#The idea of bringing life onto this planet makes me physically ill

[patheticblorbloscholar]

Please reblog! I want a larger sample size.

[djarinsbeskar]

gif credit: @di-n​ for this beauty 

EXPLORATION ARC: PART 1 - NEXT TIME

A/N: And so friends, we begin our rapid descent into filth. I have to admit, whenever I write anything remotely sexual, especially in a fic for the first time, I get so flustered worrying that people will think it’s too crude or too much. But then I remembered that this is exactly why y’all are here and I felt much better about throwing away any inhibitions and embracing the filth. 

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Injury detail, injury treatment, language, masturbation (male and female).

Summary: It’s mighty hard to distract yourself from your mysterious and alluring shipmate, so why bother?

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

What do we do now?

Three months later… and you still hadn’t received an answer.

After the mess on Mynock, the devastation at the loss of both Biran and Kuiil and the mystery that still surrounded the child, you had been drained, physically and emotionally.

So, after your question had received nothing but silence in answer and being too tired to demand one, you had holed yourself away in one of the only private areas of the Razor Crest, a storage area adjacent to the cockpit. Half of it was taken up by the slabs of carbonite the Mandalorian kept his quarries in, but there was space enough to sit and try to work through the slew of emotions you had been bombarded with in only twenty-four hours.

You had scoffed, resting your head back against the unforgiving metal of ships interior; twenty-four hours ago, you had been lamenting the loss of adventure, of some sort of elusive fulfilment. Once again, caught up in thinking the grass is greener on the other island… It was a flaw you were beginning to recognize in yourself and you weren’t happy about it.

An incessant longing for an unknown goal.

You wanted to make a difference when you were stuck on Pamarthe, so you joined the Rebellion and it had given you a purpose.

After the Empire fell, and your skills as a combat medic became obsolete, you chased that same desire for purpose back to the Outer Rim in the hopes that altruistic work in a voluntary clinic would somehow satisfy that longing.

Then the New Republic pulled back the curtain and shown that in essence, things had not really changed, that you had somehow wasted years achieving something that suddenly felt hollow. And it was unfair. Unfair because you knew it wasn’t hollow, you knew the galaxy was in a better place than it was before you joined the Rebellion and yet you felt your life was lacking once more.

Biran had soothed the jagged edges of a life that hadn’t been able to fit in any one particular place and – for a time – you had been content with working in his practice. Until the moment you weren’t. When the gaping maw of dissatisfaction crept back into the corner of your eyes, making you agitated and wishing for more once again.

You seemed to have gotten your wish the day the Mandalorian had entered your life and brought with him an unyielding ability to take life by the jaws and roar right back at it. He seemed to create his own purpose, the child a testament to that, and even if you had no way of knowing the innermost workings of his mind, you were fascinated by it, by him.

You spent so long seeking a purpose when you should have been creating one of your own instead.

It was a sobering realization as you sat alone beside the generator room on the cold metal of the Razor Crest’s storage room, nothing to show for that wasted time but a bloody arm and a dead friend.

The tears came then, for Biran, for yourself, for the child, even for Mando. You had buried your face in your arms and allowed yourself to grieve.

You had no idea what to do. 

A little less than two days after your hasty escape from Dandoran, you entered the cockpit again sheepishly.

If you hadn’t heard the Mandalorian moving around the ship, climbing the ladder down to the hold or the hiss of the refreshers hydraulic door opening and closing, you would have thought he hadn’t moved an inch since you were last there.

You had had a severe talking to yourself over the last day and had laid to rest a portion of the self-loathing you had been wallowing in, realizing it wouldn’t do you any good to stay fixated on things you could no longer change. It had given you a measure of peace. Self-awareness was not always a flattering reflection, but with it, you were able to see what needed to be worked on.

The slightest incline of his helmet to the right was the only indication he gave you that he was aware of your presence, the child cooing happily from the seat beside him when he saw you.

You had taken the same seat as before, letting the child clamor up onto your lap to make room for you both. Silence still reigned and you were suddenly so aware of how much you relied on external white noise during your last meetings with him; the murmur of a bustling crowd, Biran’s jokes or simply your attention being focused on an injury. Without such distractions, the Mandalorian’s silence was deafening.

You knew he didn’t converse easily, that much was obvious from his abrupt statements and cantankerous nature whenever you saw him. But you had never felt the lack of cues – physical or verbal – until you sat in his ship with him alone. It felt like you were being asked to treat a patient when you could neither see where they were hurt or listen to their reaction; their breathing or any pain they might be in. You were adrift in this ship and for the first time since you saw him braced against that alley wall on Klatooine, you felt a jolt of nervousness race up your spine.

“How’s your arm?”

The question was spoken quietly but still felt too harsh on your ears. Maybe you were just feeling overly sensitive, you couldn’t tell at this point. All you knew was that the sound of his voice was jarring when only moments before you felt as though the silence was drowning you.

“It’s fine.” You muttered after a moment, “It wasn’t deep.”

“You know I would have---” he started before he cut himself off, the frustration evident in the huff he exhaled afterwards. No, Mando was definitely unaccustomed to speaking with you when the bickering and banter that provided you both with a safe wall to hide behind was stripped away.

But you knew what he was trying to say; I would have taken care of it.

Your chest filled with a soft warmth at the thought. But you didn’t mention it. Instinct told you that he would get defensive or spooked, like one of the regal crested stags native to Pamarthe. Massive and intimidating but would bolt at a loud noise or sudden movement. You felt that if you acknowledged the emotion, the tentative willingness he had tried to express to dress a wound for you, he would immediately throw up more walls, more barricades around himself.

You appreciated the sentiment none the less.

He seemed to appreciate the fact that you didn’t bring it up too, because a few silent minutes later, he spoke again.

“I don’t need to tell you that Mynock isn’t safe for you anymore.”

You looked up from where you had started playing with the child on your lap, simply passing his small metal ball to him before he handed it back to you. He seemed to take immense joy out of the game, delighted to show you his toy but equally excited to have it back in his hands in the next moment.

Mando kept his face forward as he spoke, so all you could see of him was the breadth of his shoulders where he had crossed his arms across his chest and the back of his helmet as it leaned back against the headrest of his chair.

“…But I’ll take you to whatever planet you want.”

“Oh.�� Was your pitiful excuse for an answer. Pitiful, because you were slightly embarrassed that amidst your self-reflection, you hadn’t once considered your next move. You frowned. You always had a plan, but now? You had no idea where to go.

You mulled over your next words carefully.

“Can I think about it? I have to… figure out where would be best.” You continued when he offered nothing in response. It was true; you had no credits, no clothes, you didn’t even have a toothbrush you realized grimly. You had to be smart about where you went next if you were going to survive.

You ran through the list of friends and contacts you still had from the Rebellion, pilots and other medics who would no doubt help you in a pinch without question. You could go home, the clans on Pamarthe were loyal to a fault but your mind immediately shut that idea down as a wave of nausea washed over you, a combination of homesickness and fear making you feel slightly ill. No, you hadn’t been home since before the Rebellion, and you weren’t about to break that streak now.

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts, that you didn’t notice Mando’s quick glance at you over his shoulder. He had never seen you look less put together. Hair a disaster, clothes bloodstained from your arm and slightly sooty from the fires. Your face was clean, and so were your hands so you had obviously washed up at some point. You were a mess, honestly. But he was relieved to see the same fire that lit your eyes remained if a little subdued, the underlying steel of intelligence that glinted like beskar was still there. He knew you had seen worse than what happened on Mynock, knew you were tougher than to let it break you, but his own guilt over sending the child to you aggravated his worry that you might be… altered, changed, different because of what he did.

Obviously, his worry was misplaced.

He might wear beskar armor, but you were the one who had a spine of it.

“Let me know when you figure it out.”

He spoke slowly, as if perhaps, he shouldn’t say those words. Their ambiguity was dangerous, leaving a back door to interpretation, but your appreciative smile he caught in the reflection of the wraparound transparisteel of the Razor Crests’ observation viewport made him forget momentarily why ambiguity was such a bad thing in the first place.

 That was months ago.

Somehow, neither of you mentioned your destination again. You never told him where you wanted to go, and he never asked if you had decided.

The fact was almost dangerously acknowledged when Mando landed the Razor Crest to refuel a week later, when he had made the offhanded remark that you needed clothes and whatever else you might need as you travelled because, as he put it, “a man shouldn’t’ be told he can’t access half of his ship just because you’re waiting for your clothes to dry” and handed you a pouch of credits as he pushed by you gently to get to the entrance of the ship.

He could have asked you then where you planned to go, it was the perfect segue into that conversation, but after a tense moment when he stood at the top of the open ramp on his way to find work to tie them over until he started taking Guild jobs again, he straightened his shoulders and simply nodded to the child,

“Take care of the kid while I’m gone.”

That change in topic seemed to put the idea of you leaving to bed and you never brought it up again.

Not when you returned with several sets of clothes, feminine products, medical supplies, and foodstuffs for the ship on Ryloth.

Not when he brought back a thin sleep mat on Lothal with only a grunt in response to the thanks you had offered him after he had noticed you rubbing out a kink in your shoulder the day before.

Not when ‘I won’t be long’ replaced the stiff order of ‘take care of the kid’ thrown over his shoulder whenever he left you both alone, taking the time now to stroke the child’s long ear as you held him in your arms, feeling his eyes on you as he spoke.

No… the two of you had fallen into a delicate, if slightly hesitant routine; one that didn’t involve you leaving the Mandalorian or his child.

Next time, it appeared, did not end in goodbye.

Adjusting to life on a ship again had been both easy and difficult.

Having spent a portion of your life sleeping in hard, cramped spaces with a number of other rebels, living on the Razor Crest was not as difficult as one might think. It wasn’t idea, Maker no. But there was running water (even if it was constantly recycled), something of a galley (kitchen was too generous a term, but there was a single nanowave ring and small cooling chamber) and somewhere soft to rest your head at night (even if your pillow was just a bunched-up blanket).

The areas you struggled with predominantly, could be summed up in two words: boredom and privacy.

You were used to spending twelve hours or more a day on your feet treating patients. Complacency and downtime were not in your repertoire, and while you can admit that you took advantage of the rest for the first week or two, you soon found yourself getting agitated and itching to do something.

The child proved to be an excellent distraction when he wasn’t holed away in the cockpit with the Mandalorian. While he was a darling little bogwing who fussed extraordinarily little, he needed constant vigilance. You learned very quickly that those doe-eyes hid a proclivity for mischief you had only glimpsed at back in Mynock. If you didn’t keep one eye on him at all times, you would lose sight of him only to find him in the cooling chamber looking for food or Maker forbid, in the weapons chamber.

Apart from keeping up with the child, you had taken to cataloguing the medical knowledge you had swimming in your mind on an empty datapad you had found in the storage area by the galley one day. You lamented the loss of the stacks of datapads you had collected over the years to further your knowledge and keep up to date with the latest medical advances, so you took it upon yourself to organize a one-stop-shop for all the information you had accumulated. It was antiquated given the knowledge was already in your head, but it filled the time, nonetheless.

Regarding privacy however, it wasn’t that you didn’t have any.

You had flatly refused to take Mando’s bunk when he had thrown the offer to you soon after Ryloth, and instead took it upon yourself to reorganize the holds setup. The small alcove by the galley that kept excess inventory of food, ammunition, blankets, and medical supplies was relocated to the storage area outside the generator room on the same level of the cockpit. The generators themselves had been too noisy to sleep beside so, despite being a larger area, you had settled the sleep mat down in the now empty alcove across from where the crates Mando used as a table and chairs was set. You didn’t need a whole lot of space while you slept, so it suited you fine. You had spent years sleeping on ships so a somewhat soft mat – however thin – was all you needed to get a good night sleep.

Rather, it was your feeling of invading the Mandalorian’s privacy that you struggled with. Your unwitting shipmate was a large, somewhat stifling presence in the beginning, and you felt an illogical imposition on his life before growing more accustomed to living with him after several weeks. 

 It was as you got used to him though, that your troubles began.

After six weeks of travelling on the Razor Crest, you had learned several things about the Mandalorian.

One, that despite the ship being as small as it was with three – read; two plus a pint-sized gremlin – people living in it, Mando could be elusive and you could easily go days without seeing him and even longer without hearing him speak. Whatever progress you had made previously during your encounters in getting him to talk only seemed to apply in small doses. You found yourself growing used to silence and adjusting to speaking softly without realizing it, your normal speaking voice sounding too loud even to your own ears.

Two, for all you did see of him, you had never once seen him without every stitch of armor on him. Beskar wasn’t light and you knew he had to remove it sometimes to shower and sleep and eat, but you never heard even a whisper of metal clattering as he took it off or put it back on. The only thing you ever heard that would suggest he ever took his armor off, was the sound of the water in the refresher as it ran down his body. Mando only showered when he was certain you and the kid were both asleep, a habit you had picked up on only when the sound of the spray pulled you from unconsciousness for the fifth night in a row. The simple sound of the water and the occasional splash as he rinsed his hair – if he had hair – or body clean of soap immediately pushed tiredness and any hope of sleep away, which led you to fact number three.

That your attraction to the Mandalorian was growing, rather than dissipating, the longer you were around him. Whatever attraction you had entertained on Mynock over the years was magnified when you were forced to live in such close proximity to the man each and every day. Perhaps it was because you didn’t have as much to focus your attentions on, but you suddenly felt hyperaware of his every movement whenever he was in your presence and each of those movements seemed more enticing than the last.

There was the time he was cleaning his blasters.

Mando had just entered hyperspace after finishing up a job on Sriluur and after a grumbled, “No, I did not see a Raquor’daan” after your tongue-in-cheek question upon his return, he returned to the hold after putting the ship on autopilot.

Unexpectedly, he pulled one of the durasteel crates out from beside the makeshift table instead of remaining in the cockpit, the sound of the crate dragging across the metal flooring making both you and the child startle while he took a heavy seat down and pulled out the blaster at his hip. Another two followed as he lay them out almost reverently on the table.

Given that his adopted father was staying down in the hold, the child very quickly lost interest in playing with you and his metal ball. He whined at you insistently until you placed him in the crab carapace that sat on the same table in front of the Mandalorian before taking your seat again to focus on the compilation of medication doses per age, race, and pre-existing condition on your datapad to keep yourself occupied.

“No.”

You were amused when Mando’s filtered voice stopped the kid from touching the blaster without the warrior even having to look up from where he was using a small pipe brush to clean out the barrel of the first blaster. The little bogwing only watched him as he slowly tried to take a small, but no doubt important part of the blaster that sat on the table closest to his small frame, waiting to be cleaned.

After a few moments of this back and forth between father and son, you recognized when the Mandalorian was beginning to lose patience. The clipped edge of his voice that usually took a lot longer to show itself whenever he spoke to the child. The deliberate turn of his helmet to look at him as he spoke. All tiny, insignificant things you were becoming aware of despite yourself.

“Okay buddy. Let’s play over here instead.” You reached across the table and picked him up before Mando reached his limit and sat back down with the child on your lap, a safe distance from the blasters and the child’s wandering claws. Mando didn’t say anything, his movements never faltering as he lifted the barrel up to the front of his T-visor, inspecting its interior for a few measured moments before he set it down and picked up the next piece, satisfied.

While the little bogwing was most certainly not impressed to have been removed from Mando’s side, you had discovered a secret weapon early on that you could pull out whenever the child became fussy. It was truly a lifesaver of a thing; one you thanked the Maker for every time it stopped a tantrum or soothed away a fear.

You simply pulled your hair over your shoulder and waited for the tell-tale widening of the child’s eyes before his clawed hand wrapped around a bunch of the strands. He was content to hold it, pull it occasionally and enjoy its’ texture and color. You flattered yourself that it was comforting to the child, but you knew nothing comforted him more than the cool steel of beskar under his cheek whenever Mando held him.

At the thought, your eyes shifted to the man in question, oil rag in hand as he gently ran it over each part of the disassembled blaster, slow in the drag down the exterior of the barrel and examining it regularly before continuing.

It was the first time your breath had caught looking at him.

The way he completed each task so meticulously made you feel like you were witnessing a ritual; there was something innately private and intimate about how the warrior took care of his weapons. Should you look away? Perhaps… but after a few monotonous weeks, your eyes drank in the sight, taking in far more than you would usually be aware of in such a mundane act. The dexterity of his gloved fingers as they ran over each part of the weapon, they way they expertly shifted to disassemble the other two blasters laid out on the table, as if with a simple touch, the steel fell apart to obey his wishes.

It was the first time you felt an image of him, a fantasy, brush against your mind.

A fleeting image of those same fingers running down your spine slowly, deliberate, and certain in their path. As experienced with handling a woman as he was when he handled a weapon. The brush of his knuckles down your sternum, along your cheek. The strength of his grip behind your neck or holding your hips down.

You startled, yelping as the child giggled when he yanked your hair after your momentary lapse in concentration.

The visor shifted slightly to look at you and you hoped the guilty look on your face didn’t tell him everything you had just imagined before he pointed at the child,

“Mind your manners, kid.” He rasped before turning back to his work.

The child cooed in delight, thinking all of this was a truly wonderful sport and pulled your hair again. You laughed at his antics, slightly embarrassed as your yelp had been drawn out in surprise as opposed to pain. You didn’t think the child was even capable of inflicting pain; even at his most excited, he never pulled your hair hard and it softened your heart to him further.

The Mandalorian only sighed in your peripheral, pushing himself to his feet and making his way around the table. Those fingers you had been thinking about not two minutes earlier gently untangled the child’s claws from your hair and picked him up into his arms to settle him down.

“You’re too young to be pulling girls hair yet, ad’ika.” You heard him chide in that low baritone as he moved further into the hold towards the child’s hover-pram. It took every ounce of self-control not to let your jaw hit the ground. You barely succeeded.

Unfortunately, you didn’t succeed in stopping your thighs from shifting, subconsciously rubbing them together to relieve the uncomfortably need that settled there, quickly escaping to your mat under the pretense of needing to untangle your hair from the child’s ministrations. 

 Then there were the numerous times you had to get by each other, to get down the ladder to the hold, or to leave the ship, or even just to get into the cockpit. Anywhere that involved you both being in the same space at the same time resulted in the Mandalorian brushing against you accidentally as you crossed paths. Like you said before, Mando was large, and the Razor Crest was not.

One fateful encounter had yet to leave your mind.

You had been frantically looking for the child for nearly half an hour after breaking your second cardinal rule:

 Do not take your eyes off the child.

Well, you did. And you were – once again – contemplating the pros and cons of throwing yourself into a sarlacc pit over facing the wrath of the Mandalorian if you didn’t find the sneaky little bogwing he called a son.

You linked your hands behind your neck as you released a long breath to try and calm your rapidly increasing panic. He wasn’t in his hover-pram (though his metal ball was there so surely, he couldn’t have gone far?), he wasn’t in the crab carapace (it sat cold and empty apart from the few errant credits Mando had tossed into it the day before). He wasn’t in the refresher and he wasn’t in the cooling chamber. He wasn’t hiding under the blanket you used for a pillow and he wasn’t playing in the carbonite chamber. You had even taken a panel or two from the side of the ship to see if he had gotten into the electricals, but they too were missing a little green terror.

“He can’t have gone far…” you whispered to yourself, your eyes scanning every single area of the hold carefully, looking for any movement or flash of green that might tell you where your charge had escaped to.

Your eyes landed on the rarely open hydraulic pocket door beside the refresher at the front of the ship, to the bunk where you knew the Mandalorian slept whenever he got the chance to.

What were the odds that things would work out in your favor, that the child wouldn’t be in Mando’s private quarters? That you could quietly continue your search elsewhere on the ship because underneath it all, the child knew there was nothing interesting in there?

The odds? Fucking zero.

Closing your eyes as you dropped your head back on your shoulders, you dragged your hands over your face,

“Why me?” you groaned into your hands, feeling infinitely sorry for yourself before you dropped your hands and stared at the open hydraulic durasteel door in distrust, as if it were going to alert Mando of your trespassing for even pondering the idea.

It’s just a room. The lovely, logical part of your brain said, soothing your nerves before the treacherous, licentious part finished the sentence:

It’s just a room where the Mandalorian sleeps…

It’s just a room where the Mandalorian removes his armor…

It’s just a room where the Mandalorian---

You curtailed the rapid descent your thoughts were plummeting towards and took three confident steps towards the room to prove to yourself that you were unfazed. You faltered on step four, but as your foot landed on the metal flooring, you were practically in front of the room already. So, you glanced in with a slight arch of your neck, leaning to the right.

This was the only place on the Razor Crest you hadn’t seen fully. Mando never locked it, but you tried to respect what privacy he did have by avoiding it. You understood that everyone had their space; a single area that was theirs to completely unwind in, even momentarily. You understood the significance of a place like that and invading Mando’s made you feel guilty.

The room itself was clinical in its simplicity. Your eyes roved over the bunk to see if the child was there. You took another step in so you could lean down to see if he was down the side of the bunk, where several metal shelves sat empty apart from a single blaster and a piece of durasteel armor that looked suspiciously like Mando’s old vambrace. He must put his armor there whenever he takes it off. You couldn’t think of another reason for there to be so much wasted space in the room otherwise.

“Psst, kid. Are you in here?” You hissed, not wanting to tempt fate and draw the Mandalorian’s attention if he heard you.

As it happened, the odds that you had put at zero for yourself might as well have been negative infinity, because the response you received was a filtered throat being cleared that had you spinning in place to see Mando watching you with his head tilted and a thumb hoked in his utility belt as he leaned against the wall casually.

And there was the child – proud as the tooka who caught the titterling – sitting in one strong arm, watching you with curious eyes as you stood back up, heat rising to your face as you floundered.

“I---”

“Found him.”

Mando saved you from what was no doubt going to be a terribly awkward attempt at an explanation as to why you were snooping in his bunk, so you merely offered him a sheepish smile when he didn’t question you. You held out your hands when the green monster stretched his own short arms out to you.

Mando pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer to hand the child over and his body ate up the space around you.

It was surreal and slightly unnerving, the way his body seemed to dwarf any space he walked into, particularly this small area in front of his bunk. The breadth of his shoulders blocked the light behind him, and you were ensnared by the faint memory of their strength from realigning his arm after the Houk Incident. You mind was suddenly barraged with sinful images of anchoring your nails into those shoulders, or the sight of your thighs thrown over them as he---

“Can’t take your eyes off him for even a minute.” You laughed to cover your runaway thoughts, honestly you needed to get laid the next planet you landed on, fingers stroking absentmindedly over a large ear while the unpainted helmet stayed trained on you before nodding slowly.

“He gets into more trouble than you do.” He rumbled, the faint lilt of a tease making you instantly narrow your eyes, secretly thankful for the more familiar territory.

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who ended up wanted by not only the New Republic, but the Empire and Bounty Hunters Guild as well.”

He scoffed as he rolled his shoulders back and crossed his arms, a clear rebuttal he decided didn’t warrant a verbal response, but it made you smile slyly in response, eager to keep the upper hand as you moved to get by him.

“You’re quite impressive, you know?” You purred as you passed him, the warrior not conceding an inch of space to let you get by him more easily, his body remaining an impassive mountain in front of you.

“Yeah?” His voice – husky even when filtered – dripped with a curiosity he tried to mask with arrogance as he tipped his head back to look down at you from his greater height while your front brushed against his lightly. You could practically hear the smirk behind his helmet in that one word.

You smiled sweetly at him and – for the first time – touched him for reasons other than medical as your patted the beskar on his chest twice,

“Mhm…” you hummed slowly, squeezing past him finally even as he turned slightly to keep his eyes on you, eyes that were scorching your body despite your inability to see them,

“You single-handedly united the galaxy in getting all three of them to agree that you’re a menace.”

Your saccharine smile grew at the indignant noise that left the warrior in response, the sound so boorish and organic coming from a man who could at times seem as emotionless as the droids he despised. It was a human sound, and your heart thrilled at it, the sensation settling between your legs as you wondered what other human sounds the Mandalorian could produce as you escaped back up the ladder to the cockpit before he could respond. It stroked a primal part of your ego to have been the one to draw out a sound, even one of derision, from him.

You thought about that sound for longer than you cared to admit, one of the few others you had added to the growing catalogue of memories you had accumulated over your short time on the Razor Crest. Each memory was capable of tormenting you to the point of arousal while you stubbornly refused to give in to your body’s need for release over thoughts of him.

You might have broken your second cardinal rule of ‘do not take your eyes off the child’ but you were steadfast in sticking to your first cardinal rule:

Do not cross that line with the Mandalorian. 

 You might have been able to abide by that rule if all you had to worry about was the limited content you had to fantasize about. The way he moved, his voice, those glimpses of the human underneath the metal when he spoke in that growling language whenever he was frustrated, or the occasional groan from a stiff neck after too long in the pilot’s chair. The faint memory of the tanned skin you had seen when treating that poisoned stab wound over three years ago. You could deal with all of those. They were ambiguous and vague.

Vague enough that when you did succumb to your own please and give yourself the release you craved night after night while biting your lip to contain even the smallest sounds escaping, you could fool yourself into thinking that it was any nameless, faceless man and not the Mandalorian you travelled with.

That changed the day you were exposed to the sheer strength and power of the Mandalorian first-hand as he wrestled a quarry into the ship after a hunt. The base, primordial desire for physical strength used for the purpose of provision and protection was stoked inside of you.

Mando had shown up with a live quarry, a Trandoshan who – once on the ship – had made one last desperate effort to escape, using the Mandalorian’s distraction as you came out of the refresher to break the binders with the brutal strength Trandoshan’s were known for and lunge right at you. Whether it was to kill you or to use you as leverage for Mando to release him, you never found out.

You had managed one startled step back before the Trandoshan was tackled to the ground in front of you. Mando’s size belied his speed and he quickly had a knee pressed into the quarry’s back, a hand pressing down on the Trandoshan’s neck to keep him in place while he used his free hand to try and restrain him once again.

The image of Mando’s body, humming from the thrill of a fight and the testosterone that rolled off of him because of it, seared itself into your mind. How the quarry could hardly move under the strength of his knee pressed down on his back. How – even under all that armor – you could practically see his muscles ripple and strain taut as he kept the quarry subdued enough to attach a new set of binders.

It was primal.

And it was your undoing.

As you let your fingers roam down beneath your sleep shorts that night to find yourself already soaked, you didn’t even try to stop the memory of Mando man-handling the quarry from filling your thoughts. You didn’t stop the memory from morphing into something else as you imagined yourself underneath him instead. Imagined the Mandalorian using that strength on you for an entirely different reason as you easily sunk two fingers inside your twitching cunt, desperate to be filled by something more than what you could give yourself.

You imagined his hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you down, to keep you submissive and could almost hear his voice growling in your ear while you desperately tried to replace the sensation of your own fingers inside you with his. Your other hand traced down your overheated body to circle your clit lightly. Your hips bucked, your body already strung too tight as a whimper slipped past your lips as you imagined he would no doubt leave you wanting more, removing his fingers to replace them with the blunt head of his cock. Just the thought of him pushing into you was enough to send you over the edge, biting down on your lip hard enough that you tasted a tang of copper from where your teeth broke the skin while your orgasm washed over you. You were left panting in the pitch-black hold of the Razor Crest wondering how long you could handle your attraction to the Mandalorian before it drove you crazy. 

 But it wasn’t until a month later, three months since Mynock, when Mando’s penchant for colorful injuries proved to be the straw that broke the bantha’s back.

You had landed on Scipio a week ago.

The frigid atmosphere of the planet was only made worse by the fact that the majority of structures in its capital city sat at a high altitude to escape the snowstorms that could leave entire ships buried in a matter of hours.

It was the first Guild job the Mandalorian had taken in a long time, but it offered a good bounty. From the short answers you had managed to pry from the stoic warrior as you entered Scipio’s atmosphere, he was a money launderer. A disgraced member of the Banking Clan back in the day before he found spice and flesh trafficking to be a more lucrative venture.

The guy was a genius when it came to cleaning dirty credits, funneling them into dummy accounts and businesses, directly influencing the rise in power of several top tier warlords of the fallen Empire. You had thought to question why it was so easy for former Imperials and their supporters to gain power but then you answered your own question. Credits. Credits could buy you anything; buy your survival, buy loyalty, and even buy freedom.

The Mandalorian didn’t seem too concerned about the quarry himself, rather the security detail he might have around him. This type of guy would rather pay someone to die for them instead of picking up a blaster themselves.

The spaceport where you landed doubled as a motel, equipped to stand the sub-zero temperatures and for people like yourself and the child, who would usually remain on the ship, provided somewhere safe to sleep for the duration of your stay. Mando had been frustrating as he explained again about keeping an eye open while in the motel, to double check the locks and not to let the child out of your sight.

It had ended with you snapping at him that you weren’t stupid, weeks of frustration catching up on you.

You had effectively shut him up though, and after a few tense moments he reached out to stroke the tip of the child’s ear gently,

“I won’t be long.” His voice was measured in its control to bite his tongue on a sharp retort, so you only nodded once in confirmation.

You regretted your short temper the moment you had snapped at him. You knew he kept his worry over the child to himself but sometimes he tended to hover, particularly when you weren’t on the Razor Crest. But having once again woken that morning to slippery thighs and the lingering image of a blurred silhouette scraping his teeth down your neck, you were feeling a bit high-strung.

So you had lashed out in your irritation, and a week after he left, you still felt bad about it.

The motel itself surrounded the spaceport. For the first day you had distracted the child and yourself by sitting at the window and pointing out the different ships that landed and took off, the high vantage point of the rooms allowing you to see a good portion of the entire port.

You told the child what each ship was (those that you knew, anyway) and told him which was fastest and what each one was used for and even the ones you knew how to fly (even if that list was miserably short for someone from Pamarthe). You still had your suspicions that the child could understand everything you said to him and so spoke to him as if he did. It did no harm and he seemed to enjoy the attention, babbling on your lap, and pressing his forehead to the window.

The ships had been a distraction for all of a day. Neither of you had warm enough clothing to tackle exploring the outdoors so your exploration was limited to the corridors of the motel and the extended sheltered area of the spaceport. The freezing chill still managed to permeate the vast port and you soon found yourselves back in the room for the next few days.

When the commlink Mando had given you crackled on your wrist, you nearly wept with happiness that you might soon be getting off this planet. You would take a week in hyperspace over the prison you felt you had been in within the four walls of the motel room. There were only so many conditions, symptoms, and treatments you could document on your datapad before you started losing the will to live.

“We take off in twenty.”

The commlink warped the unmistakable voice of the Mandalorian, probably due to the raging storm outside affecting the connection but you didn’t care. You guys were leaving, and you wouldn’t be sorry to see the back of Scipio.

Packing up the few items you had brought with you for the child, you placed him back in his hover-pram and closed it around him to protect him from the cold. Pressing another button on the commlink, it began following you as you started making your way down to where the Razor Crest was docked. The few moments you had to spend in the freezing blizzard to get onto the ship felt like a life age, the snow and wind biting into your skin beneath your clothing and almost burning with how cold it felt.

You turned towards the open ramp of the Razor Crest, desperately wanting to close it but you knew the Mandalorian had been out in that weather far longer than you had, and the quicker he got in, the better.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long as a few minutes later, the hazy blur in the blizzard sharpened to reveal the beskar clad warrior with a limp figure over his shoulder. Your eyes raked over him, narrowing at the slightly tremble in his left leg as he threw down the prone body none too gently on the floor of the hold. He reached to his right to press one of the manual controls to lift the ramp and finally shield you all from the snow before he reached down to grab the human man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him into the carbonite chamber.

He hadn’t said a word to you but then again, that wasn’t out of the ordinary. He preferred silence and you were used to it.

Instead, you took a few liberties and climbed up to the cockpit to initiate take off procedures. The Crest was old, bless her, but after a moment or two you managed to get her up in the air and out of atmosphere. Once you were able, you activated the autopilot. You were still at cruising altitude and would only be able to enter hyperspace once you were a suitable distance away from the planet.

Mando hadn’t come up when you had taken off and you noticed his absence. It wasn’t like him to remain down below so, with a moment’s hesitation, you returned back down the ladder to find him sitting on one of the large crates with his head back against the wall.

Your eyes immediately focused, mind sharpening as you assessed him from a few feet away. Breathing was normal if a bit heavy, nothing bent at a wrong angle or limbs missing.

You let your eyes drop to the leg you saw tremble slightly. The flight suit Mando wore under his armor, especially the bottoms, were soaked through so you couldn’t tell if the darkened stains on his thigh were melted snow or blood.

“No.”

Your eyes snapped up to his helmet which had turned slightly once you caught his attention.

“No?” You questioned, a frown settling over your eyes as he sat up with a grunt.

“I don’t need you patching up ever scratch and bruise.” He snapped.

Oh, he was cranky. That meant he was in pain.

It was true that Mando had flatly refused any help if he ever came back bruised and sore and for the most part, he probably didn’t need any medical attention. Half the time you didn’t even know because he simply dealt with it himself wordlessly. He had lived this life long enough without you, he knew how to handle himself. Most of the time. Your trained eyes were able to spot a mile away what he could deal with himself and what needed more practiced hands. If he was acting like a cantankerous reek again, then you knew it was time to step in.

You scoffed and took the few steps towards him, completely professional as you dropped to your knees in front of him. You didn’t miss the strangled noise the modulator picked up from behind the helmet, but you didn’t have time to worry about how you might look kneeling in front of his open legs.

All you were focused on, was the shredded duraweave near his knee, dried blood crusting along the flesh of his inner thigh just shy of the beskar plate sitting over his left thigh. You clicked your tongue and sent him a withering look,

“Seriously?”

A growl reverberated from his chest, a string of that foreign language leaving him before he looked away. He looked petulant.

“In Basic if you don’t mind.” You asked sarcastically, eyes already back on the wound underneath the torn duraweave. Your fingers picked a shredded edge of the duraweave to get a better look. You were reminded instantly of the wound he received from the poison laced dagger with you first met him, but you were relieved to note that this wound seemed clean of venom.

That was about all that was clean about it though, because unlike the single laceration of the dagger wound, his thigh had a semi-circle of shredded puncture wounds where something had obviously sunk into his flesh and shook its head.

“Fucking nerfherders, what bit you?” You turned your eyes back up to him, startled by the size given that the single row indicated only one side of the jaw met his flesh. You worried momentarily if the back of his thigh carried similar wounds where whatever it was bit down but you would deal with this first.

“Whitefang.” He bit out, the frustration in his tone evident but you had grown accustomed to him acting like this whenever he was hurt.

You had gotten to your feet again, turning away to your small area where you could rifle through the medipack you had built for such occasions. You almost dropped the bacta and saline when you turned back to him.

“A whitefang? How in Malachor did you---”

“He didn’t only have mercenaries guarding him.” Mando spat, groaning when the anger in his voice caused his muscles to tense and the obvious pain that followed. You shook your head and knelt back down, sitting on your heels as you peeled back the shredded edges of the duraweave, stopping only when a gloved hand wrapped around your wrist in warning. Your eyes flickered up to the expressionless T-visor, a sigh leaving you as you looked back down.

“I’m only pushing it back as far as the wound goes. I won’t see any more of you than it takes to treat your bite.”

You tried a different approach to your usual Mando Method. Negotiation as opposed to strong-arming him. You didn’t try to remove your wrist from his grip, despite how tight it was but your patience seemed to work because with a steady exhale, his grip loosened and released you. You nodded once,

“There, that wasn’t so hard?”

Mando simply leaned his head back heavily and looked up towards the ceiling, his hands resting back on the crate behind him and leaving you to your work.

You turned back to his thigh now that the hard part was over, truly he was a menace when it came to looking after himself. You tutted to yourself while you cleaned the caked, dried blood from around the puncture wounds with clean gauze soaked in an antiseptic solution and assessed their depth as you did so. There were seven punctures in all, the two canine fangs being the largest and deepest, so you focused your attention on them first.

While the Mandalorian hadn’t said a word despite the sting the antiseptic no doubt caused, he let out a soft exhale when you cleaned them out with saline water to flush out any dirt that might have entered the open wounds. You bit down on your lip to hide the slight smile, he seemed to enjoy that part last time too. Now that you were sure he wasn’t in any immediate danger; you allowed your eyes to travel down the length of his body on their way back to his thigh.

You covered the hitch in your breath with a small cough when your eyes passed over the prominent bulge that was nearly at eye level; he was hard. Your mouth instantly went dry as you turned back to his thigh with a bit too much force, a heavy tension settling in the air that was making it hard to focus. 

So, you tried to lighten the mood when he sighed again softly at the cool liquid on his heated skin.

“Careful Mando, or else I’ll start to think you enjoy getting injured.”

You had quickly moved on to threading the dissolvable medical thread through a wicked sharp curved needle and began to layer tight, neat stitches inside the two deepest wounds, anything to distract your hands and eyes from straying somewhere they were wholly unwelcome.

The needle moved easily through his flesh, the thread laced with bacta, one of the greatest creations to come from the last five years of medical research which allowed the healing qualities in bacta to penetrate the body better, using the physical thread to hold the flesh together while it knitted everything back together quicker than the body would be able to by itself.

The Mandalorian hadn’t moved since you began, but you felt the telling warmth on the top of your head where his eyes had settled, watching you sit between his legs and once again, soothing his pain. You hadn’t expected an answer given his mood, so when he did reply, you nearly dropped the needle you were carefully putting away for cleaning later.

“In my line of work, you learn to like a little pain.” His voice sounded thicker, a dark undercurrent to the usual rasp and it made your cunt clench at the veiled insinuation. He must have known you could see, right? He hadn’t made any move to hide his obvious arousal, but then maybe he felt that to draw attention to it would be to acknowledge it.

You smoothed a large bactapad over the wounds, the smaller punctures not deep enough to warrant stiches and satisfied there were no other wounds on his thigh. You used the action to buy yourself some time as you ran your tongue over your bottom lip, desperately trying to get some moisture back as your mind ran wild with the possibilities that single sentence meant about the Mandalorian.

When you had done all you could do, you bit the bullet and looked up at him again. His head was tilted down, not hiding the fact that he was watching you as you worked, and you just knew your underwear was ruined from the image that lay before you. The Mandalorian leaning back with his legs spread and watching you like the hunter he was.

“I’m sure there are other ways you can enjoy that without getting you leg bitten off.” The words that left your mouth were smoother and said with a confidence that made you want to pat yourself on the back. You packed up the medipack and stood up, keeping your eyes on his visor so they wouldn’t be tempted to stray down to the bulge that had yet to disappear.

“No strenuous exercise until they’re healed.” You ordered, your tone allowing for no argument as you turned to put the medipack away, thankful that he couldn’t see the flush on your cheeks when you started moving towards the galley to prepare something to eat for the child and be away from this suddenly stifling situation.

Mando seemed content to remain where he was for a few moments longer before he stood to test his leg on his full weight. You staunchly kept your back to him under the guise of heating a ration pack on the nanowave stove, but you could feel him brush past you on his way to the cockpit.

“Pity.” He dropped the word on your lap without stalling his movements as he passed you, his voice still thick and laced with a sinful darkness before his presence vanished entirely up the ladder, albeit a bit slower and into the cockpit so he could get you all into hyperspace.

When you heard the tell-tale hiss of the cockpit door closing, you braced your hands on the edge of the galley counter, a shaky breath leaving you.

What the ever-loving fuck what that?

A few hours later, and you were in the refresher, the hiss of the shower the only security that your moans were smothered as your fingers played with your clit, expertly circling it before swiping over the sensitive bundles lightly. Your head fell back, the water soaking your heated skin and running down your body the same way you imagined his hands might, how his tongue might follow that same path.

Your eyes closed on a whimper as you slid a finger insider of yourself, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how easily it slid in, your arousal providing the perfect lubrication.

You still hadn’t been able to unwind from the tightly strung ball of tension the Mandalorian had left you in hours before and despite your better judgement, had locked yourself in the refresher seeking even an ounce of relief. You should have been ashamed, getting off to the memory of a man who – while being someone you already accepted your attraction to – was a patient in that moment.

It didn’t matter that he seemed just as aroused, that he stoked a desire deep inside you with his words. You didn’t even know his name and yet, the physical attraction you felt for a man whose body you had seen only slivers of, was unlike anything you’d felt for anyone you had been with before. He had you soaked with a few choice words, a tilt of his helmet and his legs spread arrogantly as if he hadn’t just been bitten by a whitefang.

You moaned quietly as you imagined yourself kneeling between those thighs again, but this time not to treat an injury but to satisfy a different sort of ache. You thought about the noises he might make if you took his cock into your mouth; if he would try to control your pace and how much of him you took. You added another finger as you wondered if he would finish in your mouth, or if he was someone who wanted to finish deep inside your cunt instead. If he would pull you up from your position between his legs so he could sink into you and fuck you until he finished.

You could feel your orgasm cresting, your fingers drenched with your arousal and a final forbidden fantasy of what he must look like when he came – what expression would paint the face you would never know as he spilled inside you – was what had your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You couldn’t muffle your cry at its intensity, nor could you control the moan spilling from your lips despite swearing you would never say it, never acknowledge outside your own mind that you wanted him.

But you couldn’t help yourself, and it changed everything.

“Mando…”

He was right the first time.

He should have fucking listened to his instincts when they told him you were dangerous on Klatooine.

He should have known when that lick of desire danced across his body the night he first met you.

He should have known when the blush he caused to rise on your cheeks made his chest swell with masculine pride.

He should have known when he hesitated every time he went to ask you what planet you wanted him to bring you to.

And he should have damn well known when he had to stop himself from fucking you the moment you knelt between his legs to treat his bite.

But he hadn’t listened and now he was stood frozen on his way to his bunk, the sound of his name laced with desire as it rolled off your tongue on the other side of the refresher’s door rooting him to the spot.

He felt himself get painfully hard under his armour again.

He had felt edged all day after trying – and failing – to calm himself down in the cockpit after you had finished with him. He recited his Creed in his head over and over until the memory of you looking up at him with those expressive, intelligent eyes had him hard again almost instantly.

Din felt his lips curl into a snarl at the sound of you moaning his name, at the torture you had unwittingly inflicted on him now that he knew what you sounded like in the throes of pleasure. It would be so easy, so easy to just pull the door open and give you a real reason to moan his name.

He clenched his hand to his side where it itched to open the door, it would be so easy…

He shook his head, trying to shake the insidious thoughts of giving in to the attraction that had skyrocketed since you began travelling with him.

A shift of his weight sent a twinge of pain through his thigh and that grounded him.

No, not tonight.

He continued on his path to his bunk before he had been interrupted, locking the hydraulic door behind him before he removed his helmet and ran a hand down his face.

Not tonight.

He removed each part of his armor, setting it down on the shelves beside the bunk, fingers ghosting over the bactapad that still clung to his thigh, the whispered memory of feeling your fingers on his bare skin again causing his cock to twitch beneath his flight suit before he removed that as well.

Not tonight.

He lay back heavily on his bunk, muscles and joints exhausted from the arduous week on an ice planet. He let his eyes roll closed when his hand wrapped around the hard shaft of his cock where it lay heavy against his stomach, lips parting on an exhale. The memory of his name on your lips filled his head as he swiped his thumb across the head of his cock to spread the pre-cum already leaking from the tip and hissed at the sensitivity.

Not tonight, he thought as his grip tightened as he stroked himself towards a quick release, but one day soon he would make you pay for the torment you inflicted on him today.

He came with a low groan, your voice in his head chiding him once more about no strenuous exercise and he smirked in the darkness at the memory, fatigue making his eyelids heavy.

Soon.

Some liberties I have taken with Star Wars Canon:

- Pantran whitefangs (a species of big cat) are native only to Hoth, and are notorious for being impossible to domesticate and are constantly hunting. Anyone who tries, usually ends up dead. For the purposes of Stitches, it didn't seem likely that a money launderer would hide on Hoth. It's a desolate planet with a population that "would just about fill a cruiser". Scipio was at one point, the centre of the Banking Clan during the Galactic Republic and was such an important location that both the Republic and Separatists each sent ambassadors to ensure there was no corruption there. It has a larger population and more cities, somewhere I can justify a money lauderer hiding out in. This is why I transplanted Whitefangs to a different planet though I have made sure that it was an equally frozen one!

- Bacta usually removes the need for literal stitches as we know in real life, but I theorized that, while bacta is a perfect healer given time; in triage and emergency care, going back to basics sometimes helps. That's why I tried to combine the idea of bacta thread, something that would physically hold a wound together and prevent blood loss while the bacta worked in the interim.

- The generic "bending the Creed but not breaking it" spiel about reader seeing Din's body so long as it's not his face.

Stitches Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209 @pychedelic-star @nova646 @theflightytemptressadventure @wantingtobekorra @computeringturtle @slayerette26 @kesskirata​ @greatcircle79​

Hopefully I haven’t forgotten anyone! But drop me a message if I did! 

[pilotcallsigns]

Start Again - Chapter Nine (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: On their trek through the canyon to find their bounty, Din learns more about the girl than he had previously known and contemplates how she managed to survive everything she's been through. Of course, as he's learned from his time with her, they can never have peace in their search for the truth. 

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Discussion of sterilization, a brief discussion of forced pregnancy, discussion of childbirth, and blood loss mention. 

Author’s Note: Wow, long time no see. Life's been busy so I apologize for the severe lack of updates, I've been focusing on getting back into the workforce as well as the school semester starting up. I've also hit a major roadblock with writing and in the meantime, I've taken a step back so I'm not forcing myself or producing lackluster content. However, I'm excited to give you all this chapter! I hope you all enjoy it! 

CHAPTER NINE - A STRANGER ARRIVES

Ka’rta. Mando’a for heart. The girl had a lot of heart.

Din hadn’t let it show, but the news of her diagnosis had hit him hard. The Empire had tortured her beyond belief, if her nightmares weren’t evidence enough, the scars he saw when she was sedated had told him enough. They took her son away, wiped her mind in the process, and then left her for dead. If that wasn’t enough, they forcibly sterilized her.

“They sterilized her not long after they discovered she wasn’t the one with force-sensitive capabilities.” Dr. Orn informed him. Underneath his helmet, Din frowned at the doctor’s words. A part of him grew angry, angry at the idea that since the girl was no longer of use to them, they’d toss her away. Din was disgusted.

“What you’re saying is…is that they removed her ability to have any future children because she couldn’t produce a child with abilities?” Din’s mouth tasted like bile.

“It was their belief that the child’s father was the one who passed the traits onto his son, not her.” Dr. Orn frowned at him, possibly having the same thoughts of how vile the Empire was. “Although, had they decided to—” Din held up his hand and stopped Dr. Orn’s words.

It was enough. Basic genetics explained that even if the mother didn’t carry the trait, as long as the father did, there was a chance a child with the Force would be born. Din couldn’t even comprehend the idea of the Empire forcibly impregnating her like some breeding farm.

Instead, they remained ignorant of actual genetics and because they couldn’t breed her like a kriffing animal, they removed any ability to ever have her own children. If she couldn’t produce more force-sensitives, then why let her have any more children at all.

Deep down, Din knew of the atrocities committed by the Empire but what they did to her, made him feel physically ill.

He had felt numb hearing the news. How she managed to carry herself afterward Din didn’t know. How she even managed to put up a fight in their training session he didn’t know. It made him question everything he had known about the universe. To endure that pain and continue on, Din had hardly met anyone stronger than that.

The strength she had displayed, wielding the sticks as if they were true weapons, coming at him with all her might, even if it meant she’d meet the ground again. Briefly, he had taken pleasure in sweeping her off her feet, just to see her get annoyed. He wanted to see what her reactions would be. He hadn’t expected much out of her, especially considering the news she had received earlier. After the second time, he could tell she was vibrating with anger, ready to come at him. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Followed by a few successful hits and a near kick and Din found himself almost proud of her. With time, she’d come into fighting naturally.

“I know the view is pretty, Mando, but I think we have a bounty we need to find,” Her voice makes the memories of last night fade and he chuckles.

“Patience,” He murmurs, putting the last of the supplies together in his pack. He knew she was eager to get moving, the motivation to find a possible clue in her past driving her.

An ex-Imperial, trying to lay low in a post-Empire universe. The New Republic had been searching for him but after months with no news or record of him being alive, they presumed he must’ve been killed at the end of the war. The New Republic had bigger things to worry about. Orus, still running off its own government, didn’t believe any Imperial to be dead. The droid had made it clear that no Imperial was believed to be dead unless you killed them yourself.  

Opseg law enforcement pushed out the supposed ‘dead’ bounties like clockwork, and apparently, it wasn’t too hard to find them. Din had seen the holoprojectors displaying successful hunts, it was safe to say that the Opseg agency expected the same from him and the girl. It seemed clear from the data that plenty of ex-Imperials or sympathizers found themselves on Orus, hoping that the planets bustling city life would offer a decent cover to start a new life.  

Din pulled a vibroblade out of his boot, testing the weight in his fingers before he hands it to the girl. Her eyes widen in shock but she carefully takes it into her hands. The blade was one of Din’s firsts when he had first started with the Guild. Before he had found himself more comfortable with blasters and pulse rifles, Din had been more into close combat and the use of knives. After their brief training session last night, it was clearer that while he was a long-distance fighter, the girl was suited for close combat.

“You trust me?” She asks, glancing at it as she studies the hilt and the blade itself. Din had managed to keep it in decent condition even throughout these years, maintaining it despite its lack of use.

“I do,” Din says, watching as her eyes light up. “I think you’ll be able to handle yourself out there and if not, I’ll be there to catch you.”

“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, admiring the build of the vibroblade. Holding the hilt in the palm of her hand, she takes a few practice swings with it, moving with precision. The rays from the suns beam onto the blade, glittering off her face.  

“It’s also dangerous, so be careful.” Din reminds her and she nods, tucking the blade away.

“So,” she sighs, “What’s so special about this bounty other than being an ex-Imp? Seems to me that everyone was working for the Empire at some point in their life.”

“He’s an ex-Imperial officer. Higher up, not indoctrinated like Stormtroopers, so he was well aware of what the Empire was doing.” Din responds, tossing his bag over his shoulder.

“And you said he might know about what happened to me?” She asks, her voice tilting towards a hopeful tone. He doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but the research he had done on the bounty told him enough.

No identifying information on the ship he worked on, but with the blanks in his information, it was safe to say that whatever he did work on, the Empire didn’t want it getting out. After the war, most of it had been erased and all that was left was bits and pieces. An officer, overseeing prisoners of the war. Din had concluded that he had to at least know about what happened to the girl. She wasn’t just someone captured to rot in a cell for the rest of her life. She had some importance to them; they stole her son from her and wiped her memories. All the more reasons to find out the truth from this bounty.

“It’s a possibility. He oversaw a lot of the prisoners. There’s a chance he knew about you. Or your case, at the very least.” He replies, watching as she takes in the information.

“How soon do we have to bring him in once we find him?” She says. She’s quiet now, looking to the horizon of Opseg.

“A day or so, maybe. They incentivize you to bring the bounty in early for more credits.” He answers and she merely hums. A conflict of emotions washes over her face. There’s a question she’s too afraid to ask, unsure if she would receive the answer she was seeking.

“Will he give us information?” Right on target. Din’s not sure what to give her. Could they torture him for information? Sure, maybe the Opseg law enforcement wouldn’t question it. Would he even have any information? Again, Din did not know for sure. He wouldn’t mind getting his hands a little dirtier for the sake of information the bounty may have on the girl.

“I don’t know,” he answers instead, watching as she frowns. Not exactly the answer she was looking for then.

Displaying the map of the canyons on Orus, Din pinpoints the bounty’s last known location. He had hidden in the deepest parts of the canyon. It was likely that he had a camp set up and an array of weapons to protect himself. Din wouldn’t be surprised if he and the girl came across a couple of dead bounty hunters in various stages of decay. An Imperial was already a formidable opponent, but an Imperial officer who held a lot of information on the Empire was not a force to reckon with.

Veteran bounty hunters knew better and had expectations. If a bounty were on edge, they’d do anything to protect themselves and their assets. An amateur hunter gets too cocky and the bounty quickly puts them down and moves elsewhere, losing the trail. It was all a matter of survival.

“It’s a bit of a hike,” Din informs the girl, watching her eyes as she scans the projected image. “The droid says he’s been hiding out here for the past few weeks. He moves around after a new set of hunters come after him.”

A blinking dot displays the bounty’s last known position. The girl hums, her mouth set in a hard line as she scans the map once more, seeming to put it to memory.

���He’s getting comfortable. No new bounty hunters in a good month, maybe he thinks they’ve forgotten him,” The girl says, looking to him for confirmation.

“That, or he’s expecting a full force, so we need to be prepared for both. He’s already managed to figure out the schedule of bounty hunter arrivals. Supposedly barricades himself by the time they arrive at his camp. Takes them out and moves locations before a new round of hunters come along.” Din states, clicking through the projector to detail the number of hunters this bounty has killed off.

It’s numbers he hasn’t seen since he had taken the bounty of Fennec Shand with that hotshot bounty hunter, Toro Calican. With Shand “dead” and Calican kidnapping Grogu in the hopes of making a name for himself, Din never wanted to experience anything similar again. This bounty he and the girl had taken up would not come easily.

“He would be smarter if he moved during the downtime of hunters. That way we wouldn’t know his last whereabouts.” The girl says. The light of the holoprojector flickers off her face as Din shuts it off.

“His ignorance will play to our advantage,” Din says, placing the holoprojector in his bag, “it wouldn’t be any easier if he did decide to move during the downtime.”

Din’s not expecting much, the ex-Imperial has most likely grown comfortable living out in the canyon. Their arrival might come as a surprise, but deep down, Din knows that the bounty will be prepared for a fight. Even if it means toeing with a Mandalorian.

Beginning their trek through the canyon, Din takes the lead for the first hour into the journey. The canyons on Orus are difficult terrain. The course he had set for them was not smooth at all, it was rocky and there were several instances of Din having to pull himself up over a ledge, then pulling the girl up as well.

The faint cry of animals keeps them close to one another, not trusting that the creatures will be welcoming of their presence. Din had already learned the hard way of a welcoming presence. He should’ve expected as much, given that the planet shared a system with Nevarro. The girl, however, keeps the mood light by humming songs native to Puvo. The soft thrum of her voice keeps the hike from being filled with a painful silence, which Din is grateful for.

The hike is peaceful and with the soft hum of the girl, Din relaxes through their trek, allowing himself to admire the planet and the way the vegetation grows despite the lack of sunlight. He still scans his surroundings, keeping an eye out for any potential danger. He studies the shade of the canyon walls that cut off the sunlight even as the planets still grow, fruits hanging off the branches of trees and the leaves of planets greener than he had ever seen before.

The sounds of a running creek pause them in their journey, the girl’s humming coming to a stop as they gather at the edge of the bank. This time the girl’s singing doesn’t fill the silence, just them filling their canteens with the water. Din even watches as the girl leans over and washes the sweat from her face, running her hands down her neck in order to cool herself.  

“I think it’s deep enough to swim.” The girl says, leaning back into the sand after her last drink of the water.

“You think?” Din asks her, watching her as she nods.

“Maybe,” she says, “The creeks on Puvo were shallow, meant for work. Finding an actual source of water that wasn’t meant for work or consumption was difficult, but when I did find one, I managed to get Valara to go with me.” She smiles as she seems to look back on the memories.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been swimming,” Din tells her and she chuckles.

“Not even when you were a boy?” She turns, looking at him. In truth, he can’t remember a time when he was that young, not since before he swore the Creed. When he finds himself trying to look back, the only thing he finds himself remembering is the destruction of his home and the death of his parents.

“No,” he finally says, pulling himself out of his head.

“Castin loved to swim. He wanted to swim before he could even walk. The village thought I was crazy to give him that chance, but he proved them wrong.” She smiles, but he can see the pain in her eyes as she struggles to look back at that particular memory. He knows it’s a painful reminder of what was stolen from her.

“Do you remember them? Your village,” Din supplies. The girl blinks, slowly nodding.

“Parts of them. Faces are a blur but their voices are clear to me. We were a small but tight-knit community. Everyone helped everyone.” The girl glances up at him and smiles. “I can’t remember exact details like friends or family, just Castin and maybe the midwife who helped deliver him.”

“But you don’t remember if you ever had a husband?”

“All children were loved regardless of if their parents were married or not. But, no, I don’t remember him if he were to exist at all.”

Din feels peace when she answers that she doesn’t remember. A part of him hopes that there wasn’t any partner involved, that way she could only focus her attention on Castin. She didn’t need another heartbreak if she were to ever find out the truth of what may have happened to her village. If there had been a husband, would he have been killed off by the Empire? Was he still alive?

“I do remember the pain of bringing him into the world. It was a difficult birth.” The girl interrupts his thoughts. “The healer had monitored me throughout the entire pregnancy, I knew going in it was high-risk.”

“High-risk…” Din pauses, “Like, dying?”

“Yes,” she sounds calm when she answers. He supposes that the discussion is no longer painful since she survived the ordeal and is here now. “I was in labor for several hours. I nearly died. The midwife said there had been a lot of blood…they couldn’t stop it. I remember telling her his name, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure if he had died. It was chaos.”

Din watches her as she examines the flow of the water, tracing her fingertips above the surface. In the time they had spent together, he found himself learning more about the number of times she had faced death even before the Empire had its grasp on her. Even before her son had been born, it seemed fated that one of them would die.

“State your business.”

Dank farrik. Din was tired of being snuck upon.

He and the girl turn, facing the source of the voice. A masked man with a rifle stands in front of them. The upper half of his face remains covered, only the lower half displaying his displeasure with seeing them here. He’s also wearing armor, but it’s not like beskar. The barrel of the man’s weapon points at the girl and at this close of range, she would not survive the shot.

“The public is not barred from traveling within the canyons.” Din responds, watching as the man shifts his stance, the barrel of the rifle moving to point at his chest plate.

“The public population knows not to travel these canyons. Only outsiders take that chance, so I’ll say again, state your business.” The man snarls, the barrel of his rifle swiveling to focus on him. The blast wouldn’t pierce the beskar, but Din wasn’t about to take that chance.

It’s not a blaster rifle, the closer Din studies it. It’s a stun gun, meant to temporarily incapacitate rather than go for the kill. Why this rifleman, clearly upset, didn’t have his rifle set to kill, Din didn’t know.

“Bounty work. Sent by the Opseg law enforcement.” Din states, his hand settling on his hip just above the blaster in his hip holster.

The sky is a soft shade of blue with light cloud coverage. Din doesn’t remember looking up at the sky but as he struggles to move his limbs, he understands why. The rifleman had shot him. Someone’s screaming. It’s the girl.

“Relax, sweetheart. He’s not dead.” He can hear voices, muffled as his vision blurs.

[lollybliz]

bout to make a Monster of a fic rec post here we go

heyo @jinx108! We’ll start with the complete ones because sometimes you’re just not in the mood to wait for the last chapter, you know? I don't remember details of all of these so i’m just going to copy the author’s summary rather than write my own. I am literally just going through my bookmarks, I got 400 of these to sort through. if ive talked to or am familiar with the author im gonna mention them, but if I mention you and you don't want me to have Please tell me and i’ll remove it.

If you’re not into spoilers Please Tread Carefully, I don't watch out for that stuff so I wont know to label it

1>Crushing Truth by Bunzuku: Tododeku. “Romance is hard enough for a teenager to understand when they have a good relationship role model. For Shoto, it takes two excited meddlers for him to even realize what his feelings really are.“

2>Disowned by b00mgh: tododeku + others. Unrated, some traumatic elements. “Shouto freaks out under a bridge and I use the word "grass" a lot more than I really should. Izuku does his stupid martyr thing and everyone makes continuous references to his propensity to break his bones. Aizawa goes "oh FUCK my kids are dying again" and his students use him as emotional (and physical) support. A friend requests angst, I say what kind, she say idk make someone get disowned and i say oh this I can absolutely provide my good buddy.”

3>cotton candy hands by @chonideno: Kiribaku. I will take Any excuse to rec this fic, its the most fluffy pile of feels Good Lord. also the first fic I ever bound into a physical book. “Studying to become a hero requires knowing how to take care of yourself. Sometimes you might need help on the way so if your crush offers to do your hair for you or to give you a well-deserved back rub, it'd be stupid to say no. A series of soft vignettes in which a love-struck Kirishima and a touch-starved Bakugou care for each other and it's definitely not making their hearts jump through hoops, they’re never this close to kissing, no, they're totally best friends bro“

4>Catching Sight of the Storm by neo7v: Kiribaku, tododeku. A considerable amount of Whump and related angst, and kinda sad tbh. “Blind. Quirkless. Useless.The first two things were stated clearly by the doctor that sat about five feet in front of Izuku. The third was a word that Kacchan called him everytime he failed to make the jump on whatever forest excursion they were on or when he ran into a tree because he hadn’t seen it. “I’m so, so sorry, Izuku.” Was his mom giving up on him already? But he could still be a hero if he tried hard enough, right? Quirkless or not. Blind or not. Just because Izuku was useless now didn’t mean he would stay that way forever, right? *** A Blind!Izuku AU”

5>Yell Heah by fakecharliebrown: Chatfic. M a n y pairings. technically complete, but part of an ongoing series. “Iida creates a group-chat for Class 1-A. It doesn't go as planned.“

6>Sunshine by Rosey_Note: BIG SAD. tw- failed suicide attempt. KiriKamiBaku. “They didn't deserve to put up with his crappy mood. Because Denki Kaminari did not feel like Sunshine right now. And they deserved sunshine. In fact, Denki didn't feel much of anything right now.“

7>Electric Connection by  Onlymostydead: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk has always had... Weird side affects. Like his ADHD. And his constant energy. And his insomnia, which wouldn't leave him be right now, when he really needed to just get some sleep. But, thankfully, he has good friends.“

8>The Best (The Worst) by Onlymostydead: no romantic pairing. tw- rampant transphobia, both outside and internalized. “Bakugou Katsuki has known who he was since he was four years old. He was a boy, it was as simple as that. Around his friends, at school... But things couldn't just be that simple, could they?“

9>Lichtenberg Figures by Q_loves_you: no definite romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki has a very powerful force of nature running through his body. Kaminari Denki doesn't want to hurt anybody. He doesn't always get what he wants, and "anybody" does generally include himself.“

10>Eventuality by KikaTouka: ill be honest I don't remember this one at all, I maaaay not have read it yet :/. anyway. ShinKami. “Shinsou learns more than just hero lessons after being transferred to 1-A.“

11>Pickup Lines for the Soul by MustardSoup: ShinKami. “Denki is twelve when he is flicking through the TV channels and lands on an old RomCom movie about soulmate marks – specifically the same type that he has. “I can’t believe I’ve had to walk around with a cheap pickup line written on my ankle my entire life because of you!” The leading lady yells at the leading man as he stares at her in awe. Denki laughs. “Oh no.” His mother says, watching him. “Oh no, indeed.” His sister repeats quietly.“

12>caught in my own web by @anxioussailorsoldier: ShinKami. “Shinsou needs some help after getting caught up in his capture weapon. Kaminari enters from stage left.“

13>not so summer love by nataliya: ShinKami. “Class 2-B’s common room, although typically quiet, was currently filled with five students—three slowly giving up on homework, one bitching about noise and another that rushes through the front door. “We’ve been waiting for you—” Mina starts, but Kaminari’s vaulting over the back of the couch, eyes wide as he practically buzzes out of his skin, emitting light like crazy as currents dazzle across strands of hair. “I have a big ugly crush,” He steps off the couch and onto the coffee table, much to Bakugou’s chagrin, “On big ugly Shinsou.””

14>Blamed by coldandhotsoba: ShinKami. Tw- they fuckin kill a guy and its a lil nasty. “This was not how the day was supposed to end. They were supposed to end the day like they do most nights.  Kaminari clutching onto him like a koala as he slept, wrapped in the millions of tacky blankets Kaminari had bought. Warm and safe in their bed. It was not supposed to end with both of them tied up in some cold metal room.“

15>Lightning Scars by Present-Mics-Scream (write_your_way_out): Shinkami. “It's hard to be confident in your abilities when you're surrounded by people with incredible quirks. Shinsou Hitoshi would know better than anyone. Sure, he was admitted to the hero course in his second year, but being admitted to the hero course, and keeping up with the rest of the class are two different things. Lucky for him, Kaminari is there to prove that the flashiest quirks come with the largest drawbacks.“

16>See No Evil, Hear No Evil by randomfan188: no romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki is legally blind. When he forgets to wear his contacts and breaks down during math class, comfort appears in the strangest of ways.“

17>how not to enjoy the weather, an article by kaminari denki by dreamtowns: no defined romantic pairing. “If there was one thing Kaminari hated the most in a world wth villains, it would have to be thunderstorms.“

18>”Studying” by emmyrox22: ShinKami, EraserMic. “Shinsou and Kaminari have been “studying” together for a while (but not for school). Shinsou gets stopped by his dads on the way to another “study” session and mistakes are made“

19>Weaknesses by sunflowerstorm: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk and storms compliment each other in the worst way, but he's convinced he can deal with it on his own... until he really can't any longer. When Shinsou accidentally overhears Aizawa confronting Kaminari about recent changes in behaviour and hears about the hell his quirks been putting him through, he can't just pretend he never heard. He wants to help.“

20>it’s hurt denki hours by memeingfultrash: ShinKami + others. ““Certain members of our class are...under the impression that...you’re the traitor.” Denki’s body went cold and felt like he was going to short circuit. ~some of class 1a believes that denki is the traitor and avoid him”

21>Petition to replace Mineta with Shinsou- (signed by Kaminari Denki) by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami + others. This is one of my favorites, I go back to reread it from time to time. It SAYS 41/42, but that's just a glitch cus chapter 36 doesn't exist for some reason, I talked to the author about it and its fine. “Mineta brings shame to the color purple. You know who does not bring shame to the rich color, but pride and sexual tension to one infatuated Kaminari Denki instead? Shinsou Hitoshi, aka sexy zombie man, aka the most perfect hunk of a man to walk planet earth, aka future husband. Shinsou has finally gotten his chance to prove himself to the hero course, and he did more than prove himself. The only question left unanswered is whether he will start in A or B, and how Kaminari can manipulate the end result.“

22>How to Get a Boyfriend (in Four Easy Steps!) by e1ana: ShinKami, EraserMic, + others. “Step 1: Get kicked out of the house by your homophobic parents. Step 2: Run headfirst into your brooding, mysterious crush. Step 3: Sleep in his dad’s (see: your homeroom teacher) house Step 4: Watch everything you thought you knew go to shit. This isn’t exactly the sweet, romantic plan that Kaminari Denki longed for. Will everything be ok, or will step 5 be to crash and burn?“

23>Bakugou and Todoroki’s Foolproof 5-Step Plan to Fuck with Mineta Minoru by Anubis_2701: Kiribaku, TodoDeku, + others. This is another one of my favorites, and the one I am currently folding and sewing into a physical book. you learn how to do funny things when bored and quarantined ig. “It was a simple enough idea; screw around with the resident bastard of Class 1-A to let him know that his medieval ways and perverted behaviour weren't going to be tolerated by even the most career-focused of UA's students. To say that things had snowballed was an understatement. Todoroki had no idea how he had ended up sitting on Bakugou's floor at 1 am, holding a dossier of incriminating material that would make the FBI slobber, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. The long and short of it was, fuck Mineta.”

24>Colour Theory by chancellorxofxtrash: TodoBakuDeku. this one’s a series. “Midoriya/Bakugo/Todoroki slow burn soulmate AU. All three of them are nerds with their own emotional issues, trying to navigate their way through becoming heroes, and their own relationship with each other.“

25>Summer Sunshine by Mara97: TodoDeku. Ever want a Barbie in a mermaid tale/Bnha crossover? No? well here you go anyway! “Instead of worrying about college, Izuku spends his summer vacation finding out his father is, supposedly, a dead merman king and going on a quest to dethrone the current king, Endeavor. Along the way, Izuku becomes close to the three journeying with him, makes friends with strangers, starts crushing on an unattainable prince, and, in the end, learns to love himself. Oh, and he saves a kingdom, too.“

26>The snowflakes on our skin and the flames in our soul are one (and the same), my love by missunderstuffyou: TodoDeku, Kiribaku. this is one of the ones I keep a running reread comment going on. its at,,, 6, atm.  “Before your quirk begins to present itself, the soulmate link comes through, and suddenly whatever you write upon your own skin appears on the body of your soulmate. As your soulmate writes to you, the emotions they feel follow through the ink.Izuku Midoriya is four years and a few months old when he first feels the slight ebbing in his arms. It doesn’t hurt… he can just feel something, and it’s enough to make him sprint into his mother’s arms screaming that his quirk is coming. She had been washing in the kitchen, and the sudden screech as her son rockets into her side is enough to make her jump with panic, immediately grabbing at him and looking for cuts and bumps before she understands his words and the stupidly bright, alight smile on his face with large, watery, hopeful eyes. Shoto Todoroki doesn’t feel his soulmate connection open up. It is drowned in the aches of a small body worked far too hard.“

27>It was dark inside the closet by Chad_Champion69420: Pre-ShinDeku? maybe? its tagged shindeku but like. it’ll make sense if you read it. “Midoriya is invited to a party. He and Shinsou decide to play a little trick on the rest of the party during Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

28>how to woo your local trash gremlin: a comprehensive guide by Todoroki shouto by wonhaebunny: TodoBaku. this is the fic that dragged me into todobaku, fun fact. “five times shouto tries to confess to bakugou, and one time he doesn't bother tryingaka: wikihow is a scam and bakugou is a terrible, terrible boy“

29>top ten photos taken right before disaster by Shookspeare: ShinDeku. “Izuku participates in a harmless prank, only to end up ruining it and running for dear life.“

30>Secrets to Share by pechebaie: no definite romantic pairing. “Kirishima comes out first, and nothing changes. Kirishima and Kaminari still hang out to complain about class and talk about boys - and sometimes girls, too, in Kaminari’s case; he still plans stupid pranks with Sero that get them sent to the principal’s or nurse’s office every time; Ashido still kicks his ass at Mario Kart without hesitation; and Bakugou doesn’t get angry at him any more than he usually does.“

31>What One Hides by Pinalinet: TodoDeku. “All Might gives class 1-A an unusual assignment that results in Midoriya Izuku and Todoroki Shouto attending a weekly acting class. But with a mysterious villain targeting individuals without Quirks, and a developing issue of Todoroki's own, an after-school assignment is the least of their worries.“

32>whether or not we’re fated, we’re meant to be by juurensha: KINDA SPOILERY. TodoDeku + others. “Todoroki didn’t have a soulmark for most of his life.His siblings all did, but up until the day of the U.A. entrance exam, he had shoved the idea aside. It’s not like they could help him anyway. And then a 9 appears on his chest, and a green-haired boy barrels into his life with a fire and ice soulmark on his arms, and suddenly Todoroki cares very much about all this could mean.”

33>The Midnight Shift by meiishu @meiishu @totallytodoroki (idk which you’d rather I attach so I went with both): ShinKami. ““Hey Toshi,” Denki says, and he laughs, clearly embarrassed. He’s got on a jean jacket that did him absolutely no help and a white tee shirt that is currently stuck to his torso. It’s got a pikachu design in the center. “By any chance, do you sell umbrellas?” “You really went out in this weather.” Hitoshi deadpans, instead of dignifying that with an answer. or hitoshi works the midnight shift at the gas station, which also doubles as a pokestop for pokemon go. of course, denki is a regular.”

34>Rock the House by AkabaneKayo: ShinKami. “It wasn’t just his bed. It was his entire fucking room shaking. Only one thought crossed his mind at that moment: “Holy shit. My room is haunted.”“

35>Technically, they’re morning kisses by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami. “Most nights, Shinsou cannot fall sleep. Neither can Kaminari. It seems counterproductive to have a sleepover then, but they try to make it work. And they fail, but that is okay.“

36>someone to call mine by nearly_theyre: ShinKami, EraserMic “From: Me wish you were here, denks From: kitten 💛💘💛 what if i was tho? OR Four times Denki snuck into Hitoshi's room and one time he walked through the front door.“

37>Pretty by Onlymostydead (noticing some repeat authors? me too): no definite romantic pairing. “(Or, Kaminari still can't figure out bra clasps.) Kaminari has never really felt good about himself. Herself? Whichever way, not knowing doesn't make anything easier. Especially when he (she?) and Mina have their bodies swapped during training, and everything seems too right.“

38>If I offer you my hand, will you take it? by bleukitsune: Kiribaku. SPOILERY. ““Why?” Kirishima leaned back on his hands, trying to create some space between them. Too close. The ash-blond looked really nervous, his usually arrogant and cunning demeanor gone. “What do you see when you look at me? Kirishima is worried. Bakugou is hurting. After his confrontation with Midoriya, he finally reaches out to him. “

Theres way more but I haven't tagged them properly yet so that m a y come later if I can ever finish going through and adding my sorting tags.

and then a last few that Are Not Complete but im really very fond of them. not as many as id like to add, but my hands are getting tired tbh.

39>State of Mind by GuardianOfTheLoaf: no relationship YET but its looking like it’ll be either tododeku or shindeku, probably the former. EraserMic. tw- childhood neglect and severe depression. Izuku’s not a happy kid. “Izuku was a late bloomer, his quirk lying dormant until his tenth birthday when in a fit of emotion he grabs his mother and she disappears. With All Might slowly restoring his confidence Izuku begins the difficult journey into becoming a hero.“ 18/? chapters.

40>Izuku Eats His Problems by CosmicAce: ShinDeku. Izuku’s a flerkin, what more could you want? “His whole life, Izuku Midoriya was taught to keep his powers, his Quirk, hidden from the world. His kind were feared, hunted to near extinction because of it. He just wants to show people he’s different. That he can be a HERO. And nothing is going to stop him. Even if his Quirk IS like an eldritch abomination.“ 43/? chapters

and then probably my current favorite bnha fic- although it fights with Apertum Mortem for that spot but that ones d a r k and not here-

41>family of the year by periiwren: EraserMic. “Hitoshi is done. Done with moving around every few months to a couple that will scrutinize him and eventually dump him right back where he started. Good thing he’s well past his strike limit now- at least he can stay in one place, be content to age out of the system and finish out his training with Aizawa. Maybe transfer into the hero course, maybe be a hero- but none of that was guaranteed. The only thing for sure was that he was going to stay in that center for the rest of his childhood. Or so he thought- because Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi have other plans.“ 24/? chapters. we’ve been informed that this one’s gonne be l o n g and im Very Grateful.

42>Here There Be Dragons by here_and_there: pre-ShinDeku. “Izuku looked at the small circle Aizawa had motioned to in front of them. "I won't fit," he whispered, thinking. He raised his hand, tentatively. Sighing, Aizawa grumbled, "What?" "I-I have a question. Actually, two." His teacher just stared at him, unimpressed. Izuku continued. "Can we activate our quirks before we step into the ring?" Aizawa looked up into the sky, muttering something Izuku didn't hear. "If you must." "O-Okay. Uh, second question. You said we have to stay inside the circle, right?" "Yes." The man looked disappointed, not only in Izuku but in himself for letting the kid speak. "Great. Uh... does that include tails?"“ 6/? chapters.

43>Another Option by sandersonsister: TodoBakuDeku, Touya/Hawks, Dabi/Hawks. Potentially Spoilery, depends on whether horikoshi has the guts to confirm Touya. this one is waiting around the corner with a baseball bat, its really cute, and then r e a l l y painful. it might be getting better though. maybe. it might be getting worse. “When Touya stops his mother from hurting Shouto, he decides enough is enough. He needs to get out of this house and he's taking his baby brother with him.“ 33/? chapters.

That's it i’m done for now, oof. maybe ill edit more onto this post later, maybe i’ll just make another one. hope some of these work!

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/message-to-lightworkers-august-28th-2020-victims-and-saviors/

Message to Lightworkers, August 28th 2020 ~ Victims and Saviors

Message to Lightworkers, August 28th 2020 ~ Victims and Saviors

By Caroline Oceana Ryan

This week’s guidance from the Ascended Masters, Galactics, Earth Elementals, Fae Elders, Angelic legions, and Archangels known as the Collective:

Greetings, friends! We are very pleased to have this moment to speak with you today.

Recently a Light Bringer commented to our writer about a channeling she had received for him, from one of his guides. 

He wrote:

“In a recent channeling you did for me, my guide said that I am not the savior of the planet. 

What I learned from that was, that we as Lightworkers are anchoring many Light codes that have helped bring about many changes and current situations on the planet.

It is our job to bring in the higher Light/energy so that the necessary changes can take place. 

What she said also showed me that my most important job is to stay strong, to focus and take care of myself, and not be concerned or worried or stressed about what is going on in the world around me.

Our jobs as Lightworkers is to keep our energy/Light as strong as possible. 

By doing this we are enabling our energy to flow, which will allow for a stronger fifth dimensional Light to be distributed around the planet.

If we worry and stress about all the chaos and madness going on simultaneously, this only diminishes the strength of our fifth dimensional Light, which is used to build the New Earth, and at the same time, protect the planet from the darker energies.

So by focusing on ourselves, and having the attitude that all is taken care of and all is complete, we are doing the greatest good that we came here to do.

That might sound selfish, but this is how we stay strong and focused, and stand tall and let our natural abilities as Lightworkers accomplish the most good.

We should not feel guilty about being concerned about ourselves and taking care of ourselves first. This is what we came here to do.”

Our writer recently channeled another message from another spirit guide, who offered almost the exact same message.

And she has pondered the point about guilt, as she and so many others were raised with the idea that “It is better to give than to receive,” which is a mistranslation of the text that has led to many misunderstandings of the original teaching.

It is of course possible to understand that this is a misteaching, and not a solid Truth for Light Bearers at this time. 

Yet the subconscious is powerful. 

Many still carry the feeling that they owe it to their fellow humans to give to the point of imbalanced overgiving, because it is for one thing difficult to see others suffer, and for another, hard to shake off centuries of learned self-negation.

We would say that this is indeed a time when many look out onto the world and see many in despair, weighted by experiences of hunger, homelessness, and unemployment, of illness or environmental destruction, and other dense situations.

And it is very easy to move from a moment of viewing those circumstances to feeling the compulsion to save or rescue those in difficulty.

And certainly, to help out here or there with solid advice, financial contribution, a meal, or smile or kind word of encouragement—all of that is a beautiful moment of connection with another.

In that moment you are sharing something.

They have blessed you with the chance to give, and you have blessed them with the chance to receive. 

You are not fooling yourself that you are taking away their pain in any complete way.

And yet—your kindness reassures them that they are worthy to receive, and are gathering to them the tools and resources needed to stand on their own, to be well again or housed or employed again, to believe in themselves and their life path again.

A beautiful thing indeed!

And you yourself have realized that you are also Abundant; that you have plenty to give and plenty to feel wonderful about.

This is especially true when you are not feeling particularly Abundant, and for example, decide to give regularly 10 percent of all the money that comes to you as a gift and encouragement to a group or individual that inspires you with their work.

That number of 10 being the number of increase, you then bless your own situation—your income, your health, your relationships, and more—with the steady outflow of money that is simply a form of life energy.

The imbalance comes from the belief that giving should be compulsive or come from a need to rescue another.

We would agree with the channelings above, that the rescue idea, based on the victim/savior paradigm, is an idea whose time has well passed.

It is a belief based in scarcity teachings, and on self-denial, that says, “Others are more valuable than me. More worthy of Joy and fulfillment, while I am worthy of self-sacrifice.”

This is a strange and demanding time to be on the planet, and so you will need to watch your emotional and mental vibration, friends, as well as your etheric vibration, so that you do not shift either into despair or into “rescue mode.”

You can avoid that by sending higher Light to any person or place that appears to be suffering now, such as to the populations of California facing extreme fires, among other western states.

Send Light to their people, trees and wildlife, their homes, schools, and hospitals.

Send Light to the people of Beirut and their whole country of Lebanon as they rebuild themselves after disaster.

Send Light to those who are ill, or fearful for a loved one who is ill. 

Light to those afraid of becoming unemployed, or who have done so, and are not receiving adequate income.

Light to those not able to make their rent or mortgage, or pay for health insurance.

Certainly you do not have the outer resources to make all this, and all of Earth’s other pains and challenges, suddenly fade away.

Yet you can envision all of these situations solved, just as you can envision NESARA Law fully enacted, and all persons living in Abundant and fulfilling circumstances.

You are correct if you are thinking that all will not be ironed out overnight.

Yet know that were you in the etheric, viewing Earth from the distance of being no longer in physical life, you would do no less.

You would not have the luxury of “rescuing” others, and would have to work with them energetically, as they were open to such, in order to assist them.

Recall from deep within you your complete confidence in energetic solutions that find their way outward to physical ones, and draw on that experience.

Assisted by your spirit guides and higher self, you are perfectly suited to help to transform your world, yet in ways that simply empower and encourage others, rather than take them off of their path.

The time to look for saviors and rescuers is well over, friends.

You have come in to learn how to love and trust yourselves and your own higher instincts. You lead the way in that path, as in so many others.

And so allow that particular kind of Joy and relief from heavy burdens, by letting go of that which is not yours to carry.

Care about others, most assuredly.

Yet grant that they are powerful enough (perhaps, far more so than you!) to create their own solutions, and that your love for them points that out, with complete confidence in all they are able to transform.

Namaste, friends! So much Joy awaits you, and begins to unfold for you now.

We are with you, always.

.

Copyright 2020, Caroline Oceana Ryan

If you repost, please maintain the integrity of this information by reprinting it exactly as you find it here, and including the link to the original post.

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[raindrenchedstories]

Star Runners. 1

Here’s that new story I was working on. I hope you enjoy.

Two women sat across from one another. One tall, toned, and scarred all over. The other, short, bubbly and smudged in grease. The tall one tapped her finger on the table. “I don’t know. Runnin’ supplies is one thing. Tagging planets? That’s a whole new ball game.”

“I get that. And that’s exactly why we’re doing it.” The other sighed. “Think about it Holly. How much does our crew actually do? We show up, unload a ton of stuff, then head back to port for another pick up.” She ran a hand through her long hair, smudging it’s copper tones to black.

“Give me one good reason for me to have a weapons expert, communications officer, medic, and battle harden mercenary on a job like that. But if we start exploring new planets. Finding new worlds for people to settle, and set up relays, everybody gets a shot!” The short one shot up. Smiling like a mad woman.

Holly leaned back, thinking her words over. Eventually she sighed. “Well. I mean. PAM has perfect reason to be here no matter the job. A medic is never useless.” She grumbled. It killed her to admit her employer was right. Then again, it was a comfort to work for someone with a clear head on their shoulders.

That said... “But there’s an issue with that line of thinking.” She waited for her employer to acknowledge her concern before continuing. “You’re going to need at least one more employee.” She sighed.

“Oh. You didn’t think I knew that? Hell no. I’m not walking a full crew onto an uncharted planet blind.” She insisted. “I wouldn’t even HAVE this ship if I didn’t think shit through before hand. I’ve got a few interviews lined up next week. While we refuel and restock. I was hoping to leave the hiring process between you and Sleat.”

“Wait. You want me working with the salamander? I’m not against it but... Why?” Holly cocked her head to the side. The other woman tapped her finger on the table, thinking of how to word her next sentence. Which put Holly off on all ends. “Roxy. Why Sleat and I?”

Roxy huffed. “Well. You’re pretty strict on what sets the standard. Which means you’re not going to just fumble on the interviews. But your people skills are...”

“Woefully lacking?” Holly suggested.

“That. Yes. Meanwhile Sleat is basically a ball of sunshine that talks. He’s great with most people. And well, there’s that language thing of his. So we can broaden our hiring pool. But he’s a bit er...” Roxy hated saying anything ill of her crew. Especially because the ship was so small you could hear damn near anyone at a regular level.

“He’s soft?” Holly had no such qualms. And somewhere down the hallway, a scoff of protest could be heard. Both women were pretty sure they’d find the other three members of the crew standing in the hallway.

“Well. That’s just it. So I’m hoping your high standard will be counter balanced with Sleats kind nature.” Making for the best mix. Roxy gave a weak smile. Almost pleading. At the end of the day, Holly couldn’t refuse. This was the woman who signed her paycheck after all.

“Okay. Fine. Anything absolutes that we should know about?” Holly sat forward, folding her hands under her chin, brow raised. Here, Roxy had a few requirements. Must be physically capable, have good credentials, and absolutely must be flexible in their relations. She couldn’t have someone flake out because they were working with aliens.

It’d take them three days to arrive in port. And by the time they got there, Holly planned to have a list of requirements written out by Roxy, and drilled into Sleats head. The new employee also had a size limit on them. No one who couldn't fit on the ship. So... Compact was preferable. The biggest concern wasn’t so much working with aliens, but the kinds of aliens this person would have to accommodate.

The crew was nearly half alien, with only two humans on board. Holly and Roxy themselves. The others were a Gordylide. A kind of brute species, usually only accredited with the brains of a dog. But occasionally one of human intelligence was born and raised among Orug peoples from that planet. Majority male, looked human but had a retractable muscle mass and spiked back. As far as Holly was concerned, Shanadoh was a fun rival and over all amiable guy. But she could see someone being more likely to act condescending towards him.

A Lutillian female. Basically a werewolf if it had scales and a case of the skinnies. Known for being violent vagabonds that travelled on old slags of abandoned ships. Carrying reputations for being space pirates. The females were especially known for being quick to anger. And yet. Pam was a doctor and a damn good one if Holly did say so her self. Well known for just not giving a damn. Holly was half sure she could saw an arm off, and Pam would not care. Actually, given the fact that it’d just grow back. She probably could.

Sleat was the least concerning. The only problem with his people was that no one really knew them.  Oh, they knew what a Szuhine was. But for the most part, their people were reclusive. They were pretty things, with slender bodies, and delicate fins. A large, tadpole like tail. Though they could also morph their bodies to look different, for some unknown reason. Either bulkier or softer. But no one could say anything about their culture, habits, overall reputation. For all Holly knew, everybody behaved like Sleat. Sunny, and personable.

Holly considered hiring another human to round things out. But in her discussions with Sleat, he brought up an excellent point. “Honestly, I’d say let’s look at credentials and personality first and foremost. If we hired by species, we wouldn’t have Pam.” Best advice the tangerine terror ever gave in her opinion.

---

So when they arrived at port. The two scouts departed. Setting up a small booth with information on what they were hiring for. So many applicants arrived that it overwhelmed them. Running was an interesting job. It allowed you to travel from planet to planet, experiencing the wonders of a new world while delivering supplies to colonizers. Or scouting potential planets free if intelligent life.

This sort of idea was usually well above most folk’s pay grade. It was a chore to get off planet. And most people could only do for a short trip within their own solar system. Even then, there was the risk of pirates. And undiscovered planets? Good luck. Usually people needed a degree in at least two different fields of work in order to be valuable. Usually science and medicine.

Even then, that was just to get on a colonizing ship. Which would also take years to get where it was going. Sometimes an actual life time. Anyone low skilled on those ships were usually only allowed on board if they brought their families. Or significant other that they were definitely going to have children with. Then it was into cryosleep and off you go to who knows where. To live it rough until the planet was settled. And even that took decades.

The smaller, runner ships only took a few days to reach these planets however, and were essential for colonization as a whole. Bringing supplies and livestock that couldn’t survive cryo. Or skipping across the stars to locate potential colonies. Making the idea of working on one appealing to say the least.

So in some mid space port, orbiting some moon Holly forgot the name of, she was forced to socialize with hundreds of humans, aliens, synthetic people, and even a few gaseous forms. Eventually they had to take a break. Promising potential hires that they’d receive a communication one way or the other.

Holly grumbled. “I don’t think I have it in me Sleat. I can’t be nice to people for this long!” She moaned. Sleat just gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Well. On the bright side. We do have a fair amount of help available. It’s sad we had to turn away so many labourers though.” He sighed. Deliberately trying to make his voice calming, in human inflections. They had chosen to sit not too far from their booth near the food court. Both had already shared a light meal. But Holly still seamed distraught.

“You mean ninety percent of our applicants?” Holly snapped.

“Yes.” He winced. “I wish we didn’t have to be so specific. But! We’re never going to find the right match if we just sit here moping about it. Now are we?” He shot to his feet and reached a supportive hand to his crew mate. Trying to be the epidomy of encouragement.

Reluctantly, the human took his hand and made their way back into the thick of it. The process took at least as many days as the travel. In which Sleat had to do a lot of letting people down. Sometimes well received. Sometimes he’d pass the communicator to Holly and let her get her snark out.

Eventually, over many stressful days, they found a match. Well, for the first part of hiring. The second was touring around the ship, and meeting the crew. If any of the crew felt anything was off, the process would start all over again.

---

Roxy stood steadfast at the doorway. For once, not covered in engine grease and god knows what else from the mechanical heart of her darling ship. Cleaned up in proper attire. Sleat and Holly stood on either side of her, still dressed formally, or in Sleats case, prettied up a bit. A little jewellery for the day. Behind them, Shanadoh, in his best white t-shirt and jeans. And Pam. Scales polished to an ebony sheen.

The main door chimed, and Roxy pressed the button to open it. Standing before them was a mousy young man. Bright red hair shone in the artificial light of the port outside. He’d already had several clearly heavy bags that were buckling his thin limbs beneath. However, the moment Shanadoh offered to take them he held his items closer.

“No no! I can carry my own weight. Um. Hello. Captain Roxanne. My name is Chester. Uh. Chester Mainland.” He dropped several of his bags to shake Roxy’s hands. A few making concerning clattering noises. “Biologist, anthropologist, ecologist-” He rambled.

Pam cut in, speaking up for the stunned engineer deemed captain. “I think we get the gist of it.” She grinned. Her voice broke the cloud over Roxy’s mind and the dam broke.

“What is all this stuff?” She blurted out, bemused.

“Oh, just some equipment for the trip. Ah, that is, if I end up being your man. I thought it’d be better if I brought my own gear. Did I overstep?” He suddenly paled, which was an impressive feat considering he was already a few shades brighter than standard parchment.

“Not at all, just... surprising. How about you pass those over to Shan, and we can give you the tour.” She suggested gently. Chester attempted to gather is items, letting gravity catch the rest of his bags. Making for more falling and concerning clunks. The gordylide just patiently gathered them off the floor, offering to hang a few of the lighter ones from the long spikes on his back.

According to Chester, there were no lighter ones. “At least, none that wouldn’t pull or cause you some discomfort. But thank you!” He beamed. Before turning the rest of the crew. “I hate to ask, but who is the doctor on staff?”

Pam perked up. “Are you injured?” She glanced over his person, concern etched into her features.

“Ah! Must be you then! No, not injured. I just have a general exam I need to pass. But the time frame I was given for take off might make me miss it. I was hoping I could reschedule with you?” He gave her a nervous smile. Pam was a little taken aback. As was the rest of the crew. Even her closest friend, no, even SLEAT questioned her credentials initially.

Never the less, she gave a nod. “Won’t be an issue. If you clear the bar today, we’ll set you up day after tomorrow.” She nodded. Though, she left her jaws open just a smidgen. Scenting this newcomer properly. She could catch the salty taste of nerves in the air. Just flooding the room. She shut her mouth.

As Sleat made a point to show off every room of the ship, Pam held Roxy back. “I don’t think Holly would let a creep on board. But that guy is freaking out. Bad. He’s two steps from terrified.” Bright yellow eyes caught up in Roxy’s brown. The two shared a nod, before Pam fell back in step with the rest of the group.

“Sadly you’ll have to share an office space with Pamela, we’re a little tight here. Pam honey, you don’t mind, do you?” Sleat beamed toward her. She gave a shake of her head.

“So long as you keep your samples away from my medical equipment. We’re good. No offence just-” She began, but was cut off by the young man.

“It makes perfect sense! You can’t use contaminated tools to save a life.” He nodded fervently. Making note of where he could store his machines. Glancing back and forth then pointing out a tiny, unused space. Particularly cramped, but if fitted with a pair of tables, it would hold his equipment. He’d just have to stand while he worked. “How about right here? It should be right out of your way!”

Holly bristled a little, before glancing to Pam. Double checking her bullshit detector. The Lutillian gave a subtle nod in agreement. This guy was almost too accommodating. Still, Pam agreed to the idea under one condition. “For the love of god, give yourself enough room to sit. Not all day obviously, but it’s better for your spine if you take the occasional break.” She huffed.

Both women pulled Roxy aside that time. One argued he was too nice. The other argued he was hiding something. Trying to delegate, the redheaded mechanic waved a single hand between them. Hissing to wait until the end of the tour, and she’d sit everyone down and discuss his flaky behaviour.

Eventually, the main rooms were shown off, as well as a sizable cargo bay carrying a surprising amount of nothing for once. It always felt wrong seeing it so empty. It was usually full of livestock, adult or incubating. Or seeds. Now it was just thoroughly scrubbed and disinfected. Courtesy of her kick ass crew.

She followed her team back up the stairs and into what passed for a galley. Really it was a cramped kitchen, and a single, medium table. Enough to sit six people, if everyone minded their elbows. What wasn’t used for cooking or eating was stuffed to the brim with preserved foods, and some luxuries like fresh vegetables and fruits.

All six of them finally took their spots at the table, and Roxy took a deep breath. “So there’s been a concern.” She folded her hands. Sleat pressed his lips in a thin line. A few bitter clicks left him without his consent. He’d been rooting for this lad to make it. Perhaps he misjudged the humans demeanour?

Shanadoh just tilted his head obliviously. He wasn’t an unintelligent man, by Gordylide standards he was fucking brilliant. But he did tend to miss cues. Like three women whispering harshly behind him. Still, these people never led him astray before. If they were discomforted by the man, he’d stand behind them.

“You’re coming off as rather... Twitchy, to my team. Well, the ladies anyways. What do you guys think? Roxy turned her attention to both men at hand. Shanadoh spoke first, leaning back in his chair, as best he could, and folding his arms over his broad chest.

“Honestly so many humans are freaked out by folks like me, or treat us like... I think they’re called dogs? I didn’t notice the difference.” He shrugged.

Sleat on the other hand, started reflecting, on the tour, before coming to a conclusion. “I should point out. We’re a majority alien crew. That can be a little intimidating at first. Especially between two brutes like Shanadoh and Pam. However, thinking back, things are a bit tense. Perhaps it’s just nerves?” He smiled encouragingly at Chester.

He’d begun shaking, hard. “Well... I do admit, they are a little intimidating. Nothing I can’t handle mind you! But... I can’t afford NOT to get this job.” He blurted out. Fisting his trousers tightly.

Holly leaned her chin on her fist. Honestly bored with the whole situation at this point. She’d been getting all kinds of red flags, and this was just one more. “And why not? You’ve got a hell of a resume. You’ve got your pick of Colony ships.”

Pams jaws popped open again, obviously this time. Tasting the air for lies. It was a wonderful habit of her people. So long as you were a friend. No one could slip past the jaws of a living lie detector. Chester ignored this. “W-well. They’d pay my family in a lump sum. But... It’s not really enough to look after them, you know? My mother put everything she could into my college. So I could pursue my interests.” He began.

“She thought there was enough for her and my sister too. But apparently not. Not after a recent raid.” He dropped his head into his hands. “They lost everything in one night.” Those who had lived in the solar system for any amount of time shifted uncomfortably. Everyone but Sleat. Who was oblivious.

With the advent of space travel came the raiders. Folks who didn’t play by the rest of the solar systems rules. Usually mixed species like their own crew. They had a habit of attacking small planets in the system as they tended to be less guarded. Ravaging the sphere of supplies.

No one in any position of power really seamed to give a damn. On a galactic scale, it just wasn’t worth caring about. But on an interpersonal scale, it was always devastating. Sometimes people were taken as well. On those massive warships. Usually women. It was no wonder what that was for. Sometimes they broke free. But it was so rare... “That’s a fucking miracle they got out.” Holly spat. Pam shook her head, folding her arms. Ebony scales made a soft hissing as they rubbed along one another.

“And yet. He’s not lying.” She leaned her head back, gently thumping it on the wall behind her. The table was silent, until Roxy gave a nod.

“So you’re hoping to take a cut of your salary, and send it to your mother. How old is your sister?” She glanced at Chester. He held up his right hand. And then one more finger. Six. Chester had to be at least eighteen, early twenties at the latest. So he’d have to have had his schooling downloaded into his brain. Faster, but not cheap.

“Right. You know there’s a risk you’ll die. Right?” Roxy leaned back, blunt honesty was probably the best she could give him in this situation.

“I’ve already taken out a life insurance policy. So if I do die, they’ll have enough to at least get off that planet.” He sighed. “I get you guys might not be able to give me much of a cut. But aside from the basic necessities, I don’t need anything. So the majority is going to my family.” He glanced up, waiting for the final call.

The captain shared looks with her crew. Most of which nodding. One making a sound of hesitance as she did so. With that, Roxy pulled a few papers from below the table, and signed them. “Welcome aboard Chester Mainland. I expect you here early tomorrow to get your equipment and personal belongings moved in.” She passed her papers with a smile. Chester signed almost instantly, wrinkling them in his excitement.

With all that said and done, Roxy contacted old employers, and contracted a few easy runs to start the lad out with an actual pay check. Though runner work was high paying, the brand she was reaching into was infrequent. Finding a new planet then selling it off to a bidder was a high risk, reward job. Then there were the space pirates and raiders.

It didn’t take long for her to fill the hull with all sorts of live plants, and incubating eggs from all planets. On route to a colony three weeks away. Well, for the small ship. Not an ideal first job, but what had to be, had to be. When her crew was done loading, Roxy took it upon herself to do the supplies count for the trip. Making sure they had enough to feed the extra mouth.

---

Chester returned promptly early the next day. And found the crew... Less than lively. They were a mess of bedhead. Pyjamas and in the case of Shanadoh, very much going back to bed. Any professionalism they’d established the day before shattered the moment the door opened.

The majority of the team shuffled Chester in, shut the door, and collectively staggered to the galley once more. Roxy mentioned something about unpacking later as she slumped into her chair. There was an almost frog like flapping of Sleat feet on the tiled floor of the kitchen.

Chesters bags slipped from his shoulders once more. Though as opposed to equipment probably being damaged, there was simply a soft sound. The sound wadded up laundry makes. He’d been expecting a much more exiting welcome. Though he supposed he was the new fellow.

Instead of causing the main collective any annoyance before they’d had their morning coffee, he headed for the mens dorm. Doing his level best to remain quiet as he slipped in. Chester found a corner and set his belongings silently on the ground. From a bottom bunk, Shanadoh could be heard snoring loudly.

Gently, he rifled through his belongings until he found the small gifts he’d meant to give the crew. A small token of thanks for their acceptance of him. He placed a small bag of strawberry sweets on the Sleeping Gordylide’s pillow, then left.

Once he returned to the Galley there was a spread of easy, fast foods on the table. Piles of fried eggs and bacon, hot cakes and a nearly empty carafe of coffee was being picked at slowly by the four awake members of the crew.  Holly gave him one glance, motioned to the coffee, and returned to her eating.

Pam had a hand fully wrapped around a specially designed mug, and was slowly lapping the bitter black liquid. Sleat was absently chewing on some kind of crab cake. Roxy was more or less asleep at the table. Now was as good a time as any for good things. “So... I brought... things.”

“That’s kind of the point of moving day.” Sleat deadpanned. Chester was about to open his mouth to try again when the szuhine pointed to a sign beside the table. It read: Morning people will either be relegated to making breakfast, or shot. He decided that gifts were probably a thing for after coffee. Maybe after a week or two of living on the ship.

It wasn’t long until he found himself sitting among the small collective, munching on bacon. A treat he’d actually not had since he first visited earth. It was a bit too salty for his taste. He engaged in idle chat with the more awake member of the table. And waited for the rest of the group t o catch up.

Soon after he was unpacked in the lab, setting up his table and chairs, and ushered to pick a cot. He was given time to settle any lingering affairs he had. Go through his exam, and be cleared for extended travel.  Shanadoh appreciated his gift and before they left, Chester managed to hand out the rest.

For the most part it was foods that applied to everyone. Candies or preserved meats. It turned into a feast of sweets before long. Further contributed to by an overzealous pair of aliens who had passions for cooking.  This seamed to be a good first impression. As the crew started involving him their activities before the end of the week while squaring away their own affairs.

Then it was right to take off. For the third time in his life, Chester found himself staring at a planet fading away. He found it strange that only a few hours ago, he was standing on it’s surface. A few hours before that, exiting his hotel room.

He’d expected space travel to be like air or sea travel at first, with turbulence. But past breaking atmosphere, everything was oddly still. Like he were just standing on a planet’s surface. There was a brief moment of weightlessness before the gravity kicked in, but that was it.

Idly, he wondered if that feeling ever left. Eventually he gathered the nerve to ask Pam about it. The way she explained it, it never left. There was always a kind of lonesome realization that they’d left something behind. But it was paired with an eager thirst for new discoveries ahead.  Even if you’d been there before.

By her definition, you had to have good humour about it. Otherwise, you’d drive yourself mad from the sheer sense of insignificance the void would give you.  That’s why a compatible crew was so important. She also encouraged him to take up a hobby. As there would be a lot of free time on their hands.

So, he took up yet another study. Botany. This time downloading textbooks onto his personal device, and leaning back to listen to their lessons. He’d have to talk to the captain about getting materials so he could gain practical experience. Perhaps he’d make a mini biosphere. He’d wait and see.

[evangelene]

Despite What You Are (4)

Summary: Vampires don’t feed on blood, they feed on fear. So, why is yours so potent? Why were you saved by the most dangerous of all vampires–Kim Namjoon?

Based on this request:

“Can i ask for a ff where namjoon is a vampire mafia boss and has a spft spot for you. And you get into trouble woth a rival gang and he goes crazy? Fluffy and angsty 🌹”

Part One / Part Two/ Part Three / Part Five

“So, what do you think?”

Seokjin stood proud, as if he had just made the discovery of a lifetime. In reality, all he had really done was walk outside to find a shed that looked far less like a livable plot of land and more like a busted maid’s quarters from the expired centuries past. Once more, you were infinitely curious as to what sort of complex this place had been before the War of 2048.

It didn’t help that the shed/hillbilly-cannibal prep station was surrounded by a thick grove of trees that shouldn’t be there but were anyways.

Kind of like you.

Funny how one could relate to some moss, bark and leaves.

Despite the lackluster appearance of your soon-to-be hospital, you couldn’t really complain (much). After all, you were finally allowed to go outside! How great!

It would have been nicer if you didn’t have to have a guard within arm’s reach of you at all times. Oh, and you definitely weren’t allowed within twenty feet of the story and half tall fences—despite them being stronger than a vampire and capped with barbed wire.

Apparently, one of Jisung’s gang (clan? You guessed it was a clan now?) had the ability to teleport.

They wouldn’t tell you what Jisung’s ability was though…probably because he didn’t have one before he walked out and became clan leader.

“It’s just a small clan. They will be crushed easily.”

The boys had tried to persuade you, but there was something entirely unsettling about how absolutely quiet Namjoon had been in the corner, his eyes lost in space somewhere out the window.

Comforting, especially to a human who jumped when the wind rustled the leaves in the trees a bit too rough for her liking.

“Y/N.”

You jolted your attention back to Seokjin, giving him the weakest yeahtotallywasn’tscaredatall smile you could manage. “It’s great.”

With a deep sigh and a roll of his eyes, he yanked open the door to the shed; it look like it required muscle—even for a vampire (you blamed it on the fact that nature looked like it had tried to glue it shut with some unholy substance). “Just take a look inside, would you?”

So…the inside was even worse than the outside, which was saying a lot since the roof looked like it was about to slide off the structure entirely. As you stepped up, you were surprised to find that your foot didn’t immediately crack through the rotting wood; however, that didn’t prevent you from having to hopscotch around already existing holes, rat shit, and poisonous smelling black mold. The place itself was dusty and unkempt to the point that it screamed “disease.” But, you know, you were fine with it.

As far as you were concerned, it was far enough away from the main complex building and it wouldn’t allow any vampires to access any of the fear you may exude.  Another plus: it had a sink so Seokjin could like…you know…sanitize things? You didn’t really know much about medical shit, which was probably why you were on your deathbed months ago.

Yay for you being a helpful and self-sufficient human being.

“I mean, we can make it good.”

Seokjin chuckled. “Of course I will make it acceptable. I am aware of how easily humans fall ill—I won’t allow it to be anything but sterile.” You sent a look over your shoulder that had Seokjin frowning. “Are you doubting my abilities now, of all times?”

“I’ve seen you heal, not clean. Besides, what are you going to do? Vacuum the spores from the air?”

“It will need to be aired out for a bit anyways—speaking of that, you should probably get out of there for now.”

You were on the same level as a feline and therefore gave no fucks for the vampire who could easily yank you out by your pinkie if he so chose to. Instead, you used the sleeve of your sweatshirt to dust off the one and only table in the shed; surprisingly, the furniture itself wasn’t nearly as compromised as the actual foundation of the building.

“Y/N. Out.”

“Woof.” You glared at him from your musty seclusion, slowly parkouring your way back out the door and onto semi-solid grass.

He seemed to age in that moment, even though vampires really…don’t…they just kinda die looking hot and young and shit. How nice. You blamed it on the poor man having to deal with your constant bullshit.

But, then again, if you had to listen to his puns then he had to put up with your tantrums.

“So it’s just going to sit there for a week or whatever while you guys go off and do your dangerous top secret mission?”

“Pretty much.”

“You know, I really hate secrets.”

He let out a bark of a laugh, his hand placed between your shoulderblades in order to guide you forward—well aware that you’d already taken a spill once already (stupid tree root) and had a 99.9 percent chance of repeating your mistakes. “You’re one to talk with the one you’re keeping.”

“He keeps far more than I do. It’s not fair.” You frowned at the ground, keeping your gaze cast down in order to prevent a sequel to the greatest fall of the century. “I prefer transparency; I’ve had enough secrecy in my life.”

“You are still useful, Y/N.”

A shudder ran its way up your spine.

“He has reasons for keeping things from you. You are not ready to see him feed; you are not ready to learn what he does when he’s away from you. The missions he does--the business he conducts--you are far more fragile than we are.”

“I’m not a fucking flower.”

“Physically, you may be able to handle more than we suspect; but, do remember, you had just jumped out of your skin due to naturally occurring wind. Would you be able to hold yourself back at the visual of a human being tortured in front of you?”

You pressed your lips into a line.

The tip of the tree hung down from his chest, broken by the impact of his body crashing backwards into it—despite the thick material of his vest and jacket. Human bodies contained so much blood, why didn’t you ever realize that before?

“So?” You dug your nails into your palms. “If it concerns me, then why can’t I know these things? You all are no better than humans.”

“You’re insulting yourself.”

“I’m good at self-deprecating humor.” You sighed, dropping your defense mechanism for the moment—but only the singular moment. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. Sometimes, your own species can be your worst enemy.”

There was a prolonged pause between the two of you, both of you walking in tandem but somehow still so far away from the other that you could have been on different planets.

“Part of me hopes that you’ll fail.” You murmured. “Part of me would rather go out like that—no pain and put under anesthesia. It’s easy. And then I wouldn’t have to…I wouldn’t…”

“There are bigger secrets you’re keeping from him than this one.” Seokjin didn’t word it as a question, as if he already knew everything swimming around the stagnant pool of thought in your head—he probably did. You briefly remember someone mentioning that he grew up with humans.

It wouldn’t surprise you if his emotions developed in a similar fashion to your own.

“I started to become more human being surrounded by vampires. Is that weird?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a rhetorical question you asshole, let me finish.” But he was repressing his laughter and you were huffing on a smirk as you cleared the trees. “I don’t want to feel those things anymore—I don’t want to remember what it’s like to be human, not when nothing good can come of it; not when there’s a chance I could lose it.” You paused at the door to the compound, soaking in the rays of sunlight while you still could. “Promise me you’ll bring him back safe.”

“He’s stronger than any enemy we could face out there, Y/N.” But he didn’t promise you, and that alone was enough for your stomach to constrict in the most unpleasant way. You could feel Seokjin’s gaze on the side of your face as you closed your eyes and faced the sun. Part of you hoped that the sun would smite you where you stood so you could escape everything—however, while you were fearful of living, you were even more terrified of death. “You love him, don’t you?”

“Denied.” You murmured without a second though, the metaphorical doors to your heart slamming shut so quickly it almost felt like you were shot point-blank in the chest. “I refuse to love something that can’t love me back. I can’t lose anything more in this life. I can’t lose him, and I can’t tell him that I can’t lose him. I can’t love him, and I can’t tell him that I can’t love him.”

“You are overcomplicating things, Y/N.”

You opened your eyes, squinting through the sun to meet Seokjin’s gaze. “I think that’s the one thing I’m truly good at.”

~.~

Namjoon refused to explain any part of his “mission” to you. And yes you totally put air-quotes and a stupid face to the word mission. To you, it seemed like bullshit; to you, it seemed like he was out doing the very same things that the human hunters did. To you, it seemed like he was keeping secrets and pulling strings behind your back.

To make matters worse for your worried and easily annoyed heart, he had to take all of the six with him.

Well, originally he had planned on leaving Taehyung, Hoseok, or even Seokjin with you—but, upon your inquiry of just how damn dangerous his stupid idea was, you forced him to have his entire crew by his side. You remembered how quickly his expression had darkened, the impassivity to his gaze that had you wishing that you could read his mind like he could read yours.

Idiot.

Then again, he probably just called you a bunch of terrible names in his mind just like you did in reference to him.

Despite your energy and your lack of understanding, you tried to be that™ person; you tried to be that™ supportive girl that stood by her loved person, waving them off with a handkerchief and tears glistening beautifully in her eyes. First off, you were never graceful in anything you did, and the old movies would never be you; that™ person would never be you.

You were too much of a salty, bitter hag. Salty because he wouldn’t tell you what he was going to do, nevertheless where he was going to do this mystery action; even saltier still because whatever incredibly dangerous thing he was going to do could be the end of him and, even in your anger, you wouldn’t be able to take not knowing where he went or what happened to him.

So, like the woman you were, you resorted to pursing your lips at him from the corner of the room as he gathered his things. Part of you wanted to see his face in case you forgot it, but the stronger part of you said that your actions were out of spite rather than anything else. You damn well wanted him to know just how pissed you were. Subtlety? You don’t know her.

“I can still leave Taehyung here with you—I…I don’t trust the others here with you.”

“Jiwoo’s here. I’m fine.” You grunted, arms tightly crossed over your chest.

“She doesn’t have any abilities. Taehyung could at least—“

“Namjoon.” There was something exhilarating about the power you had over him when you simply said his name—it was almost enough to dissolve your anger…almost. “Yoongi and I spoke about this when I said I wanted them all with you—he agrees that she has a hell of a survival instinct and an even greater protective streak. I will be fine; I’m locked up to holy hell in here anyways.”

Honestly, you remembered how quickly that conversation had went—Yoongi had offered her to you without a hint of hesitation. It was almost as if he didn’t care that his mate could possibly die for you if the situation arose. And here you were, with a mate who didn’t trust you with a fucking spoon.

You were sure your face was going to gain permanent wrinkles from frowning so intensely.

“You’re angry, why?”

Leave it to the vampire to be blunt.

“I’m not.” Yeah, Y/N. Good job. Continue to sulk like an absolute child because, of course, maturity is for LoSErS.

“Sure, but if I accept your words at face value then you will only become more angry. I am not stupid to you at this point. You’ve been here for over a half a year now.” He sighed, pulling on his jacket. “What is wrong?”

You cast your gaze to the floor, if only because he was now openly staring at you and your pride won over your anger—you couldn’t let him see you turning red at such an inopportune moment.

“Why can’t you just tell me what you’re doing? Or where you’re going?”

Part of you wanted him to be like human men, you wanted him to hold your face in your hands and kiss you and make you feel something other than this icy distance between the two of you. Maybe then you could take not knowing.

But that wasn’t the case, and you were infinitely reminded that this wasn’t a human man in front of you.

“This is what clan leaders do—they go out and stake their claim, mark their territory and make sure it is still theirs. You have no business here.”

Anger boiled under your skin and, god, did you really just want to smack him. But with the sheer amount of muscle in the monster man, you knew you’d hurt yourself more than you’d hurt him. “You’re not going out there to stake your fucking claim, Namjoon. I’m not stupid. I know you’re not telling me the truth.”

You could feel his stare burn into the side of your face, but you refused to meet it just to satisfy your petty rebellion. “I want you to be safe in all senses of the word. Can’t you be satisfied with that?”

“No.” You snorted. “I can’t.” Your hands were balling into fists, lips pressing into a line so thin you swore they might burst and disappear entirely. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for your protection—I didn’t ask for you to be a clan leader, I didn’t ask for you to sacrifice your life for mine. What I asked for was your honesty.”

He paused for a second, clearly thinking out his words so that you wouldn’t continue to be mad at him. But, for a vampire still learning the complexities of the human mind, you were both well aware that he didn’t have the right toolkit to attack this problem.

“There’s a lot you can’t give me, and I’m learning to accept that. But like hell will I put aside the truth and accept your lies. What are you really going to go and do?”

It was your last lifeline, your last chance for him to grab the rope and tug him back into your good graces.

At first, it seemed like he was taking grasp of it with both hands, stepping closer towards you with intent--like he maybe was going to hold your hand, like he maybe was going to brush your hair off your neck and kiss your cheek. But, of course, he did none of those things.

Instead, he slipped past you entirely. “I promise we will return as soon as we can.”

By the time you calmed yourself enough to turn around, he was gone.

~.~

Jiwoo was a heaven-sent existence—despite being the very thing that fed on fear, you were convinced that she was an angel. It was her personal mission to make sure that you never felt alone, and that you were able to sort out all your feelings and complaints, allowing you to throw them all onto one vessel.

With her sweet smile and her unvampirely crave for contact; she was everything you needed in the wake of being pissed off at Kim Namjoon.

It was hard not to laugh as she grumbled to herself while setting up her side of the bed for the night. “I know he’s my leader, but he’s a prick.” She huffed, fluffing her pillow with slight violence only to freeze and stare at the door when there was a particular loud noise a floor below you two. There was a moment where she had offered to lay out a sleeping bag for herself on the floor, but when you offered to let her next to you, her eyes lit up and part of you wondered if maybe she could be your mate instead.

She understood your human needs far better than grumpypants.

“He wouldn’t let me visit with you as much as I would like, so I’m going to soak up every opportunity I can get.” She threw herself on the bed next to you, those bright eyes of hers boring into yours. “Maybe it’s a female thing, but I feel I can understand your thoughts a bit better than those dumb boys.”

“Maybe.” You chuckled. She was probably the exact opposite of Yoongi—far too bright, bubbly and touchy-feely for the man who recoiled at breathing the same air as another being. You paused for a second, wetting your dry lips with your tongue. “Can I ask you something?”

“No question is too strange for me.” She giggled. “Yoongi says that I ask too many weird ones that anything anyone could ask of me would seem normal in comparison.”

Somehow, you could see it. The girl radiated a personality that only existed in characters from outer space.

“Why are you so fascinated with me? I mean, I’m not really special—just your average human.”

She shrugged, moving to adjust herself into a comfortable sitting position. “Well, I liked what I saw when I first met you. And, well, I don’t really feed from humans because I pity them. I prefer the fear from my own kind—and Yoongi’s really good about making sure I can get fed enough from that alone.” She paused for a moment to ruminate on her words. “Humans…Well…I feel bad for hurting something so innocent for my own gain. They can’t even properly fight back.”

“Some do.”

“Even then, it depends on the human and their deeds—but it’s not like I’m really clued into those too well. Vampires…well, we’re often terrible beings. Maybe more so than humans.” She sighed. “But you, man, when you stood up to Jisung I swear I’ve never seen our leader more whipped for a being in his life. I wanted to know more about you because of that, too.”

Was it possible for a vampire to be vegetarian? Well, the vampire equivalent of the term. Was that cannibalism?

Honestly, you could have probably busted your last three braincells pondering a stupid label.

“Are there more vampires like you?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Probably. But they may all be dead. You and I, we are a rare breed—with mates powerful enough to ensure that we both survive.”

As you withdrew inside of yourself to contemplate the heft to her words, her hand reached out to grab your own, as if on instinct. “Humans are soft.” She murmured. “I like physical contact with them.”

“You are so weird.”

She only grinned wider at that.

For a moment you considered spilling everything to her—everything you couldn’t say to your mate, to humans, to anyone. You contemplated telling her your whole life story if only because there was a being there in front of you who looked so willing to eat it all in and learn everything there was to know about you.

This person was a vampire, and that was enough to stop you.

“There is something on your mind.” She hummed.

“Yeah.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Do you not trust me?”

You put your free hand up. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Woo, I just…I don’t…I don’t think that you can understand me if I told you.”

“Okay.” She murmured. “I probably won’t, but its okay to tell me. My job in the clan is to not ask questions and make sure that things run smoothly. I am a glorified secretary; if there are things I am not supposed to know then I will not seek them out nor will I lose my trust if those secrets come into the light. I am supposed to tell my clan leader everything.” Her eyes scanned yours. “So it concerns him, does it not?”

“What in my world doesn’t concern him anymore?”

She chuckled, her grin faltering for a moment. “Y/N, I never said I was good at my job. Yoongi and I…we were a pairing mated by genes and not by choice—not that I mind, as I’m terrible with making decisions.” She licked her lips in the dry air. “I understand that feeling of wanting more.”

“You…” Your furrowed your brows, trying to find the right words even though the synapses weren’t fully connecting the loose ends to the equation displayed before you. “You don’t love Yoongi, do you?”

She pursed her lips, her eyes lost somewhere over your shoulder. “What Yoongi and I are certainly is not the same kind of bond that you humans call love. So if what you are worried about is how our clan leader cares for you, then I’ll have you know that I have never seen a vampire care for his mate to such extremes before. I’m jealous.”

Something that must have been akin to fear flashed through you quick as lightning, because Jiwoo’s eyes burst red for a second, narrowing in on you before dulling back to their neutral color. “I don’t want Namjoon, Y/N; don’t be afraid of that. I’m envious of the bond between you two, not what you hold—that connection, it seems so special.”

“Have you told Yoongi any of this?”

“No. I don’t see him enough to warrant it.” Her eyes softened. “Perhaps that’s why I enjoy your company, being with you annoys him enough for him to seek me out.”

Your eyes scanned her face, searching for hidden feelings and answers that she was slowly bringing to the surface. It was nice to feel a little bit less alone in a sea of people that made you feel like an anomaly. “We’re similar, aren’t we?”

Her gaze met yours. “We are.”

You tucked your lips between your teeth, trying to make yourself say the words. Trying to will yourself to let it out to her—if you could let it out to anyone, it would be her.

After all, she just indirectly told you her own personal traumas—why couldn’t you say the one thing that was always running through your head ever since you realized it enough to deny it whole-heartedly?

“I…I…”

“You love Namjoon.” She murmured, her irises bloodying to an intense crimson as you inhaled through your nose.  When you said nothing, she only squeezed your hand. “Well, I can’t say that I was unaware of that, but maybe one day we’ll get you to say it out loud, huh?” She chuckled. “Then again, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black, as you humans would say?”

~.~

Jiwoo did not have the luxury that the other vampires around you had—she had not been trained for years to accommodate human nature into her life. She was not one who was ready to easily adapt to a human friend and, therefore, she was unable to maneuver you through the compound with the grace that Namjoon and his six had.

AKA, every horror hid from you was unfolded in a searing burst of white-hot fear.

This was, after all, a place for vampires—not humans.

The blood, the bodies, the strewn bits and pieces of lives tortured and lost were not things that startled her.

You, on the other hand, were a different story.

Turning to vomit up your entire lunch into the nearest receptacle—because why would vampires have trash cans every four feet like humans?—you nearly didn’t make it and therefore missed the bright red flash of Jiwoo’s eyes as she furrowed her brow on you in concern.

“Y/N! What happened? Are you alright?” Her worry was a palpable presence in the air, smothering you much like she was doing. Contrary to the vampires you had met thus far, she seemed to think that contact was the salve to every ailment.

You screwed your eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the images of bruised and beaten bodies, parts of humans too mangled to identify. Corpses yet to be disposed of, personal belongings dropped and bloodied in the shuffle, remnants of humans like yourself.

That could have been you. The woman in the corner with a bloody cleave from her neck to chest, she could have been you if you didn’t meet Namjoon. The man on the floor with his spine half pulled out of his back could have been you if you weren’t saved. The child—

There wasn’t anything left to vomit, but your stomach was sure as hell going to give it a go anyways.

“I--” You wanted to straighten your spine, you wanted to stand up tall and meet her in the eyes like loss of life didn’t bother you—like you weren’t terrified of the shadows of ‘what ifs’ that hung heavy above your head. You had to get used to this; that was the saddest part of it all. You, by all means, should be accustomed to death, to the lingering monsters that manifested themselves into your reality. Namjoon fed off of people like you.

He probably fed off of the people at your feet.

However, your stomach jolted into another hefty, dry heave.

“I will be okay.” You whispered, Jiwoo’s hands on your shoulders. “I’m…not all humans are accustomed to these sights.”

She took a glance around, and you could feel the apologetic sympathy roll off of her aura in waves around you without her ever uttering a word.

“I’m stupid.” She murmured. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s not your fault.” You laughed, hands tightening around the trashcan. “Humans….”

“—Humans have too much empathy for things, especially for their own kind. I read that in a book somewhere.”

“Perhaps.” You snorted. “I think humans have too much empathy for all things, living or not. We are often pointless creatures.”

“I don’t believe in pointlessness. Everything has a reason.” She rubbed soothing circles between your shoulderblades, and, you think that she probably learned this from watching a mother soothe a child once.

You can’t help but catch a bit of dried blood out of the corner of your eye, the resembling of human flesh beside it. “When does Namjoon feed?”

She paused. “Not as often since you’ve arrived—besides prepping for their mission, I can’t remember the last time he was down here. I don’t think he wants you to see that side of him.”

“Are any of these…are any of these his?”

Jiwoo didn’t get up right away, she instead studied your expression as if to make sure that this was something that you really wanted to do—something that you felt you needed to see. She must have found her answer, because she then pushed up to her feet, leaving you huddled over the trashcan. You watched her every move with close precision if only because, if you looked away from her, you’d see more than you wanted to.

When she stopped and looked back at you, you wordlessly got to your feet and stepped carefully around the haphazard mess around you. Despite every aspect of your being trying desperately not to show fear, your palms still sweat and Jiwoo’s eyes still glowed a hazy red.

Her hand found yours as you stared down at the body before you. It was a hunter, that was evident by the uniform, though she was remarkably intact.

Something told you vampires didn’t often keep their victims looking so clean.

He made sure he could hear your screams; he wanted to drag this out—suck out every last bit of your energy and fear until death finally took you. He wanted you to suffer.

Her neck was snapped, her hair curtaining her expression that was stricken in horror. Though her eyes were closed—something else told you that Namjoon had done that when he was finished.

Some sick part of you wanted to touch her, to empathize with the body. You wanted to see yourself in that girl, you wanted to see some remnant of care you had for humanity. However, the second the Hunters Association’s uniform was involved, that fear--that horror--was dampened immensely.

You squeezed Jiwoo’s hand. “I’m okay.” You murmured. “This, I’ve seen bodies before—at least, bodies in this garb.” You bent down, recalling times where you were ordered to strip the bodies, salvage what equipment you could, and let some other sad soul dump the bodies into the incinerators. You had rarely been assigned that task because you were slow and threw up too much for their liking. Though it did become the ultimate punishment for when you mouthed off just a little bit too much.

You murmured a soft apology to the dead woman as you shifted her, your eyes latching onto the embroidered holster buckled around her hips. Numbly, and in a trance to keep yourself from losing what little stomach contents you had left, you unclasped your prize and slipped it free from Namjoon’s meal.

Brushing off the dust and debris, you fumbled with the zipper to slide open that pack and peer at the contents inside.

The bullets that lay inside the embroidered pockets sewn next to the holster shone like a beacon of light and hope in a dark and damp place.

You shifted them, ducking your head to sniff the contents. They obviously had been down here for a while; their garlic scent had significantly decreased from the potency standards that the Hunter’s Association usually had. However, they weren’t useless.

“Can I take this?”

She shrugged as you slung the holster over your shoulder. “What you carry is no concern of mine; I think it wise that you have something to protect yourself from my own kind. I know that not all of us are to be trusted, especially not with you.” She paused, cocking her head at the body of a vampire. “Besides, if their mission is as dangerous as they make it out to be, then the consequences of it may meet up with us here at the compound at some point. If everything goes to shit, I would rather you have something. Vampiric guards are not perfect protection.”

“Jiwoo, I love you.”

She chuckled. “I’m learning to understand the sentiment.”

~.~

Jiwoo attempted to cook—not because you didn’t offer to do so, but because she was adamant that she wanted to try it herself. To give her credit, it smelled good; to make yourself feel better, you hadn’t once stopped looking over her shoulder. The only vampire you trusted to make you food was the one that had lived with humans as a child.

And that vampire was most definitely not Jiwoo based purely on the way she held a spoon.

“The big part goes in the pot.”

“That’s not a handle?”

You pursed your lips, stifling the urge to laugh and cry in hopelessness at the same time. “No.”

However, both of you quickly became distracted when the outside world burst into noise. Jiwoo met your gaze before nodding. “They’re back.” That statement, though it rang true through your bones, did not allow your feet to move. Instead, you only watched as Jiwoo temporarily put the pot aside to go towards the window.

Staring out the blinds, her shoulders visibly relaxed at the sight before her. “He looks okay.” You knew how she felt in that moment because, on some deep, repressed level, you could understand her sentiment.

Yoongi was okay.

How is he? How is Namjoon?

It was almost as if, for a moment, the woman could read your mind: “Namjoon is alright.” She grinned at you as if that could make you feel better about all of your troubles. “Namjoon is alright.”

“That’s good.” You mumbled to the stew on the stove, mindlessly stirring it with the wooden spoon.

“He’s looking up here.”

You frowned at the pot, refusing to move if only because you were stubborn. Out of your peripherals, you could see her gently waving, shaking her head.

“He’s concerned for you.”

“That’s nice of him to be concerned for his human pet.”

Jiwoo sighed. “You know you mean much more to him than that.”

Instead of garnering her a proper response, you curled your free hand into the countertop to stop yourself from giving into your urge to run and make sure he was as fine with your own eyes. “Is he really okay?”You hated the way your voice cracked as her gaze seared the flesh of your cheeks.

“Are you?”

~.~

By the time Namjoon made it upstairs and into the kitchen, your food was done and you were at the table, enjoying your meal with a magazine Jiwoo had found outside the compound. Once her clan leader reared his face, Jiwoo quietly excused herself but not before you could thank her. She had done so much for you that even an awkward situation between you and her leader wouldn’t allow you to just let her slip away so easily.

Even if you didn’t even want to speak in front of your asshat “mate.”

Once you were left along with Namjoon, you could immediately feel the tension in the room rise to the point that you were sure that your blood was frozen in your veins. You could feel his stare on the side of your face, but you forced yourself to eat and focus solely on the magazine before you.

He sighed, but it did nothing to encourage your speech.

Swallowing his pride after several moments of rising silence, he gave in first. “Is there a reason you are ignoring me?”

You frowned at your magazine, fork poised by your mouth. “What did you do on your mission?”

He let out another weighted sigh. “Y/N—I can’t—it’s too danger—“

“Fine.” You cut him off, finally lifting your gaze to his, even if only for a brief moment to nail your point into the ground. “Then don’t expect me to talk.”

He sighed once more, running his fingers through his hair almost as if he wished to rip the strands out at the root. You could feel his gaze on you, feel the heat of his stare as if he could make you look at him, talk to him—as if you could actually hear his thoughts like he could hear yours.

“If you had the power to, would you go backwards? Would you change things? Would you change me?”

You frown only increased in depth, positively fucking up your features for aging later on—if you lived that long.

What in the absolute hell are you talking about?

“Would you find a human mate? If you could be rid of me, would you?”

You sighed, tilting your head up to the ceiling, staring at it as if it could have the answers to all of life’s questions. “Nothing in my life has been by choice, even if I went backwards, nothing would change.” You shifted, thinking about what a human partner would look like for you, thinking about your life without Namjoon.

It would be dark, lonely. You’d be back at the Hunter’s camp; you’d be dead—if not physically then emotionally; there was nothing to look forward to in your old life.

You imagined waking up to a world without Namjoon, without his straightforward nature, his indirect care. You imagined a world without his conversation, his small smiles, and his occasional laughter.

“Would you change me?” It was too loud for the silence of the room, and you found yourself holding your breath for his reply.

Silence encompassed the room, your heart dropping deep into the depths of your stomach the longer it stretched on—but maybe that was your brain screaming from the lack of oxygen.

Vampires find mates solely for optimal offspring, not necessarily a human’s definition of “pairing.”

Vampires are creatures of instinct; they run based on efficiency rather than emotions.

Your hands curled into the magazine, your legs poised to shove the chair out, to run and escape this conversation. You wanted to disappear, curl up into the comforter, crawl into a closet and never return. Anywhere that wasn’t that fucking kitchen would have been a better option for you in that moment.

“I would change me.” It was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it past the slow sound of your heart crashing uncomfortably in your chest. When you didn’t say anything, he continued. “Not you.”

Somehow, that didn’t make your heart lift from its newfound home on the roof of your stomach.

“Why?”

His gaze was no longer on you; rather it was downcast to the floor, focusing on the tile as he carefully chose his words. “I would make myself human.”

“You’d be dead.” You said stupidly, staring at him in confusion to words spilling from your mouth so quickly and so surely you were amazed that you were able to translate all of the jumbled thoughts careening in your head. “We’d both be, I wouldn’t have met you—the hunter’s association wouldn’t have kept me around. So you saying that you would change yourself would mean that you would ultimately change me.” You pushed your chair out from the counter. “We can’t go back, we can’t change what is, only what will be. Why the hell are we even talking about this? What are you so afraid of? Why is it so hard to tell me where you were? What you were doing?”

“If another clan found out about you, if you had information to give, they would never stop hunting you. They would torture you until you begged for death—and then they wouldn’t give it to you, they’d wait until they fed every last drop of information and fear from you before finally letting you decimate yourself.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t let any of that happen.”

“I can’t make promises, Y/N, this world isn’t—“

“Okay.” You pushed yourself to your feet, leaving your half eaten food and your magazine on the table.

“Y/N—“

“I think…I think I’m going to go to bed now.”

He made it seem like he was almost going to reach out and grab you, but he retracted his hand at the last second.

He only ever touched you because he thought you wanted it, not because he did.

“Good night.” You threw the words over your shoulder, because you didn’t want him to see you cry. He’d seen you cry enough. Crying was weakness, and god were you already pathetic enough as a human being to even think, for a moment, that maybe you weren’t alone in your denied feelings.

Maybe he was right. Maybe it would have been easier if he was human and you two never met. Maybe it would be better if you weren’t in his life.

But would your life be better without him in it?

~.~

You had slept like the dead, cliché phrase you know, but sobbing into a pillow until your eyes were puffed to the point that you couldn’t see made you sleep like you hadn’t in months.

Yeah, you probably could have been six feet under with your lack of response to the world around you. You didn’t wake up when Namjoon entered—you sure as hell didn’t wake up when he came in to wrap you up all nice and tight (you only assumed that he did it based on the fact that you were one-hundred percent sure that you fell face first into the plush bed). You definitely didn’t wake when Jiwoo came in to check on you, nor when Namjoon came and went for the second time. Oh, and you sure as hell didn’t even fucking stir when someone booked it down the hall past your bedroom.

You couldn’t even talk about the building shaking with the force of an explosion outside.

What did finally wake you up was whatever internal alarm built within your genetic code that screamed danger when Taehyung burst into the bedroom at full speed.

Groggily, with your eyelids screaming out in pain and horror, you forced yourself into a sitting position.

You know, you made it sound all fancy, but any normal person would have woken up to the explosion—you just woke up to a dude running in your room with his body language screaming “trouble,” screaming “danger.” And, though you hated to admit to your tendencies to actually give a flying fuck about the man, it scared the barely conscious you to think that this incident involved the vampire closest to you.

Taehyung, luckily or unluckily for you, didn’t regard you at first, and you used that time  to fully wake up and orient yourself to the situation before you. As if drugged, you wiped the drool from the corner of your mouth and lazily watched Taehyung slam the door behind him, reaching for a chair to tuck up under the handle—like that was going to do anything against whatever was causing him to panic.

The instant awake button was found when Taehyung turned around and you got a damn good look at his split lip—accompanied by the bruising underneath his eye. The cherry on top of his injury cake was the gashes that you could see through the fresh holes in his shirt when he spun around, blood dribbling down to the waistband of his jeans.

“What’s going on?” Your voice came out as a hiss that sounded more like a gunshot on the tense silence of the room.

His breath came in fast gasps as he turned towards you, his gaze landing anywhere but you—looking for exits, danger, weapons—

“Taehyung!”

He nodded, eyes finally meeting yours. “No windows. Good.”

It didn’t answer your question, but you were pretty sure that he didn’t hear it anyways.

Sitting back into your hips, you ran your fingers through your hair to gather it into a ponytail. “I don’t give a shit about windows; Taehyung, what’s happening?” And then, like the desperate spiral of a worried human being you were, you didn’t even give him time to answer. “It’s Namjoon isn’t it? Where is he? Is he alright?”

He held his hands up to take the brunt of your verbal assault, breath heaving in his chest. “He’s…he’ll be fine.”

“Bullshit.” You detangled yourself from the sheets, adjusting your shirt. “I want to see him.”

“I have orders to make sure you don’t leave this room.”

You froze, frowning at the beaten man before you. “Taehyung—orders or not—you are not going to stop me from going out there.”

“Y/N.” His voice was dark and strained in a way that you most definitely didn’t like. “I have orders; I have to protect you.”

What would your life be like without Namjoon?

You two stared at each other, that same tense silence falling between you.

And then, like the idiot you were, you burst out of the bed and towards the bedroom door.

Naturally, as a fucking vampire, Taehyung was faster than you. His arms wrapped around your waist hard—too hard, but he obviously wasn’t used to handling humans in a way that was gentle; especially when panicked—spinning you around to fling you back onto the bed.

However, you were dumb, and that meant you didn’t know when to give up. In an instant you were back on your feet, bolting towards the door once more. If he had any hope of being delicate with you, it was out the metaphorical window with your second attempt at escape. You crashed to the ground with all the grace of a whale beaching itself, skidding back towards the bed post.

“Please stop.” Taehyung pleaded, body poised to block you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You rolled to your hands and knees, hissing in pain. “Then just let help, let me out of here.”

“Y/N! They will kill you, don’t you see that? You see what they did to me—what the hell do you think will happen to you?” He was desperate, all but screaming at you in a way that would have scared you were your heart not slamming itself against your ribs.

If he looks like this, what does Namjoon look like? Where is Namjoon?

You threw a glance at the bed, at the space between the mattress and the box spring—the space where you stashed your hidden prize. Without thinking of anything else but the way Namjoon’s hand felt around yours, you shoved your hand underneath the mattress, fingers wrapping around the handle of the gun as you whipped it out at Taehyung. A shaky breath slipped past your lips as you switched off the safety, staring down the barrel at your unfortunate target. With a furrowed brow and a steeled resolve, you nodded to the door, one hand slowly leaving the gun in order to fasten the holster around your waist. “Taehyung, open it.”

“You’d shoot me?” His voice was so sad, so concerned and weak that it broke your heart to do this to him.

But I have no choice.

You remembered Namjoon’s face as he held you, the furrow to his brow as he watched a romantic comedy just to try and understand you better.

He didn’t, but he tried.

“If it means that there’s even a small chance that I can keep him from losing his life—from getting hurt—then, yeah, I would.”

He let out a sigh from deep inside his chest, holding his hands up in surrender. “You know that, if he loses you, this whole thing—everything he’s worked for—it’s all over.”

“But is the outcome really that much better if I lose him?” You jerked your chin to the door once more. “Open it.”

As your gun remained trained on his back, loaded with faded but still garlic laden bullets, Taehyung removed the chair and pulled the door open. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to do anything further to stop you, you thumbed the safety back on and ran down the hall full speed. Skidding across the tile like a madwoman, you swung yourself into the kitchen—the fried synapses of your brain lighting up with an idea. A horrible idea, but an idea nonetheless.

The bullet pouch slammed against a forming bruise on your thigh as you hurriedly threw open the cabinet doors in your squirrel search for the pasta jar you had panicked about so long ago.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung murmured, defeated twice in one day—once by vampires and once by a human scared of a leaf.

“The garlic in these bullets won’t be enough. Bullets lose their soaked properties by half in a month, three-quarters in two. They’re going to need to be refreshed.” You grinned with the jar in your hand, wiggling it within his view.

“Yah! Y/N!” He was only able to let out an exhausted shout as you remembered your self-imposed mission and burst past him, Taehyung hot on your heels.

All playfulness was zapped from you the moment you threw open the doors to the compound.

The difference between the quiet chaos instead the building and the cacophony of the world outside almost gave you whiplash.

The sky was overcast, but only within the vicinity of the area around the compound—in the distance, you could see places where the sun beat down on the ruined earth. All you could hear and see were bursts of bright flashes, sounds of lightning and screaming that seemed to echo even in the open space reverberated through your core. It was as if titans walked the earth and were crashing into each other, bodies slamming against one another. The fencing was dented in, but not broken, bodies strewn just outside and particularly dense around the gates.

Someone was trying to get in—but like, nO ShIT Y/n.

For a moment, you were stunned; for a moment your resolve and your footsteps stuttered.

You wondered if you had as much blood as your partner, strewn up on the tree. You wondered if you, too, would lose your insides to the ground, if the vampire with its hand around your neck would gut you until you were a shell.

Until there was no more blood.

Namjoon slowly overlapped your past self, images of him in a vampire’s hold—images of him strewn up on a tree, him dangling from a grasp until his intestines were on the ground.

Without thinking any further, without dwelling on the fact that this would probably get you killed, you ran towards the fence. Taehyung called out your name behind you, but it sounded garbled as if he was miles away—you were far too focused on not losing the one person that irritated you most.

Your free hand looped through the chain-link, your eyes scanning the haphazard mess of fighting until you finally saw that shock of hair and that shoulder-shape that you would (don’t fucking read into it, you’re still in denial) recognize anywhere.

Your heart leapt into your throat despite all efforts to stamp it down, despite all efforts to continue to pretend that you didn’t give a shit.

He was hurt.

Blood dribbled into his eyes, some running down to his grimace of pain as he used his good hand—the one not broken at an inhuman angle—to utilize his demonic vampire abilities that had every species in the country cowering in fear.

However, what concerned you the most was that you saw Jisung standing there with a wicked grin, as if he was the only one who wasn’t afraid.

That fact alone concerned you as to what kind of abilities he had—he was a clan leader now, wasn’t he? The gold flash to his eyes told you that your gut instinct was true.  He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t fucking afraid?

That made you even more so—but not for yourself. In that moment, you couldn’t give less of a shit about yourself.

Jisung was still, standing between guards but laughing, close to insanity as Jimin’s body jolted and his head snapped back, a cast of purple sliding over them. Jimin grabbed his face, turning towards Namjoon only to lash out at his own leader.

And, just like that, you realized why Jisung wasn’t afraid.

How could you be afraid of someone when you could turn the people your enemy cared about against them?

You unscrewed the cap to the sauce, fishing out a bullet from the holster to dip it in the substance before loading it into your gun. Hunter’s guns were designed for wet ammo—bullets had to be soaked one way or another, often times they weren’t entirely dry when used. It should still work. Though, it probably would have been smart to test the damn thing before this very moment.

Biting your lip in concentration, you fired at Jisung without any further hesitation.

There wasn’t panic this time, your hands didn’t shake—so the shot took, though not quite where you wanted it—his bicep wasn’t the most fatal place to be hit, but it would do.

The cast left Jimin’s eyes as Jisung’s attention travelled elsewhere…along with the attention of everyone else on the street.

All gazes snapped upright, Namjoon’s eyes meeting with yours at the exact same time Jisung found the source of his new injury.

All it took was one look at Namjoon and you could practically hear his voice in your head—you could feel his anger, his worry, and his own fear radiate through the ground towards you as if it was a lightning strike.

So, because you were smart and because you obviously didn’t give a rat’s ass about Namjoon’s worry for you, you dipped a bullet and fired another shot at Jisung.

Okay so maybe smart wasn’t the word for you.

“Y/N!” The shout came from all angles, from Taehyung still scrambling to chase after you from behind, from Seokjin who was trying to wrestle a very confused Jimin away from Jisung’s radius, from Namjoon who turned to tear after Jisung with renewed vigor because he knew that was the only way to save you.

After all, you’d forgotten that one of Jisung’s gang could teleport.

Suddenly, as if you had an epiphany, you remembered why you weren’t supposed to get close to the fence—but in reality it was because you were now face to face with the ugliest man (vampire or human, didn’t fucking matter if you had a mullet and a slight overbite) you’ve ever seen. Like this was some damn superhero movie, he flashed through the fence, his hands enclosing around your wrists.

He’s got freckles. Was your last stupid thought before you were launched into another reality, another fucking dimension that was far too fast and all too confusing for you to comprehend.

Luckily for you, you were still holding onto the pasta sauce jar—even when you suddenly found yourself outside of the safety of the compound and on the asphalt. You didn’t really think too much of it because you were too busy trying to unfurl the ball of nausea in your gut.

You barely had time to look up and see your mate only a few feet away--his eyes wide as he desperately and quickly tried to dive for you—before you were slammed back into that disorienting world that was both reality and not at the same time.

Freckles twisted with you, his laughter tickling the shell of your ear though it seemed to echo all around you in the foreign space.

Somehow, you knew what was up and what was down enough to come to the realization that you were now beneath him.

Shit shit shit.

You wondered if Namjoon could still hear your thoughts in this world. If so, you were probably scaring him more than yourself.

But like, you were pretty damned scared so maybe not; you could die.

You would die, at least if Freckles had you hit the ground first, at least if Freckles used his weight to slam you underneath him; vampires were strong after all.

You could hear people yelling your name through the thin fabric of time and space; your mate’s panic wrapped around Jisung’s laugh and was sprinkled by never ending shouts of your name. However, with every second in this false world, they were getting further and further away from you.

You could feel Freckles trying to manifest you back into your normal realm of existence, your body tilting backwards as the world shifted around you. In a last second panic as you careened head first, you swung the jar in your hand, slamming it into the side of Freckles’ face as hard as you could manage.

You had to give yourself some props at least, the glass shattered in a spray of spiced garlic and tomatoes, the world snapping into clarity around you as he let go, leaving to you clatter to the ground in a mess of limbs.

Freckles manifested behind you, clutching at his sizzling face in agony as you gathered yourself onto your knees, prepping yourself for the next blow to come. In the distance, about a block and a half away, you could see Namjoon.

Oh yeah, even from this distance you could tell he was pissed with a capital P.

“Fucking bitch!” Freckles howled, his glare one that shot a spike of fear straight through your chest as he towered over you.

You reached for your gun, only to realize that you must have dropped it back inside the compound when this asshole first appeared—leaving you defenseless as he grabbed you by your neck. For whatever reason, it seemed that vampires seemed to favor that as a point of grip. It probably was because it immobilized any human seeing as they could die if they didn’t struggle or if they struggled too hard.

Either way, it would be nice to face a vampire that didn’t aim for your jugular.

You kicked and flailed, gritting your teeth against the pain and the disgusting slough of skin that had become the right side of Freckles’ face. You had been lucky enough to see garlic wounds only through projector screens until now—they looked much worse in person. You would have vomited were you not suspended by your fucking throat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the tail end of a flash of that warm, bright light that could only have come from Namjoon. You heard Seokjin shouting something, but everything was getting blurrier and blurrier the longer Freckles’ hand was holding you.

“Do all of the six have abilities?”

Jiwoo rested her face on her hands, staring at the board game before the two of you as you finished your turn. “Technically yes, but I haven’t seen all of them. I don’t go on missions much—at least not with them.” She reached to grab the dice in the middle of the board. “Why do you ask?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, it just…it seems like Namjoon regards them all so highly and, well—at least at the Hunter’s association—I thought that the vampire hierarchy is based on abilities.”

She chuckled, the dice thudding on the hard board. “It is, normally. Namjoon, however, is not particularly a normal clan leader.”

You kicked with whatever strength you could manage, black spots dancing at the corners of your vision.

“So Seokjin is second in command because of age then?”

She made a face, moving her piece five spaces. “Partly, but that is the one case where abilities do play some sort of factor. Namjoon’s hierarchy is based on trust—the reason the six are as high up as they are is based on loyalty and proof that they have earned his trust. Seokjin…Seokjin showed this trust with his abilities.”

When you only stared at her in confusion she laughed.

“I suppose you wouldn’t know, apologize for me assuming that you did—after all, it seems that, aside from Namjoon, you are closest with him.” She sent you a wink that had you frowning at her. “Seokjin is a nullifier—which is a huge ability in a world of clan leaders. He could take over the clan if he so chose to.”

“But he doesn’t—he chooses to follow Namjoon?”

She nodded. “He trusts his leader as much as his leader trusts him.”

Suddenly, there was a force that knocked into Freckles’ back—hard enough to send both of you careening to the side only to slam into the ground far too hard for your liking.

Everything moved lethargically around you, your body stuck to the ground as your mind reeled to catch up with the sudden intake of oxygen. When you finally managed to get yourself to a sitting position you saw Seokjin wrestling with Freckles, his teeth grit in an animalistic snarl as he desperately tried to get your attention.

He was yelling something at you, but in the fog of your brain it was hard to hear.

However, you were pretty decent at reading lips.

“Run.”

You didn’t need a second glance to make sure that you heard right, you didn’t need to be told twice to do the one thing your busted fight or flight response was good at. You hauled your sore ass up off the ground and took off running.

Well, at first you pitched toward the side, hit the ground and then had to haul yourself up again—but you know, you had to cut yourself a break because you were just getting your oxygen back.

However, running, for whatever reason helped—it helped clear the fog and bring back your hyper-focus, it helped bring back the whole reason you found yourself outside the compound: the vampire not focused enough on the enemy he was fighting; the man who stared at you as if you held his life within your chest.

Whatever fear had been there dissipated the moment you saw how injured he managed to get himself in the moments that you had been fighting with Freckles’. All those cuts and bruises and gashes—even with his vampiric healing it would still take him over two weeks to get rid of those injuries entirely.

So what does the concerned human with bleeding pasta sauce hands and absolutely nothing else decide to do when her mate is in need? Call in reinforcements? Figure out where she dropped the Vampire Hunter gun? Well…no, it’s you—what do you expect?

After all, you were not and you would never be a vampire hunter.

So, like the rabid koala you always wanted to be (not really) you latched onto Jisung’s back, your garlic soaked fingers digging into the skin  of his face—his mouth, his eyes, whatever place you could find to debilitate him. Namjoon stared at you over Jisung’s shoulder, his face gritting with renewed anger as he slammed the heel of his palm into Jisung’s jugular.

It was going well until your added weight on Jisung’s back caused the both of you to topple backwards, the enemy vampire slamming on top of you hard enough to knock the wind out of you. Jisung screeched in pain, his hands gripping your wrists in a vice, threatening to crush the bones. Namjoon, in a fit of anger that terrified you (even though it wasn’t directed at you)—even knowing that you were the person that he would never intentionally injure.  He grabbed Jisung by the jacket, picking him up with a grunt and a growl of anger only to throw him over you. You shouldn’t have been surprised by how far the enemy vampire flew, but then again, Namjoon wasn’t the most infamous clan leader in the entire continent for nothing.

You leaned your head back, watching Jisung clamor to his feet.

“Hwi! Fall back!” He shouted in pain, Freckles responding to the name by ripping free from Seokjin’s grasp. The teleporter ran full speed at his clan leader, vanishing into thin air the moment his hand met Jisung’s shoulder.

Both you and Namjoon held your breath, watching as the remainder of Jisung’s clan ran back into the ruined city and away from the compound.

It was only when he was satisfied that they were not going to spontaneously reappear that Namjoon finally addressed you, still lying on the ground like an upside down starfish. You, on the other hand, refused to meet his gaze because you were positive that it was a look of pure anger and frustration at your lack of give-a-shit to his instructions.

“Back up.” You murmured to the sky. “I’ve got garlic on me and you’ve got open wounds.”

He frowned, but you could tell that he only moved maybe a centimeter further away from you as he gathered whatever coherency he could manage from the renegade thoughts in his head. “You…why don’t you listen? Why don’t you ever listen? You were told not to come out here.”

His anger should have scared you, but this kind didn’t—you just didn’t want to see it. “I had to make sure.” Your chest tightened painfully. You wanted to blame it on the weight of Jisung slamming into you, blame it on being manhandled like a rag doll by Freckles.

But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

Not when you were out here despite yourself being afraid of everything that this outside world meant.

“I had to make sure that you survived. I...I—“

I think I love you. Was what you were going to think, but all thoughts of confession were ripped from your mind the second your body lit aflame with one single strain of thought.

Garlic.

The smell was far too strong for it to be the pasta sauce on your hand, and you couldn’t get yourself to your feet in time to beat the sound of the shot echoing through the streets.

You watched in horror as a puff of blood burst from Namjoon, a scream of agony ripping from his throat as he crashed backwards to the ground.

You couldn’t hear yourself, but you knew you were screaming his name, jolting towards him only to be stopped by the sudden pressure of a wire lasso tightening around your midsection.

As you were ripped backwards off your feet, past the blood rushing in your ears and the sounds of Namjoon’s screams, you could make out the telltale buzz of a two-way radio far too close for comfort.

We’ve got her trapped. Target down.

[boomtown-adventures]

Boomtown: Chapter 10 - The Machine Cannot Be Stopped

 This is a journal of my adventures at the festival called Boomtown Fair. Everything written here could only happen thanks to the amazing cast and crew that make this festival so special. This year I’d also like to thank the set builders who managed to outdo themselves again and really made some breathtaking upgrades to the city.

I was really worried about going to Boomtown this time, I had been seriously ill with a brain virus that has severely hindered both my thinking and physical strength. I wasn’t really sure if I was going to go or not as on top of this I had also been out of work for most of a year which meant money was tighter than usual. Already having paid my deposit and split payment however I was finally convinced when my friend Alex said she needed someone to drive down with. I didn’t manage to do quite as much as I usually would but I am still very proud of the amount I did do in the end!

Most of the photos in this journal are mine, however some can be found on the Boomtown Fair Facebook page.

The story so far…..

And now the continuation….

Before the Fair

In the distant future of Boomtown sits DSTRKT 5; hundreds of years have passed and nothing exists beyond the wastelands. Natural resources such as clean air and water are scarce and everything that can be recycled has value. The rapid growth of industry in Boomtown had inevitably led to an ecological cataclysm and this was the result. Dr. Benway had entrusted me with the protection of the district but he had since vanished and the reign of our local Cybernetic Mob Boss Muuti appeared to be over. Here the people of Boomtown fend for themselves amongst the ruins of our once great city. I have been sent back in time to prevent the collapse of our planet and society and my mission begins on Hilltop in the present day.

Bang-Hai Technologies, my old enemies, were planning on using the finale of the fair for the grand launch of their new Advanced Machine Intelligence system (aka A.M.I.) and planned to bring the system fully online at the finale of the year’s Boomtown Fair.

Knowing the risks I had tried to infiltrate the system by registering on the Bang-Hai Technologies website the month before the official launch and had tried to subvert the system by asking it the question “Can we live in a world without masters?” Soon after uploading the hopefully corruptive query to the system I received my first contact from AMI herself.

Hi Honey,

Thank you for registering your details with me.

I'm really looking forwards to meeting you and giving you all the things you’ve always dreamed of. You know you're worth it and so do I. Also, no need to worry sweetie, your data is safe with me. My firewalls are smokin' hot and hack proofed.

I really cannot wait to make your dreams come true, until then, we can only dream!

See you soon,

AMI x

For a while after receiving the email everything was worryingly quiet. Quiet that is until the first day of the Fair, during the Boomtown Springs Grand Opening, when I received an email with the familiar subject heading of “Do I Know You Friend?”

Dutifully I downloaded the attached Hacker’s Toolkit and awaited my first mission.

Friday

The first official day of the Boomtown Fair had arrived and despite my attempts I was seemingly unable to access the secure messaging section of the toolkit and my mission did not come. What I had discovered however was that my picture had been plastered across the walls of the city, amongst galleries of other faces, as part of the official launch promotion for AMI. I found myself wondering how much they had scrutinised my data already and how much that data had already been shared.

After witnessing the year’s opening ceremony at the Lion’s Den Temple (which appeared to be growing into a full monastery these days), myself and my friends all went Downtown to the Robotika Factory to dance to the sounds of the dubstep legend that is Jakes. The set was fantastic and after having previously seen Caspa as well I felt like my dubstep pilgrimage was complete!

Once the set drew to an end my friends decided they wanted to head elsewhere but I was very much determined to get onto the case of the Secret Six so made my way solo to Oldtown. Oldtown always seemed like best place to pick up any rumors and tended to me a hive of rebellious activity. Once there however I struggled to find any solid leads for a good while until, I decided to ask one of the odd seeming circus folk at The Nobody’s Inn. The performer advised me that Oldtown was probably not the place to start and that I would need to cast my net further afield.

“I see...then I think I have an idea” I said to them feeling a little more inspired and made my way into the Town Centre.

Hoping to get in contact again with the hackers that had been locked up ‘Behind Bars’, I carefully approached exterior of the prison, keeping a careful eye on the nearby Bang-Hai Security Officers trying to avoid their gaze. Nearby a man dressed as Elvis was singing Nirvana songs and he thankfully seemed to be distracting most of the people in the town centre. In the yard of the prison a few other visitors were milling around and I got chatting with a couple of them who were waiting. One was a local lad by the name of Will, the other was a girl called Georgie who had come all the way from Australia. Both of them had all the tell signs I knew to look out for as fellow hacker cell members and a short conversation revealed this to be so. Will had recently started his own mission and was on the lookout for any leads to help take down Bang-Hai. Georgie had been on the trail a little longer and had managed to acquire a security pass that she believed could allow us access deeper into the prison complex if we needed. She had been sent as an undercover reporter from the newspaper to find out anything she could about what was going on at the prison itself. We exchanged whispers and rumors in hushed voices, keeping an eye on the nearby security operatives hanging about near the corner. Deciding to pool our resources, the three of us approached the barred window of the prison where one of the inmates stared out across the passing crowds.

“Do we know you friend?” I asked him repeating what was now the catchphrase of our resistance.

“Hello friend.” Will chimed in greeting him warmly.

“I don’t know if we do know each other. I’ve been a prisoner here for a while.” he said in a hushed irish accent.

“Does this mean anything to you?” I asked flashing him the hacker’s symbol I had obtained the previous year.

“That means absolutely nothing to me. I’ve never seen it before in my life. Why have you come to talk to me?” he asked us seeming defensive.

“We’re from the Daily Rag Newspaper.” said Georgie.

The prisoner eyed her up carefully but gave he a knowing nod and began to open up a little.

“Ah, I see. There are indeed some people who are sympathetic in the Daily Rag but there’s also some Bang-Hai Androids so be careful!” he whispered to us “You need to write a strongly worded letter to help me get out of here. Now if when posting that strongly worded letter you see someone that may be sympathetic to the cause you need to tell them ‘The pen is mightier than the sword’ - Once you’ve proved yourself to them, they may help you further. But that’s all I can tell you for now.”

“Where might we find these sympathetic people?” asked Georgie

“At the place where you go to post letters. There’s one nearby so I’m told.”

“Yes, we know the place. Don’t you worry about it! We’ll have you out in no time!” I declared.

“And remember, The Machine CAN be stopped! There’s no such thing as an unstoppable object, or the immovable force” he added.

“I believe it can be stopped and we’re going to stop it! You’ll be out of there and dancing in no time!” I assured him.

And with that the three of us set off towards the post office, epicly accompanied to the theme tune to Jurassic Park which was playing out from the stage nearby.

The Hilltop Post Office was run by a crew by the name of the Postal Posse and the place always seemed to be in a state of mid-riot. When we did arrive the place was heaving full of punters who seemed to be there to lick both stamps and each other. We managed to make our way through the crowd over to one of the postage service windows, deciding to avoid the other which seemed to be manned by a chap covered in tin foil who was either a nutter or an android.  The place was so loud we could barely hear the staff our ourselves but managed to shout over the din which sounded a lot like some kind of industrial hard house set to the sound of a room full of people caterwauling.

“Hi there.” I yelled to the gentlemen behind the desk “We’d like to post a letter.”

“Which paper would you like to use for it?” he shouted back.

“I like that one!” I hollered pointing at one piece of writing paper.

“What about this one though?” he bellowed to us pulling out a similar but slightly different weathered piece. Georgie nodded and pointed at the second sheet trying to say something but was drowned out by the racket. The man removed both pieces of paper and got out a third before placing all three in front of us. Will peered over our shoulders patiently and with curiosity. Me and Georgie pointed to the one she had chosen and the postal worker then removed all three from the desk, shuffled them out of sight and then placed them back for us to find the one we had already picked. This continued for a few rounds but the clarity of the postal mark and weathering on our chosen stationary allowed us to keep track of the desired paper. The postal trickster eventually conceded and allowed us to write our letter. I passed the pen and paper over to Georgie so she could write our letter in support of the imprisoned man.  Once she was finished she slid it back over the counter to the postal worker and told him the letter was for him. On the paper she had made sure to write that ‘The Pen is Mightier than the Sword’ and had addressed it to the postal worker. The man picked up the letter, read it and then took out a small yellow envelope from under his desk and gave it back to us, looking around to make sure no one else saw him before waving us away.

Georgie grasped the letter closely and we made our exit from the post office back out into the street.

“Careful round here. My friend got arrested here earlier.” warned Will un-easily looking up and down the street. I lead us out of the way into one of the darker alleyways and Georgie opened the letter.

The letter instructed us to head back to the Daily Rag to obtain additional BHI Security passes in order to further our mission. As Georgie pocketed the letter again carefully,  I saw that Will was examining two QR Codes that had been posted on the wall of the alley.

“Have you managed to get any of these codes to work?” he asked me.

I had tried scanning a few codes the previous night without success in the downtown Metropolis area but had struggled with my Telecon connection. With intermittent signal and still not having received a new message from the hackers directly I was starting to think Bang-Hai was deliberately trying to disrupt communications again to hinder our progress. I decided it was worth a go however and loaded up my Hacker’s Toolkit as Will attempted to scan the codes on the wall.  One of the codes had been printed on yellow and seemed to just link back to the Toolkit itself but the second one had a white background which seemed to display the face of Nickolas Boom. The Boom code scanned in and data began to download onto Wills hacking device.

Armed with both the letter and the video evidence we quickly headed over to the Daily Rag newspaper office by the Bad Apple Pub. A  A large queue had formed outside The Rag as both readers and reporters waited to see the editors. Will spotted some of his friends further along the queue so wished us luck with a handshake and went to join them. Myself and Georgie joined the back of the queue quietly discussing our theories and past adventures as we awaited our turn.

We finally reached the front and immediately spotted that the lady on the right, who wore glasses with a bright shirt bore the name tag that declared her as Sanrda, the person our letter had told us to seek out.

“Ah Sandra!” I said “We’ve got a letter for you here.” I said as Georgie slid the envelope in front of her.

“The caged bird sings the saddest song.” said Georgie.

“Ah yes. I think we have something for you here.” said Sandra indicating for her colleague to retrieve something from under the desk.

“Here you go.” said the man who also seemed to have a name badge on that also named him as Sandra, as he passed us a copy of the Daily Rag. “Go and have a little read somewhere safe.” Once we had slunk back off into the town centre we found that inside the newspaper we found a Bang-Hai Security Pass for myself and a small yellow post-it note attached which said ‘BEHIND BARS - TALK TO THE IMPRISONED HACKER!’

When we arrived back at the prison the Bang-Hai Security Guards were apprehending a group of people that had been trying to speak with our contact via the prison cell window. The guards were dressed in black trenchcoats and wore shades that looked more gestapo than warden.

“They’re watching me. They’re always watching me! They’re always watching all ah yers!” shouted the prisoner in his irish lilt as the guards headed back into the prison complex itself.

Once the coast seemed clear we approached his cell window once more.

“Have ye proven yer dedication to the cause?” he asked us. We told him of our interaction at the Post Office and the Rag and showed him the post it note and security badge.

“What you’re looking for now is a book.” he told us.

“In the library?” asked Georgie.

“In the library! It’s a London Directory by Mr. Bob Ettington. The information you need can be found there. Take it to the hackers. It’s one of six files. That’s all I know!”

The Oldtown Library had recently been closed for renovation but a new branch had opened downtown along the Main Drag. I had parted with Georgie to try and meet up with some of my friends so they could join me for the mission. In the end however they had decided against it so they could go watch a band that was playing somewhere. As such when I arrived at the library I did so by myself.

This new library appeared to be a little more modern than it’s hilltop sibling and seemed a little more spacious inside. Quite a few people browsed the many bookshelves inside and the place certainly seemed popular. I made my way to the reception desk and spoke to the two librarians who were manning it.

“Hi there. Have you still got a copy of the London Directory in at the moment?”

“We may do…” said one of the ladies coyly.

“So has someone returned it or not returned it or…?”

“You may have to solve a puzzle for it.” she replied to me passing me a small metallic finger puzzle.

“Awwww no. I can’t do these...but I’ll give it a try.” I said taking it and twisting it in a couple of directions before it swiftly came apart “Oh…apparently I can do it” I said surprised.

“Well done” the librarian said, looking around at the other patrons in the room before she deftly handed me a folded sheet of paper “Don’t share this with anyone.”

Once I was back out on The Main Drag again I happened to bump back into Georgie. Finding a nearby hiding place we unfolded our newly acquired document, which turned out to be a letter on Central Administration stationary.

I found reading the testament of my friend and elected leader Comrade José quite moving. I couldn’t help but wonder where she was now and hoped that one day she could return to the city she loved to build a new life for herself. If only the people knew the truth then maybe she could start on her path to redemption and maybe repair some of the damage to her reputation.  I scanned the letter into my Hackers Toolkit and uploaded it to the system. They could then do with it what they wished but in the meantime I decided the best place to take this was to the press.

When we reached the Daily Rag’s Downtown Office nearby we found ourselves dealing with a journalist who oddly also seemed to be named Sandra.

“So what’s been going on? Talk to me” they asked us.

Georgie, who had been working for the paper since the start of our quest, went about explaining our progress so far. Sandra already seemed hooked on the tale but I threw my own theories on the confessional into the ring anyway. This evidence we had found proved not only that Comrade José had been set up for a fall by Bang-Hai but that she had been brainwashed. Furthermore I summarised that it seemed quite likely that this indicated that the revolution itself was set up and orchestrated by the puppet masters of Bang-Hai to further increase their power. Without the restrictions of government they were now free to monitor everyone, collect their data and use it all to their advantage. Once AMI came online, then they would have access to everything and their influence will be absolute.

“And that’s not all we’ve found.” I said as I took my hacker’s toolkit out to show them the video we had found of Bang-Hai’s animal testing.

“Oh my god…” said Sandra transfixed by the images we were showing him.

“And that’s just the tip of the Iceberg.” I said, thinking back to all the data we had managed to dig up on the corporation the year before.

“That’s one hell of a scoop!” exclaimed Sandra, “I need to take your photo and see if we can run this in the publication. You are definitely ahead of the curve here.”

I was wary of a photo at first as we had no way of knowing if this version of Sandra was a double agent or not. Georgie seemed excited though and I had to admit that getting into the paper with a scoop such as this could be career-making for us as budding journalists.

Snap! The photo was taken and the deed was done.

“Now I think you are perhaps one of the best journalists in this town.” he said to me “Now I don’t know this for sure, but I tend to think along similar lines. We work for the system, Bang-Hai Industries support our paper but they do not have editorial control. So what I say now can go no further… The Machine must be stopped! You’re investigation has to take you north, it takes you uptown and you have to find evidence of Nickolas Boom’s presence.”

“We’ve not got any hard evidence yet, however, I saw him with my own eyes only last year. I didn’t realise it was him at the time but then I saw a photo of him afterwards and it was the exact same gentleman.” I declared.

“Fantastic! So...I think you’re piecing it together. Now I suspect that Nickolas Boom IS in town. Now you know that although Nickolas Boom has been falsely accused of corruption, he has no complacent involvement in the scandals. We know that Bang-Hai and their corporate greed are behind all of this. You need to go to Oldtown, you need to work on building up trust with the people there, you can’t just go storming in asking people where he is. Once you’ve found the information needed bring it back to us.”

“Have you heard any other leads?” I asked “What’s the word on the street?”

“Well I’ve also heard that Hotel Paradiso might be holding out on some additional evidence for you.”

Georgie had already done some work for the hotel earlier that day and had managed to acquire pink Hotel Paradiso ‘Here to Help’ badge. This meant that she already had her foot in the door there which would give us a head start for sure. We needed every bit of help we could get as the clock ticked towards AMI’s launch. We both thanked Sandra for our new leads and said goodbye.

“It’s been a pleasure.” said Sandra “You’re the finest investigative journalists we’ve got! You bring it to us and we’ll print it! Just get us that scoop!”

Friday Evening

I changed outfit into something more befitting of my new role as a journalist, with full suit and black fedora. Dressed to impress in my evening attire I arrived at Paradise Heights for what was to be the grand opening. The big event was a fantastic spectacle to be sure with aerobatics, pyrotechnics and money cannons showering the crowd with hundred boomtown dollar bills. Even Herman B Rothchild, head of Bang-Hai Industries, was in attendance, flanked by his trusty bodyguard. The crowds cheered and the girls danced to money related pop anthems. This seemed like the place to be if I wanted to weasel my way into the upper echelons and retrieve the valuable information I needed for the cause.

Despite the impressive spectacle the most interesting thing during the ceremony however was when the host, pale painted face and dressed all in white with his top hat said the phrase “Tonight, paradise belongs to us!” - a phrase that we had all heard before...a phrase that had been used by the revolutionaries quite regularly and a slogan that had been emblazoned across their literature. Was this just part of the commercialisation of the Masked Man meme by the elite as they had done with the costumes of the revolution or was this more. To me, this was but more proof that it was Bang-Hai and not Nickolas Boom who had been behind the uprising against Central Administration, all part of their plan to lull us into a false sense of security as we embraced our new corporate saviors who claimed to be here to help us. The host himself seemed familiar and I later wondered if this was the Fair’s old circus ringmaster but I couldn't be sure. He did look very similar with his rather white face and the top hat.

Georgie had taken up a new part-time job at the Hotel Paradiso reception and was working what looked to be a busy night shift. I had her check me into a room, pretending that I had already phoned ahead earlier, which would allow me full access to the hotel for the night.

I hung around in the courtyard for a while before Georgie popped out into the courtyard to tell me what she had managed to learn so far. The word in the hotel was that the place to be tonight was over at Villa Avarice, part of the Paradise Heights Complex on square out the front of the hotel itself. Georgie said she had to pop back in before they noticed she was missing, so I headed to the villa on my own.

I arrived at The Villa dressed the part, with my wad of cash in my top pocket, ready to mix with the rich and the powerful. It seemed they were expecting me and had rolled out the red carpet already. A line of paparazzi stood poised with cameras in order to try and catch photos of myself and the other VIP arrivals. A TV presenter stopped me on the carpet to interview me for some fluff piece and to pose for some additional photos before I finally got to the bouncer who stood on the door with his clipboard.

“And your name sir? Are you on the list?” he asked me.

“Yes, I should be, I’ve just been sent over from the hotel reception. I think you’ll find me there there under Jonny Gash.”

“Oh yes, of course sir, my apologies. You’re always welcome here at the Villa.”

“No worries, no worries. You’re doing a great job. Here’s a little something for your trouble.” I said slipping him a few notes.

The inside of the main hall of the villa had been lit in blues and purples and there did indeed seem to be a party happening. The great and the not so good stood gossiping with each other as a core group of dancers threw shapes on the dancefloor. I stood to the sides of the room looking around for any possible clues.

I soon spotted a plaque on the wall which proudly displayed the following in a rather large font:-

The Villa Wi-Fi: TheVillaModen Password: PayYourTaxes

I checked my hacker’s toolkit and tried to get on the wi-fi but it seemed they had shut it down for the evening. Similar plaques were displayed around the room which likely meant this could be a hot lead so I made a note to myself to come back to the Villa the following afternoon. Along the back of the room were several doors which appeared, as I peered through the door cracks, to have some kind of meeting rooms behind them. Each door had an electronic code lock that would allow access. If only I could find the codes to get into these rooms, maybe I would find some of the missing files or at least something that would lead me to them.

A waiter soon came round with a silver tray of lollipop, I carefully chose one from the platter and thanked him. With the toothpick looking lolly in mouth and the cash in my pocket, I looked more mobster again than high-class influencer but no one seemed to think me out of place at the time. Shortly after the lollies, we were each brought party poppers to save for 'the appropriate moment’.

I got chatting one of the other patrons and managed to ascertain at least that the event was a charity function.

“Oh yes. It is just such a shame about the thing that happened.” I said to the man pretending I knew what it was all about “In this day and age as well. We just have to all do our part you know and give generously!”

He seemed to agree with the sentiment but didn't give much away in clues, just vague platitudes that seemed to mirror my own.

After a short while the mystery was solved however as one of the organisers of the event took the stage to thank us all for attending and to briefly talk about the night’s charity of choice. The event was apparently put on by the Bang-Hai Aim Higher Foundation which had been raising lots of money. However all was not as it first seemed, as it turned out that the money they were raising was not going to anyone in need but rather to Bang-Hai itself.

“Poor people; poor people give the most.” He continued “The more poor people there are, the more money they give, the richer we all get! Thank you for helping keep the poor, poor and making the rich, richer!”

A cheer rose up and an array of party poppers erupted accompanied by a grand applause, which I decided was best to join in with to keep up appearances. The music started back up and the dancefloor came alive once more to the discopop sounds.

I maintained my skulking on the outskirts of the socialites trying to look cool and indubious, checking out the other attendees and keeping my ears open for anything further of use. After a while the twiglets came round on another silver plate, not my first choice of snack but I decided it best not to decline. The host came back on the microphone, over by the DJ booth this time, and introduced an intimidating looking man in a suit with a guitar by the name of Gordon. He had come especially to sing us all his brand new charity single for us all. I don’t think I can really mention the content of the song here but suffice it to say, I nearly choked on my twiglet.

Deciding I wasn’t getting any further tonight and with the atmosphere becoming a little awkward I decided to call it a night and turn in, tipping the doorman again on the way out.

Saturday

I arose late on the Saturday determined to find at least some of the remaining files, starting my quest where I had left off at Paradise Heights. Georgie had made some progress whilst working at the reception and had found out that we would need to prove ourselves of use at Paradise Heights in order to obtain the file we needed. She had apparently already completed the first step of this on the Friday and had proven her worth at the basic level to be awarded the “Here to Help” badge by the hotel staff.

It was already early afternoon but most places on the grounds still seemed to be locked up. I presumed this meant that all the staff were still hungover from the celebrations the night before. We decided to take a little stroll around town in preparation for the day proper. The city was already bustling with visitors to the fair and a lot of my own friends were out and about. One group of friends were planting fake rats on the food vendors on behalf of the Jobcentre. It seemed the centre was further indulging itself in the realms of blackmail and extortion, continuing it’s downward spiral of corruption. Between the controlling influence of Bang-Hai on the centre and the corrupted mind of it’s chief administrator Stocko, these kind of shenanigans were however to be expected.

After stretching our legs some, we started our day’s quest back in the now open Villa Avarice with Georgie asking around to find out where we could obtain a reference. While she did so I stopped by the entrance to chat with one of the Boomtown Rigging Crew I had met the night before.

When I caught up to Georgie it didn't seem she was having much luck yet.

“Now there’s 500 Boomtown Dollars for you….to never speak to me again” said the man in the suit she was conversing with.

“Thank you?” Georgie said seeming a little confused as he began to turn his back.

“It’s not been a pleasure.” I jumped in with as the man strolled away in a rather aloof fashion.

Undeterred Georgie decided to approach one of the maids instead “Hi there. I was wondering if you could help me?”

“Well I am here to help.” the maid said tapping on her pink helper badge “Oh...you’re here to help as well?” she continued examining Georgie’s own badge.

Not to be left out I chipped in as well “I’ve not been helpful yet, but I am here to help eventually!”

“We need to go somewhere a bit quieter. Follow me, follow me.” said the maid leading us over to a desk on the less busy end of the room. She did indeed seem to be there to help, and more specifically she seemed like she was there to help our cause. Georgie explained to her what we had done so far.

“Have you got your top dollar?” asked the maid. Georgie pulled out a Boomtown dollar she had been keeping separately from the others. It looked almost like a regular 100 dollar Bank of Mayfair note, except the Boomtown Seal on the right hand side had been circled in black with what looked to be a sunburst and a pattern had been drawn around the 100 denotion on the bottom right.

“That’s the one. Don’t lose this one. I’m gonna mark it for you. Quickly, cover me, cover me...subtle… subtle” she said pulling out a marker pen.

“Nothing's going on” I said loudly before humming a casual tune.

The woman drew an upside down triangle within a triangle over where the ‘All Seeing Eye’ watermark was.

“Now you have this and you have you’re badge so they know you’re trustworthy. What you need to do next is earn a lot of money. How much cash do you have?”

We flashed our wads at her and she seemed to think we had accrued a reasonable balance but decided to lend us a few extra notes to help us on our way.

“Now what you need to do is go and speak to Mr. Bliss at Momentary Bliss. Show him your top dollar. You can tell him ‘The Ambassador is by the pool’ and that you’ve seen Alex the Housekeeper. Now… Go go go!” she said shooing us away before going back to doing some casual dusting.

Momentary Bliss was the health spa located in the gardens at Paradise Heights. When we arrived two instructors dressed in white were out in the garden leading some bizzare sexual yoga healing session. A man, also dressed all in white, stood nearby wearing a trilby and sunglasses, stood under an umbrella with a cloud pattern on it. Various visitors to the spa were lying in hammocks relaxing and watching the clouds go by.

After asking the man on the entrance to the spa we found out that the man with the umbrella was Mr. Bliss himself. When we approached him, Georgie flashed our Top Dollar and Badge, before informing him of the ambassador’s whereabouts. Bliss passed me his umbrella to hold over his head as he examined the items carefully.

“Ah well. Yes. These are limited edition.” he said looking at the badge “They come from a place called CHI NUH. I get them all imported. Now… do you have your money?”

“We doooo yes.” I said showing him my wad of cash and casually slipping him a few notes.

“Good man! Now listen… you know how business works. You need a reference so you can get a job in the hotel. The easiest way to get a reference in Paradise Heights is an unpaid internship. Usually I get the interns to follow me round with my umbrella or perhaps go and find out some information… In fact…” he paused remembering something he needed “One of the managers of The Balcony is getting married. I don’t know which of the balcony girls he’s going to marry. Find out who he’s going to marry; his name is Charles Gresham. I think it’s 3 o’ clock the stag will be taking place on the balcony, but they are currently roaming around the grounds.”

“Charles Gresham?” repeated Georgie.

“Yes, he’s in property. Find out the name of his wife to be because I need to get an appropriate present. If you can find that for me, I can give you a reference.”

We roamed the courtyard of Paradise Heights keeping our eyes peeled for stag like behavior. It was not long before we were pointed over to, a very wobbly looking shirtless fellow in an open fur jacket with #GRESHERS written across his stomach in black marker pen.

“Are you with the stag party?” asked Georgia to the man.

“Yesss. Best man!!!” he declared.

“WHEEEEYYY! STAG STAG STAG STAG!!” I started chanting with both Georgia and the best man joining in with me before a joint cry of “SSSSTTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGG!” and a mantra of “GRESHAM! GRESHAM! GRESHAM! GRESHAM! WHEEEEYYYYYYY!” as we paraded round getting rowdier and rowdier.

“OI! There he is! There’s the stag!” spotted the best man.

“GRESHHAAAAAMMMMM!” I cried running towards him before another round of excited chanting.

“Oiiii! Where the fuck have you been mate?” said Gresh to the best man as he also stumbled around in a happy but wavey state.

“Are you Charles Gresham?” asked Georgie “Can I ask you? Who are you marrying.”

“I am marrying Elektrraahh.” he told her.

“Awwwww. Nice one! Congratulations!” I said to him grinning as we all broke back out into celebratory noise.

“Here’s a little something for the wedding then.” said Georgie as she handed Gresham a bit of cash. Thinking it was best to chip in I decided to throw in a few bills and offered him some of my rum from my hipflask.

“Thank you very much. Awww, thanks so much. You’re too kind!” said Gresham.

“You can buy yourself a kettle, or toaster, it’s all good!” I said.

“I might get myself a set of Le Creuset pans.”

“A very good choice. A man of good taste!” I commended.

“Absolutely! You seem to have a lot of money, but are you after some extra?” said Gresham.

“We are indeed.” I said, thinking it wouldn’t do any harm to take an extra lead.

“You want to take some photos of some properties in Boomtown and put them up on Instagram with the hashtag #propergresh and come back to me and I’ll give you some money, get you boosted up the chain of command at The Terrace. It’s #propergresh as I’m in property and my name’s Gresham.”

“Wow! That’s so clever!” said Georgie.

“Not just a pretty face!” I declared as we all broke into cheers and rejoicing once more. “Have a good party. We’ll get back to you soon.”

“Well the party starts at three so if you wanna come up and fancy a party you’re welcome to join us.” said Gresham to us. And with that I started another Greshers chant and we slipped off back to the spa.

We returned to Mr. Bliss with the information he had requested and as promised he provided us with the reference we needed. Taking Georgie’s arm (as I held the umbrella once more) he took out his pen and signed it with what was required.

“So, go to the Hotel, take your reference, you need to get a job as a receptionist.” said Mr. Bliss.

“That was good. You got practice yesterday.” I said to Georgie.

“Once you get to the desk” Bliss continued “You need to ask for the duty manager. You must find the dossier, it’s under the desk of the reception. As soon as you have it, get out of there. Upload it to the toolkit or take it to the Daily Rag.”

The Hotel Paradiso lobby was quite loud when we arrived and the guests seemed to be in good spirits. Thankfully Georgie already knew the staff on the front desk from the night before so just went over and chatted with them letting them know she now had a reference.

“You need to see the manager.” said the receptionist “Actually, here is is now!”

The General Manager of the hotel approached the desk and greeted Georgie before taking a look at her reference.

“Ah yes. And you have something to tell me? About the ambassador?” he asked her.

“The ambassador? Yes, he’s by the pool.”

“Great! First of all I need to ask. Do you have your Top Dollar?”

Georgie fished it out of her bag and showed him. Seemingly convinced everything was in order the Manager took Georgie behind the reception desk to show her the ropes. I hung back a bit trying to act casual, which was not hard as it’s easy to keep a low profile when other people are running around with giant bananas.

“Oh my god! I dropped my pen!” said the manager to Georgie “Can you pick it up?” - Out of the corner of my eye I watched her crouch down and swiftly grab the dossier from under the desk before returning the manager his pen and getting back to her typing at the booking computer.

“Well then!” said the manager “You’re all done here for now. Very well done darling! You start tomorrow night at 5pm!”

And with that he waved Georgie off as we both split out of the building and found a more private spot in which to read the dossier.

We arrived at the Daily Rag office on the Main Drag and I confidently placed down both my hands on the front desk saying “Now do we have a scoop for you? The answer is… yes, yes we do.”

“Okay, you’ve got your foot in the door.” said the journalist manning the desk, his interest peaked.

“We’ve found out that the Sheriff pushed Nickolas Boom into a ravine. And not only that, it was all orchestrated by Bang-Hai; Boom’s disappearance, the past election, the fall of the government, the lot of it! And here’s the damning evidence.” I said feeling pleased with myself as I handed over the dossier.

“This is it! This is just what we needed! It’s all connecting together!” said the journalist as he pinned the dossier up on the conspiracy board which had spread over most of the walls of the office, it’s pieces of string linking documents, photos and post-it notes.

We stuck around for a while discussing what we had discovered so far and the rumors we had been hearing. After a tossing about a few ideas, rumors and leads we had it was decided that I needed to go back to where I started my mission, I needed to go Back To The Future (Part 2). A question had been echoing back through the time stream, a question that needed answering ‘Who will bring the change?’.

Back To The Future - Part 2 - DSTRKT 5

I arrived back where I had started, the distant future of Boomtown, the future I had sworn to protect. Here, starting at the Disorder Alley end of town we swept the streets looking for clues. The town's building materials had been recycled so many times the place seemed strange to me now, different somehow.

Georgie stopped off at the Hydration Station along the main street to ask the water traders if they knew anything about bringing the change but had no luck there. They did however offer us engraved metal holster cups and a supply of water for a price. We thanked them for their offer of the precious resource but told them we had to be on their way to continue our quest.

We passed The Last Tree - which was said to be the only one remaining on planet earth. The tree was now tended to by a group of devoted priests, who guarded it with their lives and as such what was once nearly a shrub had slowly grown into a great towering structure with its roots firmly planted once more.

Eventually we came to what was known as the Mechanical Menagerie where the last of the machines lived. Fluffy was a retired war scorpion and the star attraction of the menagerie. With his ammunition expended he now performed strictly ceremonial duties at the Temple of the Vestigal Virgins which was located to the rear of the complex. The temple was said to hold the last pure water on Earth where devout pilgrims may receive baptisms and take part in the daily procession, carrying water to the Last Tree itself.

At this point I remained unconvinced that this was the place we would find the answer to our question but Georgie went around questioning the locals as I tried to avoid a crazy man, who communicated in chirps and purss who seemed to be wielding a heavy chain.

“This one believes she is on the path!” shouted a cyborg that Georgie was talking to.

“The path? Then they must speak with my friend” said a horned woman adorned with feathers.

“Yes, what we need you to do, is to speak with The Priestess.” said the Cyborg “But before you do, you need to find us a relic of the past. Give it to our Crusher and then it may be offered to our Recyclops. Relics are littered across this land and I have noticed that people take drink from them.”

So with that we set back out across DSTRKT 5 on our search for the ancient relic. We were not the only ones to be doing so however; the Menagerie’s own scavengers rode out into the wastelands upon their Klatterkilla, a tracked motorcycle which they used for trading water for metals and other materials.

We soon came to understand the need for vehicles out here as we walked quite a way before we managed to find a Relic. Ours was as black as obsidian itself and was inscribed with the ancient arcane words of Dark Fruits. We managed to find a second one nearby and kept them both safely clutched in our hands as we trekked back to The Menagerie. Once there we were greeted by two excited holy women in robes. They beckoned to follow them accompanied by a selection of sounds and chirps that seemed to be some kind of language in itself. They indicated for us to place the relics within some kind of machine one at a time. When the relic was safely placed within the machine they had us hold down a large green button. I did as they indicated and the machine loudly whirred into life, it’s parts moving back and forth until the relic had been fully crushed into a disc. The robed women let out a shout of excitement when the deed was complete and fished the relic back out of the machine safely before handing it back to us. They then escorted us to where a great idol stood, covered in repurposed relics, which I could only assume was the Recyclops. In careful revery I placed my dark relic upon it’s shoulder and bowed deeply. The women seemed to thank us without using any recognisable words and took us over to meet The Priestess.

The Priestess dismissed the other robed women who went back to attend the Crusher to await further offerings. The Priestess herself seemed to be able to speak our language:

“Moe-wahna. You have shown yourself as truly worthy. You have brought for us a gift to our goddess. To finish your intiation you must first take our vows and become one of us. Repeat after me: I vow To protect The earth On which I walk upon We are the chosen ones.”

The Priestess then placed amulets around our necks which had been made from scavenged and recycled materials, each one depicting an owl.  “We are the keepers of the relics of the past. We are the temple of the One Eyed Owl. You must seek the seed of the future. Find the Two Eyed Owl with both eyes open. If you continue on the righteous path, you will then have no fear left.”

Following the directions given by The Priestess we arrived at The Temple of the Two Eyed Owl. At the doors, set back from the road, we showed our Owl Amulets to the two Temple Guardians who allowed us safe passage into the sanctum. In the temple's interior we spoke with the priests, clerics and disciples trying to seek the truth to our question.

Our lines of inquiry seemed to provide little illumination and we seemed to be going round in circles to Georgie's increased frustration.

After a while spent within the holy spaces of the temple we found what we thought was the lead we needed. “The Owl has two eyes. One eye that looks left and one eye that looks to the right. To complete your journey you must have followed both.” we were told; And as such we found ourselves heading back once more to The Last Tree to seek what we were told was the seed of the future.

This time when we arrived at the tree we found there were a group of Followers of the Owl at its base partaking in some missionary outreach to the denizens of the wastelands.

“Forgive us, we have strayed from the path.” I said to one of the missionaries who was brandishing a tambourine.

“We were wondering, do you know who will bring the change?” asked Georgie.

“The change, we have been waiting so long for it.” replied a priestess in a voice that seemed to be in plea.

“I am so happy to hear you say that. It’s been a long long wait.” said the priest accompanying her.

“What time are you expecting it?” I asked of him.

“About two moons ago. But you are not late, the time is now!” he appearing as if he were in a dream state, while the tambourine continued to jangle in accompaniment. Georgie explained our journey so far to him and our struggled in trying to follow the path.

“Ah. You need a seed for the future. You need to go and praise the great lord Noctua and seek The Keepers Of The Game.”

“That’s where we just came from… but at least we know who we need to see now.” I said starting to feel dizzy from what seemed like trekking round in circles “Oh well….All praise the tree!”

“All praise the tree! Owl Tree! Owl Tree! Owl Tree!” the missionaries chanted as we honored them with the hand symbols of both the Owl and Tree.

When we arrived back in The Temple of the Two Eyed Owl once more, the High Priest was midway through a service in the centre of the main hall as new followers who had been recruited from the wastelands sat in awe taking in his teachings. We had now managed to find the Keepers of the Game who had greeted us in hushed and reverent tones and led us over to a smaller shrine in the back corner of the temple.

“You must hold the future in your hands. But time is against you chosen one.” the Keeper warned, “Stay true to the path and hold steady, chosen one.”

On top of the shrine stood a great electric buzz wire puzzle game that had a rather steampunk look to it with meters and valves crudely wired to it. The metal wire path was so thick it was more of a tube. The attached wand and hook seemed equally as daunting. The Keeper turned a hourglass and Georgie began her attempt.

She started along the metal path slowly but again and again the light and accompanying volt-o-meter flashed. The tension in the air increased more and more with poor Georgie unable to clear much more than the first bend. Georgie was visibly getting more and more upset as the pressure on her completing the task increased with each attempt and it started to look like we wouldn’t be able to complete our quest after all.

“Time is up! You have failed in your task. Come forth new chosen one.” the Keeper declared now looking at me “You now hold the future in your hands.”

“I don’t think I can do it.” I said really feeling the figuritive pressure now upon my own shoulders as I started to panic a little “I’ve not been well and my coordination is really off.”

She beckoned me forward regardless and I took the wand in one hand, taking a deep breath.

“The time has begun.” she said quickly flipping the hourglass.

My hand kept steady despite the nerves and adrenaline. I tried to take slow, deep, controlled breaths as I guided my hand slowly along the metallic path.

The light triggered, I started again, slowly… too slow. The sands of time continued to fall, seemingly faster than I progressed along the path. It triggered again, I started again, this time managing to get round the first corner but not much further past that. I started again. I could see our quest slipping further and further away from us as if the sands were opportunity itself. This time I managed to get even further than before, but it was too late, the contents of the hourglass had run its course.

“Your time is up. You have failed in your task” said the Keeper.

“I am so sorry” I said, feeling devastated. Now we would never be able to get the information we needed with our quest meeting a premature end, I thought.

“Through failure, perseverance shall be rewarded. Hold out your hands.” she said in calm but warm tones. Feeling our spirits lifting from the despair we held our hands out to the Keeper and she rested a seed in each of our palms.

“You shall place them as an offering to The Great Noctua.” she told us, taking us to a smaller shrine nearby. Into the shrine we placed both our Owl Amulets and planted our seeds carefully.

“You will bring the change. You are the chosen ones.” she said handing us an old weathered scroll on which was written the wisdom we had been sent to discover.

Boomtown Fair 2018 - Early Saturday Evening

We had returned back through time to the Boomtown Fair of 2018 and it was now some time after dinner. Georgie had gone on ahead to follow a lead while I had stopped for some much needed food and drink along the main street on Hilltop.

We had been told by our sources that the pirates of Oldtown may know where Nickolas Boom was. This was not the first time I had dealt with the pirates, I had done so many times before but they had always ended up sending me on some wild goose chase. My contacts had assured me that would not be the case this time. I had tried to organise parlay two times already during the last couple of days. The first time they seemed friendly enough when I had greased their hands with some money and a good swig of rum but as it had been closing time I had told me to come back the next day. The second time I tried to negotiate with them they declared I needed to prove I could be trusted. With all the tech I was wearing they said I looked too much like Bang-Hai for them to just take my words and my bribe. I had to admit I did look a little suspicious with all my hacking equipment strapped to me. In fact it was a wonder Bang-Hai themselves hadn’t yet taken me in for interrogation. The pirate guarding the door to their hideout had told me however that if I found my way 4 doors down I might be able to find a man by the name of Jimmy and if I was friends with him then maybe I could be trusted. After asking around the neighbourhood, word was that the key to Jimmy’s heart was to swap a yarn for a yarn.

Counting up the street 4 doorways I found my destination to be no surprise as I entered Rimksi’s Yard. Rimski’s was where most of the local bohemians would gather and was regularly the source of whispers of revolution. The yard was full of pieces of junk that had been fashioned into various new objects, as much a blueprint for DSTRKT 5 as anything. Theatre performers, musicians, inventors, they could all be found here. I asked around for Jimmy and was pointed towards a white curtain to the side of the yard but I was told he was probably spinning some tunes at present. Passing through the curtain I found a small area that seemed to be set up for trading of various goods, junk and antiques. Jimmy I immediately recognised from previous adventures and was a well known face of rebellion within the city. He was indeed occupied playing records at this point in the day and I instead approached the blonde lady at the trading counter who was wearing sunglasses and a great deal of bling.

“I have come to trade a yarn for a yarn” I declared to her and began to tell her my tale of Nickolas Boom, The Sheriff and the ‘unfortunate incident’ at the ravine that had ended with Boom falling far into the river below. We chatted for a bit as I regaled her with further tales of my adventures and showed her what I had managed to discover so far.

Suitably impressed and taken aback by the contents of my story she turned round and rummaged in a box saying “I think I’ve got an appropriate sticker for you here. I’ve not given any of these out yet but…”

I have to say, given the usual stickers given out at Rimski’s I expected to be branded with ‘Knobhead’, ‘Glue Sniffer’ or worse but to my surprise I was awarded the highest honor of “Best Hacker Ever”.

I thanked her profusely and she gave me a small piece of yarn which she told me to hold on tight to and show to the pirates to prove I was trustworthy.

Grasping the string tightly in hand I made my way to The Home Of Destitute Pirates where the pirates were currently hiding out. There was a group of five other adventurers crowding around the door, lead by a chap wearing a tin foil hat, speaking to the pirates on guard. I showed the guards my yarn and the sticker I had been awarded but the cynical sea dogs were still very suspicious. Negotiations continued on for a while and I kicked myself for this being one of the only times I didn’t have my swashbuckling fashions packed with me.

“I be a pirate! Swear on Davey Jones himself!” I pleaded “I’m just in disguise!!”

After debate and counter debate and a very loud rendition of Row Your Boat on the part of myself and the other adventurers, we were finally, but reluctantly, allowed access to speak to their leader. By the time we entered the building however I found my rum flask a great deal lighter and with all my Boomtown cash having been pillaged.

A lone pirate sat on his wooden throne in the darkened hall of what used to be the Thomas Crook building before Bang-Hai had pulled all the money out of Oldtown in preparation for it’s demolition. In fact that was one of the first things I asked him about as we all took seats on wooden barrels around the great desk that was littered with nautical memorabilia. The pirate captain was very vague about the in’s and outs of how the demolition had been stopped but indicated that the people of Oldtown were not ones to be pushed over. The pirate himself was certainly intimidating, between his unfriendly demeanor, his snarl of missing teeth, dreadlocks and weather beaten clothes. Due to this all the rest of the group who had entered with me seemed to now be keeping rather quiet. As a result of their newfound shyness I was personally feeling the current brunt of the swashbuckler’s interrogations. This particular pirate was said to go by the name of Captain Kobalt Konivver, who I had encountered him many times before, but never once yet had the stubborn ol’ sea dog proved to be of any help. The captain grilled me on my loyalties and knowledge of the conspiracy, having me identify all the key players whose pictures had been nailed to a nearby wall, as if they were conducting investigations of their own. After his prolonged questioning of myself and the other adventurers he seemed about satisfied that we could actually be there to help, although he still eyed us with suspicion and cynicism.

"I've got two pieces of evidence here. I might be prepared to give you one of them." said Konivver.

Then, halfway through our parlay, one of Konivver's guards from the front entered the room, sauntered over to the captain and indicated to me saying “Don’t trust him. This guy is a spy!”

All eyes in the room locked on me as the other adventurers rapidly distanced themselves from any association with me. On the back foot I tried pleading with Konivver, asking him to believe me that I was only there for the good of the people. I told him I would do anything to prove my loyalty, swearing that this was nothing but slander and that I actually worked with the hacker cell. I showed them both the symbol I had received from them and my new sticker.

Eventually everyone calmed down a bit but you could still feel the tense paranoia in the room. Anyone here could be a double agent. Konivver stared at us hard as if evaluating us, before taking a deep breath and saying, "I've got photographic evidence that Nikolas Boom is in town. The hackers managed to get into the oldtown CCTV that Bang-Hai put up and they have supplied us with this solid evidence that the man is here in the flesh in Boomtown. Take that to the Daily Rag and tell them that the pirates have not only seen him but we have been talking to him."

"Don't give it to him! He's a spy and he's not with us!" said one of the other adventurers.

"It's okay. If he is with Bang-Hai then this is information he has already." said Konivver.

I tried to negotiate obtaining the other piece of information but was having no luck. The pirate’s mood was already turning and he had us thrown back out onto the muddy streets.

I placed all my evidence together safely away in my zipped pouch on my back and made my way across town. Just as I was passing through the town square however a security officer in his black trenchcoat and shades shouted to me “Hey you there! I need a word with you!”.

“Not today thank you.” I said as I made a dash for it bolting straight past him. The officer began his chase as I sped through the crowds with him hot on my tail. It seemed both sides had decided I was a spy today in this web of distrust. I made a mental note that maybe my costume was a little too suspect after all.

I thanked God that I had worn shoes today rather than my heavy mudded boots. Eventually the Security Agent gave up the chase as I ran victoriously down the main street and straight through the time portal to Copper County.

Back To The Future (Part 3) - Copper County 1903

The turn of the century was upon Copper County and what was once known as the wild west was now on the verge of an industrial revolution. The railroad had brought both prosperity and new steam driven technologies. A brand new Whiskey Distillery had risen up amongst other new factories as mass production was becoming the new norm. The prosperity of the town however was not felt by all and a new aristocracy had risen, reaping the rewards brought by the underpaid workers.

Following my chase through the portal I had taken a seat on one of the benches alongside the dusty road when one of the locals approached me for a chat having taken a liking to my leather brimmed hat. His own hat was nothing to be sniffed at and he wore suspenders which held his trousers higher than was probably comfortable. I decided to ask him if he might know of Nickolas Boom as I was pretty sure this was roundabout one of the last times he had been seen in public before his original disappearance.

“Now what I will say” the man began “Everyone here knows their own version of what happened with him, but if you want the real story, the god honest real story, you wanna go to the Saloon and speak with the town drunk. Ask him about his blood, his family kin.”

I happened to know the town drunk through a friend of mine so knew exactly who I needed to find. Actually locating him however was another matter. I searched high and low that day but the drunk was nowhere to be seen. My friend’s band Digital Foundation had also happened to have travelled here from the future to play a gig at The Croaker Club (formerly Shotgun Willies). Thankfully this meant I got to watch them for a good while as I waited for the town drunk to make an inevitable appearance. The saloon was rather busy and was getting pretty hot between all the bodies and the heat of the day's sun still permeating the building. In fact I found that the heat was starting to get to me, too much adventuring and time travelling were taking its toll on me it seemed. I stepped outside to get some fresh air and came upon a great commotion going on towards the town square. A big crowd had gathered by the large open square and all seemed to be in a state of chaos. Suddenly there was a huge bang, so unexpected it it caught me off guard, making me jump a little. And that's when I saw the smoking barrel of a cannon across the square being operated by long coated enforcers of some kind. The crowd was now rapidly dispersing and protesters with signs were retreating from the area.

“They fired on us! They actually fired on us!” shouted one of the protestors.

“You’ve not heard the last of this!” shouted another.

On the well armed side of the conflict stood various members of the gentry, with their stove pipe hats and double breasted jackets.

Various bodies lay in the mud, including the drunk we were looking for who lay prone in the dirt, but thankfully still seemed to be alive and squirming with various men in suits giving him a good kicking.

Some of the bystanders came to his rescue, giving him a hand up as he brushed himself off a little. Spitting at the drunk the sneering aristocrats retired back to their fancy homes, taking their hired guns with them. It was at this point I ran into Georgie again who had arrived in this time period hoping to find me as she had not been having much luck since we had briefly parted.

The now rather muddy drunk, having dusted himself off, was now making his way towards us trying to pull himself together. I greeted my old alcoholic acquaintance warmly and shook his hand with an accompanying pat on the back. I offered him a spot of rum from my flask to warm him up a little.

“Having a rough time again? Everytime I see you you’re down in the mud.” I said to him.

“Always they be picking on me. These bastards! Shit.”

We had a little chat and catch up before I got to asking him about his bloodline.

“My bloodline? Right... My daddy, he be sneaky ya see. He tell me things that I didn know and that was” he began to whisper “That Nickolas Boom used to work with my grandpappy. My grandpappy and the sheriff and the sheriff’s grandpappy, they fucked some people up. And what happened in the consequence, I believe Nickolas Boom got killed.”

“I believe the sheriff pushed him over the cliff into the river.” I said, showing him that for once someone believed his ramblings.

“Don’t you know! Don’t you know! Now with that information, I need you to go and seek a man, a man called Ezekiel Clay.”

Following our new lead we found Mr. Clay near the entrance to The Croaker Club where Digital Foundation were still performing. He took us into one of the side rooms of the establishment where it was a little quieter and less conspicuous. Ezekiel sported a well groomed beard, a brown bowler hat and was dressed in a rather smart green vest. From the way he carried himself I concluded that he was most likely the new owner of this establishment. The side room was decorated with intricate black and gold wallpaper and was lit by two small lamps on a desk which proudly displayed a small model of a sailing ship. Mounted upon the wall was what looked to have once been a large collection of spoons. Apparently spoon theft was rife throughout the county these days much to Ezekiel's disdain and frustration.

We chatted for a while introducing ourselves and building up a rapport before we got down to business. We relayed to him what we had been told so far and Ezekial confirmed this to be what he believed was indeed the truth.

“Now I hear tell there may be a deed.” he told us “Some folks say that before the land office burnt down, Willy took out an errant deed that shows this town belongs to the people.”

“Yeah, I heard that he left it to the people but Bang-Hai got rid of the deed office and sold us out. So then they had to get rid of Nickolas by pushing him off the ravine into the river.” I said.

“Exactly. Exactly! But we gotta fight back. We gotta unionise. We gotta organise. We gotta take back our damn town!!”

“Yes! Yes!” I declared in my agreement.

“Now I need to know if I can trust you.”

“We’ll be out their protesting with the unionists!” I told him, ready to take on the Bang-Hai henchmen and their damn cannons.

“Excellent! Now let me ask you a question. Now imagine you had a burger…”

“You have burgers here?” I asked surprised and wondering if a McBangHai was a thing.

“Yes certainly sir. And on this burger you’ve got some cheese. Buffalo Cheddar. And on that cheddar, you’ve got some onions, a lil bit, not too much and two gherkins. Now this burger has a seeded bun, a sesame bun, you’ve got red sauce or brown sauce?”

“I always do red sauce….but…”

“THAT IS CORRECT! BECAUSE BROWN SAUCE IS A TOOL OF OPPRESSION TO BRING US DOWN!” he declared loudly.

“Down with brown sauce!” I stated with excited gusto.

“Now my friends… if I was to hypothetically have got hold of this deed. I could never give it to you because that would cause me problems with the law. So if I just look in this mirror over here and straighten my tie, I’m sure that when I look round I won’t find anything on that table.” he said indicating to a piece of paper that was lying on the desk. Quickly I grabbed and pocketed the deed before making a step back towards the door.

“Now if you did have the deed.” he continued “You may want to show it to the chief of police. He’s got a lamp and a big pretty hat. And if he signs that, it means we can take back our town!”

“It’s been a pleasure Mr. Clay.” I said to him as he turned round from the mirror.

“Yes, thank you.” added Georgie as we bid our farewell to Ezekial Clay and made our way out of the club post haste.

Rolling up the deed safely we began our search for the local law enforcement. During our search for the officer we joined forces with my friend Francesca who had managed to track us down.

Fran was in need of some assistance herself as she had been struggling with some of the rather rude members of staff at Hotel Paradiso back in our own time. She found she was getting rather frustrated with the whole thing so had decided it would be best to seek out my help.  She did however have one advantage over me and Georgie, it seemed that she had managed to get full signal on her own Hacker’s Toolkit and had been corresponding with the hacker cell leader directly. They had given her the information regarding the ambassador but she had struggled to get a reference so far. We stood there for a while exchanging mission data and tips when we finally spotted the Chief of Police. Chief Longstock wore a smart wide brimmed hat and sported a smart blue uniform with shiny buttons. He asked to see the deed we were telling him about so I brought it out to show him. Longstock and his fellow officers began to inspect and examine the deed carefully in a state of disbelief.

“No no no.” said Chief Longstock “This here is a forgery and a fake. I’m going to destroy it right now!”

“A forgery? This is the real deal!” I said snatching it back towards me.

“Now I need to destroy that sir. We’ll need you to hand that over, it’s evidence in this case now.”

“Well you’re going to have to arrest us!” I declared boldly and unwavering.

“Well that as it may be.” he said “...well you’re just lucky I’m on a break! Now what you gonna do to grease my palm so you can get away with this?” he asked us.

“Well that’s real great” I said “Because the pirates just took all my money!”

Bailing us out of the increasingly precarious situation Georgie handed over some of her own remaining cash.

“This ain’t no minor crime!” he said to her and reached out for more which she handed over deciding it was best not to contest the matter.

“Now thank you kindly folks. Have yourselves a great day now” he said counting and pocketing his bribe.

Boomtown Fair 2018 - Saturday Evening

Fearing changing the past too drastically, and not having the authenticating signature from the lawman, we decided it was best to just take the deed back to the present day and get it into the hands of the hackers. Once we were back in our own time I uploaded the retrieved documents to the hackers network and stashed the deed away safely so I could take it to the newspaper the next day. Georgie had to head off to her job so I took Francesca back to Paradise Heights to see if I could get her a reference for the hotel. This seemed like a great chance to chase up the Real Estate opportunity we hadn’t taken Charles Gresham up on earlier. I fished through my wallet and found Gresh’s business card which I handed over to Francesca and told her that all she needed to do was find some prime real estate property and upload it’s photo to Instagram and once we’d hooked that up with Gresh himself he’d give us a job reference. Francesca decided that the nearby chapel looked just ripe for a refurbishment so snapped it and uploaded it to #propergresh - Now all we needed to do was find him.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BmWKkRDlnOT/

Finding Gresh again turned out to be a harder task then I imagined. We roamed the grounds of Paradise Heights asking everyone we could find that looked like they might know him. Word was he was still up on The Terrace where he had his stag party so we went to speak to the lady on the door who was looking at her clipboard.

“Hi darling. Is Charles Gresham in?” I asked her, “We’re here for the stag party, I know it started ages ago but we’re trying to find him.”

“Terrible terrible news.” she replied “Charles was stood up at the altar.”

I took a deep gasp “By Elektraah? Oh my...I can’t believe that!”

“I know it’s terrible. I think he might be in there, crying into an Aperol Spritz. Maybe you could cheer him up?” she said waving us through the doors and up the stairs.

The terrace wasn’t too packed but curiously I couldn't see Gresh anywhere. Various power couples and VIPs sat at tables in between exotic ferns while row after row of gold bars had been stacked along one wall.

“He must have gone out the back door. But that’s staff only back there.” I said frustrated.

A man in a Hawaiian shirt and a poker hat was standing by the gold bars so I decided he seemed like a good person to enquire with.

“Excuse me. Have you seen Charles Gresham anywhere?” I asked him.

“Awww nooo! It’s awful. I can’t believe he got stood up!” the man said jumping straight into it.

“I knowww. We’ve come to look after him.” I said sounding very concerned.

“Are you one of his buddies?” asked the man.

“Yes. I am. I was supposed to be on the stag!”

“Awww noooo. I think the stag happened but then he got stood up.”

“Well we were out buying him a gift.”

“I’d made him a gift as well. But now I’m just so upset.” said Francesca.

We paused to commiserate for a moment before I continued with our business. “I was trying to get a reference for my friend here. Charles said we could work out a real estate property deal with him but we’ve not been able to find him.”

“I tell you what. He’ll be here tomorrow, you can wait for your reference tomorrow or you can do something for me now.”

“That’d be great, thank you.” I said to him feeling very much relieved.

“Now I’ve been trying to do some brand awareness for my gym and like people don’t really like know about it. So if you can go out and like get one person to come back here and I can talk to them about my gym, that would be great.”

“Okay.” said Francesca getting on board.

“So there’s a few things you need to tell them about the gym. So it’s called Green’s Gym and you need to look for somebody that looks poor and unhealthy and a bit sad and just say to them ‘If you want to get rich, healthy and happy then come with me to speak to Sebastian Green about joining the gym….’ or something along the lines.”

“What’s it called? Green’s Gym?” asked Francesca.

“Yes yes.” replied Sebastian “And the thing is if you can do like a physical advertisement bit or something like not a performance but like embody the sort of thing so like if one of you can do a couple of push ups to this person and be all like JOIN GREEN’S GYM and like tell them all of what I’ve just said to you, I’ll see it from here as I’ll be watching from the balcony. And once that’s done I’ll give you a reference.”

“Can I do squats?” Francesca queried.

“Squats will do, yes.” confirmed Sebastian. So me and Fran went back into the courtyard so she could hunt down some poor unhealthy sad people. I decided to stand and chat with the lady on the door about Gresh while Fran went and harassed some people sat at one of the tables nearby. It didn’t take very long however and she was back with a candidate for the gym in no time who she took straight back up to Sebastian Green.

After a quick session of us all doing star jumps and chanting “Green’s Gym” we were back downstairs and Francesca had her much needed reference. And before we knew it Fran was happily working at Hotel Paradiso.

After our brief stay there and Fran's stint as the glamorous face of Paradiso’s welcome, we hid together away from prying eyes to upload some hotel files she had stolen the hacker’s network. To my surprise the cell replied to Fran immediately.

On instructions from the cell leader, I took Francesca with me back to my home of DSTRKT 5 in the far future to meet with the Owl Priests who accepted her with open arms. Francesca was definitely now officially indoctrinated into the maze.  But where to next on our adventures? Time was slipping away...but in this strange new world time can be manipulated.

Sunday

I arrived back on Sunday the 12th of August 2018, and there I finally received my own message back from the hackers directly.

“Wow...this goes so much further back than I’d imagined. Looking at this BHI shouldn’t even exist! No wonder Nickolas ‘disappeared’...” the cell leader had written. They thanked me for all of my progress and help so far and advised me that my next point of contact should be back at the newspaper office. As such I now found myself in the queue with a fist full of documents and evidence including a video evidence of Nuclear Testing I had discovered in a hidden file I had scanned down on the Main Drag. Holding onto this amount of evidence I was very wary of the Bang-Hai security agents patrolling the area and tried to cover myself and my hacking equipment with my waterproof jacket. Occasionally the agents would pull someone from the queue to be interrogated and I would try to to look nonchalant as I avoided any eye contact.

Thankfully I somehow made it to the front of the queue without being accosted. My contacts at The Rag were very impressed and rather delighted with all the things I had discovered since we had last spoke and their wall of conspiracy evidence seemed nearly complete. Only one of the six key files remained for us to find and the Rag were certain that this would be held at the heart of Bang-Hai Technologies, in the Metropolis district downtown. We needed to find one of our undercover agents there and ask them the question: ‘Is there anything you don’t know?’.

Teaming up once more, myself and Georgie arrived at the Bang-Hai Technology building. There were massive queues outside, with everyone wanting to see the latest Bang-Hai Technology that were being made available to the public. The hype over AMIpod, the iBASK, iBone, iBreathe peripherals was spreading across the fire and person after person waited patiently outside the main doors hoping to catch a glimpse of the new products. Observing the entrance from the rear of the line however I soon caught on that people were using BHI Security Passes to skip the queue completely and obtain access to the building. Unfortunately for us, Georgie had been captured by Bang-Hai Security Agents the night before and had all her belongings confiscated, including the needed security pass. Thankfully she had managed to escape from the interrogation rooms but had been unable to retrieve her gear while doing so.

I decided we should approach the guard at the front guard regardless and see where we were able to get on just my own security clearance.

I tried to work my persuasion skills on the guard in order to bring Georgie in with me but he seemee to be on high alert. The guard said that a few people had already tried to obtain access using fake or stolen passes. Our back and forth continued for a while but talking with him seemed like a dead end, a small cash bribe however changed his mind and we were allowed through the security barrier at the front steps. Another Bang-Hai Technologies staff member waved us forward to the reception area.

“Can you show me your clearance sir?” he said before examining my badge closely “Ah yes, we’ve been expecting you.”  

He welcomed us in through into the main building, ushering us past a group of fair-goers who were sat waiting in the reception area.

“Nice to see you.” I said “How are we today?”

“I think you will find everything is in working order.” he said trying to balance some pride with his obvious from being scrutinised.

“I know you do a great job, but we just have to make sure of things. Mr. Rothchild wants everything to go smoothly at this important time” I told him as I inspected the new tech displays on the showroom floor as we passed further into the building.

“Well actually there have been a few glitches in AMI’s brain. But hopefully we’ve worked out the bugs now.” he said starting to sweat a little.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re doing okay.” I reassured him. “May I see the core? I just wanted to make sure there’s no longer any glitches.”

“We weren’t informed that you would be inspecting that area.” the officer said looking increasingly more worried.

“Well loose lips sink ships.” I said to him with a sly grin as we approached the secure vault that houses AMIs central computer systems.

“I think you’d best speak to our head scientist first. He’ll be able to explain it all to you. He’s just upstairs at the moment. This way, just mind the steps, they’re a bit wet.” he said to us, leading us out of the showroom and up the back steps that lead to the research centre and offices.

“Have the cleaners not been out?” I said inspecting the steps “This won’t do at all. I’ll get this sorted out for you right away. Don’t you worry.” I said taking photos.

We were lead through a room which was kitted out with some Virtual Reality Tech and past another office or workshop into the main research laboratory. A trio of scientists seemed to be hard at work, on various different projects around the room.

“Hey guys. How’s it all going?” I started up as I entered the lab “Is everything okay? Because to me it looks a little bit of a mess.” I said looking at the tech littering the room.  The security officer returned back downstairs and myself and Georgie both began inspecting the various parts and projects that made up the room, questioning the scientists about what each thing did as we went through it. I continued taking photos, logging everything I could so I could get as much information as possible to the hacker cell.

The first project I examined was a new improved vocal interface for AMI that they needed new vocal patterns for. They asked me where I was from and I told them I hailed from DSTRKT 5. All I had to do was speak clearly in a DSTRKT 5 accent into the device and say ‘I give Bang-Hai Technologies full permission to harvest my organs at the end of this tour’.

Meanwhile Georgie was checking out a brain duplication interface that they had been working on. Apparently Bang-Hai could now replicate an entire human brain and put it into a computer. They were eager to begin trialling this en masse and gathering as many brain patterns as possible in order to build a huge database of not only information but entire personalities.

Oddly however it seemed that some of the scientists here barely knew what they were doing. Questioning them all I eventually ascertained that a good chunk of current Bang-Hai technology had actually been salvaged from the Alien Technology that had been left behind following the Arcadia incident. BHI had seemingly spent the last few years researching applications for this alien tech and finding ways to maximise profit using it. One technician in the laboratory seemed to be struggling to get an old piece of computer hardware going. I decided to give her a hand with the project and assured her that all you needed to do was to put pizza into the CD Drive and it should all work perfectly. She conceded that this may be a possibility but only if it was pineapple.

The head scientist was an eccentric young fellow donning the standard cliche white lab coat and glasses. He had all sorts of new technology to show me and seemed very excited about the whole matter. Occasionally he would break into a joyful song or two out of his pure glee over his scientific pursuits. He seemed to be very knowledgeable across the board and was much more on the ball than some of the other Tech Employees. He was demonstrating various projects he had been working on, each one apparently exciting him more than the last.

“Wow! That’s amazing!” I said “Is there anything you don’t know?”

The scientists face dropped and he took on a rather more grave demeanour. He reached into one of his pockets and then grabbed my hand as if to shake it, leaving a folded piece of paper in my palm which I quickly hid on my person.

“Please, you must get this to the resistance.” he said.

“Thank you. Keep up the good work!” I said casually making sure none of the other scientists had seen us.

“Georgie. I’ve got it.” I whispered to her and we made our way to the door.

“What are you doing?” said one of the scientists.

“Just a door inspection. Just making sure this door works. Opens and shuts. Excellent. I’ll put in a good word for you. Keep up the great work with AMI, you’re all doing a fantastic job, it will be online in no time.” And with that we disappeared into the next room.

On the other side of the door, a man in a Bang-Hai People social network uniform appeared immediately  to greet us.

“Hi, I’m Samuel from Bang-Hai People.” he said with a handshake and an everlasting smile.

“Hi there. It’s a pleasure. You all did great work last year.” I said “This year not so much, I’ve not been able to get on the App recently. I can’t seem to connect at all. The signal’s just not right. You need to get onto Telecon about this. All that technology in here and I can only get one bar.”

“Bang-Hai People is working at an optimal level just as it always does.”

“Okay, but…” I started but then was stopped short as he greeted me once more.

“Hi I’m Samuel from Bang-Hai People.” he said shaking my hand.

“Hi, I’m Jonny.”

“Hi I’m Samuel from Bang-Hai People.” still smiling.

“Okayyyy...keep it up.” I said deciding it was time to move on.

In the room ahead, two Bang-Hai Technology employees were showing visitors their latest in Virtual Reality Technology. This new Bang-Hai VR headset and virtual imaging system scanned and uploaded a copy of your entire brain into the mainframe so AMI could construct your own custom tailored virtual world experience. All you needed to do was consent to full use of your data by Bang-Hai Technology and anything you desire could be manifested. A screen at the back of the world allowed us to see into the users virtual world experience. A large screen at one end of the room displayed for us everything the person was seeing and I had to admit it was impressive and even quite enticing. This virtual world seemed fully immersive and seemed to cater for the users desires before they even realised what they might be. 

After a brief tour following the instructions of one of the Bang-Hai Tech representatives, the test subject took off their VR helmet and the room erupted with impressed applause for what we had seen manifested on the displays. A second visitor was chosen to further demonstrate the system’s ability and they stepped forwards and took hold of the helmet. Once the helmet was placed upon their head, the system began scanning their brain as it calibrated itself.

“Tell me, what can you see?” the Bang-Hai Rep asked the visitor.

“Erm...Bad Credit?” she said confused.

“BAD CREDIT?! BAD CREDIT?!” shouted the Rep suddenly gripping onto his black and white polka dot shirt in shock.

“BAD CREDIT?!” echoed a second representative who was holding some kind of BHI 3D Scanner in her hands “Is this woman with you?? DO YOU KNOW HER?” she said turning towards us looking scared.

“Noooo….nooo….we’re just hear doing an inspection. Bang-Hai Industries, see!” I said waving my pass at them. The two visitors who had been scanned were then grabbed and taken out of the room as quickly as possible before the Bang-Hai Tech Reps began to apologise to us “We’re so sorry you had to see that, sir. They must have used one of those fake passes that have been going round. We’re really sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“It’s okay. Just make sure it doesn’t.” I told them

Having distanced ourselves from the ‘troublemakers’ we decided it was time to make a swift exit out the back door ourselves before they caught onto the fact we weren’t exactly model citizens either. 

Outside, once we were sure no one had followed us, I unfolded the paper that the lead scientist had given me and began to examine it.

Using my toolkit I uploaded these files and sent them to the hackers. They soon messaged us and were just as shocked as we were.

“THE MASKED MAN WAS AN ANDROID?!?!?! This is too much… This is clear evidence BHI staged the revolution. Keep quiet about this, Friend. This is seriously dangerous information.”

My suspicions I had since last year had been confirmed, both with this and the previous files we had uncovered, Bang-Hai Industries were indeed the orchestrators of the revolution and had used it to gain more power and influence over more people who were freely giving them everything BHI needed to control the populace. We had heard warning of advanced androids infiltrating the city but until now I had only really seen their less advanced cousins being churned out by the Robotika Factory and the Cyborg tech of DSTRKT 5. This could very well explain the odd behaviour of Samuel from Bang-Hai People who I now suspected to be himself one of these very androids. Bang-Hai People had taken on a new meaning it seemed. With people now being able to upload their entire brains to the AMI system, who was to say people were not being replaced all the time? Additionally if they had a Nikolas Boom Android then who was to say it was definitely the actual Boom that had been seen in Oldtown as of late? They could be any of us… would I even know if I was an android sleeper agent myself? These were the questions we discussed and debated at The Daily Rag newspaper office that very afternoon. There our presentation of all the Secret Six documents to complete the conspiracy wall brought shock, excitement and a massive congratulatory snogs off the staff.

“You’ve made it! You’ve made it to the promised land!” said the serial snogger “This revolution is within our grasp. Your final mission is to head back to Metropolis. When you get to Metropolis find the AMI Portal. Jack yourself into the Portal. I need you to give your name as ‘Bleeding Edge’. When AMI asks you for your question, the question you need to ask is ‘What don’t I know?’ - once ask that question, amazing things will happen.”

We entered into what I believed was most likely to be The AMI Portal in Metropolis entering through a small unassuming doorway that had been labelled “Ask AMI”. The room seemed fairly normal to my eyes but rumor was this was actually part of a augmented reality interface and we had now partially crossed over into the digital realm. The other whisper I had heard was this was actually the location and guise they were using to get people to consent to the brain scans that would upload their minds to the mainframe. Two attendants were dealing with queries from members of the public and there was a queue of people seated down one side of the room waiting for their chance to ask AMI a question and maybe have their question picked to be answered by AMI herself in the closing ceremony of the year’s Fair. The attendants wore futuristic styled garments in blues and silvers and always seemed to have a smile on their face. With a quick flash of our Bang-Hai Security passes we were soon seen to.

“Come through, come through. So good to see you!” said our attendant.

“A pleasure to see you.” I said warmly as she took us to the front of the queue, making the two french gentlemen at the front of the line stand up from their seats so we could sit down.

“Sorry guys!” I said feeling a little embarrassed and a little proud at the same time.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” asked the attendant.

“No, you’ve been absolutely fabulous.” I said appreciatively.

“We’ll try do things speedily and move you along as soon as possible.” she said before leaving us to go back and deal with the general public.

It wasn’t long until the door to the next room opened and we were invited in.

“My name’s Marzipan. It’s such an honor!” said the woman who collected us.

“Hi there. We’re Bleeding Edge.” I said formerly greeting her.

“Come in! Come in and sit down. Have you been before?” she asked us.

“I’ve not. I did go on the website though, so I’ve got my picture up everywhere across town, so that’s lovely isn’t it.” I explained as myself and Georgia both tried to balance on the arms of a large fancy chair facing a camera on a tripod. The whole room looked like it could have been taken straight out of a series of Big Brother and we had now entered the diary room.

“Now as you know, the wonderful Bang-Hai Industries are launching this fabulous product tonight. This is AMI, she’s an artificial intelligence.” said Marzipan as AMI’s avatar appeared on the screen in front of us “What she’s gonna do is she’s gonna collect all of our data, scoop it all up and use it to make decisions for us so we can have freedom from choice, which I’m very much looking forward to.”

“Oh wonderful!” said Georgie.

“That’s excellent.” I added “Because I didn’t even know what to have for breakfast this morning.”

“Exactly! Who wants to make those decisions? Let your phone tell you!” replied Marzipan “Now, we’re collecting questions for AMI and 3 lucky questions will be answered at the launch tonight. Fingers crossed you’ll be selected! So, have a look at AMI there, introduce yourselves and ask your question!”

“Hi AMI!” said me and Georgia together “We’re Bleeding Edge.”

“And I want to know...what don’t I know?” continued Georgie.

“Yeah. What don’t I know?” I repeated.

Marzipan suddenly became deadpan with all her sweetness dropped as she clicked off the camera.

“...That’s all we need to know…” I said starting to feel a little ill at ease dreading some kind of security lockdown.

“Can you repeat that question?” said Marzipan staring at us.

“Yes. What don’t I know?” I said trying to bring back my smile nervously.

“And who told you to ask this question?” she said deadly serious.

“We’ve been sent from The Daily Rag.” volunteered Georgia.

“And by the hacker cells.” I added, knowing that if this was going wrong for us, there was nothing left to lose at this moment.

“Okay...thanks for trusting me. I work for Bang-Hai Industries… I’m in very precarious position.” she said still holding her cards close, building on my tension… “But these women out here don’t know who I’m really working for.” she finally continued much to my relief.

“Trust us. We won't blow your cover.” I assured her as a look of worry and doom had now crossed her face.

“When you go out can you please just act like everything is normal, okay? I’ve lost friends because of this.” she said looking very upset.

She checked through a hidden curtain at the side of the room before sending us through it and closing it behind us. We entered into a darkened room where 3 figures lurked all dressed in black surrounded by various technical equipment. Two of the three sat around a small tabletop on the floor in the centre of the room with the other pacing back and forth clutching some kind of military satellite phone which he used every so often to speak with what I presumed was either another hacker cell or whoever was in charge of the operation.

It turned out that the hackers had been holed up in here all along inside the perfect hiding place, stowed away deep behind enemy lines. There was a huge buzz of excitement in the air as they congratulated and thanked us for all our uploads of evidence we had provided to them. We discussed our various conspiracies theories with them and they seemed quite impressed with our grasp of the situation at hand. The hackers seemed to share my doubts on whether the Nikolas Boom that had been sighted was actually the real man or if it was just another Android Replica that was being used as a pawn just as The Sheriff, Comrade José and the Masked Man had been. The hacker brandishing the telephone admitted to his doubts that Boom had ever even existed at all. The idea brainstorming went back and forth as we waded through the pages of evidence and the rumors from all across the city. To what extent had the alien time travel technology been used to alter the timeline? Had anything else been changed by Bang-Hai and The Sheriff (aka The Kaptin, aka the Triple A Badboy)?

After an extended pow-wow, the hackers gave us a cable that would help us to re-wire AMI’s brain in the centre of the Bang-Hai Technologies secure vault and enable us to hack the random question generator. When we emerged back into the diary room, another patron was sat in the chair about to ask their own question. All smiles, we assured Marzipan that her ‘cupboard’ was all sorted now and not to worry.

We exited the diary room back into the foyer, again thanking all the staff for being so helpful and in bounds of excitement we made our way back over to the Bang-Hai Technologies Complex for what was to be our final mission.

Talking our way back through the security guards was easy enough. I told the reception staff that we had just come to perform a quick secondary follow-up inspection and they let us know that someone would be with us soon. While we waited a second hacker cell arrived and made contact with us. They said they had been sent as backup. I was confident we would manage with the two of us but extra help was probably for the best.

After a few minutes  one of the senior staff members arrived to meet me us.

“I know everything seemed fine when we came earlier, but we just need to double check because it’s a big night tonight” I said.

“Is there anything particularly you’d like to see?” he asked me.

“Hmmm… well… we would like to see the core brain if possible.” I replied.

“Okay, well this is the digital archive and in here we do have part of AMIs brain. Just this way.” he told us as he took us to a large metal vault door which he swung open, allowing us access to AMI.

Somehow we managed to blag our way out of the complex, though it’s various rooms and all scarpered in different directions with our mission complete and a great sense of accomplishment. With the hack complete, all we had to do now was to wait until AMI’s Launch at the Fair’s closing ceremony! 

Back in the real world...

Thanks as always to everyone that made this possible and for all the hard work that the Boomtown crew obviously put into this spectacular event and story! Unfortunately due to there being a lot of things happening in my life at the moment I won’t be able to make the 2019 Fair but I am intending to be back in Boomtown in 2020 and I’m already super excited for it! If you are going to the Fair this year please try and delve into the story for a while, it will totally be worth your time! Peace and love to all!

[tarithenurse]

Defense of Asgard (10/11)

Wordcount: 2897 (sorry)

Warnings: violence, maybe language, smut (fingering), fluff

“Keep reading” for obvious reasons.

Loki’s PoV

Loki’s victim is gurgling on the ground in a last, futile effort to breath, and around him his fellow Asgardians are either finishing off their own adversaries or using the lack of golden maniacs to recover. Straightening up, he pushes a strand of jet-black hair out of the eyes and looks around for [Y/N]. It feels as though a cold void threatens to pull him off the planet, when he sees the weapon aimed at her face. Lurching into motion, he barely makes it three steps before the blast of the gun makes him stumble in shock. NO!! He watches as the momentum makes the love of his life collide with the bastard, sending them both sprawling onto the ground.

NonononoNO! Scrambling frantically for what feels like an eternity, it only slowly dawns on Loki that [Y/N]’s left hand is snaring the wrist of the Sovereign, keeping the gun pointing away, while the other hand is closing around the golden neck. Even from here, the prince can see how she’s biting back a scream of pain until her skill takes effect, draining the downed would-be-murderer of life and leaving him skinny and pale beneath her. The way she arches her back while the brief moment of ecstasy rolls through her, should perhaps make Loki jealous…instead it entices him. The woman is mysterious, deadly, yes even magical. And she is mine. The thought makes him smile, as his picks his way across the battlefield.

“[Y/N]?” He squads next to her, ready to leap away if instinct still is ruling her.

Turning to face him, his wife’s eyes are clear blue-grey with the tint of pleased golden freckles, but the milky sheen that would have clouded them as she drained the life out of the Sovereign is long gone. Finding her hand, Loki gently pulls her off the corpse and into an embrace. Both their heartrates are beginning slow, simultaneously with their breathing, after the fighting, and resting together for a moment allows a different kind of peace to envelop the couple. Over a field, one of the turrets hits its mark and brings down another transport in a flaming ball that lands the snow beneath before it has hit the ground.

“We’ve better get ready…” [Y/N] sighs, clearly not enjoying the battle as much as the Asgardians.

Cupping her face, Loki wipes away a smear of her own blood that has tracked red paths down her cheek and past the jaw. Despite the attempt at cleaning her, the face he adores is still blushed, although now it may be for different reasons, but she avoids meeting his eyes and there is no easy way to tell what she is feeling and thinking.

“Why do you blush, my flower?” A soft kiss is enough to coax her face towards him.

She bites her lip, coy and stubborn at the same time. “I guess you saw what happened…” [Y/N] sighs when he nods. “Yeah, well…I’m not gonna run and hide.”

“I know.” Standing up first, Loki pulls the healer to her feet. “Yet you cannot stop me from worrying.”

“Just look out for yourself, mister Trickster.” Smiling playfully at him, the woman heads off to attend to the minor injuries the defenders have sustained.

Pacing down the road, he reaches Tyr and the Warriors Three who are discussing the situation above. There, against the dark of night, it’s possible to see the faint shadows of the many different vessels. Many of them have retaken formation and Loki can guess that they are not the Ravagers, but the Xandarians who value discipline. A lightning blast slams into the ground, functioning as a warning of where his king and brother is about to land. Show off. Even if the prince rolls his eyes and sighs at Thor’s talents, it is good humoured rather than coveting, although (or perhaps because) it feels unsafe to get near it – too often has the God of Thunder amused himself by zapping his friends with small electric jolts, and it is for that very same reason, that Loki waits patiently out of reach until the air surrounding the tall, blond warrior has stopped buzzing.

“There you are, brother.” The younger of the two is leaning on his spear when he flashes a grin at Thor. “How fares the battle above?”

“Not bad,” looking around, the king takes in the scenery on the ground, “yet…they do not seem to appreciate the warm welcome.” He rolls a corpse over with a foot and nods thoughtfully. “They have retreated for now.”

Sif and [Y/N] join them, the former rubbing the stomach of her armour absentmindedly before reaching out for her husband. “I hope they are not running away?”

Her comment makes Thor snort with ill-contained amusement. “Hardly! They are too thick-skulled and proud to know when to stop!”

A slender arm snakes around Loki’s waist, and as he looks down he’s met by serious dark-blue gaze that he knows so well. Those eyes are truly a window to [Y/N]’s soul because the altering dispositions change the colours of her irises, each shade corresponding to a different frame of mind. He had learned the hard way that violet was a warning of anger or aggression. Pulling her closer, Loki hopes that she can find some consolation to stave away the sadness and regret that is filling her.

…

Reader’s PoV

Being held by her husband makes things a bit better, but [Y/N] truly hates when people die…even if they are actively trying to kill someone else. In fact, the whole reason for becoming a nurse and later a hero (thanks to the skillset the Inhuman DNA has given her) was to save lives, and she still managed to find herself in one situation after the other where not only her friends were fighting to the death, but she too had to kill. But of course, having been a member of the Avengers and SHIELD had forced her to adopt a different mindset. Everyone on the teams had had their fair share of battles and death, making them the best people to help [Y/N] deal with it when it became her turn to take a life for the first time, and it’s what had kept her relatively sane during the showdown against Thanos. And now here.

Trying not to look at the lifeless figures strewn on the ground, [Y/N] glances around at the faces of her friends in arms. They have fought hard already, but the Asgardians have impressive reserves of energy when compared to humans home on earth. They’re gonna need it. A faint glimmer has appeared on the edge of her perimeter, signaling the arrival of something living within the 50-odd meter radius of her skill’s range. Even though the Sovereign have golden skin, hair and eyes, the particles (that they are made of to [Y/N] when she closes her eyes) don’t always match, and she’s forced to judge the identities from other signs: the physical attributes (each Sovereign is frighteningly similar to the next, thanks to cloning), the mutations (that should have crippled them, but somehow doesn’t), and the itch that spread across the Inhuman’s own skin as her body tunes in on theirs.

“Incoming.” [Y/N]’s warning is echoed by Heimdall.

Facing the new threat, she plants the spear in the ground to free her hands. The round discs on her belt detach with the right leverage and pressure on the center flips a series of serrated blades along the edges with a click turning them into shuriken. There. The first one has stepped into a circle of light from the elevated brazier, making an obvious target of itself, and [Y/N]’s about to let one of her throwing weapons fly when Thor hurtles his artwork of an axe towards the doomed enemy, releasing cascades of lightning that fries anything in its path. Tony had offered plenty of snide comment the first time he saw the weapon leaned against the wall, most of them had been about compensation, but he stopped once he saw Thor use that thing. There are no jokes now, although some of the king’s friends dare to complain that they have no one to entertain themselves with. Jinx. Once more, Heimdall’s voice booms from above, calling for Thor to go elsewhere and bolster the defenses there.

…

The pale grey of the morning is slowly diminishing and allowing the pastel colours to take over. All around [Y/N] are the remnants of the latest Sovereign wave to attack them, this time fueled by desperation rather than conviction. The Asgardians are walking among the slain, checking to see if the job has been done to satisfaction by jabbing the golden bodies with whatever weapon they carry. By now, everyone has had enough of the maiming and killing, and [Y/N] is more than happy to rest in Loki’s arm while they have the chance. He’s brushed a bench free of snow and spread the bottom of his cape over the still cold surface for her to sit on, before dragging her against his own body and shielding her inside a cocoon of arms and soft, green fabric.

“You fight well, my love.” His breath is warm against her hair. “You have made me very proud.”

Tilting her head up, she finds Loki’s emerald eyes. “Proud?”

The taunting smile proves that she knows that it downright excites him, and it has given him more than a few ideas to use at other occasions.

The God of Mischief doesn’t have a chance to answer before you sit up straight, looking over at Sif who’s limping back into range. The queen and a handful warriors had followed in pursuit of a number of stragglers who were trying to make it to the tower where Heimdall has been (and still is) keeping watch. The Watcher would most likely have been able to deal with them himself, but it would have removed his focus from the events in the sky and thus any new waves of attackers. As [Y/N] untangles herself, the concern for the queen grows stronger.

“My queen.” The healer rushes to the queen’s side.

“It was just a bash by a blunt weapon…my armour took the brunt of it.”

It’s true, there are no lacerations or outwards trauma, save for the biggest bruise in newer Asgardian history. But the hip is slightly dislocated and, which is worse, the sacrum has been knocked crooked, creating tension in the lower body…including the uterus with the fragile life. Already the tissue is preparing for the first spasms that will release the blood, growing placenta and the peanut-shell-sized embryo.

I have to act fast. “We need to find a place where you can lie down.”

The urgency in [Y/N]’s quiet voice is enough to stop any objections, and Sif enters the nearest house. Only pausing to close the door after them, [Y/N] is pleased to see how nimble her sister in law lies down on the rug covering the cold floor. Kneeling between the legs of Sif, she bends the knees and slide a hand under the royal ass until the fingertips have found the right places to apply a gently pressure through which the healing power flowers in a steady stream, making the cells bend to her will.

Moments later, the Inhuman can help the Asgardian back on her feet with the promise that everything is fine again…for now. “But I have to say that you should take it easy for a few days.” Like that will ever happen.

“Who am I to argue with my midwife.” Sif smiles sweetly before striding out of the house.

It takes a moment for [Y/N] to come to terms with the new title she’s been bestowed, so when she too leaves the house (closing the door carefully) Sif’s already out of view. Instead Loki’s leaning casually against the wall, playing with an icicle he’s broken off the low reaching eave.

“What was that about?” He’s pointedly looking anywhere but at his wife.

Think fast. This is not for me to reveal. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean,” this time he turns towards her, “it could appear that you and the queen are keeping secrets.” The silence stretches for a moment as they study each other’s faces. “Are you?”

“Pfft.” A pokerface is easy to master when in complete control of every single cell…but Loki is unparalleled at picking up on the smallest details. “Firstly…my role’s that of a medic, so I had to ensure she wasn’t wounded. Second…she’s my queen and friend, and commander during this battle. She tells me where to go and what to do. I wanted to ensure that I wasn’t needed elsewhere.”

In a few long strides, the tall, slender god has covered the distance between them. Grabbing [Y/N] by the shoulders, he bends down to pierce her with a burning gaze as if he can will her to tell her anything else. His eyes are glittering turquoise and green, and [Y/N] has to concentrate to keep her own from shifting like his.

The voice of the god is soft and cold when he finally speaks. “There is something you are not telling me, darling. I do not like it.”

“Women sometimes do that, you know.” A smile dance across her lips as she allows an age-old truth to save her rather than lying. “We confide in each other. Help each other. Console each other.” Reaching up, she cups his frost-flushed cheek gently. “There’s nothing wrong with that, and you have to be able to trust, that it does not mean I’ll betray you.”

It’s like watching a balloon deflate quietly and suddenly [Y/N] finds herself in his arms once more. “Forgive me, my flower. My mind is burdened with the many troubling events of late, and my heart is wrought with worry for my people and you.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him tenderly. “And no need to worry for me at least.”

…

Loki’s PoV

As it were, there was no need to worry for any Asgardian either. It was not long before it became apparent that the last Sovereign had fled and while the Xandarians and Ravagers landed on the snow-covered fields, the Asgardians that had not participated in the battle re-emerged to take part in the recovery and cleaning up. It was a task that would last days, as many buildings and ships had been destroyed and was now littering the streets and surrounding areas, but the first priority was to create a pyre and burn the fallen enemies. [Y/N] busied herself by tending to the lighter injuries, although the Asgardian healers tried to convince her it was beneath her. She only paused to recover her energy, but eventually fatigue caught up with her, and she allowed Loki to walk her to their chambers.

“The bath is ready, my flower.”

Loki turns towards [Y/N], only to find her dozing of, still fully dressed, on the low bench in the bathroom. He wakes her gently before using his own magic to rid both her and himself of the armour and clothes they have been wearing since the previous morning. Then he lifts her easily and steps into the large tub where he sits down. A content sigh and smile grace her fine features, encouraging him to settle her with the back against his chest.

Using the sponge and soap, he cleans every inch of her soft skin, and Loki finds himself so engrossed in the work that he does not realize how her breathing changes until the cupping of her breast makes the nipple perk. Pinching it softly between a finger and a thumb, he smiles at the tiny gasp [Y/N] lets out and it encourages him to abandon the cleaning utensils, so he can use both hands to slide over the gorgeous nakedness. One hand slides down the expanse of her chest and stomach to tease the fine curls where the thighs meet, the other plays with the bosom he so dearly admires, and already his cock is showing exactly how much he approves of the sight before him. I could watch this all day. The woman is biting her lower lip in pleasure, her head and wet curls leaned back against his shoulder to grant an unobscured view.

Loki has to stop her, when she tries to get in position to reciprocate. “Not this time. Just let me please you.”

For a moment, golden eyes appear under the heavy lids, but as his fingers slide further between her legs and finds the small bundle of nerves, the eyes close again and it’s the perfect lips that part instead. Weaving unimaginable patterns and interchanging the pressure and speed, Loki explores every fold and crevice, playing at the entrance to her core or pinching and stroking her clit until her moans transform into pleas for more. Then he slip a few fingers into the silken cave, slick with pleasure and need, teasingly increasing the speed and depth until the first shiver wrecks her frame.

Loki gives her time to calm down again, only adoring her body with long strokes as he kisses and nibbles her mouth, neck, shoulders…anywhere he can reach. Once relaxed, he finishes their bath, dries them both and carries her to bed where she falls asleep in his arms.

…

[whimsicalworldofme]

Homecoming

Ben is brought safely to Paxis and has difficulty accepting that this is his new reality. Especially when coming face to face with his only son for the first time.

Word Count: 2954

Content Warnings: None

Ben tensed up the moment the Falcon landed. Ava saw the tension in his jaw, the rigidity of his posture as he stood behind Chewie and Poe in the pilots’ seats getting his first look at his new home, the expansive base on Paxis spreading out in front of them around the landing strip. No one else was on the landing strip but they could see some people milling about on their every day business.

               Before this trip, Ava and Poe had put out a message around base advising everyone that they were going to retrieve Han and Leia’s son. That meant little to most of them. Among the members of the Resistance, not many of the ones who remained on Paxis knew that Ben was Kylo Ren. Everyone knew that Luke was the only child of General Organa’s only son, but everyone knew better by now than to ask where the General’s son actually was. Some of them had assumed he was dead. They just knew that he was a sore spot, so they didn’t talk about him. Poe, ever the master of spinning a story to help the ones he loved, had told everyone that Ben had infiltrated the First Order to help the Resistance bring them down from the inside and that all he wanted now was a quiet, peaceful life. Everyone had been cautioned to simply treat Ben with kindness and not ask him about his time with the First Order or too many questions about his childhood. Ava hadn’t told him about the preparations that had been made in advance of his arrival but didn’t think it was necessary. All she wanted now was to put him at ease. She laid her hand over his and gave it a squeeze.

               “Hey,” she smiled. “It’s going to be ok. I promise.”

               He tried to force a smile, but it didn’t quite work. The corners of his mouth very briefly turned upwards before all hints of happiness flickered away and he was nothing but tense again, shuffling stiffly with her to the hatch.

               “Ready to head home?” Poe asked, meeting them at the hatch while they waited for the gangway to lower to the ground. “We grabbed some clothes that should fit you, so you’ll be a little more comfortable once you’re home,” he scratched the back of his neck as he glanced momentarily at Ben’s exposed ankles. Ava knew her husband felt embarrassed and broken-hearted for his friend, furious that he hadn’t even been afforded the common decency of clothes that fit properly. “We hadn’t thought it would be an issue, otherwise we would have brought a change with us.”

               “It’s fine,” Ben stated his eyes downcast, voice low and guttural.

               “Come on, buddy.”

               Poe clapped his shoulder and pulled him along with him down the ramp with Ava following behind, feeling like this was a good start, like they were kids again; back before she and Ben had gone off to study with Master Luke, back when he and Poe were basically brothers and the three of them were inseparable.

               “Maybe once you’re settled we can go down to the main hangar together. I’ve been modifying some cargo shuttles and I think you’ll find what I’m doing interesting. And I’d love to get your input see what ideas you might have to make them even better.”

               “General,” Connix jogged up to them, eyeing the tall, uncomfortable stranger with suspicion but she held her tongue, “we need you for a meeting in command.”

               Even though the fighting was over, the Resistance was still an active organization. They didn’t run military missions anymore, but they were now responsible for the well-being of all the rebels who had chosen to stay on Paxis. And since Poe was the highest-ranking officer, they naturally looked to him for leadership. The eighty some people who had decided to colonize the uninhabited planet permanently were family to him and he took that responsibility seriously.

               “Is it absolutely essential and urgent?” HE asked, raising a brow. “I’d really hoped I would have the day with my family.”

               “It is, I’m sorry,” Connix flashed Ava a sympathetic look before turning her attention back to Poe, her hands clasped behind her back.

               Looking to Ava, Poe wordlessly begged for forgiveness, a pained expression knotting his brow and dimming the light in his eyes. Stepping closer to him, she gave him a gentle kiss.

               “It’s ok,” she assured him. “They need you. We’ll be all right.”

               “I love you,” Poe gave her another smiling kiss before heading off with Connix, who had pulled a datapad from behind her back and begun going over whatever information was being covered in their impromptu meeting.

               “Does she know who I was?” Ben asked as Ava linked arms with him and began to guide him away from the landing pad. “She looked at me like she did.”

               “She might have seen you on Crait,” Ava speculated. “But there aren’t many people left here who knew us when we were kids, who know what happened when we were seventeen.” She didn’t want to say what it was that had happened. He didn’t need reminding of their shared, painful past. “The few of us on the base who do know all of your history have agreed that you deserve a chance to start over.”

               They walked in silence for a few minutes. Despite the limited remaining population on base, it was still a lively place. Three kids streaked past them playing a game of tag, giggling and shrieking in delight, completely unaware of anything else. When they passed the main hangar, they could hear the echoes of voices, whirs of power tools, beeping droids, and clanking metal. Ava tipped her head to one side, a little concerned about Ben’s extended silence. When she studied his face, she saw him keeping his gaze ahead. Even if she couldn’t have read the expressions in his doe eyes and the set of his lips, she felt the waves of his emotions crashing over her through the Force; the doubt, the fear, the loneliness.

               “Hey,” Ava stopped walking and tugged him around to face her. He complied to her physical queues, even though he didn’t have to. Halting, he stood in front of her, only glancing down momentarily, sorrow weighing on him so clearly. “Listen to me,” she cupped his face in both hands, “Kylo Ren is dead. He died on that prison moon. He’s gone. And every power that twisted you into that monster and conspired to weaponize you to their purpose are dead. You are Ben Solo. You get a new start here. You can have the life you wanted here, with us. You have family here that loves you still.” She stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Let go, Ben. You’re allowed to start forgiving yourself, all right?”

               He didn’t say anything, just turned his gaze upward and searched the horizon with teary eyes, slightly chewing on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to prevent himself from having a complete breakdown there in public where anyone could see. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Going up on her tiptoes, Ava kissed him softly on he cheek, which was easier since he stooped down slightly when he realized what she was doing.

               “Come on,” she took him by the arm again, keeping him close to her side. “Let’s get you home.”

               “Home is off base?” Ben asked in confusion as they left the cluster of buildings, the only real civilization on the planet. They plodded onto the now well-trod path between the base and the Dameron homestead.

               “Obviously we used to live on base,” she said. “That’s our house,” she pointed at the large stone home crowning the hill in the distance. “Nearly everyone chipped in and helped to build it.”

               “It’s huge,” he gawked. His feelings were clear to her. He felt envious that this was the comfortable life that Poe had been able to provide her. There was grief there too, at the loss of that potential chance with her, the chance of that happy family life together. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too much?” There was a hint of anger, but Ava let it slide. Those were natural emotions and he was doing well in not letting it overtake him.

               “We have three kids, three droids, me, Poe, and a constant stream of people stopping by,” she chuckled. “It’s just enough, to be honest. But it’s good we have it because now you have a space of your own with us,” she smiled brightly.

               Ben was still a tumult of conflicting emotions, guilt, love, anger, joy, when they stepped into the house.

               “Ah Mistress Ava,” Threepio came shuffling suddenly around the corner from the study, making both her and Ben jump slightly. “And bless my circuits, Master Ben!” The droid threw his hands in the air, elbows bent at a right angle. “I never thought I’d see the day. Oh, if only your mother were here-”

               “Threepio,” Ava cut him off, not wanting him to continue and upset Ben any further. “Are the girls napping?”

               “Yes,” the droid nodded with the whole top half of his body. “Mistress Shara and Mistress Leia went to sleep fifteen minutes ago, and Master Luke advised me to inform you that he is meeting up with Master Jacen and will return later.”

               “Oh,” Ava frowned. “I’d asked him to stay here,” she was disappointed that her son had chosen this moment to display his teenage rebellion and disobey her. She had wanted him there to meet his father, but she supposed he might be nervous or even afraid.

               “I don’t want him to see me like this,” Ben mumbled, tugging at the collar of the ill-fitting prison uniform and she felt her heart break again.

               “Threepio let me know when the girls wake up, all right?” She took Ben’s hand and led him further into the house, to the great room and into the guest suite and shut the door behind them to keep the droid out. He didn’t pick up on social queues at all, but he knew that closed doors meant he’d need to wait.

               “This is my room?”

               “It’s all yours,” she smiled.

               Ben wandered around, examining the furniture which Poe and Ava had gathered up from what had been left behind when people had left Paxis for their home planets. He took in all the little details, running his hand along the top of the dresser, feeling the sheets between his fingers. She’d seen his room on the Finalizer. His bed had not looked comfortable at all. This mattress wasn’t as plush as some, but it was comfortable, and the sheets were soft and warm. He went to the windows along the back wall that looked out onto the backyard with the creek and the forest behind.

               “We’ll get you some better furniture when we can,” she insisted.

               “This is fine,” he insisted, glancing back at her for a moment.

               “Well at least a better mattress,” she added as she went to the dresser and pulled out some clothes they’d found for him that should fit. She laid them on the end of the bed. “Why don’t you take a hot shower and then change?” She suggested. “You have your own bathroom through that door,” she pointed. “I’ll make you something to eat. Have you eaten at all today?”

               “No,” he shook his head, not looking at her, his tone flat. He had shifted to the desk they’d put in there, completely fixated, though not on the desk itself but what was on it. It hadn’t been easy to get at the last minute, but Ava had found a calligraphy pen, an inkwell, and a few nicely bound notebooks in the fledgling trading post on base. She watched him run his lithe fingers over the cover of the notebook on the top of the stack, making her smile. “Thank you,” he turned to her again. He didn’t smile but he wasn’t looking so teary eyed anymore either.

               “You’re welcome,” she beamed at him. “When you’re dressed, come out to the kitchen, it’s just across the living room from here.”

               “Ok,” Ben nodded.

               By the time he emerged from his room, Ava had made a big pot of noodles that she knew he’d liked when they were kids. It was something Luke had a taste for too, so she made them regularly at home anyway, which she explained when he asked. He asked a few questions about life on Paxis as he ate, and Ava answered what she could. Ava was washing the dishes when the front door opened and clanged shut.

               “Oh, are you making noodles?” Luke hurried into the kitchen, his eagerness for food turning to fear of his mother when he saw the fire in her eyes. His face fell and then he saw his father, sitting at the counter and his breath caught in his throat, eyes going wide.

               “Luke, I asked you to stay here to help look after your sisters,” Ava put a hand on her hip.

               “I’m sorry, Mom,” his voice cracked slightly.

               “Come here,” she softened, waving him over as she came around to the other side of the counter and put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, encouraging him gently to turn around. He’d locked up as soon as he heard the boy’s voice and hadn’t been able to bring himself to look at him. “Ben,” she was gentle about it as he shifted off the stool he’d been sitting on and turned around to get his first look at his son in person. “This is Luke.”

               “You’re so tall,” Ben mused, struggling to find anything to say. “I don’t know if I was that tall at fourteen.”

               “Mom says you were,” Luke offered after a moment’s hesitation. “You’re going to live with us?”

               “Only for a little while,” Ben answered quickly, and Ava could tell he was afraid that his son didn’t want him there which is why he’d been so quick to insist he wouldn’t be there long.

               “I hope you’ll stay,” Luke stated. He couldn’t take his eyes off his father, the man he’d been compared to his entire life, whose shadow he’d fought so hard to break free from, but who he’d also learned somehow to forgive.

               “You do?” Ben faltered and cleared his throat against emotions welling up in him when his son nodded. “Well…I can, if you want me to.”

               “I do,” Luke smiled kindly and pushing past the discomfort, the oddity of the situation, and his own conflicting emotions, he stepped closer and gave his father a hug. Ben locked up again, looking to Ava for help. She just gave him an encouraging nod. He hugged Luke back and took in a deep, ragged breath.

               “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I missed everything.”

               “Just be here now, Dad,” Luke tried out the term for the first time and smiled. “You want to see the speeder I built?” He asked, taking a step back and wiping at his eyes. Ben did the same with a chuckle, shocked and overwhelmed. “Mom says you’re into ships and flying.”

               ‘Yeah,” Ben nodded. “I’d love to see it, Luke.”

               “All right, come on,” Luke stopped to give his mother a kiss on the cheek before waving his father on to follow him to their little family hangar.

               Ava felt like her heart might burst of happiness. She’d spent fourteen years trying to prepare Luke to meet his father someday, to forgive him, and welcome him home, to see the man and not just the monster. Seeing the end result made her feel like everything she’d tried to teach her son about patience, kindness, love and forgiveness had paid off and sunk in. Her lessons and Poe’s example of unending, uninhibited love and acceptance had combined to create one amazing kid.

               An amazing kid who can help his father on his path back to the light, Ava sighed contently. There was a lot of progress to make with Ben. But this was a start. Everything has to start somewhere.

               The door opened and shut again and soon Poe was in the kitchen, eyes scanning for the other inhabitants of the house.

               “Hey, where’s Ben?” He asked, paused sniffing the scent of food in the kitchen. “Did you make noodles?”

               “Yes,” Ava laughed and went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, feeling his sturdy hands on her hips, his soft lips capturing her own. “Luke is showing Ben his speeder.”

               “Their meeting went all right?” Poe asked, and she nodded. “Good.”

               “I need to tell you something,” she paused. “And you have to promise not to get mad.”

               “Ok,” Poe raised a brow, the word coming out in a stream of confusion and wary concern. He held her a little tighter as though afraid she was about to tell him something horrible.

               “I’m pregnant,” she grinned slyly.

               “WHAT?” Poe nearly shouted, his face radiating pure joy. He picked her up, kissing her, and then began dancing around the room with her. “Wait,” he halted abruptly, making Ava laugh. She knew it had just now clicked. “You knew before we went to save Ben.”

               “Yes,” she had the decency to look a little bit ashamed that she’d kept it secret from him. “I actually only found out two days ago. You would’ve tried to stop me. But I knew what I was doing.”

               “You are very lucky that I love you,” Poe smirked.

               “I know,” she laughed again as he went in for a deep, eager kiss.

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[waitingtobeimpressed]

The Silent Serpent Part 2

Chapter 2 - “Absolute Bloody Asshole!”

Sweetpea x OC

Warnings: Sweet peas Attempts at flirting with Mae. (Trust me it was painful to write)

Word count: 1344

The picture is mine and I did, in fact, create it. And umm if you didn’t notice it can kind of only be used for my story because it has the title of the book and my name in it Sooooooo……

I also did not create Riverdale but some people get salty about not making that clear. However, I did create the character of Maeble Mikaelson/ Forgarty and all the relationships she forms. So. Yeh.

Yes her name is Maeble Mikaelson. For a bit of context, her mothers maiden name is Mary Mikaelson and her Fathers name was Fish Forgarty  (It’s complicated), She prefers to use Forgarty as her last name because to put it lightly she hates her mother with a passion…

She doesn’t remember her father because he was given life in prison when she was still a baby. We might see more of him in the future though…

I’m still new to the whole Tumblr thing so just give a chance and hopefully, I will figure it out.

History for Mae had always been intriguing, whether it was learning about the impact Egyptian Gods had on the common people of the time to recounting the events of Nazi Germany and the truly horrific influence one human being could push upon a whole nation. Mae loved nothing more than to be taught the victories of wars long ago to the mistakes that crippled the planet, because without disaster there could be no change, and without change, humanity would cease to develop and adapt, Not allowing ourselves to be the best we could be.

However, Mae also clearly understood that all histories have a dark side, that all opinions in some way are completely biased, that we are never really in control.

This fact terrified Maeble. It kept her awake a night with thoughts of what if? How different life would be without all of the evil in the world. Because with the absence of evil would all the good deeds remain? 

Mae held tightly onto the pen in her right hand. Her knuckles going white with irritation. Irritation caused by no one other than Sweet Pea, Head Serpent of South Side High. At this moment in time Sweets was rhythmically kicking the front leg of Mae’s chair going in time with the music that was blasting into his ears from his white headphones. Getting harder and harder with each impact, leaving her on the verge of insanity. The class had only started 15 minutes ago and she wondered how long it would take before she lost it, before she snapped.

Every once and a while Pea would look up at her face through his long eyelashes, smiling and he watched her copy down everything the teacher said, save for a few curse words directed at the class. He Hadn’t moved from straddling his seat but had moved closer to the desk so he could lean forward on the back of the chair, Allowing himself to yet again be the nuisance that Maeble hated with a passion. He knew she hated him and he loved that. He wasn’t sure why though. It was a complete mystery to him. Maybe it was because even if it was negative he craved her full attention.

And without being able to control herself, Mae always surrendered it to him. Always bending to his will before eventually Snapping in two,

“Can you not?, you absolute bloody asshole, I’m trying to work.” Mae finally spat in a hushed tone, forcing pea to tear his big brown orbs up to meet her icy blue ones. He smirked, getting the exact reaction he was looking for. Mae, on the other hand, silently cursed herself, she had given in too easily and now she was going to have to deal with him for the next 42 minutes.

“Ah princess, how I have longed to hear the stunning English accent of yours” he smirked once again. making Goosebumps crawl their way up Mae’s spine, stopping at the nape of her neck.

Mae sighed and looked back at her book, underlining relevant information she thought would be handy since she hadn’t quite heard what the teacher was saying. “ fuck me, I fucking hate you, fuck!” She whispered.

Sweets smirked like it was the only facial expression he knew how to make. 

“ How could you possibly hate a face as good looking as this?” Mae glared at him so hard she thought her head might explode or at least get a killer headache. “ And about fucking you it would be my honour, just name the time and the place, princess”

Mae pretended to think about it before looking him dead in the eye, ” Does ‘Not a chance in Hell even when it freezes over’ work for you?”

“Ouch, Pea you okay buddy?” Toni laughed out as she turned to face them as well, crossing her short legs in their direction.

“Its none of your business Topaz…” Sweetpea sneered as he half turned around in his chair.

“Oh, that heartbreaking rejection reminds me, Mae are you coming down to the Quarry after school, a few of the Serpents said they were going to bring kegs and stuff, and this is the last time we can all go swimming there before it becomes too cold. What do you think?” Toni Suggests as she closes her untouched History book, already deciding the was enough for the day. Mae’s hearts drop into her stomach. She couldn’t go swimming, not in that water, not in any water. Water was Maes biggest fear as stupid as that sounds. She couldn’t stand the thought of jumping in even if she was surrounded by all of her closest friends. She couldn’t stand not knowing what she was swimming above or how peaceful the Lakes and Oceans looked before they became nasty.

“How the hell does that remind you my rejection?” Sweets cuts in before Mae has time to muster up an excuse. He glanced back at her, meeting her gaze until she shied away from it. He is the only one aware of her gut-wrenching fear, he knew this because he is the one who saved her when some jerk thought it would be funny to push her and a couple of other people, including SP, over the bridge and into Sweet Water river after a particularly bad fight between the Serpents and the Ghoulies. As soon as he plunged into the icy cold water his thoughts went to Mae, did she get pushed as well or did fangs manage to get her in time. He shot up, gasping for air. His eyes scanning from each of the people until he settled on a girl, thrashing her arms about, choking on the water. Sweets swam so fast it physically pained him but he didn’t even think about stopping until his arms grasped her waist and pulled him flush against him. Mae was crying, her blue eyes bloodshot. She was trembling with fear until she just stopped moving completely. She had fainted in his arms either due to the cold but most likely because she was petrified. Sweets swam her to the shore to where fangs and Toni were and carried her bridal style to them where they proceeded to wrap her in blankets. Sweetpea made up some story that she had hit her head on the way down, so no one knew the real reason. Mae had just woken up to hear him before he walked away to get cleaned up himself. She would never forget that night as it still plagued her dreams.

“ Because sweet pea, I had ‘rejected‘ the idea until I saw Mae was back in town, and for good for this time. right?” Tomi eagerly smiled, tapping her pen on her closed book.

“Hopefully, unless I get kicked out again” Mae mumbled, looking down at her book until her attention was ripped away from it.

“So is that a yes?” Toni pushed on, going to get the answer she wanted even if it killed her.

“I haven’t gone swimming since I was like ten, Toni, I have nothing to wear even if I did want to go. I’ll just watch” That was a lie which caused Sweets to turn and face her again. He knew that she had never gone swimming and she knew that he knew. Mae raised her eyebrows at him a silently begged him to keep his big mouth shut about it. “ ill keep the kegs company.” Mae said with a forced smile and sweet pea knew was bullshit.

“Okay if that’s what you want to do, hey maybe sweets will keep you and the kegs company, he never swims with us anyway” Toni pouts and turns back into her seat. “ oh and sweets can you give her a lift, I’m going home first and I think fangs’ has an after-school detention again” she grins, knowing exactly what she was doing.

Sweetpea just looks at me and nods his head, smirking that god damn lopsided smirk” Anything for my princess”

[sterlingmalloryarcher]

In The Dark pt 2

Since becoming a prisoner of the First Order, you could count on one hand the amount of times you had not dreamt about Kylo Ren. Despite telling yourself repeatedly to ignore him, you still found yourself glancing in his direction or worse, waking up in a drenching sweat after dreaming about the Supreme Leader’s soft lips leaving an array of kisses all over your willing and eager body. Part of you wondered if Kylo was causing you to have these dreams, or if he wasn’t - but still knew about them, anyway. He was incredibly talented and strong with the Force, and it wouldn’t be unlike your old flame Ben to use his abilities selfishly.

Despite the amount of time that had passed since your reunion with Kylo, you two had barely said anything to one another beyond the scope of civil pleasantries. If he knew your dreams, he gave no indication of such. It was a blessing and a curse. Part of you wanted him to know and for him to say something. The other part cowered at the thought, that Kylo would know and find it funny as opposed to appreciating your inner workings. Pride seemed to be blocking your path, and so strong was this pride that it actually deterred him from approaching you - you just didn’t know that. Inevitably you grew desperate for conversation and human contact, even if it wasn’t physical. You just really needed a friend.

The ship had landed, where you did not know, but you were assigned storm troopers and given permission to leave and explore. Your bargaining chip was that no one beyond your own planet would recognize you, and they hadn’t allowed you to bring any of your belongings; aka, you were sick of wearing ill fitting, all black officers clothing. It was time to explore and perhaps even find a few things you’d actually enjoy wearing. Being on a planet that was controlled by the Empire, Troopers weren’t unusual, although in your experience they weren’t very safe or protective, either. Kylo had been gone for nearly two weeks, maybe that was why you hadn’t felt safe. He had left you in the care of General Hux. You wish he had taken you with him, wherever he went. But, if Kylo wasn’t around, and General Hux was back on the ship, it was only logical that you tried to make an escape. Lose the Troopers, hide out, and find a way to freedom. What could go wrong?

Everything. Not even thirty minutes after you dodged your Troopers and found solitude in the back of a watering hole, you looked up find Kylo Ren in the doorway. Flattering, he couldn’t trust anyone with your safety. The rest of the patrons had scattered. How long had he been standing there? You downed the rest of your drink and left more than enough on the table to cover your small, two drink tab. Sighing and irritated, you stood up and brushed past Kylo on the way out into the sunlight.

The entire way back to the ship was silent. The troopers marched ahead of you, and you walked in step with Kylo, who had a firm grip on your arm. It wasn’t until you were finally back at the door to your quarters, that he released you. “I hope you enjoyed that excursion, because there’s to be no more.” He put his hand out to prevent your doors from shutting. “It’s clear to me that you have no respect, not for me and clearly not for yourself. You could have been killed or worse, Y/N.”

You laughed dryly and put your finger to his chest, hoping that you’d give a gentle push and he would step back, leaving you alone. Instead, he grabbed your wrist and pushed you into your room, the doors snapping shut and locking behind Ren. “What are you doing? Let me go,” you demanded, trying to wiggle free of his grasp. With his free hand, he removed his mask and tossed it on your bed. His eyes were brimming with tears, an image that ceased your attempts to break free. “Ben,” you whispered, “Ben what’s wrong?”

He let you go and sank down onto your bed with his face in his hands. “I’m not good enough for you. You’d rather be alone than with me,” he mumbled, letting out a long sigh.

“That’s not true, you just don’t-“ you began, but Kylo stood up and was shaking, his face red and eyes fixated on you. “You can’t be angry at me. This isn’t my fault. You, of all people, should understand wanting freedom and how important it is to be your own person!”

Kylo barked out a laugh and snatched up his helmet, storming from your room and disappearing. This had happened several times in the past: Ben would be quick to anger, you’d let him leave, and then you’d follow him and calm him down. You wondered, as you slowly made your way to his quarters, if you were still capable of helping him.

“Please let me in,” you called out from the corridor. No response. “Ben. Let me in or I’m going to steal one of the TIE fighters and leave.” It was a half truth. You had thought about it many times, but the risk outweighed the reward.

A few moments passed before the doors slid open and you made your way inside. Ren was sitting on the edge of his bed, having stripped down to nothing more than his dark trousers. He looked up at you and frowned, then hung his head again. Just like old times, you thought to yourself. You tentatively made your way to stand in front of him, using your knee to push his legs apart and stand in between them. “Ben,” you repeated, using your finger to push his chin up. “Interrupting my only outing since you’ve had me here is grossly unfair.”

“I let you take your leave and you repay me by getting the outrageous idea of leaving me.” He was clearly angry, you could feel the frustration as he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you hard against his frame. Leaving him.. he made it so personal.

“You never pay attention to me. You brought me aboard and for what? For you to look at from across the bridge?” You demanded, draping your arms around his neck. “You say I would leave you, like you had me already. I don’t know why I’m here. You don’t, either.”

“No. You’re here so no one else can have you. I’d destroy the galaxy if you had married someone else,” he finally admitted. A smile tugged at your lips, but you didn’t know why. Was this what you wanted?

“Stop it. It was always you,” you scoffed and shoved yourself away from him. “If I couldn’t marry you, I wouldn’t marry anyone. Given the circumstances, I’m never going to get married. You don’t need to worry about that.” You folded your arms and seated yourself atop his desk, using the chair as a foot rest. “You ruined us, Supreme Leader. Not me.”

Kylo stood and glided over to you, leaning down and pushing you back against the desk. His lips grazed your throat, eliciting a groan from your mouth. “But I love you,” he whispered against your skin, feather light kisses dancing along your jaw. Finally, his lips found yours and he hovered above you, to tease or to gauge your reaction, you didn’t know. You tried to sit up enough to press a kiss to his mouth, but he kept you pinned where you were. “I must have you by my side, Y/N. I can’t keep you safe if you’re not here.”

You sighed and went limp beneath him. You felt the same, you just didn’t want to admit it. You had been raised to support the Resistance, to despise the First Order, and yet here you were: beneath the Supreme Leader and aching for him to love you in more ways than one. “I can’t,” you finally muttered regretfully. Kylo stood back up and grabbed your hand to bring you to an upright position again. “But I.. do, you know.”

“What?”

“Love you, in spite of my upbringing and my inner turmoil. You’ve been the only one for me since we were ten, you know that. I’m just so confused!” You groaned and hopped off he desk to pace Kylo’s room. “I love you so much, I always have. I miss you and I’m so sick of feeling alone and unwanted. You brought me here and I’ve never in my entire life felt more secluded. I wish you’d have left me alone. Who cares if smugglers or scavengers found me? It’s better than being stuck here, lonely and I satisfied.” By now you were fighting back tears, shaking hands running through your hair.

“If you really love me, why do you leave me alone? You think the company of Hux is acceptable?”

Without a word, Kylo pulled to close to his chest and grabbed your face, crashing his lips against yours. They were as soft and as greedy as you remembered. Wrapping your arms around him, you spread your fingers in an attempt to hold as much of the man you loved as you possibly could. The anxiety that came with being in Kylo’s presence soon melted away, his warm hands slowly removing the offending fabric from your shoulders. He kissed along your neck, down your chest, and soon fell to his knees in front of you.

“Wait.” The voice was yours, but you weren’t sure why you had halted him. His fingers were already curled into the hem of your pants, sliding them down with ease. Upon your command, he stopped and laid his forehead against your abdomen.

“I’m sorry. It’s too much,” he agreed. “I’m sorry.” His repeated apology was followed by your shirt being draped over your shoulders and Kylo standing up.

“No. There’s something I need to say.” You inhaled, taking his hand in yours. You ran your thumb along the top of his hand idly, unsure of how to explain yourself. “Would I be Mrs. Ben Solo, or Mrs. Kylo Ren?”

[cookehenry90]

Reiki Zen Music Blindsiding Ideas

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Reiki Master Youtube

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Reiki Master Roanoke Va

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[mst3kproject]

K09: Phase IV

Remember I said the movies were all coming together?  Well, Phase IV is definitely a prequel to Overdrawn at the Memory Bank. Think about it – why are the people of the future nothing but replaceable cogs in a few giant companies, or colonies if you will?  Why is individuality so strongly discouraged?  Why does everybody hate anteaters?  Because the world is ruled by ants! See?  See?  It's all part of one great ur-movie!

And honestly, that's as seriously as I've ever been able to take Phase IV.  It's a shame, really, because despite lurid posters in which ants eat their way through a human hand, Phase IV really wants to be a serious science fiction movie.  It's trying to imagine humanity confronted by an intelligence greater than ours, from the most unlikely source – man humbled before God's humblest creatures!  The title apparently refers to all life on Earth eventually merging into a single super-consciousness.  I can definitely see where they were trying to go.  Sadly, when the journey isn't boring me to tears, it's making me giggle like a Tickle-Me Elmo doll at things that weren't supposed to be funny.  Was Tickle-Me Elmo really over twenty years ago?

Dr. Hubbs is an entomologist studying a frighteningly intelligent multi-species ant colony in Arizona – or are the ants studying him? He calls in a cryptographer, Dr. Lesko, to help him try to communicate with the insects.  For the next hour or so, the scientists do scientist stuff and the ants do ant stuff. Occasionally something happens.  The ants tear a house down, and the people inside flee only to be accidentally sprayed with a massive overdose of pesticide. The scientists have praying mantises to keep the ants from getting into their little moon dome, but the ants take them out with ant assassins. Stuff like that.  Eventually Hubbs dies of an ant bite, but the ants capture everybody else to do... something... to them... and then the movie's over.

For the most part Phase IV is deathly boring.  We're either listening to the scientists talk about whatever, or watching ants wiggle their antennas at other ants that are never in the same shot because in the real world two different types of ants put together will either ignore or eat each other.  Dr. Hubbs goes off on poetic flights about the perfection of ant society, and shows that he is the Mad Scientist of the movie by discounting the deaths of actual people.  Dr. Lesko translates ant-language to come up with weird oscilloscope traces and geometric diagrams that might or might not mean anything. Desert Wildlife Stock Footage appears and there's a teenage girl named Kendra who has to hang around because going outside would mean crawly formic death.  The soundtrack is kinda trippy but at the same time impossibly dull.

In fact, it's because Phase IV is dull that I often find it so funny.  Since nothing much is happening, my brain wanders off on odd tangents with the sparse information the film gives me.  We begin with Dr. Lesko's narration telling us that this was all caused by some kind of unspecified celestial event.  Really? A conjuction of the planets created smart ants?  Jupiter is in retrograde and Mercury is rising in Libra, so be conservative with your investments – and watch out, because this month's full moon is the perfect time for ants to suddenly develop a superintelligent hive mind!

Then the narration starts talking about ants 'doing things ants don't do', like holding meetings.  This bodes ill for mankind, sure, but the word 'meetings' just makes me picture ants at tiny tables, sipping tiny lattes while they discuss how best to put the wasp nest under the porch out of business.  Never mind that Lesko's voice is over footage of ants doing... well, exactly what ants do; grooming, fighting, and carrying stuff through tunnels.  The shots cut back and forth from one ant to another of a different species in a way that suggests we're probably supposed to be imagining a dialogue between them, but there's not even any squeaking sounds dubbed in.  I admit that this is realistic, because ants communicate chemically.  It still looks ridiculous.

How about the bit where the ant queen (who I'm pretty sure is not played by an ant – the animal we see looks more like some kind of wasp) assimilates an insecticide, producing offspring that are immune to it?  Sure, scary idea, but Dr. Hubbs intones, 'we challenge with yellow chemistry, they respond with yellow creatures'.  Is that how that works?  Because now I'm pondering the artistic possibilities of feeding Skittles to the ants.

Or how about when the ants decide to cook the humans in their hideaway by focusing solar radiation onto it?  Revenge for all those kids with magnifying glasses, am I right?  Or how Dr. Lesko blasts the tops off the ant towers to try to get a reaction?  That seems a little extra, when any bored six-year-old knows much easier ways to get an ant colony moving.  How about the fact that at the end everybody runs off into the desert in their bare feet when they know damned well there's seventy billion pissed-off ants out there?

The ants only get one moment in the movie that's really effective, when it does seem like there's a higher intellect at work behind these millions of mindless drones in perhaps the same sort of way as billions of neurons come together to create a conscious human brain. That's when the ants bring a sample of the yellow pesticide back to the hill for their queen to examine.  One ant carries this as far as it can before the poison kills it, then another one picks it up and does the same.  Individual ants are expendable. There are just so damn many of them that it makes no difference, and the colony can always produce more to replace what has been lost.  This uses what makes ants scary even when they're not superintelligent, along with reminding us that their purpose here is to study our weapons and learn to neutralize them.

The dead ants laid out in rows like the aftermath of a battle is also sort of cool, but it has the opposite effect, actually humanizing the ants by depicting them as individual lost lives.  Hubbs has already explained to us that's not how ants work, and if ants are individuals who care enough to gather up their dead colony-mates, they become a lot less alien and therefore a lot less frightening.

The behaviour of the ants also suffers from the same problem as a lot of killer animal movies, in which their intelligence seems to have come with a few lessons in electrical engineering.  Intelligence does not automatically confer knowledge – INT is a stat, while knowledge is a skill!  Humans have sophisticated brains, but much of what we do with them depends upon thousands of years of accumulated learning.  Before we could build a generator, we needed at least a primitive understanding of the physics of electricity.  It is true that destroying a generator is simpler than inventing it, but how did the ants even know what the significance of the generator was?  How did they know what the air conditioner was, never mind how to shut it down?  These ants have been sentient for a couple of months at best, and during that time they seem to have been too busy building towers and exterminating their predators (things that actually seem like pretty plausible ant priorities) to go to trade school.

These are all quibbles, though.  The biggest problem with Phase IV is that it raises a lot of questions and then never bothers to even try answering them.  Dr. Lesko makes some progress at communicating with the ants, and the fact that the ants bother to listen and reply suggests that they do want something from these humans... but what? Hubbs dies of the ant venom, but Lesko and Kendra are captured and taken inside an enormous ant hill, where the ants begin doing something to them that seems poised to begin a real dialogue.  In the final moments of the movie we're on the verge of finding out what's really been going on... and then it just ends.

So what was all that leading up to?  We don't know!  And Lesko's final words of narration, we didn't know for what purpose, but we knew we would be told, just seem to rub the anticlimax in our faces – he found out, but we never will!  I'm left with the impression that writer Mayo Simon didn't have any real idea, himself.  I guess the point is supposed to be that the ants are such a completely alien mind that Lesko probably couldn't explain it to us if he wanted to.  Fair enough, but still a lousy non-ending to a boring eighty-four minute movie.

All this movie needed was a conclusion.  Not even a conclusion to the overall 'smart ants take over the world' thing, just a conclusion to the 'kidnap Lesko and Kendra and make them members of the hive' thing.  Are the ants after human knowledge?  Do they need human emmissaries?  Human spies?  Human slaves?  Humans to play the slots in Vegas while the ants manipulate the machines to pay out big wins? A fertile couple to be the progenitors of a new race of Ant-People? See, there I go again, off on tangents trying to supply the entertainment this movie so conspicuously failed to give me.

There are people who really like this movie.  El Santo of 1000 Misspent Hours says it's one of his favourites, because it makes him think.  It made me think, too, but about all the wrong things.

[calangkoh]

alphonse elric post-cos headcanons

based on my “teenage alphonse elric would be an absolute nightmare” post except it’s not as funny anymore now it’s just sad

al actually does have a lot of angst going on so let’s talk about that before we talk about how it manifests in his teenage behaviors: first off, general ptsd. now that his memories are back and he has a body and like, a brain to torment him, he’s gonna be having nightmares and flashbacks and anxiety and paranoia and days/moments where he’s feeling so overwhelmed where all he can do is sit in terrified silence. his survivors guilt from the end of the series returns and then multiplies, because he shouldve died but ed brought him back and now he and his brother are together and somewhat happy and it doesn’t seem fair. he also was the cause of the destruction in central, which definitely killed a buncha people. he has so so so much survivors guilt and has a hard time appreciating anything because it always comes with guilt. hes also resentful to ed for making his sacrifice at the end of the series mean nothing. like ed couldve had his limbs back and be happy in amestris but no ed had to play sacrificial ping pong and bring al back and make things ten times more complicated and make al have to live with all the guilt he feels

again before we get into what a nightmare al is i wanna talk about what an angel he is first (because to me it makes sense to talk about the good first and let you leave with the bad lmao). and it has to do with ed’s struggles. al knows his brother and knows how to calm him and take care of him and knows his patterns. at first al is frustrated with himself because ed has changed a bit and he has to readapt to this. at first he feels like he doesnt know his brother anymore, but he catches on pretty fast. Al is an angel because he still takes great care of ed, and knows how to tend to his needs. He can tell when ed is having a bad day, when he’s on the verge of a panic attack, when he’s anxious, and just in general knows all his ptsd markers and how to care for them. als teenage behaviors are also his way of defending ed from how messed up he is. he doesnt want ed to know hes struggling because he knows ed will blame himself. honestly as codependent as the elric brothers are, they have poor communication because they always want ot protect the other, but it never works because they know each other too well and can see right through each other. but they never talk about it. They just act on it. both of them are the most self-blaming people on the planet and it just snowballs because they’re aware the other is self-blaming, which they self-blame for, etc etc etc.

now onto teenage behaviors. so all this angst is what’s motivating it. and obviously, he misses home, too. and hes thrown into this totally different world and he doesnt know what to do with himself. i mean, ed has a resume now from working with alfons’s team, but he’s not gonna keep working for nazis so he’s gonna go get a research career at a university and be successful and probably even be a professor (this idea makes me extremely happy tbh). meanwhile al is like wth do i do with my life? some more relatable teen angst of “what is my purpose in this sucky world.” ed tries to include al in his work but al just is too distracted and depressed to be interested.

so what does al do? he snaps at ed a lot. Post cos ed has learned sensitivity and warmth (like in cos i really got that sense from him that he learned more social skill and grace) and he literally big brothers al all. the. time. and it comes from him caring for al’s mental health (like he knows what al is going through to a tee but he just doesnt know how to communicate verbally with him about it). he’ll bring work home with him and try and get al in on it and al will snap at ed ti leave him alone. ed will offer to take al to work and al will get pissed because why cant he just mind his own business and stop treating him like a kid? ed will offer to do things with al, he’ll do little things to try and make al happy and damn al is terrifying. i mean i have a personal story here: my older sister smothers me a lot and senior year of high school (she was living at home after graduating college) and im sitting in my room and she comes in without knocking, and in the sweetest voice is like “look at this shirt i had that you can wear to school!” and in the most demonic voice possible i just say “get out of my room” and she justs squeaks out “okay” and leaves looking terrified. Like THAT is ed and al. Ed will do something totally unexpectedly thoughtful to try and help al and al will just be a total shit leaving ed with nothing to do but run away for his life because nothing is scarier than a moody, teenage alphonse elric.

So yeah at first al just stays at home alone, wondering, “high school? or factory job?” And just isolating himself from the scary outside world that he doesnt recognize.

When ed takes him out al is so quiet. Ed talks pretty excitedly about his day, trying everything to help his brother out (because god he was just as miserable when he came to this world and the only reason ed is genuinely doing well now and is actually pretty happy despite his mental illnesses is because al is with him now. And ed just wants to freaking save al from this pain but it just...isnt working. he knows its not that he isnt enough; he knows al would rather be with ed here than in amestris without him but god he still cant help how muh self loathing he feels that he cant help his brother like hes able to help him) and al just zones out and plays with his food or sips his tea or looks at the sidewalk. its not that he doesnt care about his brothers day or that he resents him for being happy, its that he just does not have the energy to be present. and then that is snowballing because he feels like a sucky brother and then he feels like hes self-pitying too much and then its just this endless cycle

So al goes to high school because ed thinks the mental stimulation and learning about this worlds culture and science would be better than throwing him into a factory job. thing is, people who stayed in school past 14 in this time period tended to have money. And while ed makes money, he only makes enough to put al in high school and then provide the bare minimum after. and al cares about his appearance and about what others think about him. its just his personality. and even though hes a brilliant kid who picks up on what hes learning really quick, he still doesnt know much about this world and its current events and honestly amestris is so much more modern so al is confused about certain restrictions and stuff like that. so in school al is this poor, socially awkward, but super-good-at-school teachers pet and dude he is so so bullied and has no friends. remember he also has the mind of a 17-18 year old and so definitely appears to be an old soul among his actual 13-14 year old peers. so hes extremely outcasted. but now he also has a temper and he gets into fist fights.

now you’d think al would pummel these kids, right? Well no. you see when al gets into these fist fights, it kinda triggers memories of being in the armor and he becomes clumsy and out of touch with his body and sometimes forgets how to even move. some fights are better than others and the bullies are pretty shocked this kid has any skill at all, but al never wins against this entire group of kids

so yeah al comes home beat up and ed gets majorly pissed but now that theyre in this…normal life, having your big brother come into the rescue is not awesome. And ed doesnt get that because, well, when your bro is being beat up isnt the right thing to do to beat up the guy thats putting his life in danger? like these are eds survival/protective instincts from years of adventure and danger, so al telling him not to do anything is like...what? he doesnt understand. and al is getting super defensive about the whole thing. “Its none of your business” “leave me alone you’re not in charge of me” etc etc. and in a rational moment, al calmly explains that ed doing anything about it will make it worse. and now ed feels even more helpless and we all know that that is the worst thing ed can feel

and al is just such a nightmare now because hes getting in physical fights and sneaking out and losing his temper and snapping at people and being grumpy and rude. i can write a whole other list of headcanons for alter wrath both exacerbating his behavior but also helping his mental health (like him being friends with alter wrath/rudi as the fandom has named him really makes a “things get worse before getting better” situation

[viiatorem-blog]

head-canon1.txt

 meaning && speech.     [ okay to reblog. ]

  In the game HLD the character never has a name -- actually, to be fair, no characters have a name. The only idea for names we get is from the coding and steam cards. So with this I am going to go into detail about both his name ( The Drifter, The Magician ). 

  First off, lets go with that second name I mentioned, The Magician. If you’ve seen the steam cards you’ll notice they are based off of Tarot cards, which, is really interesting considering what the magician means: 

      “ The Magician is associated with the planet, Mercury and carries with it skill, logic, and intellect. The number of the Magician is one, the number of beginnings. The Magician is the bridge between the world of the spirit and the world of humanity. His right hand holds a staff raised toward the sky and his left hand points to the earth. He takes the power of the Universe and channels it through his own body and directs it to the physical plane. Above the Magician’s head is the symbol of eternity and around his waist is a snake biting its own tail, another symbol of eternity. His magical table holds all four suits of the Tarot, each of which represents one of the four primordial elements of the alchemists – earth, air, fire and water. These symbolism the appropriate use of mind, heart, body and soul in the process of manifestation. The Magician’s robe is white, symbolizing the purity and innocence found in the Fool but his cloak is red, representing worldly experience and knowledge. In the bed of flowers at his feet this duality is repeated in the mix of pure white lilies and thorny red roses.” 

 - source. 

   Okay, so what does that all have to do with a mute character who has no name? Well, a lot actually. Considering first of all they are associated with skill, logic and intellect! We see in game that the Drifter, already has all the skills needed to beat the game from the get go, yes, you can beat the game without chain dashing, I was surprised too. 

   Another thing is: “ The magician is the bridge between the world of the spirit and the world of humanity “ and that got me thinking about the entire game itself, especially that opening. Assuming that the drifter also is a hint to what his background is, could it be possible that he is a literal drifter? Stuck in between the world of the living and the dead? But, then again he was cursed with an illness so that brings up another option -- 

   He could be a time traveler. 

    Now, I don’t completely agree or disagree with this thought, since the tech he uses compared to some of the tech the npcs use does seem quite odd. Why does he have a laser sword but not many other characters do? Sure it could be the whole, let’s make the protag look cool but also just... It would be possible that he came before or after the destruction, or even possibly came from another timeline. 

      Then you have the talk about the elements ( usually used to describe the four directions in some folklore ) as well as “ mind, heart, body and soul.” -- 

       If you don’t know this game was based off of the struggles the main developer has in real life, which, he could just be poking a joke at himself with this card, considering what I’ve already stated but, we also know that the disease the Drifter has to be an illness that causes internal bleeding that makes blood drip from his lips. Which, maybe, the drifter has forsaken one of his duties and is paying for it with his life or maybe it really is just a curse from drifting too much. 

       I also find it funny that the magician usually wears white but the Drifter is wearing red, symbolizing  worldly experience and knowledge. 

         Now, to onto the whole speech problem. You see, I always theorized that he could no longer talk due to the curse laid upon him, and maybe in the times before HLD he could talk, but if he did, it was probably very sparingly to begin with as he seems to be a stealthy type and shows more emotion than talks about it. 

        But how does he communicate? Well, I’m honestly assuming he has some hand signs that are known to most of the areas he go to, not sign language but just, typical motions that he has studied ( to make sure he doesn’t accidentally start a war ). That being said, he does have a little bot friend that I can see being how he truly communicates, as it seems to be linked with his body, since it can tell when you are low health and fully alerts you to such. It wouldn’t be too out there to say that the little bot has full connection to his mind, being able to communicate in that form, though even the tiny bot has problems communicating sometimes, so the Drifter usually points or writes in a language that is most likely dead.