, though she does her damnedest to perform on the spot. There's no other way she can think to express herself in the moment, and oh, is it wonderful in a way she hadn't realized it could be. It's heat and madness pumping through her veins, kicking the pounding of her heart into overdrive, and the feeling is so addicting even though she fears it will tear her apart. The dying screams of the sand worm are the only thing that distract her.      "Oh." Is the only thing Wakamei says after a long pause. At first Cass thinks she's misstepped, but there's that blinding smile, the one that illuminates the edges of her ribcage. She's fallen so hard it's a wonder she hasn't bruised her soul before now. Any elation at the moment falters quickly when she hears a familiar aggressive voice breaking through the chaos.      "What the hell," begins the king, "Is all of this?" Cass considers for a moment giving a deadpan and obvious reply, but someone else beats her to it. Which is fine, because she isn't sure if she can trust her voice at the moment, and besides, she has to think of a way to do damage control. She doesn't have much of a plan together before the king and his two hulking attendants are in front of them. Cass can't help but wonder if they do it on purpose, finding the biggest saiyans they can to flank their ruler, who's only a scant few inches shorter than she is. Which maybe lures foreign diplomats into thinking he's not as dangerously destructive as he is. Whatever the case is, it takes all the control her addled mind has left not to laugh.      "Cassava," Vegeta eyes her dubiously, "What the fuck." She really has no explanation that will satisfy him.

     "But that was months of work!"      "I told you he wouldn't be happy," Noria chides as Cass mourns the deaths of the rest of the sand worms, "He really hates those things."      "I don't care!" She cries, bordering on a wail, "I put so much into that project!" Noria pats her arm sympathetically, but she shakes it off. It's ruined. All ruined, and she still doesn't understand what went wrong in the first place. Cass let's out a frustrated sound.      "It'll be okay, Cass. You have lots of other things you can work on--"      "But that's not the point!"      "Cass, please. It's not the end of the world." She sits on a broken piece of wall, head in her hands. "You just don't understand."      "Maybe I don't," Noria agrees, "But you should at least come see Waka with me. I'm sure they're done patching her up by now." Cass' heart twists, and she expects Noria to tease her when she agrees to come along. But she doesn't. In fact, Noria abandons her when they reach the medical wing, leaving her alone with the person she spontaneously made out with not hours beforehand. Cass still wants to kill Noria, but perhaps she will stay her hand for her daughter's benefit.      "So," She begins awkwardly, "How... are you?"      "It's just a scratch." Wakamei insists, though her entire upper arm and chest are bound tight. Something about that sight makes Cass sick to her stomach. "I'll have a cool scar when it's healed."      "You're an idiot," Cass tells her, but moves to her side, "And I don't know why I like you." But that would be a mystery to be unraveled another day, when her her nerves weren't burnt out and her mind wasn't fraying at the seams. For now, she will offer what little things she can. Hopefully that will be enough. Wakamei hums and laces their fingers together. This can be enough.

[elenahowl]

I love these things! Can you do 5-50?

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? Sometimes I feel like I smile too much, and I often giggle at inappropriate moments, but my smile itself is fine.    

6: do you keep plants? No.  I wish I did.  

7: do you name your plants? No.  

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?Loads of writing, and lately also a lot of printmaking and typography. 

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? Yes, but only when I’m alone.  

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? Kind of awkwardly sprawled on my side and stomach. 

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends?@mrs-depp  @highwaytovengeance @avenged-seven-times @valovalmieni Chicken nuggets!  

12: what’s your favorite planet? Eris. 

13: what’s something that made you smile today?I never have to deal with my abusive ex-friend again.    

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?Very bohemian.  We’d have a ton of art supplies, random scraps of newspapers and drawings on the walls, and lots and lots of books.  Books are mandatory.

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! Mark Twain was born on the year when the Halley comet passed, and died on the year when it went by again. Both times he had missed it.

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish? The shrimp linguini my mom makes very rarely.  

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? I don’t want to dye my hair.  I just wish my hair naturally grew out of my head in the weird blonde-to-red ombre I have right now, leftover tint from when I dyed my hair back in July.  

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. @voxiferous​ and I were having a sleepover and it was late at night and trying to figure out writing logistics.  This included elvish anatomy and biology and thus the “smaller livers” joke was born.  There’s no good way to explain how this conversation started, continued, or ended, but basically we googled and discovered that a smaller liver does not help anything in a humanoid body.  And that’s why I’m not a science major.  

19: do you keep a journal? What do you write/draw/ in it? Everything.  I have so many journals for different things.  Sketchbook, notebook, diary, more sketchbooks, bullet journal… 

20: what’s your favorite eye color?Soft brown.  

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. It’s a tie between my Kånken backpack and my Doc Martens purse.  Little Black Kånken and I went all over Helsinki together.  Originally I was just going to take my Jansport galaxy backpack to my classes while I was studying abroad, but I quickly realized it was too big to fit under most of the seats at the University of Helsinki, and it marked me clearly as a foreigner since Jansport isn’t really popular over there.  When I carried my Kånken, people took one look at me, assumed I was Finnish, and I blended in perfectly.  And when they tried to speak Finnish to me, saw my blank look, and realized I wasn’t Finnish, they’d occasionally try to speak Swedish to me.  I got my Doc bag in Paris.  Pickpockets are a real thing, and I didn’t want to wear my backpack while I was in Paris, so on a whim I bought a tank of a bag that carried my sketchbook and pens during my stay.  It was new and not broken in at all, so it was basically bulletproof and nobody could have pickpocketed that if they tried.  Also could be used as a weapon.  

22: are you a morning person? I’d like to be, but I’m not.  

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?Reading and watching youtube videos.    

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?@voxiferous​  

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into?I jumped the fence at the historic girl’s school ruins near where I live.    

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit?My favorite pair of black Docs finally got too worn out to wear last month.  They lasted for eight years, but were no match for the Tuska festival mosh pit, where they lost their watertightness.  

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? Classic regular bubblegum.  

28: sunrise or sunset? Sunset.  

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? @lustarcana​ HHHHHNNNNGHHHHHHHHHH!!!Also @weareinvictus‘s liberal use of the word “pure” to describe everything good.  

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? Yes.  

31: what is your opinion of socks? Do you like wearing weird socks? Do you sleep with socks? Do you confine yourself to white sock hell? Really, just talk about socks. I like socks.  I tend to wear plain, dark socks.  I do not sleep with socks.  I hate white socks.  For some reason my socks get holes in them faster than average. 

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3am when you were with friends. My best 3AM story isn’t really with friends, more casual acquaintance turned enemy, but it’s good.  I’ll post it later because it’s REALLY long.  

Edit: It’s here.  

33: what’s your fave pastry?Korvapuusti.    

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. What is it called? What does it look like? Do you still keep it? My classic Winnie the Pooh bear (old style teddy, not disney version) still has his place of honor in my bedroom.  I never really slept with stuffed animals, preferring dolls, but he was always there to chase away bad dreams.   

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? Do you use them often?Stickers and pretty pens are the best.  Also stickie notes.    

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now?Folie à Deux-era Fall Out Boy.    

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?Tidy chaos.  Everything has a place, but it looks messy to the untrained eye.  

38: tell us about your pet peeves! People who ask dumb questions.  People who sit/stand way too close.  People who are super obsessed with famous people to the point of having no identity outside of fandom (see response to 32).  People who stalk celebrities.  

39: what color do you wear the most? Black.  

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? Does it have any meaning to you? The heartagram necklace I have I got at a HIM concert in 2014.  I took it with me on study abroad.  K noticed me wearing it and said he ought to sell something like it in his shop.  I wore it once upon a time because I’m a fan of HIM, but now I wear it because I’m a fan of K.  I think of it as the Valo family crest.  

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving?I reread Tithe by Holly Black a week ago.  I still love it.    

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? Describe it! Ipi Kulmakuppila in Kallio.  Just up the street from K’s shop, very hipster-y place, but the people are nice, the space is very open, and I went there a lot while in Helsinki.  

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?Pretty sure it was on New Year’s Eve when I was standing on the porch with Butterfly.  It was freezing and neither of us had a coat, but in the middle of our conversation I looked up at the stars and he looked up with me and that was that.    

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?About a week ago when I thought I was completely done with the issues of my toxic ex-friend, before this fresh wave of chaos from him began.    

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? Not nearly as much as I should.  

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. Anything about Finnishing something for my study abroad paperwork.  

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?Any icing with way too much food dye.    

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? Is it the same today? Dying in a fire.  Yes.  

49: do you like buying cds and records? What was the last one you bought?I don’t.  The last one I bought was a sampler CD that came with a Kerrang magazine in a thrift store in Helsinki.  It’s not good.  

50: what’s an odd thing you collect? 4-leaf clovers.  

[yahoo-puck-daddy-blog]

What We Learned: How many MVP candidates can there possibly be?

Nikita Kucherov was the first early MVP candidate, but there are many more now. (Getty Images)

A few weeks ago when the PHWA announced its midseason awards, its top-three vote-getters for the league MVP were pretty straightforward.

They were, in order: Nikita Kucherov, the highest scorer on the best team. Then Nathan MacKinnon, a bit of a recency-bias pick who had dragged a subpar team to relevance by scoring almost two points a game for a month. To round out the top three, it was John Tavares, who was kind of in the same boat as MacKinnon in terms of his team being not that good but turning in a great season overall, in all three zones.

You got those. Those all made sense. But more recently other guys have started to get some love from local reporters, which makes plenty of sense since the post-All-Star stretch run is effectively campaign season. So the names floated in recent weeks not only include the three guys who finished tops in PHWA/fan voting over the All-Star break, but also guys like Taylor Hall, Patrice Bergeron, Evgeni Malkin, Phil Kessel and Sidney Crosby, and probably a few more I’m not remembering.

And while it’s not as though anyone getting legitimate MVP consideration is having anything resembling a bad season, this is probably a consequence of the fact that in a lot of ways, no one is having a surefire, you-gotta-give-it-to-him year either. Last season, Connor McDavid was the only logical choice to win the award because he was the only player to clear 100 points, and also the only one to clear 90. The same was true of Patrick Kane the year before. You could also clearly see why Carey Price was the MVP in 2014-15 because of how bad the Canadiens were and Jamie Benn only had 87 points to lead the league.

This year? Kucherov has 77 points already and he’s on pace for 107, but a few other guys are in the neighborhood of the pace needed to hit triple digits (thanks, new rule enforcement!). When everyone’s apparently very good, it becomes harder to divine who is The Best. And that leads people to start looking for “well actually” takes on who the MVP is.

Right now, Kucherov, Marchand (who’s getting no MVP love at all), MacKinnon, and Malkin are the four guys who, if they scored at this pace for the full 82, would hit 100. MacKinnon and Marchand have missed a bunch of time and therefore will struggle to hit that level or, perhaps, anything close. Of course, MacKinnon also started very slowly so he might make up some of the ground despite missing a few weeks. Malkin has likewise come on lately (he has 30 points in his last 19 games).

Marchand has enough enemies due to his style of play that people are more than happy to overlook the fact that he’s a top-10 player on the planet at this point. The fact that Bergeron is, instead, getting the MVP love out of Boston is a testament to the fact that he’s a terribly nice guy having probably the best season of his career, and who already plays one of the best 200-foot games ever, and that no one can justify a Marchand (or David Pastrnak) candidacy to themselves.

But these other guys who are getting some attention? You can see why they’re being made. Hall has been phenomenal this season on a team that shouldn’t be anywhere near what the standings dictate. Kessel and Crosby, well, they’re two great players on a back-to-back Cup winner that’s once again playing dominant hockey, both on pace for 90-plus points. Understandable.

Even some of the quieter MVP campaigns are somewhat justifiable; Connor McDavid’s team stinks but he could hit 100 points again this year. Johnny Gaudreau is far and away the best forward on a somewhat disappointing Flames team. Hell, I would have even listened to Corey Crawford MVP talk if he’d stayed healthy, because Chicago would be in the playoff conversation.

But it seems to me that if you start attaching conditions to a guy’s MVP candidacy these days, he’s probably not a legitimate candidate. What it seems like to me, is that would-be voters are going through mental gymnastics to not give the MVP to what is pretty apparently the best team in the NHL. (Also he’s Russian ha ha ha.)

It is extremely rare that a guy from the Presidents’ Trophy winner is also given the MVP. In fact, it hasn’t happened in the cap era. One imagines that voters are reticent to give guys like Kucherov, the best player on the best team, the award simply because, well, they probably had a lot of help. And look, Kucherov of course has a lot of help, probably more than anyone getting legitimate MVP consideration in recent years (except, maybe for Kane). Steven Stamkos is having a great year, Victor Hedman is getting Norris attention, and Andrei Vasilevskiy is having one of the best goaltending seasons in the league.

But that doesn’t change the fact that Kucherov could score 110 points this season without much more luck than he’s already gotten, in a division with three of the five or six best teams in the league (including the stingiest defensive team). Everyone agrees he was phenomenal last year, scoring 85 points in 74 games. This year, he’s nine points away from that level in 15 fewer games. Like, come on with these non-Kucherov arguments.

Of course, every team has 20-something games left, so this last quarter of the season is certainly going to separate the wheat from at least some of the chaff. But for right now, Kucherov is and should be the clear leader. The voters got it right halfway through the year, and nothing has changed to this point.

Again, it’s easy to see why voters would at least think about looking elsewhere. But as with the previous few years’ arguments for “We can’t give it to Karlsson again” winners, if you need to think of reasons why a guy with a clear advantage shouldn’t be the guy? He should probably just be the guy.

What We Learned

Anaheim Ducks: I remember when I first got Center Ice was the season Marek Malik went between his legs to win that insanely long shootout for the Rangers. That ruled. But with the benefit of hindsight I fully understand the truth: long shootouts are bad.

Arizona Coyotes: Antti Raanta didn’t have a shutout until Saturday night? Good lord.

Boston Bruins: Ahh, hmm. Getting smoked by the Canucks? That’s bad.

Buffalo Sabres: Not having enough talent to be vaguely competitive often presents itself to the untrained eye as not-caring.

Calgary Flames: We don’t talk enough about how good Dougie Hamilton is. He should be getting Norris attention.

Carolina Hurricanes: Cam Ward’s son being Youth Starter of the Game is the very definition of nepotism!!!

Chicago Blackhawks: This is truly shameful but this organization has never done anything to encourage an inclusive atmosphere (racist logo, Bobby Hull hitting his wife and praising Hitler, the Andrew Shaw gay slur, the whole Patrick Kane thing). And neither the team nor league’s release on the incident mentioned that it’s Black History Month or Hockey is For Everyone Month. Intriguing if totally unsurprising omissions.

Colorado Avalanche: If I’m the Avs, I just stand pat at the deadline, maybe make a small depth addition or two if the price is right, but the idea of being capital-B Buyers should horrify them.

Columbus Blue Jackets: On the other hand, yeah, I’m trying to make a bigger move if I’m Columbus.

Dallas Stars: How about this one: Seguin is probably better than Modano.

Detroit Red Wings: I love that beat writers have to explain, like, “They’re not gonna trade Jonathan Ericsson because he stinks and no one wants him or his contract.” That rules.

Edmonton Oilers: Connor McDavid is gonna demand a trade here. Good lord.

Florida Panthers: A true blessing to have Roberto Luongo back. We love him.

Los Angeles Kings: This just in: Mike Milbury is extremely bad.

Minnesota Wild: Alex Stalock is stuck in a situation where, once again, Devan Dubnyk is playing great and also every single game.

Montreal Canadiens: If you ask me… this team… isn’t good.

Nashville Predators: Regarding Eeli Tolvanen breaking rookie scoring records as the youngest player in the KHL, here’s Larry David Poile: “That’s pretty, pretty good for his first year.”

New Jersey Devils: Miles Wood is gonna get a rep as a dangerous player real soon here.

New York Islanders: Nice to get back-to-back shutouts of 45-plus saves, nicer to not give up 42-plus shots four games in a row. For real, in their last four games, the Islanders have given up 188 shots. They’ve given up 50-plus shots in regulation four times since Jan. 15. How is that possible?

New York Rangers: At this point there is no criminal action Henrik Lundqvist could undertake against his teammates where I’d be mad at him. Assault? Murder? No jury in the world would convict him. This is a man driven to the brink.

Ottawa Senators: They’re gonna trade Karlsson oh my god.

“Philadelphia Flyers: With both Elliott and now Neuvirth out, seems likely that Philly makes a goalie trade. Henrik Lundqvist might be willing to make a move, just sayin’.

Pittsburgh Penguins: Zach Astron-Reese? That guy is my son.

San Jose Sharks: Chris Tierney is learning how to cook and I think that’s nice. Everyone should know how to cook a handful of nice meals!

St. Louis Blues: Imagine if the Blues got Hoffman and Brassard? Look out!

Tampa Bay Lightning: If you ask me, sometimes you put 48 shots on goal and only score three times and that’s hockey.

Toronto Maple Leafs: Yeah, maybe Tyler Bozak and Connor Brown are both good now but also: Probably not.

Vancouver Canucks: Adam Gaudette is probably gonna win the Hobey Baker this year (he leads the NCAA in both goals and points, with 27 and 51, in just 32 games). So the question is whether the Canucks can actually sign him before he goes back for his senior year and maybe becomes a free agent.

Vegas Golden Knights: How many goals do you think Reilly Smith and Jon Marchessault need to score before the national hockey media really pays attention to how dumb giving them away for nothing was?

Washington Capitals: Andre Burakovsky getting his act together for the stretch run would probably be a good thing, yeah.

Winnipeg Jets: I dunno what else to say every week besides This Team Is Good.

Play of the Weekend

Honestly what is Robin Lehner doing on this nice little Kopitar goal?

Gold Star Award

The only explanation for this weekend’s games is that they’re trying to get Lundqvist to waive his NMC before the deadline. That’s smart business.

Minus of the Weekend

In trying to find all my links while writing this whole thing, this happened, and it’s like… “Yeah, exactly.”

lmao you can't make it up pic.twitter.com/1dCedS7F0o

— your buddy rl (@twolinepass) February 18, 2018

Perfect HFBoards Trade Proposal of the Week

User “crossbownerf” is trying to get a handshake.

To Carolina: Marner, JVR & 3rd.

To Toronto: Faulk & Aho

Done deal?

Yeah, sure bud.

Signoff

Yes. It’s a regional dialect.

Ryan Lambert is a Puck Daddy columnist. His email is here and his Twitter is here.

(All stats via Corsica unless otherwise noted.)