#and he got clearance from the higher ups (somehow!)

[narugen]

established relationship hoshimina where mina has to go overseas for idk some jakdf stuff (she couldn’t even bring bakko) and gets super homesick… hoshina trying hard not to book plane tickets as soon as they video call on the second week and mina looks like this 🥲 hoshina hating that he has to leave his captain alone and mina hating that she’s alone again…

[moomine]

backwash III | daisuke

author's note: thank you to literally everyone who’s reading this! you guys are so so sweet and i love you all <3 if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me!! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) Sleep is increasingly hard to find on the Tulpar. At night the reader spends her time in the cockpit, thinking about home. When she feels the whim to sleep, she ventures back to the sleeping quarters, only to bump into Daisuke. Instead, she joins him for a midnight snack and some conversation in the lounge.

word count: 2,372

warnings: no trigger warnings! all characters are 18+

now playing: Dave Bixby - "Morning Sun"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 034—

There was this movie I watched once when I was a kid, about a little girl who falls from the sky. Although I can’t remember the title of it now. I do remember that she was a part of another world, a part of something bigger. She was important. I don’t think you have us write these to talk about movies, do you? I’m sure you’d rather hear about the operations on board, or the technical difficulties, or if there’s been any damage to the cargo. You know, the “important stuff”.  Everything is running smoothly so far. Is that good?

I want to be a part of something bigger one day. Hopefully this experience will help me. I’m grateful to have this opportunity.

DAY THIRTY-THREE—

Pony Express allowed a maximum of five hours of sleep to their employees on haul. During those five hours, the Tulpar was shadowed by a veil of utter stillness. A silence not too dissimilar to that of a library, or that painful pause in awkward conversation. It was too quiet, which led you to stare at the ceiling until the fatigue of work or boredom got the better of you. Even when you could fall asleep, it was far from restful. Over the past month you had gotten the worst sleep of your entire life thus far. Worse than when you lived in those co-ed dorms with unruly neighbors and argumentative hallways. Worse than those nights thunder cracked down from the darkened sky and you clutched stuffed animals in your chubby, child hands. After a certain point, you had given up on finding sleep at all.

The computer screens within the cockpit would beep on occasion, the sound barely audible over the soft plucking of guitar strings in your headphones. The coords of some old folk song filled your ears instead. You sat in the captain's chair, curling in on yourself with your knees to your chest and arms around your person. Your head snuggled into the dip in your legs, cheek pressed your knee cap as you stared at the sea of glowing green.

Curly had given you permission not too long ago to sit in the cockpit at night. Within the first month of your apprenticeship, you had grown on him quite a bit. The captain had always been a kindhearted person. He was a people pleaser to his core, a man simply happy to help. Curly saw a lot of himself in you, and he knew what it was like to feel, well, restless.

“As long as you promise not to touch anything,” he had said, prefacing his next words with a comforting smile, “you have my permission to use your clearance to the cockpit at night. But if word gets to the higher ups, they’ll have my head, understood? We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Normally, you tried to pay attention to how long you had been sitting there, keeping track of each song that played to count the minutes as they passed, but tonight you hadn’t. With a sigh, you reluctantly stood from Curly’s chair, deciding to give sleep another try. You slipped your Walkman into the pocket of your pajama pants and left the cockpit. Each step you took was quiet, almost imperceivable, as you walked down the hall toward the sleeping quarters. You didn’t want to disturb the others, although you had a feeling nobody else was sleeping all that well either. The rusted, trusty pipes groaned as you passed, their settling moans somehow bypassing the volume of your music. It made you feel uneasy. You reached into your pocket and turned the music up a bit in an attempt to drown out the sound. 

Rounding the corner, you finally reached the door to the sleeping quarters. Just as you reached for the door handle, it slid open seemingly on its own, causing you to flinch. Standing there—holding a flashlight in one hand and with the other placed against his chest—was Daisuke, looking far more caught off guard than you felt. You winced as he shined the light directly into your eyes.

“Holy shit, dude,” he breathed, voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “You straight up scared the hell out of me. What are you doing walking around in the dark?” Daisuke adjusted his aim and shot the beam at the ceiling instead, creating enough light for the two of you to see each other a little better.

With a soft laugh, you pulled your headphones from your ears, allowing them to hang around the back of your neck. “I’m sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”

“You too?” Daisuke questioned.

“I’m surprised anyone can sleep on this thing,” you whispered. “Where are you going?”

His eyes dropped in embarrassment as he used his free hand to rub nervous circles against the side of his neck. “I’m… I’m grabbing a snack from the lounge. You wanna come?”

“Yeah, if you want me to.” You didn’t hesitate. Anything sounded better than tossing and turning. You stepped to the side, permitting him enough space to walk out of the doorway then alongside you.

Daisuke breathed a chuckle at your response. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.”

“Then I guess I’m coming,” you said in a hushed, playful tone.

Daisuke looked at you with a smile and nodded, shining his flashlight down the hall as the two of you began to walk in silence. In the quiet of the hall, the door to the lounge seemed to open with a deafening wheeze. Deep, royal blue illuminated the large room. The night-time window screen displayed a starry sky with wisp-like clouds, bathing the room with an otherworldly glow. It reminded you of going to the aquarium as a kid, surrounded by water and the smell of saltwater. You half expected to look up and see sharks and fish swimming overhead, but you knew all there would be was a dull, blank ceiling and slumbering lights.

Daisuke stuck his head through the doorway, peeking to see if anyone was already inside. When he determined that the coast was clear—although it wouldn’t have mattered anyway considering the noise of the door, he motioned for you to follow him inside.

“Hell yeah! The place is ours,” Daisuke celebrated, speaking louder once the door closed behind you two. He walked toward the vending machines with long, intentional strides. You tread on his heels, gaze fixed on him in amusement as he looked over the different options. 

You pulled your Walkman from your pocket, then leaned against the bar, palms pressed to the countertop as you pushed yourself up, and took a seat on the cool, brown laminate. “Is there normally someone else here?”

“Hmm?” He barely heard you, too fixated on what he was going to eat. As he processed what you had said, the words loading behind his eyes in a turning spiral, he ordered a pack of freeze-dried fruit and tore into the package. “Oh, nah. Not usually. I mean, I’ve seen Anya in here once or twice, but she’s always coming from medical bay. Getting coffee for those late nights, I guess.”

“She works too much,” you noted. “I wish she wouldn’t push herself like that.”

“You two seem close.” Daisuke approached, leaning against the counter beside you.

“Yeah. You could say that.” A tender smile graced your lips at the thought of you and Anya being close.

There was a pause, a brief lull in the otherwise newborn conversation. A series of crunches sounded from your right where Daisuke stood as he popped piece after piece into his mouth. You glanced over at him, the tenderness of your smile warping into something more entertained. He glanced over at you in turn, his mouth full of apple as he mustered a lopsided smile.

“Hey, it’s your Walkman,” he exclaimed after a swallow, pointing at the dated tech in your lap. “Whatcha listening to?”

“Oh,” you peeped with a suddenly flustered look on your face. “It’s a mix my mom made for me. Just a bunch of old folk stuff she used to play for me when I was little.”

“Can I listen?” he asked, shoving another piece of fruit in his mouth.

“S-Sure, yeah.” You unplugged your headphones and played the tape. It crackled, the old speaker not what it used to be. Or what it ever was, truthfully.

Maybe the quality of the sound would have bothered somebody else, but not Daisuke. As your small corner of the lounge filled with the sound of guitar—the stories of rural towns, first loves, and early mornings, Daisuke set his snack on the counter and listened intently. It was far from what he’d normally like, but something about listening to it here, with you made it sound perfect.

“It’s funny, actually. I never used to like this stuff back on Earth, but lately this is the only one I want to listen to,” you said over the music.

“You must really miss her.” Daisuke inched closer, standing less than a foot away from you as he leaned against the counter. His gaze flickered up to your face, quietly admiring the curves and arches of your profile. Under the blue light of the night time window screen, any blemish or imperfection on your face seemed to vanish. Not that he had ever noticed any imperfections on you. Matter of fact, for some reason, he couldn’t imagine seeing any part of you as imperfect. Even if he tried. There was a somber look in your expression as he spoke, one that made his stomach twist in knots.

“So much. I didn’t think it would be this hard being away from home.” Your voice was just above a whisper now. You felt your eyes begin to burn, the familiar sensation of tears welling in the corners as you tried to suppress the ebbing flow. With the shake of your head, you let out a quick laugh, feeling the tension gradually lifted from your shoulders. “What kind of music do you like?”

Daisuke didn’t blink or care about the change in discussion. He didn’t care about what the two of you talked about, and he wasn’t going to pry either. He knew that you would open when you felt comfortable enough to do so, and he was happy to wait however long that would take.

“A bit of everything, I guess. It kinda pisses me off when people say that and, like, they don’t actually mean it.” He slid his snack off of the bar and extended it to you, shaking it as the pieces inside rattled against each other. “I have a pretty impressive vinyl collection back home. Got everything from Etta James to Duster. You should see it sometime.”

Weakly, you smiled and took a piece of the fruit from the package. “Maybe when all of this is said and done. After the haul?”

“I’d love that,” Daisuke responded quickly, eyes trailing over your face. After another moment of silence, a brief break in conversation, he shifted on his heels and looked away. “So, you uh… you got anyone waiting for you back home? Y’know, like friends? A boyfriend? Or uh, a girlfriend? If you, like, swing that way or whatever. Which would be totally cool, obviously. I’ve got a bunch of gay friends-”

“Daisuke,” you said with a hint of that ever familiar amusement in your voice. “Relax, okay?”

He looked back at you and nodded. “Right, yeah… So, do you?”

“Friends? Yeah, a bunch. I miss them too. But a partner, not so much…” You felt your cheeks light up, a soft pink flush dusting the peaks of your cheekbones and the ridge of your nose.

“Hey, that’s cool,” he responded, bumping shoulders with you and trying not to sound too happy about your response. “Me neither. I mean, like I said, I’ve got loads of friends. Just not the whole girlfriend boyfriend thing.”

“Look at us,” you mused. “One in the same.”

“Yup, one in the same.” Daisuke glanced back at you hopefully, then looked away. He downed the rest of his dried fruit and crumpled up the package, tossing it in the direction of a nearby trashcan and missing by a couple feet. He winced, feeling a tinge of embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You gonna go get that?” you asked jokingly, pushed yourself from the countertop, and landed on your feet, securely tucking your Walkman back into your pocket as the music stopped.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes and walked toward the trash before picking it up and disposing of it properly. “It’s on the way out anyway. In fact, I meant to do that.”

You trailed after him, following close behind as the two of you approached the exit to the lounge. “Totally,” you teased, smiling up at him.

Yet again, the door slid open with that deafening screech as Daisuke and you left the lounge. Together, you walked back to the sleeping quarters. At the door, Daisuke turned to you and stopped. His brown eyes trailed over your features once more in the darkness, illuminated only by the light of the flashlight in his hands. Even in the blackness of the hallway, his smile was bright. His gap-toothed grin seemed almost bright enough to flood the entire hallway with light.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he spoke quietly.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you responded.

Daisuke opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words he wanted to say seemed caught in his throat. Instead, he just nodded and displayed that same smile. Your brows furrowed questioningly, an expression that made his heart skip a bit. Before you could say anything, he opened the door to the sleeping quarters and ushered you inside.

“Goodnight, [Name]. See ya in the morning.” He bit his lip, walking backward toward his room and nearly stumbling when he reached the door.

“Sweet dreams, Daisuke.” 

With that, you slipped into your room with a strange feeling in your chest. A tightness you hadn’t felt since high school, since hallway crushes and etching names into wooden picnic tables. An ache at the loss of his presence. How strange.

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pookies (taglist): @xcryptk33p3rx @freakyydaisukee @sanctuaryofsmartiess @st4rrysblog @academiq @c4t-n1pp @iiveraii

[decepti-thots]

Ultra Magnus for the headcanon asks, please!

Headcanon A: realistic

I think that while the existence of the Magnus armour stuff is officially only known by a very tiny number of people in Autobot high command, it's not nearly as unknown in an unofficial sense as one might assume, and a not insignificant number of people with some amount of security clearance and/or regular interaction with Magnus know about it and gossip. Obviously we have two concrete canon bits of proof for this (Bumblebee shouldn't know, but was told by at least one Magnus armour wearer, and Ratchet guessed despite never being told), but I think it's gotta be something that over the years has spread enough that it's a little bit of an open secret tbqh. The guy keeps dying and then popping back up with a noticeably different personality. Any medic treating him has the same opportunities as Ratchet to notice. They're robots where the concept of a loadbearer is a clearly known possibility and the propaganda possibility is not that hard to infer! I feel like the number of people who guessed that something was up cannot be anything close to zero, or even just a couple higher ups. Like. It's been gossiped about. You know.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Due to spending two years in direct collaboration with Verity, he has a baffling knowledge of the very specific segment of Earth pop culture that appeals to a teenage girl from the USA in like the late 00s/early 10s. Specifically a rebellious nerdy one. He legitimately knows more about it than he ever knew about Cybertronian popular culture. This never comes up until he offhandedly mentions some random thing within earshot of Swerve that is so incongruous it causes him to mentally bluescreen. How the fuck do you know about that Magnus. What the hell.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Magnus is going to carry the guilt of dismissing Rewind's insistence Dominus was somehow alive the whole time with him for the rest of his life. The realization that Rewind was right but they confirmed it too late for him to do anything about it until the very second it was too late, in a time and place where Magnus was present and might have been able to make a split second decision that helped if only he was there, must be such a fucking thing for him. Let alone that as Ultra Magnus, if he had believed like Rewind did, he'd have possibly had the resources to get answers much, much earlier, if he'd tried.

Realistically, he had every reason to assume Dominus was dead. Rewind was being unreasonably optimistic, especially when the comic implies that Minimus was cut off from the literal sparkbond they had in a way that in any other situation would be definitive proof Dominus was dead. But he wasn't! And he missed every chance to intervene by like, the tiniest margin. You have to assume that on some level he's got some fucked up feelings about that.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own

I know Roberts said he thinks that Megatron becoming an Autobot without all the code-test stuff that Tailgate went through wasn't an issue because realistically, Megatron would know it back to front. I don't even disagree with him, I absolutely believe that he would, it makes sense. But it's objectively too fucking funny to imagine Magnus putting Megatron through the 'you WILL listen to my three hour lecture on the syntax of this one sentence being Extremely Legally Important' gauntlet and I simply choose to believe this did happen but off-panel and Magnus absolutely kicked his ass about it in terms of sheer Knowing His Shit about it. Way too funny to pass up tbh. Megatron thought he knew and understood it very well (and to be fair: he did, compared to every not-Magnus person), but he got grilled. Magnus quite enjoyed rebutting every single interpretation Megatron had by way of ludicrous pedantry.

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PART 1]

Don't ask me why I wrote chapter two literally a day after the first, it's a mix of the nice comments I got and the fact I'm enjoying myself more than I expected, haha.

Ghost crashes into his desk chair, throwing two folders on the table. One was the Sergeant’s report, which he had to go through and approve before forwarding to Price, and the other…

The other was Soap’s personal file. He technically didn’t have clearance for it anymore, but Price left it on his desk next to the report, and Ghost figured he won’t notice if it disappeared for a couple hours.

Besides… he was supposed to read it before the mission. He just didn’t care in the past.

Ghost opens the file, and immediately gets greeted by a picture of Soap. He’s younger and seemed to be holding back a smile for the photo. 

John “Soap” MacTavish. Somehow, Ghost can’t see how this fiery Sergeant shares a name with the captain.

The rest of the file is pretty standard. Born in Scotland (In a town Ghost never heard of), age 27, enlisted at 16. It gets more interesting when he reaches the Revenant section.

Or, whatever he can see from it. His Reaping, his first death, is completely blacked out. His powers list the explosion immunity and creation, but another line is censored. Ghost feels cheated of information - the amount of red tape around Soap would be concerning, if it didn’t make him that more intrigued.

He flips through his previous missions fairly quickly, not expecting much of it to be uncensored. Lad was SAS before dying, the reports are practically a solid block of black ink.

Ghost continues to the medical reports, fully intending to skip those as well, and he keeps flipping, and flipping, and flipping…

An icy hand grabs at his throat. Frowning, he slowly flips back.

The frozen feeling persists when he starts reading. 4 years ago, mission in Austria. Exposure to thermite explosion, 3 fingers missing and loss of motor function to his left leg. 11 months ago, C4 accident, right ear, eye, and majority of throat missing. 2 years ago, grenade explosion, massive damage to liver and stomach.

Combing through all records, Ghost took a moment to realize no medical procedure was noted. Which means Soap didn’t receive any.

He shut the folder.

Something different from the freezing horror he initially felt started rising within him. It was rage.

The personal folder gets thrown aside, and Ghost focuses on the mission report. Right. Perhaps this will shed more light on what Soap is capable of, because honestly right now he can’t bare thinking about how much damage the Sergeant suffered through any longer.

The report is well-written, as any soldier of Soap’s rank would be. Ghost enjoys seeing just how competent Soap was, clearing rooms at neck breaking speed. What catches his eyes is the reason the explosion at the warehouse happened.

He never did get an answer to that…

As it turns out, Soap did get spotted. But according to the report, it wasn’t a hostile that activated the explosive. No, Soap himself did that. The reason given is “estimated risk to Bravo 0-7”.

…Soap thought he was in danger?

Ghost racks his brain trying to understand why. Did he think Ghost didn’t clear the third floor yet? Did he think… they were going to alert backup?

And he decides to… blow himself up.

He hastily signs the document and grabs both folders. So much information, missing, blacked out, red tape stopping him from understanding. Ghost has long learned that he won’t, can’t understand everything, orders from higher up not to be questioned. But it has never bothered him more. 

Never left this feeling of missing out.

When Ghost reaches Price’s office, the light is on and a lingering smell of cigars wafts even through the closed door. Shit. He’ll have to explain how the amount of folders he took suddenly multiplied.

“Weird how that happens, doesn't it Ghost?” Price shouts from beyond the door.

Bloody hell his stupid mind reading powers can be a real pain in the-

“You better not finish that thought Lieutenant!” 

Sighing, Ghost finally opens the door. “I thought you’re on break, Captain”, he places the folders on his desk.

Price glares at the two folders before he looks back at him, eyebrow raised, “clearly”.

Ghost glares back. Not like he has anything to say to his defence.

Price breaks the tension with a little huff, “You know you could’ve just asked for the file, right? I could tell the Sergeant left an impression on you.” he laughs.

Not needing the Captain to mock him further, he bites back “report’s signed, permission to be dismissed?”

Price smirks and dismisses him. Ghost doesn’t miss the thought that leaked from him, “told you, you two would get along.”

He walks away before Price could read his own.

Smoking becomes less intimidating after you die once. Honestly, if it comes to the point he dies from lung cancer, he’ll be happy.

He’ll take that little comfort either way. Watching the smoke dissipate to the night sky, a handful of stars shining through. Little droplets of rain drizzle on the tin roof above him. It’s almost peaceful. 

Almost. If only he couldn’t hear Gaz complaining from the floor above him.

“Look, he’s doing it again.” the recruit next to him makes a questioning sound, “Ghost, he’s bloody brooding. I swear, he’s been like this even since that mission with the revenant, what’s his name…”

The recruit mumbles something, “right! MacTavish. I’ll pay a good amount to know what happened with him… you think-”

Ghost slams a fist at the tin roof, “I can fuckin’ hear ya Garrick!”.

“Good! Tell me what happened there!”

He throws the cigarette and stomps it. Can’t get a moment of silence around here…

Gaz still tries to interrogate him while Ghost walks back to his room. He would talk to him when he feels like it, kindly suggest to never bring up that mission again. 

Ghost doesn’t need more things to remind him of the Sergeant.

Sometimes he wonders if he ever was as bad as these rookies. Watching one trip on thin air, taking down 3 others poor sods trying to complete a run, he rather believe he wasn’t.

He approaches the 4 idiots, who are now literally shaking while craning their neck to look at their lieutenant. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get up!”.

The rookies finally pull their heads out of their arse and scramble up. While they try to get back on track, he shouts, “five more laps for you four! Get a move on!”.

The ones that finished the training murmur behind him something that sounds like a long list of expletives, maybe about wishing his mother got an abortion or the likes. 

Ghost couldn’t care less. But, for the sake of discipline, he throws a scowl at the group, shutting them instantly. 

It’s on days like these, where Gaz is away on mission, and Price buried under mountains of paperwork, that Ghost’s thoughts wander back to that mission six months ago. To a certain Scottish Sergeant, to daft jokes and a weird shared understanding. Fingers flickering with flames, blue eyes shining with them.

Useless thoughts. All they do is leave a bitter trail behind them.

On days like these, he can’t help but crave bitterness. 

The recruits finally finish their run, and Ghost dismisses them before they can cause more trouble, effectively declaring it “not his problem”. He should be more grateful of Garrick, he’s much better at handling the FNGs.

As he makes his way to the showers, one Private stops him. He looks familiar, but Ghost doesn’t bother learning any of their names.

“Captain Price orders you to his office.” the Private almost sneers at him. Ghost nods and walks away. 

Once, a long time ago, he might’ve put the Private in his place, perhaps when he cared more. Now he knows better. His powers speak loud and clear. If he wished, he could wipe the entire base off the face of this godforsaken earth. It might be because of this fact, most soldiers abhor him.

They can’t help hating what they don’t understand.

Three well practiced knocks and a “come in!”, Ghost stands in front of the Captain. Price looks surprisingly chipper for the amount of files on his desk. That makes one of them.

“To what do I owe the occasion, Captain?”

Price flashes a warm smile (one he would call fatherly if the connotation didn’t want to make him want to puke) “I’m considering adding a new member to the 141”.

His first reaction is ‘fuck no’, and Price’s face sours at that. But Ghost is willing to entertain the Captain, so he asks, “you got any candidates?”.

Price motions to the dozen or so files on his desk, “take a look”.

Ghost raises an eyebrow before sitting down and taking one at random. Sergeant Thomas Anderson, 28. Revenant powers… “Breathing underwater? Really.” Ghost shuts the folder and glances at Price, “I’ll take him when we go on a bust against ultranationalists from Atlantis”.

“Not everyone is as deadly as you, Simon” Price sighs, “go on, check the others.”

Several files later Ghost is left wondering how many practically useless revenants are out there. He’s sure just thinking this is considered some sort of blasphemy among Reapers, but as he wasn’t struck down by an eldritch being yet, it’s safe to say he’s free to continue looking down at them.

He knows deep down it’s not their powers that bother him. Hell, Garrick’s Gravity manipulation isn’t that lethal, but the Sergeant knows how to effectively use it to his advantage.

Ghost simply can’t see himself working with any of them. He understands they’re in desperate need for more taskforce members, no matter how strong its three revenants are, but if they’re about to add a forth, he better be useful.

Scouring the table, Ghost realizes he went through all folders already. Price picks up on that.

“None of them up to your standard?”

Ghost crosses his arms, “not in the slightest”.

He spots a personal file on a cabinet on Price’s left, “what’s with that one?” he nods towards it.

Price turns his head, “ah, he’s currently on a long term assignment. Higher ups aren’t gonna let that one transfer so easily.”

Ghost’s interest was piqued, and he leaned to grab it. Price didn’t stop him, but he had a weird glint in his eyes. Ghost gets the feeling this outcome wasn’t unplanned.

He opens the folder and a pair of familiar blue eyes stare back. He looks up at Price.

The captain tilts his head, “well? In terms of strength, no one gets close to MacTavish. I’d dare say you and him could be evenly matched-”

“I’ll take him.”

Price falters, “what?”

“I’ll accept a new member if it was Soap.” Ghost states, leaving no room for argument. A bubbling feeling of excitement washes through him, in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. The mountains of questions Soap left behind him come back to the forefront of his mind. 

And he feels… hopeful.

Price shakes the surprise off his features, and he looks tiredly at the file, “...I can’t promise any miracles, but I’ll do my best to get him.” He takes out a well deserved cigar, “I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you Captain”, the words don’t encapsulate just how grateful Ghost is.

“Now scram, I have about 50 calls to make.” Price waves his hand and picks up the phone. Ghost makes his exit before the Captain changes his mind.

Garrick returns from his assignment the following morning. The reason Ghost knows that is he watches the door to mess being slammed open while he tries to drink his morning tea.

“GHOST!” Gaz shouts, swiveling his head side to side, searching for him. Sometimes Ghost wishes he could actually go invisible like some rumors suggest.

But alas, he finds him quickly enough, and rushes to his table, uncaring of the several heads following his actions. 

“Garrick” Ghost greets him, “how was the missio-”.

“We’re getting a new 141 member?!” Gaz cut him off, the excitement in his voice palpable, and he visibly starts floating a few inches off ground. Ghost tries to be annoyed with him, but he always found Gaz’s more energetic approach to life endearing.

“Nothing’s final yet, settle down.”

“But you know who it is, right?” Gaz sits in the chair in front of him, “c’mon, you gotta tell me!”

Ghost considers lying and saying he has no clue either, but he figures he might as well rip the band-aid now.

“It’s Sergeant MacTavish.” he tries to sound bored.

By the mischievous look on Garrick, he knows he failed miserably, “ohoho Ghost… Did you suggest your mysterious Sergeant to Price?” he grins like the menace he is, “seems like you won’t be able to hide what happened on ‘The Mission’ for much longer-”

Ghost slams his mug on the table, “nothing to hide, Sergeant.”

But Gaz is already 3 steps ahead in his brain, “I’ve heard he can create explosions, you think he could shoot up like a rocket? Could work well with my powers…”

Ghost stands up and groans, “he’s not a bloody spaceship Gaz, fuckin’ hell…”

He has a feeling Garrick and MacTavish will get along just fine.

The following days are… weird. Ghost never waited in anticipation for something as impatiently as he does right now. The clock seems to tick at a snail’s pace, and he finds his focus impaired. Thank his Reaper he’s not on a mission right about now…

Price is practically living in his office, constantly making calls and going through document after document. From what he understands, Soap is highly sought after for his explosion immunity, the best defuser there is.

Ghost is bitterly reminded of the huge pile of medical records in his personal file. That taste he rather not chase.

As for Gaz… His excitement grows by the day. It reminds Ghost that while the Sergeant is very friendly and always finds someone to talk to, he’s also one of the very few revenants on base.

He wonders if it feels as alienating as it does for him from time to time.

It’s not for 2 weeks later that he and Gaz are summoned to Price’s office. The place reeks of cigar smoke, and Price himself looks like he’s in need of at least 24 hours of sleep. But a triumphant attitude emanates from him in waves, and Ghost knows before he even opens his mouth what he’s about to say.

“It wasn’t easy, and I had to use every connection I had up there, but I got great news for you lads.”

Gaz smiles brightly, and turns his head to look at Ghost.

“I can finally say Sergeant Soap MacTavish is officially a member of the 141”.

Garrick cheers and floats high enough that Ghost has to drag him down before he slams his head against the ceiling, and sees the Captain’s expression shift.

“But…” Ghost starts for him. Of course this wouldn’t be this simple, nothing ever is.

Price exhales loudly, “Soap still has a couple of unfinished missions he will need to attend before he can join us fully.”

Gaz finally picks up on the mood shift, ‘...he will still be with us on base though, right?”

“Yes”, the Captain scratches under his iconic hat, and not for the first time Ghost wonders if it’s glued on with the way it refuses to fall off, “he will train with us, so take those few weeks as an opportunity to learn to work together. He’s quite powerful, and I think you will find… creative ways to work together.” with that last sentence, he glances at Ghost. Curious.

“When will the Sergeant arrive?” Ghost asks.

Price takes a quick look at the calendar, “3 days, early morning.”

That sends Garrick on a marathon of questions to Price, and Ghost retreats to into his mind.

3 days… 3 days and he will see those flames dance again. That Scottish lilt and crooked smile. 

Ghost feels his mouth stretch in a hesitant smile, as if the muscles almost forgot the movement, and notices Price mirroring it.

Perhaps he could give a chance to hope.

Thank you all for reading and commenting! I appreciate it a lot <3

[welcome-to-dragonshead]

L'appel du vide

characters: Alexei Molyboha & X-13/[redacted] (both my ocs)

cw for manipulation and implied past trauma and abuse.

I have been told many things about this…”specimen” I’m visiting, if they so call it. I recall the memory of me asking the higher-ups about it, and receiving their case study and being told the words “do not heed to its will, do not show sympathy or empathy, for it feeds on it and will use you as a toy.”

Even after reading it and hearing what they said, it is hard for me to believe there's any possibility of me following those instructions. Thanks to “it”, I got out of the worst situation of my life. Thanks to “it”, I am able to live (semi) safely (within the limits of my profession), and show myself to a world that I had deemed as hopeless so long ago. I can only feel grateful for a creature deemed this vile, so unbothered and distant from humanity.

Those are the thoughts that run through my mind as I walk through the sterile hallways of the M.O.R.G.U.E anomaly containment facility until I reach the interrogation room. I greeted the guards with a subtle wave; I showed them my clearance card, and I was allowed in.

The creature, specimen X-13, was sitting, with handcuffed gloved hands, on one of the chairs opposite to me, its impossibly dark eyes piercing through me, smirking lightly, as if it was all part of its plan. Its fox ears twitched slightly at the sound of my entrance. It presented as a tall young man with lengthy, straight white hair and tanned skin with two cross-shaped scars beneath its left eye, fueling my curiosity about it even further. Despite them, it was beautiful, but in a distinctly inhuman manner that incited a subtle sense of unease whenever you laid eyes upon it. It smiled and asked, tilting its head:

“You must be Agent Molyboha, right? You wanted an interview with me.”

I turned on my recorder. If anything went askew, as it often did in these interviews, at least I could have proof of whatever happened.

“Yes, it's me,” I answered, fiddling with my tie. Its energy was uncomfortable, unsettling, and I felt like it was ready to lunge at me and cut me open like a wild animal. I didn't like this one bit, yet, I was absorbed by its presence, somehow.

“Come on, don't be so uptight, get comfortable. I don't bite,” its voice was low, seductive, hypnotizing; and he flashed me a grin with razor-sharp teeth, and my anxiety worsened. Now it really looked like some sort of predator out to kill me. I obeyed it sheepishly, only uttering a small “sure.”

“I wanted to know you better,” I retorted, a bit defensively. I attempted to avoid eye contact, but the specimen's eyes followed mine with keen interest.

“Really? That's surprising. You have a whole document detailing everything you may want to know about me,” it quipped sarcastically, voice hushed and squinting like it was confessing a secret.

“I also wanted to thank you.” My response caused the initial disinterest of the specimen to disappear, surprise overtaking its features. I didn't feel as anxious as it let his guard down, but it regained his composure soon after, and the wicked energy in the room regained its strength again.

“I was just doing my job, there's no need to thank me.” X-13’s mask of indifference slipped as I sensed its pride in its task. Just doing my job, my ass. I bet it was stoked when it was able to leave containment for a few days.

“No, I did. My case…it was easy to solve and considering your fame as an honorary agent to get involved in such things, I thought I wanted to thank you for your kindness. You helped me, and so many others stuck in that sect.”

A beat went by.

And another.

I feared that stroking its ego didn't work as well as I hoped.

The specimen laughed, a cruel, fox-like sound that only a creature such as itself can make. I felt a pang of shame as I couldn't help but wonder what was so odd that I did to provoke such a reaction.

“What's so funny?” I ask, embarrassment washing over me. The creature finally stopped laughing as it stared right at me again, with that annoying Cheshire-cat-like smile that had been plastered on its face for so long.

“I didn't think you'd have it in you to think I could be so selfless. I could give less of a crap about your dad, the cult he led or the people in it, Molyboha.” It inched closer to me, his grin growing as it continued, “Do you really know what I want, doll face?” Its voice lowered again, sending a shiver down my spine. Oh, how I hated being there.

“What do you want?” The feeling that it was going to eat me raw came back, hitting me like a truck. I trembled slightly under the specimen's gaze, the anxiety again clawing back at me and screaming to run towards the door and leave this unfinished. But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

“Just so you know, I don't have any reasons to lie to you, Alexei.” Our faces were inches apart, and this melodramatic bastard was already dragging the surprise factor too much.

“It's me, isn't it?” I answered my own question, looking at the specimen with contempt.

“It's good to see you came to that conclusion too,” it chuckled, slowly backing away. “When I saw your profile, it was like love at first sight, really.”

I felt my face go a little red at the implication. I remembered their words; “it will use you as a toy”, and a pit of guilt formed in my stomach because I completely ignored their warning. Like an idiot that is absolutely going to get mauled at the moment. I regained my strength and continued the conversation.

“I'm assuming you want me to work for you?”

“Yes, exactly,” it beamed.

“Is that even allowed?”

It doubted for a moment and brought its hand to his forehead.

“Yeah, it's allowed. I'm exceptional, of course— and I need someone as exceptional as you to keep me in check. Look.” It gestured at me to help take off the gloves, and let me take in the uncomfortable sight of its palms. Two burn marks decorated its hands, and an archaic symbol seemed, but were not, recently burnt into its skin— yet, when I touched them, X-13 felt no pain.

“I don't let others see this, consider yourself lucky,” it joked, a bit embarrassed. “Do you understand now?”

“You're…an Emanator?” I let go of its hands, shaken up by the strange intimacy of it.

“Seems like you know what you're talking about,” it mocked, raising its chin.

“My father was one of you,” I realized as I felt my stomach churn at the memory of him.

“No shit, Sherlock. I was there. What he used to keep his followers docile was you— that's what I'm getting at.”

Silence followed after. What the fuck was that thing talking about?, I thought. I stared at the fluorescent lights above me, but their brightness immediately hurt my eyes and I sat up straight.

“So, what, you want me to follow you around and hope your supervisors are so terrified of you to let you do whatever you want?” I scoffed.

“Exactly. But not the last part. Do you know what a Dissipator is?”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

I did not want to talk about this at all.

“I think you got something wrong,” I blurted out. “I am not special in any manner, I'm just working here.” I tried to get up from my chair.

“Cut the bullshit,” it scolded sternly, its hypnotizing gaze forcing me to sit back down. “You're literally a reality bender, Alexei. You lived with that son of a bitch for nineteen years and the mana balance of the area was still stable. When you came here,” it paused, getting hold of a small, rectangular device similar to a geiger counter, “The energy of the room was at 20 counts,” it motioned at the third lowest setting on the object. “Before that, it was barely reaching 60 counts, even with the mana anchors. Your presence is able to reduce the presence of my mana by 33.3%. That's unheard of, so stop trying to get out of this one so easily,” it let go of the counter, pleased as it watched me sit back down obediently.

“Shouldn't you want me to make you more powerful? That makes no sense.” I asked, attempting to keep my cool, but it felt like it could hear the ominous thudding of my heart.

“Quite the opposite, actually. Us working together gives me a higher chance of doing as a wish— I would be less threatening to them. Plus, it keeps the nasty little voice in my head telling me to rip your heads off under control.” I grimaced at the mental image. What power could this creature have?, I pondered. Clearly a lot, since it was in containment and just being around it was terrifying.

“And what do I get out of it?” I said, as I inched closer to it, curiously.

“You help me! Isn't that why you joined? To help people?” it sneered at me, like it had done all this interview.

“That's not going to be enough.”

“Well, aside from seeing my pretty face daily, you'd become a division leader. A nice upgrade from your info-gathering with the Rats, right? And the pay gets better.”

It sounded too good to be true. Since I joined, becoming a field agent had been what I always wanted to do. And now, it was going to give me what I wanted. Like it always did. I'd just have to pay the small price of becoming its plaything to get it. For its good, for others’ good, to save people, and to be able to live with myself for once.

I didn't want to hate myself for what happened there anymore.

Being able to pay rent also sounded nice, for a change.

Ignoring their warnings was wrong, this was a dangerous being. But it had always been benevolent to me. If it was always going to be like this, I didn't mind becoming its toy as long as it treated me with kindness again.

The rest of the conversation went by idly, and the longer I was there, I was surprised to find myself progressively growing used to X-13’s intimidating aura. It was very knowledgeable on a wide range of topics; specifically on anatomy, chemistry and medicine, and its excitement was noticeable whenever they were mentioned, prompting a lengthy, uninterruptible rant about the subject at hand. Despite this flaw, it was an expert conversationalist and jumped between different topics at ease; it was surprisingly, one of the first few people I met since i left that place that was able to keep me thoroughly engaged when talking to them.

And then, our time was up.

“I'll think about your proposal, X-13,” I muttered, as I rose from my seat. “Your offer is so good it sounds like a trick.”

It frowned, scrunching its nose. “I don't joke about these things, doll face. Just give me the ounce of freedom I ask of you and I'll treat you like a king. I promise.”

“Promises can be broken,” I replied, a smirk on my face for the first time in our exchange.

“You're an idiot,” it shot back.

“I sure am. I'll be going now, goodbye.” I took the recorder and stopped the tape. If I actually started working around this thing (Gods forbid), keeping it in arm’s reach was going to be a smart move.

I looked back at the room, the creature waving goodbye to me as the guards took it back to its containment chamber.

“I hope I can see you again soon, Agent,” it purred flirtatiously as the guards forced it out of the room.

I didn't think I'd ever be insane enough to actually work with this bastard. I was wrong.

Relieved, I made my way back to Human Resources, praying to whatever is up there that they weren't useless enough to pair me up with this demon or whatever it was.

Author's notes:

this may give you a bit of whiplash considering the relationship x-13 (also known as "[redacted]") and alexei exhibit in this compared to what I normally post about them. x-13's manipulative behavior is intentional, and so is alexei being absolutely terrified of him at first; this is one of their first proper meetings, and their relationship will become healthier and more honest as time goes on. just a lil heads up!

There's also some lore things I should explain. The magic system in this world is governed by several higher powers encarnating fear. Negative emotions feed them and create mana energy that magic users allowed to draw from to perform their techniques. Sometimes they can draw that power from themselves if they have enough emotion pent up in them.

Emanators are beings chosen by these powers to do their bidding. They are able to manipulate mana energy by inciting fear into the people in the area. They are also given powers and abilities the entity's values and have distinctive markings on their skin.

Dissipators are lesser known (and not as frequent, either) but their presence is capable of removing mana energy. They have markings shaped in a four-pointed star. Their origin is found in mana-heavy and environments where many repressed emotions may come up; they exist to balance things out.

Avatars (who don't pop up here but may in other writings) are beings or objects synthesized to worship or incarnate an entity's power or values. If their creation is unsuccessful, these objects may gain sentience or some other anomalous properties.

MORGUE (Magical Object Research Gathering Unions for Enforcement) is the organization dedicated to capturing and researching emanators and avatars and creating and enforcing universal law. They exist world-wide and are divided in smaller units or unions for maximum efficiency when capturing an anomalous object. Sometimes they allow usage or participation of anomalous beings and objects in cases if needed.

[bubble-popping]

day 53 with more scp au! it's not as fully fleshed out as I like but i wanted to introduce Techno <3

Techno is a giant, sentient hog-like SCP brought in years ago by the foundation and more or less forgotten in his cell. He's hostile towards any human whatsoever and needs to be sedated by A LOT of tranquilizers. Dream while working at the foundation happens to pass by Techno's cell and he's curious abt the SCP and tries to learn more about him from the overseeing researcher. He finds out that the researcher listed had transferred and no longer even attempts to check on Techno. He gets himself appointed as the new head researcher for Techno along with his assistant Punz.

This entire time, Techno just bangs on the walls of his cell and yells. He's constantly agitated so Dream tries using music to calm him down. He'd convinced higher-ups to give him clearance for it provided the funds came from Dream's pay check. Some music seems to make Techno more mad and some make him relax, but he's still clearly on guard. They both try talking along with the relaxing music to get him adjusted to human speech.

They introduce new items into the cell like a ball, blankets, and pillows all to make his cell more comfortable and stimulating. Eventually, once Techno clearly is comfortable with these items, they try to introduce a person into the cell who's holding the same kind of stuff. Techno sniffs them--they've found that Techno mostly goes by smell--but Techno doesn't like them, especially not when they make their fear obvious and Techno lashes out and then eats them. They mark the test a failure, but Dream makes a comment about introducing food into the cell.

They drop in several different types of food, mostly meats, and finds mixed results. Techno HATES pork, but he likes steak and mutton. He also, strangely enough, REALLY likes potatoes. The trials go on until Techno doesn't interact with them at all, which they cite as an indication of satiation.

Since these experiments have been more of a personal, passion project, Dream has had to procure many of these things from his own pockets, so his income is taking a major hit. As disposable of units they are, D-class personnel are still expensive to procure if the research isn't recognized by upper levels. The two decide to bypass all that headache, and clearance, and start conducting trials themselves. He retests the previous experiment by introducing himself (Punz tries to convince him to let them go inside, but Dream's insistent to take responsibility) in the cell with a blanket and potatoes. Techno is hesitant at first, until Dream speaks and it's clear he recognizes Dream's voice. He smells him and seems to immensely relax, taking Dream's offering of potatoes and eating them raw.

Punz has to stay in the observatory deck and document everything that happens.

After more trials like this, Dream feels comfortable enough to have Punz in the 'cell.' Techno is very wary of them at first, even more so than the D-class, which Dream writes down as potential evidence for SCPs being able to 'sense' each other. With potatoes in hand, though, Techno does approach and take one. A success, in Dream's opinion.

Eventually, Techno is even friendly with the both of them and Dream teaches him sign language so they can communicate. This part is exactly what Dream is so interested in, being able to actually interact with the SCPs as if they were human. One of the first things Dream asks is about Techno's history, where he comes from, how he got here, all that good stuff. From what Dream can understand, somehow Techno got transported from his home in the 'Nether' and was soon caught by the Foundation after, understandably, making quite the ruckus.

Most of the au is spent with the three getting more comfortable and familiar with each other. However, conflict arises when some other researchers see Dream's work and think he's trying to 'train' Techno into fighting for him...

[dzthenerd490]

File: OC 17

SCP#: ADW

Code Name: Dusty the Healing Cat

Object Class: Thaumiel

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-ADW has been assigned to Mobile Task Force Demeter-4 "Animal Control". When she is on a mission, she is kept at the established recon tent to assist the medical team, this mainly applies for major missions.

When not assigned to a mission SCP-ADW is "contained" as Site-AM. SCP-ADW is allowed to wander the halls, cafeteria, the lobbies and other areas accessible to Level 1 Clearance staff and lower. SCP-ADW has been given a collar to keep her out of restricted and dangerous areas. Each area has been given transmitters that activate when her collar is close enough. It will release a frequency tricking her brain into thinking there is a barrier in front of her preventing her from going beyond the restricted area. It should be noted that this is the same method used to keep other anomalous animals in Foundation custody safe.

Foundation staff are to either treat SCP-ADW kindly by giving her pets and allowing her to eat the crumbs of their food. However, if a Foundation staff member sits down and find SCP-ADW walking up to them and sleeping on their shoulder or lap they are to remain sitting until SCP-ADW gets off of her own volition. Foundation staff that don't like cats are advised to follow the containment procedures or at the very least just avoid SCP-ADW. Any Foundation staff that show hostility or even harm SCP-ADW are to be demoted by a single level and provide SCP-ADW a meal as an apology, there are no exceptions.

Picture of SCP-ADW while curled up on Agent Zato's lap and utilizing its anomalous effects on her.

Description: SCP-ADW is an adult house cat with grey fur and yellow eyes, DNA testing shows she just a normal member of Felis Catus species. SCP-ADW has the anomalous ability to heal anyone she sleeps on with 100% accuracy. Furthermore, when SCP-ADW rests on someone's lap or shoulder, they feel a sense of easy and reduction of anxiety as a whole. Mental conditions such as ADHD and Aspergers have been known to fade after repeated exposure with SCP-ADW and even lead to the brain expanding in memory, learning speed, and reduce chances of developing Alzheimer's disease.

SCP-ADW is very moody, and hates being picked up so to activate her anomalous abilities its always best to let her come to you instead.  SCP-ADW has an anomalous sense to be able to see the true nature of people and often hisses at those that have or are destined to committee horrific atrocities. Given the questionable actions of most Foundation staff ethics wise, it's surprising that SCP-ADW even tolerates the staff at all. Though thankfully this anomalous ability of SCP-ADW has allowed Foundation staff to detect spies that somehow manage to get into Site-AM. It's because of SCP-ADW's sense and her ability to heal those she sleeps on is why she is labeled as Object Class Thaumiel.

SCP-ADW was discovered in 2022 by a Foundation agent named Zato. Agent Zato was off work and driving home when she stumbled across a dirty kitten on the road. She picked it up, took it home, cleaned the kitten, and named it Dusty. She was still suffering from pain from a bullet wound she got a week prior from a mission. SCP-ADW walked up to her and slept on her lap. After SCP-ADW left Agent Zato noticed she was feeling better, and the scars form her past wounds were gone. Agent Zato reported this to the higher ups immediately and brought SCP-ADW to the nearest Foundation Area base where her anomalous abilities were tested and revealed.

At the same time, it was revealed that one of the researchers there was a member of the Serpents Hand. He was trying to get promoted through the Foundation ranks to get his hands on more anomalous items and steal them all in one go. This was discovered when SCP-ADW kept hissing at him, and Agent Zato requested there be a more in-depth background check on him. After extensive research his origin was discovered, and he was apprehended by Foundation security. Because of this SCP-ADW is now considered a highly valuable asset to the Foundation and was sent to Site-AM. Agent Zato was given a position as security of Site-AM so that she could avoid further harsh missions and continue to be with SCP-ADW as the primary caretaker.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[west-tokyo-incidents]

Okay time for a little treat of the local mad man's rambling, imma talk about the handlers again. Mostly Absinthe. Because Michel is always slowly rotating in my head like a rotisserie chicken.

Absinthe, like a lot of Michel instances, really would rather Not Fucking Be Here. Similarly to Kia instances, Michel instances don't really get with the recruitment program. Like at all. Kindly fuck that shit, thanks. He's already in a military frying pan, he'd rather not jump into the fire.

But Absinthe's timeline was one that pretty much self destructed. He had been injured and some deviance in his Paresse caused him to break the limiters on his programming far too easily and somehow got a hold on noh he shouldn't have feasibly been able to copy. Being so new and immature and having this power flung upon him without the knowledge to use it properly, Paresse absolutely started tearing the timeline apart like paper. He held Absinthe close with a vise grip until an elimination team had been dispatched to kill him and let the timeline decay on its own.

Absinthe was brought into the facility upon discovery following his douji's death due to lingering temporal and spacial effects on him. His wounds were finally properly treated, but he was deemed too 'contaminated' to be wiped and placed into a different timeline.

Absinthe became more and more mute as time went on, hating his confinement and the tests done on him in attempts to cure him of the way his Paresse had messed him up. The elimination team that had been deployed contained none other than Sake, who would visit him regularly. Soon, Sake was the only one who he would talk to, and only if no one else was in the room.

Sake was the one to bring up potential recruitment, but following that conversation, Absinthe stopped talking at all. At least for a while. He would listen to Sake talk about the latest job he'd been on or whatever else was on his mind, but he wouldn't answer any questions that needed more than a nod or a shake of the head.

It wasn't until Sake mentioned that he had a low-risk mission coming up that Absinthe finally dusted off his vocal cords again, and asked if he could see what it was like.

Sake's team was high profile, so taking someone so, so fucking green on one of their missions was a BITCH to get clearance for in the first place, not to mention Absinthe's little... problem. But Sake did it. And the rest of the team, which at the time included Monarch and Echo, were happy to have him along. They explained their gear and told stories in the days leading up to the mission, and Absinthe was content with getting to see more than just the same medical wing all the time.

The mission went bad, though. Even if it was low-risk, it wasn't no-risk and Sake's team was still very high profile. Ultimately, it was Absinthe's very deviation that caused enough of a pause in the anomaly that gave the rest of the team an opening to cut it down.

Soon after, Absinthe chose to keep his codename as his actual name, and was given full recruit status. He was still only allowed on low-risk missions, and still had to make regular trips to the medical wing, but he had a crew now.

Eventually, he was given higher and higher clearance as he learned and adapted to the new lifestyle and Monarch was given full access to his medical files and even the trips to the wing were ended.

Whiskey originally had an entirely different name, Wolfsbane. She was part of a recon team that worked regularly with Sake's team. She was an instance from a timeline which had a werewolf strain in it, and she had been picked and recruited for her specific skills with no explicit world ending anomaly in her timeline. A magnetic device grafted into her body can mimic the same atmospheric parameters a full moon does, giving her a literal on/off switch for her transformations.

She's a fantastic scout, with her wolf form and modifications giving her an advantage, especially in timelines without werewolves where she can be mistaken for as a big dog. She's got a firey personality with a hair trigger temper and flirts like a whore trying to meet a quota. Especially with Absinthe, who is shockingly receptive--though at first only with nervous laughs and a red face.

The two are very much an Ice and Fire couple, opposites in ways that are almost comical. Absinthe silent where Whiskey is talkative. Absinthe has Stalker modifications while Whiskey has Scorcher. The ship dynamics posts with one being a chaotic gremlin and the other is a cold stoic is them to a T.

They Can And Will And Have Killed For Each Other. Just for fun sometimes.

When Annihilation was brought into the fold, the three all had their first official meeting with the Administrator.

Garion, despite appearing in many of the first surrounding the Facility, typically takes more of a back seat to most missions and only steps in when there's something sever occurring. To most members of the Facility, he's very much a distant figure, so it was nerve wracking for the three to say the least. Even more so when they were told what they would be assigned to.

Meeting Annihilation was rough, to put it lightly. Absinthe was the first to click with the trifusion. Even if any romantic attachment with the Paresse in the fusion had long since been replaced for Anaari, there was still a fondness there and the other two in the fusion were neutral about him enough to accept him, as long as he stayed well away from the Kia instance in question. It took longer for the other two, but no major wounds were sustained during the bonding process.

Wolfsbane renamed herself to Whiskey when the three handlers celebrated. For the aesthetic of a unified naming scheme, she'd said. Though she thoroughly enjoyed correcting Absinthe through the night.

It's hoped that one day Annihiltion will let the three become their masters, but it hasn't happened just yet.

[edensbuttercups]

Better - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader

A/N: Had a bit of an up and down week (mainly down lmao) so I was unfortunately slightly slower than I would've liked with this, but I've finally completed this ♡

As always, requests are open and comments are very much appreciated! Thank you for reading and hope you're all having a good day ♡

Words: 2.3k

Cursing yourself for accepting this whole thing, you reached into the small plane, pulling yourself in and seating yourself next to him, fidgeting as you kept your eyes fixated on the console in front of you. He went over his checklist, making sure that your belt was secured, leaning forward to tug on it, his face so close to yours. You swore you could see him blush, for a second wondering if it was because of the closeness, but shaking your head at the thought, knowing that the reason was probably his position, the small amount of space he had to move, or simply the way the plane was heating up quickly. He’d explained that it would cool down once you were higher up, but you probably wouldn’t notice even if it didn’t, teasing you about how scared you would be.

And you would’ve answered back with a smart remark, if only he hadn’t been so close, one hand on your thigh as he pulled and checked that you were secure. “Hey.” He looked up at you, his hazel eyes scanning your face, still set on getting you up in the air like you had promised him before he left, but not wanting to push you if you really didn’t want this. “Are you okay? We don’t have to-” “No, no, it’s fine. Just nerves.” you managed to mutter, trying your best to avoid looking at him. “Okay.” he took a small breath in, nodding. “If you want to get out, you tell me. Any moment, I take you back to the ground, okay?” You had nodded, checklist soon gone over, clearance for takeoff given and engines on. Your hand held tightly to the belt, your hands shaking, but you concentrated on his voice, soon finding yourself up in the air. 

You watched as the world shifted around you, in colors and details, gripping tighter to the belt that held you still when you felt the plane tilting, making the sky slip down one side and giving you a full view of the ground below.

Beautiful, sure, but what the fuck. 

You trusted Rooster with your life, but this plane was fast and so small and it somehow made it seem like so much could go wrong so quickly. His breathy laugh broke you out of your trance, turning your face towards him as you muttered a low, I swear to God I’m gonna kill you. “I thought this was to celebrate me not dying on my last mission? Seems like a waste to kill me so soon.” He joked and moved the plane back so that it was parallel to the ground, a shit eating grin still gracing his annoyingly beautiful face, but you couldn’t help but feel the fear and anger quickly vanish when his hand gently found yours, giving you a sense of comfort. “Do you trust me?” The sky was slowly changing to a more subtle shade, the orange starting to rise from the horizon. You did trust him, you did. Even up here, you trusted him. It was more a matter of your brain screaming at you that there were quite a few feet below you, and that you could easily die if this went wrong, but you tried to remind yourself that not only did you trust him with your life, but that he was one of the best people you could be in a plane with. “I do.” You ignored how your cheeks heated up at the words, the dream from a few nights ago flashing behind your eyes, and turned to glance at him, giving him a small nod and smiling Taking a deep breath, you tangled your fingers with his, feeling him squeeze back lightly. “I promise I’ve got you, baby. I’d never let you down.” The wink he sent your way, the pet name, along with his cheesy smile made you laugh, comforting you once more, just as you noticed the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or better, I’d never let you down metaphorically.” He accentuated the last word, watching you as you prepared your witty remark, ignoring his words. “Metaphorically? That’s a big word for y-… wait, what do you mean, metaphorically?” He grinned at you and closed his eyes, nodding slowly. “Going up is fun, but going down…” “Roost-“ You couldn’t even finish his name before his laughter echoed in the plane, just as the ground moved from under you to in front of you, and holy shit, if you were joking before now you weren’t so sure. “I’m gonna kill you! What the fuck! Fuck, fuck, Rooster!” “Oh, what sweet, sweet words.” You could almost see his stupid smile as he broke the descent, changing the direction of all that was surrounding you, the nose of the plane now pointed upwards, into the fading blue, this somewhat less scary even if the pure adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, the pressure on your chest not quite easing, your lungs still feeling so tight. “So, I guess I did let you down, huh? Physically, at least.” “Rooster, what the hell.”

He laughed, and again you felt his hand squeeze yours, pulling your hand onto his thigh so you could still hold onto him while both his hands were busy, the action making your heart beat faster. It usually was easy to ignore your feelings, believe that you wanted to be friends and nothing more, always telling yourself that the way he pulled away when things seemed to lean towards something more didn’t hurt.

You thought back to that night, before he left for what felt like years, leaving you and Penny to sit together every night after her shift was over, her words always leaving you a little closer to reveal your feelings to him if? when he came back. “You know, he always has his eyes on you.” she muttered one night, sipping on a warm tea as the waves crashed faintly, their sound drowned out by the music and the thoughts in your head. “Yeah, he’s oddly protective.” you laughed, shaking your head. 

Any time a guy would come over, he’d be there, making up an excuse about how they have a bad reputation or he’s a jerk, you deserve better.

One night you snapped back, his hand on your waist just adding to the whirlwind of emotions in your chest. “What is all of this about?” “You deserve better!” “And who exactly is better? Because you keep saying that, but it’s been months, and better still hasn’t arrived.” You had been close that night, your bodies almost touching, his face inching towards yours before pulling back, throwing a quick apology as he made his way back inside, ignoring his own beating heart and push he had felt to just kiss you, this once. 

“And why do you think that is?” Penny asked, smiling softly at you. She had seen the way he looked at you, a way that was so close to how Pete looked at her, and a way that left Pete speechless the first time he saw it.

“Are they together?” He had asked her, eyeing the two of you, him looking at you intently while you took aim, ready to beat Hangman at pool for once. “Not that I know, no. They’re both oblivious about their feelings, I’d say.” she answered, movements quick as she prepared another drink, setting it down on the bar. “Why?” “He looks at her like Goose looked at Carole.”

“Penny.” you warned her, smiling nonetheless at the accusation. “He sees me as a friend.” “Yeah, that’s why he almost beat Hangman up when he tried to make a pass at you.” She teased, shimmying down her chair, looking at the horizon. “The two of them are always almost beating each other up! That’s their way of showing love.” “Sure, whatever you say.” You could see her smug smile, and with few comments and jokes you managed to steer the conversation away, concentrating on something else instead. 

Truth was, her words hadn’t left you. You did think about them. You thought about them before he came back, when you imagined what it’d be like to run into his arms once he got back, telling him how you truly felt, kiss him. But when he did, you didn’t follow through with any of your thoughts, offering him a simple hug, his arms wrapped tightly around you and seemingly not wanting to let you go, the only words you could say being I’m so happy you’re back, I missed you so much, yet no “I love you”s. You thought about them after he came back, when you’d sit together and chat, and your legs would be touching, or his arm would be wrapped around your shoulders, or he’d get a little drunk and look at you with a look you couldn’t quite place, one that would make you blush bright red. And you thought about them now, with your arm wrapped around his arm, holding on for dear life even if you trusted him, even if it was more than trust that you felt for him.

“Still good?” he asked you, gaze flicking to you for only a second before staring back ahead, biting back a smile when he felt your grip on him tighten. “Yeah, yeah.” “Lost your comebacks?” he teased. “Oh, shut up.” you answered back, frowning. Penny’s words wouldn’t leave your head, and you realized that if there was a moment to try and be brave, it was now. Neither of you could run away, and you realized that that was both the best and worst possibility, technically. So, you did. Holding onto him, you found the courage to see what he really felt for you, testing the waters before fully diving in. “You have to get me down there in one piece either way, I have a date tonight, Bradshaw.” You said that looking straight ahead, pretending to take in the views when all you were focusing on was his reaction. You could only see him with the corner of your eye, but you swore he took a short break in, turning his head to look at you before snapping it back. His hands were gripped tight, his lips in a straight line. “With who.” It didn’t even sound like a question, his tone no longer holding any of the playfulness that it held just a moment ago. So maybe Penny was right, after all. “You always said I had to find someone better, right?” You spoke, finally turning to look at him, seeing his jaw tensing at your words. It was hard to see, almost, the way that his eyebrows furrowed in place, his grip stayed tight, his gaze focused on getting you back to land, not sure he could bear this conversation. When he didn’t answer, you carried on. “So I did. But I don’t know if he’ll say yes to the date, technically.” you tried to hide your smirk, feeling pretty confident, pushing that last bit of fear behind, letting go of it. “He’d be a fool.” he muttered. “Well, are you?”  you bit back, his expression tensing up more when he heard your words. “What?” He looked at you, then away, then back again. His eyes were so big, and you couldn’t help the laugh that his expression drew from you, his lips perking up when he heard it. “What?” He asked again, needing to hear it from you. “Feel like going on a date tonight?” You finally asked, biting your lips as he smirked, his mood instantly shifting, just like everything did, his laughter echoing as he switched directions one more, your grip on him tightening once again as the world moved beneath you. “I really do, baby, 7pm sound good?” You looked ahead, mouth agape as you lightly punched his arm, giggling when he straightened out, starting the descent to the ground. “God, I hate you.” You muttered, closing your eyes and relaxing in the seat, feeling his back straighten as he approached the ground, getting ready for landing. “Nope, doesn’t seem like you hate me, sweetheart, not quite.” “Don’t let me asking you out go to your head, Roos.” There was nothing quite like knowing you had finally taken that extra step, the evening slowly getting planned in your mind, what you’d wear, what you’d do, or say, what it would be like to kiss him, or be with him in with something more than friendship on the table.

He helped you out, holding your hand with one of his, his other steadily pressed against the small of your back, pushing you in his arms once you touched the floor.  He needed to feel you against him, hold you for a moment before going back to being the teasing old him. He wasn’t sure if he was better than any of the other guys that tried to court you before he had so rudely interrupted, but he’d try. To hear you say those words, asking him out just after he had felt jealousy for an unknown person, there was nothing but adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he couldn’t wait for tonight. “7pm?” He offered again, taking a step backwards and smiling when he saw your flustered expression, finally back on the ground, the comfort of it no longer helping with your nerves. “Yep.” You answered back, moving back towards him to place a light kiss on his cheek, pulling away and nodding once more, making your way back home, the prospect of the evening stamping a permanent smile on your face, as well as a light blush. 

He waited, watching you walk away, silently cheering while he tried to calm himself, rid the blush from his cheeks, the rush of it all making him feel like a teenager again. 

It was you that insisted on heading to the Hard Deck, not for long, you had promised, I just have to do one thing, you explained to Rooster, pulling him through the door. It was late, and you both just wanted to head home, kiss, be with each other, but there was just one thing you had to do before heading home. Penny looked up after a mere moment, spotting the two of you and waving, her eyes falling to your interlocked hands, raising an eyebrow as she watched you walk back out. She chuckled, never doubting Bradley’s feelings for you, or yours for him. She was just glad you had both figured it out.

[machinesandman]

There was a muffled 'thunk thunk' on Signas's window. When he opened it, X's hand grabbed onto the sill and he held out large bag full of gifts! "Merry Crimble, Commander!" :D

Commander Signas had pointedly been making sure nothing got too out of hand today. At least, no more than the usual, to be expected. He could clearly hear Riot shouting somewhere in base... Maybe the commander should invest in a music system just for his office, so he didn't end up hearing some of these- but no, he couldn't. He needed to be aware at all times, not just constantly monitoring the base through his connections.

But that did not stop him from being mildly surprised at hearing a tapping upon the window of his office, many stories up! It could only be a higher ranking hunter with clearance to even manage that sort of thing in the first place. So he moved to the window and opened the panes swiftly- only for X to pull himself up enough to be seen.

"Ah, Hunter X... Hm, clever. One way to avoid the door. Crimble...?" Signas was mildly amused at this extra amount of effort put into even coming up here in the first place. And with a bag of items no less? In the middle of December, with ice and snow. He shook his head a moment with amusement, before one large hand gently took the bag of items. Gingerly setting it aside to take a glance at the contents. Upon what he saw, mostly being sweets and baked goods, was not a surprise in the slightest. He enjoyed trying these old recipe's for baking that were somehow discovered in recent years. But the other items... Hmm... Shot gun shells, special designed ones, for the custom made new one that ahd been made for him. As well as what seemed to be some sort of new chipset. Perhaps that personal defensive array he had talked about in passing? All the same, he was quite touched by this gesture.

"Thank you very much, X. Merry Christmas."

[lovelylunarwriting]

Jaemin Soulmate!AU

Jaemin has a reputation as a “cool” kind of guy, which is why he wears bracelets to hide the words permanently etched on his left wrist

“Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?”

Jisung and Haechan are notorious for giving him shit for having a ‘weird’ soulmate, but Jaemin thinks it’s kind of funny, honestly

Like great question dude but,,, why are you asking me this

Jaemin’s apartment is around the corner from a little family-owned grocery store that he’s frequented since his high school days.

He’s very much a regular, to the point of the owner being like “Jaemin…. Please just work here. You already know where everything is”

To which Jaemin has to respectfully decline, because he wants to focus on his dancing and singing, and working too much would get in the way of practicing.

That, however, does not stop the old man from sending customers with questions to Jaemin whenever he comes in.

Because Jaemin is too polite to be like “uhh I don’t work here, good luck”, he always ends up helping them

But secretly, he doesn’t mind. He thinks that maybe one day, his soulmate will be the next one to ask him a question.

Even after repeated questions about “how much does this cost?”, “when do you guys open tomorrow?”, “when will the next shipment of bok choy be in?”, he still isn’t terribly bothered.

The other employees chastise the boss for sending customers to Jaemin, but the old man is always like “he knows this store better than you all do. That’s why he gets a discount higher than yours”

Employee discount: 15 percent off all merchandise

Na Jaemin discount: 20 percent off all merchandise

It’s an unspoken rule amongst employees that Na Jaemin gets a discount, but they are NEVER to mention it to him! He knows that business has been rough recently and wouldn’t accept the generosity, but the boss thinks Jaemin is too skinny and wants him to be able to afford to eat well.

Now lovely reader, this is where you come in. You recently got a job at this grocery store but you work in the back, so you have never seen the famous “Na Jaemin” that all your fellow employees chat about so frequently.

Coworker #1: “Ugh, he’s like SO dreamy”

Coworker #2: “I know right? He’ll have no trouble becoming an idol at this rate”

Meanwhile you’re like “lol what who? Also where is the printer for printing clearance labels”

You specifically applied for the back of house position because you did not want to talk to people.

It’s not that you’re antisocial by any means- honestly it’s the opposite. It’s just that you have the tendency to say whatever you’re thinking with absolutely no filter.

So in the past when more…. challenging… customers have talked down to you, you gave back the same energy without thinking.

Management was not happy,,, so you were like “mmmm maybe I should just keep to myself and everyone would be happier”

One day though, it seems that you’re shit out of luck.

Your work bestie calls you at 3 in the morning on your day off saying that her kid has a fever and she’s gotta stay home and take care of him.

You have no plans other than generally being a lazy lump at home, and she’s always had your back at work, so you’re like “girl don’t worry about it, I got your shift. I’ll make some chicken noodle soup for him too”

To which she’s like “bitch if I hadn’t found my soulmate already I would’ve snatched you up T-T”

You giggle and tell her to try and get some rest- both her and her kid.

And then sleep another blissful 4 hours before rolling in for the 8am shift.

When you get there, boss man is like “ayeee so you’re covering for her shift which is stocking shelves, are you gonna be okay doing that?”

You: “Ahaha yeah it’ll be fine~ just please don’t send customers to me oh my gosh”

Boss Man: “Don’t worry, I just saw Jaemin walk in. I’ll send them to him”

You: “... who is Jaemin”

Boss Man: “He’s my FAVORITE!! Remember that!”

You: “Oh, okay!! Yes sir!”

You’re like fifteen minutes into your shift and you’re already on edge because all you’ve done so far is dodge all the old ladies who are shopping this early.

No actual products have been put on the shelves yet, or at least not by your hands.

Settling down in the dairy section, you relax a bit and start putting cold products in the cold shelves fixed to the wall.

And of course- things are in the wrong place. Why would anyone put anything back where it belongs?

Picking up a product, you glance at the label out of sheer boredom more than anything.

“Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?”, you say to yourself.

Or so you think.

“Yeah, that is like the one question I don’t know how to answer”, you hear a masculine voice say from behind.

You spin around and look up into the man’s face.

And oh boy is that a nice looking face.

“Oh I’m sorry, I- WAIT”, you start, before you realize what he said.

Grabbing his left wrist, you push up the bracelets to reveal what you’d just said. Then you drop his hand out of sudden shyness, and because it’s not cool just to grab people.

“Do… do you mind if I look at your wrist as well?”, he asks quietly.

You roll up your sleeve and present him with your arm. He delicately wraps his fingers around your wrist and flips it over to read the words written”

He drops your wrist and sinks into a squat, flopping his arms over his head and looking at the ground.

“Oh my gosh why did I say something so lame…”

“Umm,,, to be fair,,, I did ask you about butter so by comparison yours isn’t that bad,,,,”, you try to comfort him, and he lifts his head up to meet your gaze.

“You mean that? It wasn’t like the lamest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Oh I’ve heard much lamer things, don’t worry!”, you say with a cheery smile that contrasts your words entirely.

He stands up again and clasps your hands in his. With a look of determination he looks straight into your soul and asks:

“What time do you get off work?”

You tell him, but let him know that you’ll be busy after work making chicken noodle soup for your coworker and her son.

He’s like “oh you can cook?” and you’re like “lol no but I’m gonna die trying”

He writes his phone number on your arm (next to your soulmate tattoo) and is like “text me when you’re done with work and I’ll swing by and walk you home and maybe I can help you cook”

And quickly clarifies “ONLY IF YOU’RE COMFORTABLE WITH ME IN YOUR HOME, I UNDERSTAND IF BECAUSE WE JUST MET YOU-”

You’re like “dude,,,, it’s fine, we are literally destined to be together. Also if you try anything I’ll just beat you up so it’s chill”

Looking at his watch, he sprints makes a beeline for the checkout counter, going on about he’s gonna be so later and Haechan’s never gonna let it go if he’s late twice in a row, and something else but by that point he’s so far away from the dairy aisle you can only hear muffled sounds where words should be.

The next several hours could not go by ANY SLOWER.

Starting off today, you figured the day would go by quickly because you’d be preoccupied figuring out how to do something new, but now all you can think about is pretty soulmate boy.

And how he never mentioned his name, but to be fair, it was a rather quick exchange.

What feels like centuries later, your shift is coming to a close so you grab the ingredients you the internet tells you you need for the soup and head to your favorite cashier.

Somehow the front of the store is both quiet and abnormally loud for this time of night.

“Jaemin’s been waiting there for fifteen minutes? Do you think he’s waiting for someone?”

“Maybe he needs to talk to the boss? Usually he’d just ask one of us to grab him but he’s just standing outside”

“Ugh it’s so cold, should we tell him to come inside?”

You glance over to the crowd of coworkers towards the entrance and break out into a smile.

“Just keep ringing me up, I’ll be right back!”, you tell the cashier and fast walk past the small crowd.

Peeping your head out the door, you greet him.

“Are you cold? Come inside, I’m almost done”

“Oh okay, should I wait by the door though?”

“No, come with me. I wanna show you off~”, you instruct and he raises an eyebrow, but plays along.

Holding open the door for him, he scuffles his way in and shyly offers his hand.

Gladly, and with a pounding heart, you lock your fingers between his.

“Your hands are freezing, dude”

“Shhh it’s fine. I was trying to be cool, okay”, he jokes with you as you walk back to the register

Ringing up your items, the cashier is looking at you and him with raised eyebrows, and you’re just like “shut up jessica I’ll explain tomorrow”

The two of you walk back to your apartment and spend the rest of the night cooking and talking about everything and nothing.

The more you learn about Jaemin, the more confident you are that the universe got this one right.

Even when most things feel unclear, you know this person is someone you can always rely on.

(also when you bring your sick work bestie the soup, Jaemin insists on tagging along and she’s like “omg Y/N that’s JAEMIN” and you’re like “I KNOW” and he’s like “hi here’s some soup, also why do you know my name”

[rogueonestan]

"i’m sorry, am i talking too much?”

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

word count: 10k (whoopies)

synopsis: the four times you open up to the Mandalorian and the one time he does. (day 7 for mandoctober - razor crest)

a/n: i’ve been working on this piece slowly over the past 6 or so weeks and i’m so excited to finally share it! this piece was inspired by these two asks by @dindjarindiaries and thank you so much ro for listening me babble and stress about this. i’m very proud of this piece and i’m so excited to finally share it.

masterlist

The first time you opened up to the Mandalorian was when you were both en route to your next bounty. 

“Where’s our next bounty?”

“The Recopia System.”

Groaning slightly, the Mandalorian turns around in his seat, tilting his helmet at you, “have you been there before?” 

Hesitating, you reply, “I’ve had some back luck there.” You could feel his stare intensifying underneath the helmet, so you continue, “the last time I was there, it was for my first undercover covert mission for the Rebellion- Rebel Intelligence.” 

Looking up, you see the Mandalorian has given you his undivided attention, “the last time I was there was for a mission; it was during my Rebellion days. One of our most important assets got captured during a mission, and Intelligence told us the Imps were brutally torturing them at the ISO-L8 station. So, they tasked me with going to Recopia, retrieving them out of their prison cell, and returning back to base undetected. Luck would not be on my side that day. Almost anything bad that could happen, happened. 

I was able to gain clearance for my ship and land onto their space station. Once I landed, a few Imp officers approached my ship, demanding to inspect my ship. Two out of the three officers were called for duty elsewhere and luckily, I was able to knock out the remaining officer so I could borrow his uniform as my disguise. 

Once I changed into my disguise, I commed an update to my superiors and waited for an update. They, unfortunately, didn’t have much intel to give me since the prisoner I was rescuing was being heavily supervised. 

During my scouting of the prison, I was able to gain access to where they were. When I was figuring out where I needed to go next, a few lower ranked Imperial officers would approach me, asking me questions, but I had no idea how to respond. I was panicking during the moment; my mind went blank. I just made up some kriffing excuse and continued on with my search. 

I found the cell where my target was, luckily I had no other interruptions from any other Imperial officers, and I was able to enter the cell. I saw how brutally tortured they were; they had blood and bruises all over their body. They had black eyes, swollen cheeks, were restrained tightly against a torture chair. Just my luck, they were unconscious, so my plan of pretending to transfer them to a ‘different cell’ was thrown out the window.”  You say using air quotes with your fingers, “quickly, I used my comlink to update my superiors once again. I knew the risk of the transmission being tampered with, and of course, the Imps were beginning to suspect there was something suspicious happening. I knew the longer I was at the prison, the higher chance I was risking of getting caught.”

“Did you?” You hear Mando suddenly ask. 

You nod your head, “when I was assigned this mission, I was considered to be a pretty good spy; not the best, but I was very good at my job. I made so many rookie mistakes that day: I kept comming to my superiors, almost blowing my cover, almost getting caught multiple times throughout the entire mission.”

“If you knew contacting them was a bad idea, why did you do it?”

“It was my first rescue mission,” you say shrugging your shoulders, “I was trained for missions like these but my nerves got the best of me. If I focused on the task at hand rather than focusing on almost getting caught, things could’ve gone much smoother. I panicked multiple times, like comming in multiple times, and almost jeopardized the entire mission. I was young and trying to prove myself.”

Mando just nods, so you continue, “when I was able to get them out of the chair, I had to come up with a plan of getting him back to my ship undetected. He was so brutally tortured to the point where he was unconscious and I began panicking because I couldn’t think of a way to get him out of there undetected. I needed a plan fast. 

Once I was on the verge of coming up with a plan, my luck had run out: I had this gnawing feeling in my gut that the Imps were on their way back, so I had no choice but to put the spy back in the chair and pretend I was ‘torturing’ the guy. 

A few moments after I had done that, one Imperial officer and two stormtroopers entered the cell and the next thing that happened still confuses me to this day. I don’t know how to explain it. I just remember having an argument with the officer: I kept saying of how I’ll take over this ‘torment,’ so they can leave, but he kept saying he was specifically tasked with breaking the prisoner. I don’t know how I managed to convince him, but I did this trick that sometimes works?” You say with furrowed brows, confusion laced in your voice, “I waved my hand in front of the officer and told him to leave, and he did. I was able to knock out the two troopers fairly quickly with no problem. I don’t understand what happened but somehow the Force was on my side.”

“The Force?” You hear Mando ask. You nod your head at him in response, “what is that? What do you mean?”

“It’s something my mother told me about when I was a kid. She always told me the Force surrounds every living thing and that it’s an ally. I don’t know what it exactly is, but my mother always told me to ‘trust in the Force.’” You explain. 

“You really think it’s the reason you were able to escape?”

You shrug your shoulders, “it’s the only explanation I can think of.” Mando doesn’t respond, but you can somehow feel the confusion radiating from him. You wish you could somehow explain it more but your understanding of the Force is limited.

You continue, “After they left and I knocked out the two troopers, I disguised the spy in one of the troopers’ armor. I don’t know if it was the Force, or luck, or what, but I somehow managed to sneak the disguised spy throughout the prison without being undetected. The closer I got to the hanger, this overwhelming feeling of dread just kept consuming me. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I just knew that another upcoming fight was going to happen. 

By the time I got to the hanger’s doors, there were a few troopers guarding the doors along with two Imperial officers. They questioned me and I feared my cover was going to be blown. I knew they were beginning to suspect my presence because of conversations I overheard in the halls, but I didn’t know to what extent. They asked me if I saw any suspicious behavior, just general questions, but then they asked me specifically about my ‘superiors.’ I slipped, I made a tiny mistake, and they figured out I was the one responsible for the rescue mission. I tried doing the same tactic I used in the torment room, but it didn’t work for some reason. 

Thinking quickly, I knew this would be a messy mistake, but I came up with the brilliant plan of shooting my way out of this situation. So I did. I shot the troopers that were blocking the hanger door, but as I was doing so, one of the officers took the opportunity to shoot me in the leg; which took me to the ground. I shot him in the leg then in the chest. The last remaining officer in the room towered over my body and pointed his blaster at my head. I swore I was going to die at that moment, along with the spy. I feared a simple rescue mission was the one that got me killed. I closed my eyes in anticipation, but the shot never came. I opened my eyes and saw the officer was dead on the ground. I looked behind me and my partner had a blaster in their hand before they fell to the ground. 

The fight was over. I was able to take them back to my ship. Word got around about the attack in the hanger and multiple blaster shots kept hitting the side of my ship as I was preparing it for takeoff. My ship was surrounded by troopers. I knew the longer I was there, the chances of getting caught would increase. 

When we were in hyperspace, I began to relax but then remembered about my partner. I took off the trooper’s armor and was able to get a better glance at their bruises. Their entire face, their body, was just covered in bruises, cuts, scrapes, and just bloody. I’ve never seen anything like that. I knew I had to patch them up, to an extent. My ship wasn’t exactly equipped to heal a man who’s at death’s door. Because of the training I got from my mother, I was able to do so. I did what I could and finally relaxed until we got back.

He was treated properly at the medbay when we got back to base. And I completed my first out of several rescue missions I would be assigned during the war.”

Taking a deep breath, you slump against your seat and close your eyes momentarily. Opening your eyes, you see Mando still looking at you but with his helmet tilted, “do you always talk this much?” “What do you mean?” 

He sighs, “well, you have been talking for the past ten minutes.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I talking too much?” 

“It’s a little annoying.”

You grunt in pure frustration. “I hate it when people call me that!” You clench your fists very tightly, your teeth grinding, trying to refrain from lashing out at your partner out of pure frustration, “I was called that all the time as a child. Do not call me that.”

After being partners for a few weeks now, the Mandalorian has never seen this kind of reaction from you before, and it’s certainly one he doesn’t want to see again. 

The second time you opened up to your Mandalorian partner was when you were heading back to Nevarro to return a quarry. 

You and your Mandalorian partner are currently hunting on the forest planet of Murninkam for your next target. It is currently day two of your expedition and the pair of you have been walking around in a forest for hours now. The deeper you got in the forest, the deeper the pit in your stomach grew. Deep down, you had this feeling of something feeling off. You weren’t sure why, but you just knew this bounty would be more of the difficult ones you’ve been assigned since joining the Mandalorian’s crew.

Your suspicions only grew as you traveled deeper into the forest. Silence surrounds you besides from the occasional chirps and snarls from the local creatures. Stopping dead in your tracks, you could feel like something, someone is watching you. With your left hand hovering over your blaster, you look around you before picking up your pace to catch up with your partner, “where exactly are we heading?” 

“To the Kajiin Swamp,” Mando replies as he takes the tracking fob off of his belt. The tracking fob has maintained its same rhythm all day and you’re beginning to lose hope of finding your quarry before nightfall. The sun on Murninkam will be setting in a matter of hours and you were hoping this bounty wouldn’t be a long one; most of your bounties with the Mandalorian typically only last a few days at most. 

“Are you sure we’re at least going the right way? There hasn’t been any sign of our target and we’ve been walking around for hours.”

“We’ve been partners for months and you still don’t trust me?”

“I didn’t say that- it’s just, wouldn’t something have changed by now?” And with that, the tracking fob begins to beep rapidly. You immediately take the staff off from your shoulders and secure the satchel you’re currently donning while the Mandalorian’s hand hovers over his blaster. 

You hear a rustling noise from the trees above you and the next thing you know, a male Pantoran jumps down, landing directly behind you. Before you have a moment to react, the Pantoran kicks you down to the ground hard. Supporting yourself with one knee, you see your partner has already taken off his pulse rifle from his shoulder and hits the target in the gut with the butt of his weapon. Doubling over in pain, you grab the staff that lays on the ground next to you, knocking the Pantoran off of his feet. Landing down on the ground next to you, the Pantoran attempts to get up but is unable to because of the weight the Mandalorian is putting on his chest. 

“We can bring you in warm or we can bring you in cold.” The quarry immediately raises his hands in surrender. The Mandalorian reaches behind him and tosses a pair of stuncuffs, “cuff yourself.”

The walk back to the Crest takes two days, luckily it back didn’t take as long as it did while trying to find your target. Using his vambrace to open the Crest’s hatch, Mando carbo-freezes your quarry while you ascend to the cockpit. Placing your staff and satchel on the ground next to you, you sit in your usual spot behind the pilot seat. Lifting your feet on the console, you close your eyes and try to relax as best as you can. 

Your feet suddenly are knocked off the console and land harshly on the ground with a big THUD. You reopen your eyes and find your partner hovering over you, “no feet on the console.” 

“Fine.” Putting your hands up in surrender, “won’t happen again, partner.” You can hear him audibly sigh loudly before taking his seat and starting up the ship, launching into hyperspace. 

Picking up your bag from the ground, you rummage through its contents very loudly, picking up random trinkets from local markets and dropping them on the floor. You can feel the annoyance rubbing off from your partner. Looking up, you can see Mando’s fists tightly clench around the Crest’s steering handles even though the Crest is already in hyperspace. You go back to your previous task and try to find what you’re looking for: a piece of fruit you bought at the marketplace on Nevarro shortly before you were tasked with a new quarry. Biting into the sweet fruit, you begin to enjoy your snack momentarily until the Mandalorian turns around in his seat and stares at you. You can feel the tension radiating from his stare, “yes?” You ask with your mouth full.

“Do you have to be so loud?”

“I’m eating.” He continues to stare at you. Deciding to push his buttons further, you put your feet back on the console with a sly smirk on your face. He immediately shoves your feet off, even with more force than the first time.

“Stop it.” He aggressively snarls at you.

You mumble an insult underneath your breath. The pair of you continue to sit in silence until you start tapping on your thighs very loudly, the sound being the only one present in the entire Crest. 

“Would you be quiet?”

“You seem a bit tense, would you like to hear a story?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You’re being so annoying today.”

Immediately grabbing one of the small trinkets off from the floor, you chuck it at his helmet without thinking, “you know I hate it when people call me that!”

The Mandalorian just stares at you with a shocked expression on his face underneath his visor, still trying to process what you just did. 

Putting your hands over your mouth once you realized what you just did, you mutter, “oh my stars” repeatedly underneath your breath and begin rocking in your seat. You can feel your heart race as you try to think of something to say, to apologize, but nothing comes out. You look down at your hands in your lap in shame.

“Copaani mirshmure’cye, vod?” He retorts with a teasing tone.

“What?” Not knowing what he asked you in the language of his people, a strong expression of confusion is plastered on your face. Then you realize, he’s ridiculing you. 

While focusing on your laced hands in your crisscrossed lap, you look up at your partner, scoffing out of disbelief, “wait. Are- are you making fun of me?” The Mandalorian tilts his helmet slightly and you can feel the anxiety of the situation slowly dissipating off from your shoulders. You hear a low rumble coming from underneath his helmet, he’s laughing, you’ve never been able to make him laugh before. It’s a sound you’re determined to hear more often. You feel yourself beginning to let loose and laugh along with him. You can’t believe he’s actually teasing you. As long as you’ve known him, Mando’s been nothing but serious; you’ve never seen this side of him. It’s a side you hope you can see more often, getting to know the man underneath the helmet, not just Mando. 

You let your hands fall onto your knees as you lay back in relaxation. Mando leans forward in his seat, grabbing one of your hands, giving it a light squeeze, “you’re a very good partner but you can be a di’kut at times.”

“Di’kut? What does that mean?” 

“I’ll tell you another time.” He squeezes your hand one more time before he releases his grip and begins to turn around in his chair.

His sentence repeats multiple times in your head; it finally donned on you what he said, “wait, did you just call me an idiot?” You ask while laughing. Mando turns back around and nods, “you’re telling me! At least you didn’t almost accidentally join a cult once.” 

“You what? What the kriff are you talking about?”

“I was on Jedha once and I found out about the multiple religions they had that surrounded the Force. One of their religions, the Order of the Esoteric Pulsar, took their beliefs to the extreme and they tried to lure me because they ‘sensed something powerful’ within me, or something.” You try to gain a sense of Mando’s reaction but the never-changing expression of his helmet does you no good, but somehow you can just feel his astoundment, “they told me about the Force and how I had it, then they were speaking about this deity, the Esoteric Pulsar, and they believed a physical embodiment of their deity would appear to them one day, believing I was this thing.” You scoff out of disbelief, still not being able to wrap your head around a group of people believing you were some sort of god. Chuckling, you continue, “I was around this group for a short amount of time just to see what they believed, but I never could figure it out. They kept worshipping me and telling me that I was the person who would bring galaxy-wide recognition to their purpose, so I left because I got weirded out.”

The Mandalorian opens his mouth various times to respond to your anecdote, but he can’t think of anything. He’s truly at a loss for words. 

You pick up your piece of fruit that you neglected earlier and continue to snack on it while staring out at the hyperspace. After a moment of silence, you ponder another question, “am I talking too much?” 

Your partner mutters di’kut underneath his breath as he gets up from the pilot seat and heads to the lower level of the Crest, leaving you to finish your fruit in peace.

The third time you opened up to the Mandalorian was when you were assessing a wound of his. 

With the Mandalorian’s left arm draped over your shoulder, you’re currently trying to get the pair of you back to the Crest as soon as possible. While trying to locate your next quarry, the two of you were ambushed by fellow hunters. Luckily, you weren’t that hurt from the fight, but your partner took most of the damage. The quarry was able to escape when Mando got a blaster shot on his right side in between his beskar. Today was not your day.

You have to get back to the ship. You have to help him. You have to make sure that he lives. You can’t imagine your life without him. 

Seeing the Crest in the distance, you continue of struggling with his heavy weight against your side. You finally get back to the Crest and you’re able to finally tend to his wound. Helping him onto the cot, you retrieve the medkit that’s nearby, getting to work while kneeling next to his bedside. 

You inspect the injured area and discover the wound wasn’t as deep as you initially thought, mainly just superficial. While inspecting the wound, you discover that you’ll need more access to the area, possibly even taking off his cuirass. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, you ask for permission to roll it up. Nodding once, he grants you permission. You roll up his shirt a few times, stopping just underneath his ribcage, and you discover that you will have to take off his cuirass to fully patch his wound. Lightly grazing your fingertips on his right pauldron, you ask him if he wants his armor to be taken off. He nods. Slowly, one by one, you take off his armor. First, his pauldrons, second, his cuisses, then finally, his vambraces, placing them all in a neat pile on the floor.

Grabbing the edges of his cuirass, you ask permission again just above a whisper, “may I?” Mando responds by grabbing the edges on the top while you grab the bottom, and together, you both take off the biggest piece of his armor. You grab the cuirass gently and add it to the pile with the rest of his armor.

Before you begin mending his wound, you roll up the hem of his undershirt even more, stopping at the top of his ribcage. The mere sight of his bare skin makes your heart race. Your fingertips lightly graze around the injured area. Taking a deep breath, you take out the supplies you need to fix his wound. While doing so, Mando notices how this is all second nature to you, like you could do this in your sleep. Grabbing the bacta spray, you offer a free hand for him to hold onto, “this may sting a little bit.” Mando takes you up on your offer and intertwines his gloved fingers with yours. Trying to be as gentle as you possibly can, you give his hand a soft squeeze as you spray the infected area. Squeezing your hand with a strong force, he grunts out of pain. “Stop complaining, it’s only a blaster shot.” You saying with a sly smirk on your face. You can hear him scoff lightly from underneath his helmet. 

Giving him a sympathetic look, you increase your grip on his hand, “I’m sorry.” Without releasing your grip, you grab the bacta patch out of the medkit, and with the softest touch, you apply the patch over the injured area. After finishing tending to his wound, you unroll his shirt so that his injury is no longer exposed.

While still holding onto the Mandalorian’s hand, you bring your free hand and begin to trace random patterns on the backside of his hand. Silence fills the tender moment; nothing needs to be said. 

“Where did you learn how to heal wounds?”

“My mother taught me when I was a child- she was the local healer in our village on my homeworld of Rellia.”

“What was it like?”

You smile at Mando’s curiosity. Ever since the playful banter you both shared after leaving the Murninkam system, your partner has been more curious about your past, “it was very captivating. The villagers always gathered around in town for the market where it was a bit desert-y, I guess? The small town didn’t have much to offer except for the local vendors, but the outside of town is where the true beauty was at. On the outskirts of town, there were grasslands and plains where a lot of the villagers lived. There were a few villagers who lived in the town but mostly everyone lived outside of the town. 

My childhood home was on one of the many grasslands that Rellia had to offer. My parents lived in a small cottage where just the three of us lived. We had a few trees surrounding our home, so we spent a lot of time outside rather than huddled indoors. We didn’t have many neighbors, but the village kids would either hang out in town or at each other’s homes. It’s also where I fell in love for the first time.” You smile fondly at the memory of your first love, Shay. You feel a sudden tight squeeze of your hand when you mention the word love, “have you been ever been in love?” You ask, looking up at Mando.

“I’ve never had a riduur, no.” You hum in response, “what was their name?”

“Shay.” You say with the softest smile, “they were my best friend growing up- we were inseparable. They were one of the first friends I ever made and they were the one who encouraged me to enlist to the Academy with them when we were together.” You look at your enclasped hands and continue, “I was sixteen when I fell in love for the first time. Shay and I would constantly spend time together. While my parents were working in town, we would keep each other company until nightfall. 

My family was very close to Shay’s, who became a second family to me. Our families would have dinner over at each other’s houses while we were growing up, which is how Shay and I became so close. As children, we would play in our backyards, and as we got older, we would just hang out in our rooms. I remember our first kiss together being anything but perfect: our noses kept clashing together, our teeth kept knocking into each other, we kept giggling like schoolchildren. It seemed childish, but at the moment, I didn’t care. I had everything I ever wanted; that’s when I felt at peace. 

The longer we were together, the more we attached we got. Normally, we would have dinner together then we would be separated for the night, but Shay and I had this strong impulsive feeling of needing to see each other, so we would sneak out just to see each other. We would lay on a nearby hill and stargaze at the night sky. We would hold hands, talk, laugh, just enjoying the moment. With how loud we were, I’m surprised none of our parents ever caught us.” You reminisce with the soft smile on your face growing bigger as you continue on with your story. Mando has always been able to read you very well after knowing you for the past year, but he can’t decide what expression was on your face. Admiration? Longing? Yearning? 

“Do you ever miss it?”

“What?” You were so lost in your thoughts, reminiscing on your past love, that Mando’s question caught you completely off guard. You didn’t expect him to be so curious about your old life.

“Do you ever miss your old life? Your family? Shay?”

“Sometimes.” The small smile on your face grows because of his curiosity, “I used to think I was going to have the same simple life my mother had: working at the local marketplace, having a family with the love of my life. I miss experiencing the simple moments I savored with my family, with the peaceful life they had on Rellia, the stargazing I shared with Shay. But I can’t imagine my life anywhere else but here.” You motion to your surroundings.

“What changed your mind?”

“The night before my seventeenth birthday. That night, both of our families had our usual dinner before Shay’s family went back to their home for the night. While I was getting ready for the night, Shay was at my bedroom window, telling me to meet at our spot in an hour.

When I met up with them later that night, they had a picnic set up for the two of us: they had blankets, a picnic basket, some candles; it was very ethereal. 

I remember us just stargazing in silence like we usually would when Shay mentioned a surprise they got for me. They reached into the basket and pulled out two applications to the Academy. 

‘I can’t imagine what my life would be without you and I need you there beside me.’ Shay had recently learned that their parents didn’t want them to spend the rest of their life in our village, but to go out and see the galaxy, and they thought the best way to do so was to gain some experience in the military. My parents had a different approach: they didn’t want to force anything upon me. My mother told me that the choice was up to me, whether it was applying to the Academy that year or staying at home and having a simple life. I wanted, hoped, Shay’s love for me would overpower their decision to fight in the war. I just wanted to live out a simple life with the love of my life without having to experience any violence. But I guess we can’t always get what we want.” With your heart beginning to feel heavy, a thousand thoughts roam your brain of everything you’ve experienced with your first love, all the pain you’ve had to endure. Lost in your thoughts, you feel a soft squeeze of your hand. Glancing at your partner, you see him nod, urging you to go on.

Taking in a deep breath, you continue, “when Shay showed me the applications, something deep in me just knew this was going to change our relationship for the worst. I was being pessimistic internally, but I couldn’t help but also feel pure joy at the thought of continuing of having Shay in my life. So I said yes. I would’ve done anything for them, even if it meant enlisting into a war. 

I didn’t tell my parents about my decision immediately; I wanted to tell them unless it was absolutely necessary. When I received the news about my acceptance, I told my mom and she was devastated that it took me this long to tell her about the decision of my future. She told me to pack my things and to never return, kicking me out of her life forever.

When we got accepted into the Academy, I knew this would change things forever. Something bad was on the horizon, I just knew it. There, I learned my basic combat skills, got my piloting training, my espionage training. The missions I was assigned made me who I am today, all thanks to Shay. 

The longer we were a part of the Rebellion, the more we drifted apart. Shay didn’t receive the same training as I did, they became a pilot while I became a spy. We still saw each other, we would still stargaze off base like how we used to back home, but not as often. While I was away on missions, all I would do was worry for Shay. We would both be away on missions for months at a time, but I suppose seeing them after a few months would be better than never seeing them again if I stayed back home. 

We served together for the Rebels for a few years and Shay became notorious for taking unnecessary risks during missions, and that really took a toll on our relationship. I took the necessary risks to ensure I would make it back home, but they didn’t do the same thing. They would take risks, get scolded by their superiors, and continue their recklessness behavior. Ultimately, it was the cause to drive me further away from them.

One night, they volunteered for another dangerous mission- a suicide mission. I was in the same debriefing room, giving my report of my latest mission when the suggestion of the mission came up, and Shay offered their assistance without hesitation. I knew if they left for that mission, they would never come back.

At one point, I would’ve supported them through anything, but, um,” You falter by taking in a sharp, shuddering breath. Mando sees the sudden change in your demeanor, and wraps both of his hands with yours, squeezing it in support. Smiling softly in gratitude, you continue, “but Shay needed to do this, not for the Rebellion or the cause, but for themselves. I didn’t want to live a life without them in it, but they left me no choice. They were willing to die for the Rebellion and we both knew the possibility of this happening when we both discussed joining the cause back home. It was stupid of me to think that that we would both survive this war without any repercussions. The more Shay experienced, the more it changed them.

I know it’s selfish to admit, but I didn’t want anything to change. I was naive, desperately clinging onto the last shrink of hope I had. There was this weird feeling deep down in my gut where I just knew this would change everything for the worse, the same feeling I had where Shay offered to apply to the Academy together. I remember the last conversation we had so clearly: we were arguing about the small possibility of us having a future together like we always planned. 

“This isn’t just about you. It’s about what’s best for everyone, for the galaxy.”

“How can it when you’re leaving me? You’re throwing your entire life away!” You turn your back on your lover.

“I’m not leaving you-”

“You’re leaving for a suicide mission at first light!” You throw your hands in the air as you turn back around.

“Because I have no other choice! I’m doing this for us! I’m doing this for you, to protect you!” “How could you possibly protect me when you won’t even be here?!” 

“It has to be done. I’m the best person for this mission, you know that.” Crossing their arms across their chest, leaving no room for discussion. As long as you’ve known Shay, as long as you loved them, they were always stubborn; something you always loved about them, but now are becoming to loathe it. 

With warm tears threatening to spill down your face, you lower your head in defeat. When they are given an opportunity to fight, to protect those they love, you know there isn’t anything you can say to change their mind.

Walking towards you, Shay places both of their hands on the sides of your face, forcing you to look up at them, using their thumb to wipe away at the remaining tears, “you know I wouldn’t do anything to harm you, but this is something I need to do, for us.” They plead, “I love you with all of my heart. Nothing’s ever going to change that. We’ll see each other again, I believe that.”

“I know.” 

With a few tears flowing down your cheeks and a bittersweet smile at your first love, you look up at your Mandalorian partner who releases his grip of your hand and uses a gloved thumb to wipe away at the spilling tears, just like Shay had that night.

Grounding yourself, you squeeze the Mandalorian’s hand once again, something that has become routine between the two of you, “the following day, they left for that mission and never returned. They were twenty-two. No one on base knows what happened to them. They don’t know if their ship had crashed, if they died, or what. That argument I had with them that night was the last time I ever saw them.”

Taking a free hand, you wipe away the tears that continue to fall down your face at the memory of your first love, “when Shay never returned back to me, I thought I would never find that feeling of home again, or fall in love. I loved them with all my heart. I would’ve done anything for them if they asked. 

But it was for the best. If they never sacrificed themselves, I wouldn’t have the life I have now. I wouldn’t be able to travel all across the galaxy with the one person I care about most. I wouldn’t have you.” Smiling, you look back at the visor in the helmet, and you can feel him replicating your smile, “I thought the happiest, the luckiest, I would ever be was when I was on my home planet of Rellia, but it’s nothing compared to the life I have here with you.”

After a few moments of silence, you feel Mando squeezing your hand, “I’m sorry, am I talking too much?” You ask in a teasing tone. 

“Never, cyare.” Your Mandalorian replies with only seriousness laced in his tone.

“Well,” you say as you begin standing up from your kneeled position beside the cot, “there you go, Mando,” patting his right thigh, you begin to loosen your grip on his hand only to have his grip tighten around your wrist.

“Stay.” His voice doesn’t reach an octave higher than a hushed whisper, “stay here with me, please.” You felt your heart soften at his plea.

“Of course.” You lay down next to him. With him by your side, you feel the tension in your shoulders finally drift away. You can finally relax as you rest your head against his uninjured shoulder. A moment of comfortable silence lingers in the air and at some point, your head rests against his chest. Listening to the steady beat of his heart, you finally find the semblance of peace you’ve been looking for since you lost the first love of your life. 

When you wake up quietly the following morning, you can feel the deep rumble of Mando’s chest from underneath you. Feigning your true state, you keep your eyes closed and try to memorize everything you’re feeling in the moment, not wanting to ever forget this. Needing to feel this way again. 

Gripping his hold around your shoulder, you feel him pull you even closer to his side, if that were even possible. You feel his fingers run through the strands of hair that have fallen on your shoulder during your slumber, “vor entye, cyare.” 

After hearing the same term of endearment as last night, you lift your head rapidly from his chest, “cyare? You called me that last night, what does it mean?”

You can feel your partner’s entire body tense up when you question him. Gently, he places the hand that was on your shoulder to the back of your head, slowly bringing it back down, putting you back in your comfortable position once again. You can feel his heart racing as he thinks of a response.

“‘Beloved.’”

“Beloved? I’m your beloved?” 

“Yes.” He begins to stroke your hair softly to ease his nerves.

Sighing contently, you squeeze his torso gently with the arm you have draped around him while you were sleeping, “cyare.” You repeat it again softly, liking the way it sounds on your tongue.

“Din.” He breaks the silence as you lift your head off of his chest for the second time and glance at his visor, furrowing your brows at the foreign word.

“What does that mean?” 

“Din- My name is Din Djarin.”

With the biggest smile plastered on your face, you test out his name on your tongue and nod at him, settling back down in the comfort of the arms of your second love.

The fourth time you opened up to Din was while you were laying by his side one night. 

Finishing up a tiring day of doing repairs on the Crest, you’re happy to finally get the chance to unwind in your shared bed with Din. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you begin to take out your braids. You’re currently on a forest planet for your next bounty. You arrived late in the afternoon so you weren’t able to explore the marketplace, but you were able to take in your surroundings briefly when you worked on the exterior of the Crest; the area took your breath away. From the towering trees to the meadows to the chirping of birds; this planet reminded you of your home planet, your first home. You hope you can convince Din to explore the marketplace with you before you depart. 

You’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice Din’s presence. Thinking of the similarities between this planet and your homeworld has made you reminiscent of your old life when you used to be so oblivious and naive, when you used to think family was only by blood. 

A sudden hand on your shoulder tears you away from your thoughts. Dragging his hand from your shoulder down the length of your arm, Din intertwines your fingers together and gently tugs on it, “there’s something I want to show you.” 

You let him guide you outside; you’re not sure where he’s taking you or why, but you’ve learned to never question him. You just admire how beautiful the meadows look at night, how beautiful 

Din’s beskar looks with the moonlight reflecting off of it. A soft smile grazes your face when it takes you back to when Shay would drag you to your usual spot on your homeplanet to stargaze many cycles ago. Din brings you back to reality for the second time tonight when he abruptly stops; you’re about to ask him what’s going on when you take in the sight before you. A nearly inaudible gasp leaves your lips as you see multiple blankets laid out on the grassy floor with the perfect view to look at the sky.  A few tears begin to form in your eyes when you realize why he dragged you outside.

You can see Din’s hesitance by the way his thumb is nervously rubbing over your knuckles, when he looks down at the ground, and shuffles on his feet, “I just thought it looked so nice out tonight and you said that you miss the simpleness of your old life, so I just thought-”

You giggle at his sudden nervousness, “I love it, Din.” 

“Really?” “What’s not to love?” You gesture to the beautiful view and the blankets beneath you. With a big smile on your face, you continue, “the trees, the moonlight, the view. It’s perfect, Din.”

“Are you sure? I can-”

Tugging on his hand just like he had done before, you sit down on top of the blankets, “it’s perfect.” 

For a while, you two lay in silence beside the occasional distant noises of the native animals. 

The heat radiating from Din’s clothed chest brings a sense of calm over your body. His steady heartbeat putting you at ease, a feeling you’ve only become familiar with since you two laid together for the first time. A gentle breeze lures your body into an even more relaxed state. The feeling of his bare hands running through your hair calms you, “I can’t believe you remembered something I said months ago.”

“Of course I did, cyare.” 

“I just assumed you would’ve forgotten about it by now- since I’ve been known to be quite vexing.”

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s what my mother used to tell me whenever I would get really excited about something. We used to have dinner together, just the three of us, every night. And whenever I would tell my parents about my day or something that I got passionate about, my mother would tell me how annoying I could be at times.” Distracting yourself by playing the hem of his shirt, you continue, “I was very close with my family when I was young, but the relationship I had with my mom made it difficult sometimes.”

“What was she like?”

“She worked at our local village as a healer; she was very kind, warm, nurturing towards others. She’s one of the kindest people I’ve met in the entire galaxy.” You smile fondly at the memory of your mother, “she’s the one that taught me a lot of basic skills before I left for the Academy at seventeen. She taught me how to cook, how to do my hair, tend to basic wounds. We didn’t always see eye-to-eye on everything, but I know she will always love me.”

“You’re referring to when she kicked you out.”

“Yeah.” Slightly lifting your head off of his chest to look at his visor, an expression of surprise is written on your face, “do you remember everything I’ve told you?”

“Well, not everything. You do talk a lot.” You deadpan at him, “of course I do.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire galaxy, “I always look forward to hearing your stories, cyar’ika.” 

“Really?” Heavy doubt was laced in your voice as you sat up completely and saw Din simply nod at you in response, “here I thought you only tolerated them like my mother.” 

“Never, cyar’ika.” With the two of you now sitting up, you see the same hand that was running through your hair is now clenched in on a fist in his lap; the same response he had when you mentioned about falling in love for the first time, almost like he’s holding back his thoughts, “I am grateful that you trust me enough to talk about this.” He unclenches his fist and reaches over to squeeze your free hand. 

His confession brings a smile to your face, “you know, I haven’t opened up to anyone this much ever since Shay.” You admit, your heart suddenly feeling heavy, “I don’t know how to explain it, but ever since we met, there’s been this instinct, this feeling, like it’s-”

“The Force?” Seeing the confused look he continued, “you said the same exact thing when you were talking about being on an Imperial prison station.” The look of confusion changes into bafflement. You told him that story many moons ago, maybe even a cycle ago. You don’t even remember half of the stories that you’ve told him; there’s been so many. You certainly don’t remember ever mentioning the Force, “you said that you believed the Force was on your side when you were able to successfully free the spy- something that your mother taught you when you were a child.” “Yeah, she did.” You replied, still baffled he remembers even the smallest of details you’ve mentioned in passing.

“What else did she teach you about the Force?”

“She told me that it surrounds every living thing, that it’s also an ally. As a child, I didn’t understand what that meant. She would tell me that no matter what happens in life, whether it’s good or bad, everything happens because the Force wills it. I don’t know how to explain it, but ever since she mentioned it to me as a kid, there’s been this feeling deep down. Like it’s pulling me towards something, or someone, that’s meant for me. I-I-I don’t know what that feeling is, but I do know that without it, I wouldn’t have met you.” You squeeze his hand that is already enclasped with yours.

“Do you think the Force brought us together?” “I do.” You nod at him, “there was gravitating feeling I felt when I first met Shay when we were young, and I had that same feeling when I met you.” 

“You flatter me, ner kar’ta.” You don’t know what he called you in the tongue of his people, but you can tell it’s admiration by the soft tone of his voice.

“Kar’ta? What does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you someday.”

“Better than being called di’kut, I suppose.” The memory of him calling you that term for the first brings a few chuckles to your face, “I can’t believe you called me an idiot.” “You literally almost joined a Force-based cult without realizing it.”

“You may have a point there.” He tilts his helmet slightly to the side, “okay, you do.” Sighing deeply, you return to your previous position of laying down on the blankets, where Din joins you shortly where he pulls you against his side. One of his hands immediately goes back to combing through your hair while the other laces his fingers with yours. The odd combination of his calloused hands and soft palms shock you at first, but also it’s oddly him. It’s taken you several moons to see this softer side of your partner and it always brings you in awe whenever you learn a small detail of him. Like his hands, Din may seem rough on the outside, but on the inside, he has a softer side that surprised you at first, but is not unwelcomed.

Your line of sight begins to gravitate towards the stars above you. You don’t know what it is about them, but you’ve always found comfort in them; they would always remind you of home. Looking at them, many memories of your homeworld come to mind: of eating with your family, stargazing with the first love of your life, having bonfires with your friends. You’ve always found solace in the quietness of the outdoors. 

The thoughts become so engrossed in your mind that you don’t notice Din’s lingering gaze on you. You can’t see it, but a look of high admiration emerges on his face. He was about to question what’s on your mind when you interrupt him, “nights like these always remind me of home.” You begin with a faint smile on your face, “my family used to have bonfires in our backyard when I was a kid and those were some of my happiest memories.” A specific memory makes you laugh, “like one time, my hair almost caught in the fire because we were roasting mallows and-”

“You almost burnt your hair?”

“Yeah.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just very,” he motions towards you, “you.” 

“Thank you. It scared my mother so she taught me how to braid my hair so it wouldn’t happen again. Ever since then, I’ve always feel closest to her whenever my hair is in a style she taught me.”

With your head on his chest, you can feel the low rumbling of his chest from him humming in response, “that’s nice.” 

“It was.”

“Would you ever want to go back there? To Rellia?”

“No,” You shake your head against his chest, “I miss my family greatly, but I don’t think I could ever go back there. After my last conversation with her, my mother made it perfectly clear that she never wanted to see me again. When she kicked me out, she told me that I had lost the only family I would ever have-”

“Aliit ori’shya tal’din.”

“What?”

“‘Family is more than blood.’ Mandalorians believe that family can not only be related by blood, but by those who take you in as well.” That’s when you realize that you may have lost your first family the night you left for the Academy with the first love of your life, but you also have gained another when you began traveling around the galaxy with Din.

The one time Din opened up to you was moments after you shared details of your first home. 

Silence lingers in the air. With the distant chirping of insects and the steady rhythm of Din’s heartbeat, it’s easy for you to begin drifting off. You’ve always found solace in the feeling of the steady rise and fall of his chest. Ever since you accidentally fell asleep by his side that night many moons ago, you’ve been able to finally feel resemblance of peace; the decisions from your past no longer haunt your dreams. Your dreams are now filled with how you see your future with Din to be like, and Din feels the same exact way. He’s always been used to doing things on his own, just trying to survive, but he knows now that he doesn’t have to. His dreams used to be plagued with all of the darkness he’s experienced from over the years. Waking up from night terrors became normal for him, but with you by his side, he’s finally found the feeling of home for the first time since being sworn into his Creed. He finally feels at peace. 

You’re half asleep when you feel a rumbling from underneath you as a distant voice begins to call to you, almost like a siren call luring you to them, “cyare, you awake?” You begin to stir when you recognize the familiar calming sensation of his hands running through your hair.

“No.” Another rumble is felt from beneath you. He’s laughing. 

“Funny.” Even in your sluggish state, his response brings a few chuckles out of you and a smile on your face, “are you happy here?” “Yes,” you reply with no hesitation, “as long as I’m with you, I’m happy.” You slightly take your head off of his chest to look into his visor, “what about you?”

“For the first time in a long time, yes.” You feel a sudden tight squeeze on your hand that’s enclasped with his; a tactic of his where he hesitates you’ve noticed. You squeeze his hand gently urging him to go on, “I was grateful the day the Mandalorians took me in, but I’ve always felt like something has always been missing, something like-” 

“Home?” 

“Yes, home.” Squeezing your hand, he continues, “I haven’t felt like I’ve had one since my first one was destroyed, by the Empire.” As your lover begins to describe the horrific day that has plagued his dreams since he was a boy, it takes everything in you not to cry into his tunic. From the descriptions of the battle droids shooting at innocent civilians to his parents attempting to shield their son from the terrorizing happening around them, you can finally see where the root of his hatred for the Empire, for droids has come from. The Empire took everything from him. Rather than living a simple life in his village, he was forced to survive the first out of many fights he would have to endure during his life, “and that’s when they came in.” His voice only held darkness, a spew of hatred for those that took his first family, but a lightness appeared; an admiration, “when I thought I was going to die, the Mandalorians came in and saved me, helped to protect of what remained. One of them saved me and took me in as a foundling.” Din’s voice continues to lighten with appreciation as he continues to reflect on those who rescued him on one of his darkest days. Without them, he wouldn’t be here next to your side. 

As Din continues to talk about his upbringing as a foundling and later on swearing into the Creed, you realize that without the Empire, you two wouldn’t have found each other. As awful as it may sound, you’re grateful the galaxy has blessed you by giving you a second chance at finding your family, your home. All of the bad that has happened to both of you happened for a good reason. Even with all the darkness you’ve both endured from over the years, a lightness will begin to balance it out by your love for each other. 

Something your mother told you when you were a child comes to mind, “there must be darkness to balance out the light.” And you truly believe that. Without all of the darkness from both of your pasts, Din losing his first family to the Empire and you losing your first love, you wouldn’t be where you are today. You never thought all of the pain and suffering would be worth it in the end. 

“‘There must be darkness to balance out the light.’” You say out loud, mainly to yourself. You don’t even realize you spoke it until you hear your lover’s voice, his fingers suddenly stopping weaving their way through your hair. 

“What was that, ner kar’ta?”

Your entire body freezes up in fear, with a tight grip around his torso as you realize what you’ve said, “It’s something my mother used to tell me back on Rellia. ‘There must be darkness to balance out the light.’” You hear Din hum in response as you continue, “She always told me that no matter how dark things got, a lightness will always shine through. Do you believe that?”

“I do. I wouldn’t have met you if the Mandalorians didn’t take me in.”

“And if I didn’t leave my homeworld.” You concluded, “do you ever wish it never happened? The attack on your village?”

You feel Din suddenly taking in a deep breath with his grip on your shoulder tightening, “Sometimes. But without it, my path towards you wouldn’t have begun.”

“You really believe our paths were meant to merge?”

“I do.” Your heart immediately softens at his confession. Ever since you left your homeworld to join the cause, you never thought you would find another home, your other half. But now, laying with Din and talking about all you’ve lost and gained from the war has made you feel something you haven’t felt in a long time: a true sense of belonging.

“Did the Mandalorians ever make you feel out of place because you were foundling?”

“Never. Family is everything to the Mandalorians; your bloodline doesn’t matter. Family are those you would do anything for, those who accept you for who you are, are your true family.”

“Like us?”

“Yes, like us.”

“’Family is more than blood.’” You repeat the same phrase Din spoke before. Hearing Din hum in agreement, you squeeze his hand for the final time as you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in. With the calming sensation of his fingers continually running through your hair and the weird mixture of rough skin and the softness from the pads of his exposed fingers, you finally let yourself lure into peace. 

The repeating Mandalorian phrase in your mind lifts the weight that has been on your shoulders since you left your first home; you no longer have to worry about finding your place in the galaxy. You always feared you might have lost it permanently when you lost the first love of your life to the war, but now all of your worries quickly dissipate. You know that no matter the circumstances, you’ll be safe next to Din’s side.  Whether it’s good or bad that’s brought into your lives, you know Din will do everything in his power to ensure your safety. Family means everything to the Mandalorians and he’ll be damned if someone will even try to take his second one away.

With another moment of silence luring over the two of you, your vision gravitates towards the stars that hover above you. The stars have always made you feel so small, so insignificant in the galaxy, but you know you’ll find your place in the galaxy someday with the second love of your life by your side. You don’t know what your future holds, how long it’ll be before you take in your last breath, but you do know you can conquer any darkness the Maker will give you. 

Sleep is beginning to lure over your body. With the sensation of his hand combing through your hair and the thoughts of your future home with Din on your mind, you finally fall asleep in peace with a sense of belonging for the first time in a long time. 

mando’a used:

copaani mirshmure’cye rod? - are you looking for a smack in the face, mate? (phrase)

di’kut - idiot

riduur - spouse

vor entye, cyare - thank you, beloved

cyar’ika - sweetheart

ner kar’ta - my heart

aliit ori-shya tal’din - family is more than blood (saying)

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, Vigilantes 49, Replies Part 2

1) “Alright, they found the lab. A bit of refuge in audacity, as the secret genetic experiments were happening in the secret genetic experiment wing of a pharmaceutic company. When you stop to think about it, Man, McBee reaaaally was cooky, wasn’t he?”- He’s got a flair for the theatrical and dramatics, not for rational, sane planning- besides, odds are this is mainly his boss’s operational setup here, and he’s just the wetwork man cleaning house before too much evidence is found to link back to the VF and their mysterious boss.

2) “Meanwhile Fatgum is out for fucking blood, jesus man, calm down as well, have a snack- one snack I said- Fatgum, put the snack bowl down I’m warning you-“- I think he got pissed the panda was snacking on that delicious-looking bamboo and wanted some of it.

3) “And we found another Mass Produced Eva unit folks! And identical to the first one, yeah no, there’s no fucking way they aren’t cloning those fuckers somehow, I don’t recall two exact nomus and with exact powers in the main series.”- As with any good explosive, sometime ‘Quantity’ is more important than ‘Quality’. One mega-powerful bomb is good for blowing up a city, but you can do just as much, if not more damage and panic and terror with multiple smaller bombs going off all over the place, or all in one place- and they’re a hell of a lot harder to stop when there’s so many of them as well.

4) “WHAT THE FUCK, HOW DID THEY GOT THIS? AND WHY DIDN’T AFO USE SUCH TECHNOLOGY IN THE MAIN SERIES? WHAT, THEY ARE WEAKER THAN REGULAR NOMUS OR SOMETHING? WELL TOUGH SHIT, I WANT TO SEE WHAT ANY PRO HERO COULD DO AGAINST A SQUAD OF USJ NOMUS, EVEN IF THEY WERE ON A FRACTION OF THE ORIGINAL POWER.”-Well, it might not be an exact match, but Hood did seem to use Muscular’s muscle-growth quirk to extend his arms and such when fighting Endeavour, so quirk-cloning technology wasn’t completely absent from the future Nomus, though lord knows how that was pulled off, given Muscular never lost his original quirk before he was captured. On the other hand, none of the Nomus in the future look quite as uniform and identical as the Bomus here, even if there was shared powers that the high-end type demonstrated with others, so it’s possible that there is some kind of difference between the VF’s creations and the Nomus that allows one to be endlessly duplicated, and the other to merely duplicate power types amongst different creatures.

5) “DON’T BOTHER WITH IT AIZAWA, I DO BELIEVE THAT THEY WON’T BE WASTER ON ANY OF YOU, THEY ARE AIMING AT A SIGNIFICANTLY HIGHER-PROFILE HERO.”- On the other hand, if there’s a clearance sale, and everything’s gotta go anyway, why hold back? Scarface needs the dust and smoke from the explosion to make sure Aizawa doesn’t shut down his quirk when he’s making his getaway, so sacrificing one out of many isn’t a big loss for him at the moment.

6) “AND THERE’S THE MAN HIMSELF… SHARING THE MOMENT ON FACEBOOK, DAMN MILENIALS, CAN’T GET AWAY FROM SOCIAL MEDIA FOR EVEN A MINUTE, I NEED TO GO ON TWITTER AND COMPLAIN ABOUT IT”-Good luck, that site’s become a complete garage fire for those of us who want to see the posts but not sign up to it

7) “Alright, color me impressed, he did waste at least one of them on the heroes. I was expecting them to just fly away and leave the heroes behind, but apparently being dramatic is a trait of McBee that I always forget about. I mean, there are windows in that building they could’ve flew out through, we can see them right there, you know?”- On the other hand, who can resist a good movie reference opportunity?

8) “Is that- Is thatfucking McBee being carried away by the MP Eva units? Am I seeing it right, is that how he got away from them? That was his escape plan?”-

I was not kidding around when I said Scarface loves being the Saturday morning cartoon villain of this manga.

9) “Okay, this seems… odd… You make it seem like the plan isn’t even to actually kill the Captain, more like that you want to see if its possible, like you’re testing the capabilities of those cloned Nomus and seeing if their overall power measures up to the original one.

FFfucking cloned Nomus I can’t believe this shit”- In keeping with the VF’s focus on testing their creations in the field, this seems to be partially a test of how effective the Bomus are as a weapon of terror and destruction, and there’s no better way to do both than by blasting a public hero to death in front of a televised audience. CC’s not All Might-level, but he is kinda close to the lower top ten levels if you factor in what his power allows him to pull off- dude literally has an everything-proof shield on him that makes him invincible unless you’re punching at the literal god-level class All Might can, and even then it might hold up to the first blow, if not the second. In fact, seeing as how it’s such an overpowered defensive ability, it actually makes CC the perfect test dummy for the offensive ability of their Bomus, because if they can kill him, any other heroes will be easy to finish off, given they can’t take the hits he can.

10) “That’s one Egg that’s about to crack, and it will be with a loud boom, that’s for sure.”- Well, at least Scarface is smart enough to know not to push his luck too much with that near-miss at the lab- whatever plan he’s got cooked up will be executed by the Bous up close, whilst he blends into the observing crowds and grabs some popcorn.

11) “Well, never mind that, we’ll find our eventually, but for now, let’s focus on the new challenge ahead: Chapter 27: Business as Usual.

Yeah, I’m sure it will be, after those bombs we got…”- Then Furuhashi decided to dispense with the pleasantries and just had Koichi deal with some actual bombs, complete with endangered civilians, crazy bomber obsessed with his own cause, the whole terror attack shebang.

@thelreads

[creative-frequency]

Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Reader: Free Time

Word count: 1564 Pairing: Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Reader Notes: I had a mighty need for inquisitor Cal, asked what kind of scenarios would you guys like to read and here we go.

My Writing Masterlist

He is always training.

Alone.

You don’t know much about this new Inquisitor who some call unofficially the Eleventh Brother. There would be plenty enough numbers available among the first ten. Some even whisper that he is the next Grand Inquisitor. He doesn’t look that special to you, but you don’t want to go close enough to get a better look.

With the way he handles the red lightsaber, it’s clear that he is no stranger to the weapon. After a few sparring matches, the Purge Troopers quickly learned to avoid him in training spaces. Everyone gives him a wide berth.

Former Jedi Cal Kestis is always training because when he isn’t, he can hear his own thoughts, screaming inside his head. There is no one to talk to, no one to drown the thoughts with. The other Inquisitors barely treat him as equal, most often settling for avoidance. The feeling is mutual.

Cal feels the yearning for companionship, but there is none he can trust now. None who would comfort or encourage him. Getting physically exhausted and falling into dreamless sleep makes his new life somewhat more bearable. There is no light in his existence now. Just aimless darkness where he wanders, trying to hold his head above the surface. He is just surviving.

Attending to your duties at the Fortress Inquisitorius, you have no time to stare at the new Inquisitor, as handsome as he may be. He is swinging the double-bladed lightsaber in a speed that makes you dizzy. You don’t like the way the Second Sister looks at him, like a trophy from a hunt. It makes you feel sick but there is nothing you can do, especially show your disgust.

Nur wouldn’t have been your first choice, but one can’t exactly say no to a direct order. So you just focus on the job and hope that a new order will come soon.

It’s been two years.

Working in maintenance isn’t the most exciting career under the rule of the Galactic Empire. At least you don’t have to torture or murder anyone, only look the other way when someone else does. Things like that tend to numb people. You’re not proud of it. You’re just surviving.

Most of your coworkers are droids. Sometimes you hear people joking that you’re leading an army of your own. You tend to avoid the Troopers and especially the Inquisitors. Keeping a low profile is not just the best tactic to stay alive on the planet, it’s a necessity.

With a job that mainly requires only hands, you have too much time to think and wait for the comlink to spark into life.

“Requiring maintenance on residential level. Over.”

An everyday occurrence. You sigh. “What seems to be the problem? Over.”

“Another blasted lock. Apartment 2-5-7-K. Over.”

Gripping the comlink, you bite your lip. Shit. Anything over 250 means it’s an Inquisitor’s door. You’d best hurry.

“I’m on my way. Over.”

A blasted lock. You wonder what the reason is this time. What Trooper was stupid enough to draw a weapon in the hallways? They probably paid for the insolence with their life. Maybe there was a skirmish with one of the prisoners or someone tried to escape. Wouldn’t be the first time. You try to think of something else.

The hallway is fortunately empty so you speed walk to the right door. 257K. After a short inspection it seems that the lock is not actually broken, the door just needs some basic maintenance. The room hasn’t been in use for a long time but apparently someone has moved in recently. You make a mental note to bump it higher up on the priority list and to make sure a droid is taking care of it.

“It just needs adjustment, right?”

A scream almost flees you and you drop the servodriver.

The red-head Inquisitor stands next to you, slightly crouched to see better what you’re doing. You didn’t hear anyone approaching.

“Would’ve fixed it myself if I had the tools,” he continues, ignoring your almost heart attack.

“I’m sorry! This’ll be ready in a minute,” you say hastily and try not to look at the freckles on his face.

The Inquisitor’s brows crease closer together when you don’t look him in the eye.

“Okay,” he simply replies and leans against the wall, arms folding on his chest and looking like he isn’t going anywhere soon. If anything, he seems to enjoy watching you panic. A light smirk on his face and all.

You feel the eyes on your back as you work as fast as you can, checking and testing the connectors. Some of them need to be changed soon and that requires another order of spare parts. You just love paperwork and spending the Empire’s credits.

“Can you take a look at the AC inside? It’s been acting up.”

The servodriver almost falls from your grip again. You turn around to bow your head to the Inquisitor. Your eyes are obstinately drawn to the lightsaber resting against his thigh. “Of course, sir.”

The constant feeling of “I hope he doesn’t kill me” in your gut makes your hands shake but somehow you manage to make sure the lock works again. The Inquisitor still leans on the wall, looking like he has all the time in the world to just hang out. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him outside the dojo.

“There. Is it okay if I go in to check the AC now?” You don’t want to look him in the eye and with your every cell hope that he will leave now and let you work in peace.

Not a chance.

He shows you inside and stays hovering nearby as you try to calm yourself enough to work. He can’t seem to take his eyes off you. Something about you, watching you is… itching him.

“The thermostat seems to be broken, sir.” You dare a peek at the Inquisitor. He doesn’t seem as intimidating as the others and is actually younger than you initially thought. “I’ll need to go fetch some parts but I’ll set a static room temperature for now.”

“Okay.” He runs his hand through his ginger hair and sighs. “Can’t you just make a droid bring the parts?”

You blanch. “Uh, yes. Of course, I just thought it’d be faster if… I go… myself…” Your voice trails off under the cryptically meaningful look in his eyes.

Cal examines you, circling around in a slow, lazy arc. He has noticed you before even though you actively make every effort to not stand out. He felt something spark inside him in the hallway and he needs a moment to realize it’s curiosity that brings life to his dull existence. The feeling has some exhilarating new shades and he wonders is it because you look like a cornered animal, shaking in fear.

It excites him.

“Sir?” you squeak and can’t form the follow up question because Cal takes a step towards you.

“Who are you?” he asks slowly, gaze trained onto your face, eyes boring holes into your mind. His pulse is quickened like in the thick of a combat and he cannot understand why.

“Um, I’m not sure I– I’m just a technician. I’ve got clearance, y-you see… I can show you my ID…” you stutter and fumble a hand into your chest pocket to fish out the ID card. “See?”

Cal doesn’t even spare a glance at it.

“Yeah. I’m not interested in that,” he says coolly. He stands close enough to either strangle or hug you – though you know he wouldn’t need to get close and personal to kill you. You’re starting to panic.

“Sorry…” you peep, “Can I…”

Go?

You can’t finish the sentence because the Inquisitor leans forward and plants a gloved hand against the wall over your shoulder – a predator enjoying one last sniff of his prey before the killing blow.

All of your jittering ends and you completely freeze. The whimper that escapes your lips doesn’t sound like you at all. He has so many freckles and the feeling they enact in you acts as the perfect opposite to what their owner is doing. As good-looking as he may be, getting within a kissing distance to the Inquisitor wasn’t on your bucket list.

However, while you’re waiting perfectly still – in spite of your racing heart – for his next move, Cal hesitates. The excitement that spurred him into taking the initiative is gaining an altogether different tone. He is suddenly nervous and has to ball his hand into a fist to stop it from shaking.

You stare at each other, mere inches away and lightly gasp for breaths. The menacing Inquisitor aura is gone and you curse him for toying with you like that since there’s no way you can forget this ever happened. For a fleeting moment, you think should you just kiss him and be done with it – and gamble your life on his goodwill.

Cal finally loses his nerve and leaves without so much as a word or a glance at your direction.

You wait for a few stunned breaths to hear if he is coming back after the fateful sizzle of the door. Your head is positively spinning by the time you make it out alive from the quarters of Inquisitor Cal Kestis.

You hope nothing breaks in his room again.

//

Part 2

[neocity-sarai]

PANEM

✷reader x minho (peeta), reader x chan (gale)

✷hunger games au! based on the scene in mockingjay part 2 (the film), novel by Suzanne Collins

✷alerts: kissing, violence, injuries, murder/ mentions of torture, weapons, flashbacks, this was supposed to be a timestamp but I got carried away..

Panem is your home. Your world even. But when you go to bed at night, you always resist the reasons why you exist in it. You feel as if you don’t deserve to sleep, deserve to be comfortable. Your memories of sneaking past the gate with Chan, bows and arrows in your hands almost seems like a distant memory. When you entered the 74th hunger games, you and minho had gotten picked on the first go. You were thankful that you could rely on Chan, your childhood friend to protect the rest of your family from peacekeepers. Coming back from the games made you distaste the idea of being happy. You killed innocent children and teenagers so you could survive. It haunts you at night. 

Sometimes, your memories and your nightmares blur together. You have to remember the little details to keep them in the back of your mind or they’ll become things that will consume your soul. Images of dead bodies, crimson stained on your hands, the sound of people’s screams- they’ve become too familiar. It’s not a good thing that you just accept it now. 

Even if you refuse it, people will kill people for what they want. Humans can be selfish and can be cruel as long as they obtain their desires. When did everything turn wrong? The games? The war? The capital? Maybe this was inevitable- bound to happen by human nature through greed for power. The one person that is responsible is President Snow. After you, Minho, and the others got airlifted out of the 75th hunger games, they took Minho from you. They took Minho and the other tributes and made them into monsters. They knew that you loved Minho and he loved you. Snow made him into the capital’s mutt sent to kill you. Through fear conditioning and tracker-jacker venom, they turned him into a flesh weapon by manipulating his memories to hate you and the resistance. He was human but he wasn’t himself, not when he reacted so violently to your simple presence. He wasn’t your Minho anymore. 

Now, you were here. You, Chan, Minho, and the rest of your troop rested in a random lobby before setting off to advance towards the front lines. You all were ordered by Alma Coin to make propaganda for the rebellion for the purpose of rallying the districts. Instead, you had other plans in mind. You were bloodthirsty for what the capital had done to you and the people you loved, erasing their true selves. You were going to kill Snow and no one was going to stop you from doing so. The only person you told your plan was to Chan because he caught you stashing extra gear in your sack. He always had a knack for catching on quickly, plans cooking in your mind. 

<nightwatch>

Commander Boggs walks over, motioning to you and Chan, “y/n and Chan, you’re first on nightwatch.”

“Yes sir.”

Chan sits on the dirt outside of the building where you and your unit are resting, patting the spot next to him while he rests his gun on his chest, “You’re not sly, you know? I caught you stashing more arrows earlier today.”

You lean your back on the wall of the building, “Yeah, well, you always caught me when we were kids.”

Chan runs a hand through his obsidian hair, a smirk gracing his pink lips, “So, what’s the plan?”

You roll your eyes at him, taking off your bow due to how uncomfortable it was on your back. “The plan is that you’re staying here. I’m heading towards Snow’s mansion. I’m not losing you too.”

Chan shakes his head lightly, “I can’t do that. I swore to your mom I’d protect you- it’s a suicide mission. Even so, you don’t have the holo that tells you where Snow’s traps are. You wouldn’t get far.”

You stare at him irritated, “I can figure something out Chan. Maybe I can go on top of the buildings.”

“How? There are pods there too.”

Your hand curls into a fist as you hit the ground, “I can’t keep waiting. As long as Snow is alive, he’ll keep destroying everything good and no one will be safe in the end!”

Suddenly, Chan pulls you immediately close to him, his gloved hands on your arms. He grips you tight but not too tight to where it hurts you. He’s always been gentle that way. Your face is just centimetres away from his. You memorize the features you’ve known all your life, his hair slightly ruffled from running his fingers through it. The scars and knicks in his face from fighting and the way his sharp features are illuminated under the moon makes your heart beat even quicker. He flicks his dark, pointed eyes to your lips, eyeing them hungrily in anticipation.

“Chan?”

Without any warning, Chan crashes his lips onto yours, molding them together in desperate fervor. His eyes are screwed shut, savoring every bit of taste of salt and sweetness he tastes on you. His lips are a bit drier but still warm and soft, your hand pressed smoothly to the curve of his cheek. His nose bumps against yours like he’s been waiting his whole life to kiss you, his hands on the side of your face. It ends as soon as it starts when Chan pulls away from you. He looks sad, somber even, “Do you love me?”

You squeeze the bicep of his muscular arm, “You know how I feel about you. I told you back in 12.”

Chan snaps his head up at you, “But you love Minho more. You can never let go of him no matter how much the capitol has turned him against you. Right?”

You sit there silently. Your brows are furrowed, your lips parted. You’re never sure of what to say when Chan tells you how much he loves you. You love him, but you’ve grown to love Minho too. No words escape past your swollen lips, ghosted by Chan's kiss.

“That’s what I thought. I never stand a chance against him.”

“Chan- wait-”

Chan ignores you, picking up his gun when he stands, “It’s okay y/n. I’m okay.”

Walking away, you can’t bring yourself to follow after him. No matter how many times you deny it, he’s right. You can’t kill Minho. You can’t forget him. Even if he’s the one who wants to take your life at the hands of Snow, you can’t do it.

When morning comes, you and your unit set out to move forward. You walk through the abandoned closely, Commander Boggs wary of any pods and traps set by the Capitol. You all manage to make it a courtyard that’s surrounded by capitol apartment buildings- once filled my poshy, elite citizens. 

“Wait. There’s a pod here. Split right and left.”

You all follow Boggs’s instructions, half of your group hiding behind one pillar and the other half on the other side. 

You yell, “Take cover!”

You shoot one single arrow through it, it triggers machine guns to grow out of the walls and obliterate the entire pathway if anyone were to be standing there. Your fellow soldiers flinch from the gunfire, bullets ricocheting off the ground and off the buildings. When you turn to look in front of you,  you see Minho muttering inconsistent words to himself- his eyes hysterical from the fear conditioning. He bangs his temple against the butt of his gun from the lack of control he has on his thoughts. It makes you feel guilty, the fact that Minho was taken by the capitol while you were rescued. You wish it were the other way around. But it isn’t.

“All clear!”

You all rise, eyes still on the pod in case of any more sudden movements. You never know with Snow, you can’t ever be too careful. Walking through the archway, Boggs is the first to go up in the air, an explosion shooting up from past the archway.

Cressida, one of your fellow soldiers makes her way to Boggs, “Hold on!”

You follow her too, your grip on your bow tightening, “Boggs? Hey!”

He stares up at you wide-eyed, out of breath as he tries to bite through the pain of his legs being blown off by the pod. He shoves the holo into your hands, “Transfer security clearance to y/n.”

“Wait-what are you-?”

“Take it. Head towards capital headquarters- do what you need to do.”

You hesitantly take the holo from him, Cressida kneeling next to you, her shoulders slumped, “Boggs is gone.”

Before you can lift your commander’s dead body, you hear the sound of gears grinding as two entrances behind you and in front of you enclose your troop within the plaza. You shove the holo into your bag, placing an arrow on the string of your bow. 

Chan screams, “Everyone, get out! There’s more traps!”

From one end of the courtyard, black tar flows out in tsunami-like waves- the black liquid clashing as high as some of the buildings that surround the square. You make a break for it, your heart beating fast from the running. Cressida and Pollux, two of your fellow soldiers fire into the doorway of the building in front of them as they usher everyone up the stairs. Before you can catch up, you feel a figure toss you to the ground- grunting as they try to shove you into the obsidian tar. When you register who it is, you almost want to deny that it’s Minho who is trying to kill you. In a flash, Chan tackles him off of you, holding him back with the strength of his arms. You scream, “Hurry the fuck up! Please!”

Miraculously, Chan still keeps his stronghold on Minho, dragging him towards the rest of the group as the tar gets dangerously close to your feet. Cressida’s shoving the three of you on, “Hurry! Go!”

 When the four of you dash up the stairs, the black liquid starts to flood the entire bottom floor as it starts to rise higher and higher and you’re almost certain that it will drown you all. Leaping towards the next flight of stairs, you realize that half of it is broken off- no one is able to pass through. Your whole unit backs up against the wall in hopes that the tar stops rising. Somehow, in time, it does. Still, you don’t feel relieved. 

Commander Briggs, a stern woman and in second in command to Boggs narrows her eyes at you, “Y/n, give me the holo.”

You pull it out of your sack, “Boggs transferred security clearance to me.”

Briggs pulls her gun on you, cocking the device, “I’m not asking twice.”

Chan steps in front of you, “Peacekeepers will be here any minute. If they didn’t know our location, they do now. Y/n is  not the enemy.”

Cressida adds, “I saw it, Boggs gave her the authority.”

You press your fingers to Chan’s crossbow to get him to lower it, “I’m on special orders from Coin. My mission is to assassinate President Snow.”

Briggs laughs maniacally, “I don’t believe that for a second. Why would Boggs give you clearance?”

Jisung announces, “Because he believed in her.”

All Briggs can do is nod. You can tell the gears are churning in her brain, she pauses before she speaks. She lowers her gun, sheathing it back in her holster, “Fine. Lead the way, y/n.”

Swiftly, you all cross the courtyard, passing Boggs’s tar covered body that’s been severed in half by the explosion before entering one of the apartment buildings in the square. Making it up the stairs, you find an abandoned penthouse suite that was occupied by some elitist family in the capitol. Briggs’s voice is cold and direct, “Everyone shut the curtains now. We will be taking refuge here and setting off tomorrow morning. Be prepared to encounter Snow and his defense forces.”

Minho abruptly speaks, “You should just kill me now. I tried to murder y/n. It’s only a matter of time before I snap again.”

You swear you don’t move. You can’t move your feet and you can't feel your fingertips. It’s true, Minho tried to toss you into the tar- waiting for that chance to eliminate you. Chan angrily walks forward to Minho, his crossbow still in hand, “Maybe I should because you don’t deserve to live after what you did.”

You run in between them, holding Chan back, “Don’t Chan. He’s just hijacked. Let’s not do this right now.”

Briggs answers immediately, “We’ll just restrain you for now.”

Chan looks like he wants to argue but instead he backs off, shaking his head. He shuts his mouth and retreats back to the corner where the red-cushioned couches are. Within the next hour or so, you lay on the carpet by the television, rolled onto your side. As always, you can’t sleep. You try to shut your eyes in hopes that you can but of course, to no avail. You hear two familiar sounding voices from behind you, you recognize them to belong to Minho and Chan. They sit in the corner as they drink out of their canisters of water. You pretend as if you’re asleep.

Minho says in a softer tone,“You know she loves you right?”

“She might love me but not in the way she loves you. I’ve kissed her and she never kisses me like she had with you in the games.”

“Chan, that was just an act-”

“No, it isn’t. Anyone watching her can see, she still cares about you. All I know is y/n will choose whoever she can’t live without.”

Minho goes silent. You suspect that all he can do is nod at Chan’s comment. 

When night time falls, you sit up from being exhausted from tossing and turning. To your surprise, Minho sits by you, back against the wall. You’re startled that he’s still awake.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask him shakily. You try your best to hide it but you know that your trembling fingers are obvious. 

Minho blinks once and slowly, crimson film glossing over the cut on his cheek, “I never really do anymore.”

You make your way to the wall, still keeping a good distance away from Minho. You two say nothing for a while. Minho scratches the back of his neck, his voice making you snap your head up from picking at the threads of the carpet. 

“You know, my memories are getting better. They’re not crystal but they’re there.”

Looking to him, you sigh, “I wish it was me instead of you.”

Minho shakes his head, biting his lower lip, “Nothing you could’ve done. Besides, the capitol tortured me. They changed the images of my memories by altering them, making me confused about what’s real and what isn’t. They’ve made me want to kill you for them.”

You’re silent, unsure of the right words. Minho’s eyes glint under the dim lighting of the suite, not too bright but not too faded either. It’s reminded you of his kindness and warmth when you kept each other alive during the games. You miss him. The real him. 

Then, Minho starts to hit his head on the back against the wall, “I can’t do this. Please, y/n. I can’t live like this. Just end it here so you’ll never have to see me again. I’m not safe.”

Everything wrong with Minho seems to fade to the background. In your head, you’d always envision that moment when you found him in a cave during the first hunger games and how he got supplies for you because you were injured. You scoot over to sit next to him, his blabbering halting the moment you enter his close proximity. You whisper to him, careful not to wake anyone else, “Minho, stay with me. I need you, okay?”

Minho pauses before nodding reluctantly, “Always.”

Your turn your head back to face the living room full of sleeping bodies on the ground. Your eyes land on Chan’s figure, he still has his hand on his bow even when he’s asleep. What you least expect is you feel Minho’s fingers on your chin as he turns you to face him closely. Minho leans in, his voice laced with fear, “You love me, real or not real?”

“Real.”

A silver spark in Minho’s eyes returns, the same ones who volunteered for your sister during the selection. Within the next few seconds, Minho presses his lips firmly onto yours. At first, you’re scared to kiss him back. You’re scared he’ll snap again and put everything and everyone at risk. Still, you remember Chan’s words: you can never let him go. It’s too difficult. For a brief moment, it feels like you’re not in the middle of a war. It feels like it’s just you and Minho, sitting in a field of overgrown forest weeds on a summer day. It’s not a deep kiss, not pressing nor urgent like you had with Chan but it doesn’t lack the significance either. It’s slow burning and gentle, hesitant but necessary. Minho moves back a bit, eyelashes fluttering, opening his eyes to you. The sweet, intimate moment is very short-lived when you hear bombs exploding outside and Chan is the first one to leap up from his place. Disoriented, his eyes lie on you and Minho before he turns away disappointingly, peering out the window. 

He huffs, “Everyone get up, the games are about to begin.”

[gravelyhumerus]

You ever see a UFO in these parts?

Relationship: Jemily (if you squint)

Summary: Emily Prentiss likes The X-Files. It may or may not have been the reason she joined the FBI. One Shot. 

Word count: 1374

Read it on AO3

Emily Prentiss’s first thought after getting the call that she had officially been accepted into the FBI was that she could finally find out whether or not aliens were real.

Scratch that, her first thought was probably: oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I am finally employed! This is so cool! But right after her small freak out was the alien thing.

You see, Emily Prentiss spent most of the 90s extremely obsessed with The X-Files. She not only watched each and every episode live, but for Christmas she always bought herself each subsequent season on DVD. Watching two FBI agents search endlessly for the truth, despite the politics and bureaucracy was probably the best thing young, rebellious, daughter-of-a-diplomat Emily Prentiss could ever see.

Not to mention Gillian Anderson was in it. Need she say more?

Anyways, Prentiss had to start off her career at Quantico for training, where, like always, she strived to be the best in the class. She studied hard, trained hard, and stayed in line. She knew that any mention of something spooky like The X-Files would get her sent straight out of the academy, or even cause her to fail her psych evals. She didn’t want to go the way of the fictional Fox Mulder and get herself dubbed as Spooky Prentiss before she even became an agent.

Thus, like her nerdy love for literature and the likes of Kurt Vonnegut, Trainee Prentiss made sure to keep her minor obsession with aliens, cryptids and all things supernatural under wraps.

She wasn’t a true believer or anything. She didn’t identify with Mulder directly, having a heavy dose of skepticism about anything that science couldn’t explain. That being said, she knows that cover-ups, truth suppression and manipulation of reality was something that the bureaucrats the likes of her mother were well-versed in.

She would not put it past the American Government to hide something as big as aliens from the public.  

Agent Emily Prentiss thought she was being smart about her clandestine motives for looking into The X Files. She waited. She waited until she was no longer a rookie, that she had earned the respect of her peers and supervisors, so they knew she was not some kook before looking into things.

At the time, files were not quite digitized yet, with cabinets of file folders strewn about record rooms throughout the field office that she was stationed in. She looked into the drawer labelled X. Hence the name: The X-Files. Nothing except a few copies of X-Rays and a few victims or perps with the last name X.

She did this in every new administrative building, in every field office, and any government building that she had clearance to enter. She was pretty sure she had gotten placed on a watch list in her third year as an Agent.

Prentiss did not risk asking around, and as long as no one asked, she did not tell.  

At one office birthday, a party for her coworker, Agent Mills, she heard about a man in IT that was not as bright as her.

“I heard he lost his clearance,” was the whispered water-cooler talk she overheard. “He got unofficial desk-duty.”

“What did he do?” Prentiss asked.

“He wanted to look into a closed case,” her coworker whispered back, wide-eyed, “Teenage girls claiming to be abducted.”

“ Really ?” Prentiss, said, wide-eyed.

“No!” he replied, before the whole group burst into laughter at Prentiss’ expense. “What do you think this place is?”

The whole group burst into laughter as Prentiss’ face went hot with a blush. Emily vowed to keep her mouth shut from then on.

As time wore on, her suspicions did not fade, but the stakes got higher as she rose the ranks. A new agent might simply get canned for looking into the wrong thing, but Prentiss slowly had more to lose, more at stake. Emily Prentiss’ desire to uncover the X-Files got placed firmly on the back burner.

During her time in Interpol, Prentiss had much bigger things to worry about than monsters who may or may not be real. Monsters were in front of her and it was her job to take them down. Supernatural be damned, real horrors struck enough fear into her heart.

Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss’ first thought when she walked into the office of Penelope Garcia, FBI Technical Analyst, was that she was the kind of lady who would be able to find The X-Files. Or, whatever they were called in real life.

But, it was not the time to ask her that. The group looked at her with distrust, pretty much all of them except Agent Jareau, who was taking her on the tour of the offices and ‘showing her the ropes.’

Prentiss was new here, and growing up always being the new girl, she knew to keep her weirdness under wraps. She did not burst out into a nerdy rant when they had a case that looked suspiciously like vampires, or the time they had a case that truly seemed to have all of the markers of an alien abduction.

No, Prentiss did not say any of that, not at first, at least.

See, this team felt different somehow. After Prentiss almost quit—for the first time—after finding out she was a pawn of Erin Strauss’ vendetta against SSA Hotchner, she felt almost… welcome?

She started to be invited to things. Like girls night with JJ and Garcia, or foriegn movie night with Reid, or to drinks with Morgan after a long case. For the first time in ages, people seemed to like her, even her weird stuff.

After a few months, she found herself relaxing into this new routine and these new people. She slowly let her guard down, as far as she could reasonably manage, and revealed some of the things about herself that she normally held close to her chest.

She can only blame this, and the combination of pain pills she was taking for her recent injury she acquired in the hunt for the last unsub, for what happened.

A small knife to her side led Prentiss to needing minor surgery and a night in a small hospital in Nevada. She had awoken to JJ sleeping at her side and a bad headache that she learned was from the concussion caused by her head hitting the concrete after being stabbed.

Despite protesting, saying that she had been through worse, Prentiss was resigned to desk duty for almost two weeks after this incident. This meant that when the team was called away to Washington State for a new case, Prentiss was stuck sitting next to Garcia, sitting on her office chair that she had rolled down the hall.

Now back to the whole pain pills thing. Emily Prentiss didn’t react well to narcotics. She got a bit… loopy. And only a week after her surgery, finally back in the office after recovering at home, she was still needing quite a bit of medication to keep the throbbing of her side at bay.

So, when there was a lull in the case, with Garcia focusing on doing some more background research on their vics and herself flipping through some case files, Prentiss found herself blurting out something that she had spent her entire adult life avoiding.

“So you ever find out if aliens are real with that thing?” She said, gesturing to Garcia’s massive computer set-up.

Immediately after she had said it, she kicked herself, her own jaw dropping in surprise after hearing them fall out of her mouth. Prentiss was mortified. It was something that she thought she had been thinking not something she had any plans to actually say out loud.

See, she had noticed that Garcia could basically hack anything and anyone, and there was that whole Princess Diana thing from awhile back. She was thinking a lot about how if anyone could find the truth on the matter, it would be Penelope Garcia.

“Oh I knew I liked something about you,” Garcia said, spinning around in her chair, grinning at her. “What do you want? UFOs? Abductions? Probing? You know there’s always probing!”

Emily smiled. Maybe this was where she belonged after all.