#as echo was introduced to the primes - so familiar to someone who knows what it is to be broken down and made anew

[coleramse]

don't you dare cry.

a softer world, the 100.

[emjayewrites]

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (11/15)

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @httpsserene @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237 @niahxo @purplelewlew @queenshikongo3

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

CHAPTER 11: Same Ol’ Mistakes

Flashback to Early 2019 - New York City

Laughter and chatter echoed through Ayesha's newly purchased condo in New York City. The housewarming party was in its prime, celebrating her big move and the start of her career at a prestigious law firm.

Rorie stepped in, Lewis by her side, her stomach fluttering with a mix of anticipation and nerves. After nearly four months of dating, she was finally introducing Lewis to her closest friends.

Their relationship had been a whirlwind, progressing faster than Rorie could have ever imagined. Despite Lewis's hectic racing schedule, they'd managed to steal moments together whenever possible - stolen weekends in exotic locales, late-night FaceTime calls, and surprise visits to race tracks. Rorie had fallen hard and fast, the intensity of their connection taking her by surprise.

"Ladies!" Rorie called out, approaching the group gathered in the living room. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Five heads turned, eyes widening as they took in Lewis Hamilton standing beside their friend. Rorie made the introductions: "Lewis, these are my girls - KiKi, Deja, Tia, Britt, and of course, our hostess, Ayesha."

A chorus of hellos and nice-to-meet-yous filled the air. As Lewis shook hands with each woman, Deja felt her breath catch. She'd recognize that smile anywhere - it was the same one that had dazzled her that night in New Orleans during All-Star weekend 2017.

Lewis paused as he reached Deja, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Have we met before? You look familiar."

Deja's heart raced, but she kept her cool. After all, she was here with her new boyfriend, a rookie for the Knicks. "Oh, I just have one of those faces," she said with a casual laugh. "I get that a lot."

Lewis nodded, accepting her explanation, and moved on to greet the others.

KiKi couldn't resist teasing, "So, the elusive Lewis finally graces us with his presence! We were starting to think Rorie had an imaginary boyfriend."

Britt chimed in, "Yeah, if it weren't for those paparazzi shots, we might not have believed you existed!"

Lewis laughed good-naturedly. "Sorry about that, ladies. The racing schedule can be a bit crazy as hell." As they settled into conversation, Lewis looked around the apartment approvingly. "This is a great neighborhood, Ayesha."

Ayesha beamed. "Thanks! It took some searching, but I think I've found the perfect spot."

Tia couldn't resist chiming in with a grin. "Speaking of perfect spots, Rorie, so this the man that's been flying you out to all those exotic locations? Your passport must be tired of you!"

Lewis smirked, a hint of cockiness in his voice. "Guilty as charged. What can I say? I like to show my girl the world."

Rorie playfully rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Don't encourage him, Tia. His ego's big enough as it is."

The group laughed, the atmosphere light and celebratory. KiKi leaned in, whispering to Rorie, "Damn, girl. You didn't tell us he was this fine up close. Does he have a brother, a cousin, something?"

"What about Khalil? I thought you two were trying to make it work?" Rorie asked, giving her friend a curious glance.

"Fuck that nigga, let me tell you how I had another bitch call me about messing around with him. I’m not trying to be nobody’s sister wife," KiKi shook her head with a sigh. "Besides, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

Throughout the evening, Deja found herself stealing glances at Lewis, memories of that night in New Orleans flashing through her mind. But each time, she'd remind herself of her current relationship, of the life she was building now.

Rorie felt a sense of contentment wash over her. Her two worlds were merging seamlessly, and the future looked bright. Little did she know that beneath the surface of this perfect evening, seeds of future complications were already being sown.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

The January chill nipped at Rorie's newly blonde locks as she stepped out of the car, New York City's skyline twinkling against the night sky. She ran a hand through her hair, still adjusting to the dramatic change. The decision to go blonde had been impulsive, a desire to shake things up for the new year, but now a flicker of self-consciousness crept in. The Maison Spoiled event buzzed with anticipation, fashion's elite mingling in a dazzling display of wealth and influence.

"Fuck, it's freezing," Rorie muttered, tugging her fur-trimmed collar closer. Lewis chuckled, his arm snaking around her waist as they approached the entrance.

"You'd think after all these years, you'd be used to it," he teased.

Inside, warmth enveloped them along with the soft clink of champagne flutes and hushed conversations. As Maison Spoiled's newest ambassador, Rorie felt the weight of expectation on her shoulders, coupled with a lingering exhaustion from their whirlwind trip to Brazil.

Their time in Bahia had been... intense, to say the least. Between lazy beach days and family time with Lyric, Rorie and Lewis had rediscovered a passion that left them both pleasantly sore and perpetually grinning. "Trying for a sibling," they'd joked, though the underlying hope was real.

Now, as they made their rounds, exchanging air kisses and pleasantries, Rorie caught snippets of conversation that made her pulse quicken.

"Hamilton to Ferrari? No way..."

"For 2025, I heard..."

Before she could process the implications, Julian Polak appeared before them, his eyes sparkling almost as brightly as the diamonds adorning the room.

"Rorie, Lewis! So glad you could make it," Julian beamed, clasping their hands warmly. "Rorie, you're absolutely glowing. Brazil must have agreed with you."

Rorie felt her cheeks warm, memories of sun-soaked skin and tangled sheets flashing through her mind. "It was... rejuvenating," she managed, sharing a knowing glance with Lewis.

As Julian launched into a passionate explanation of Maison Spoiled's vision, Rorie's mind raced. How had the Ferrari news leaked?

The night wore on, and the whispers grew louder. By the time they left, it was clear that Lewis's move to Ferrari was the worst-kept secret in the room.

Back in their hotel suite, Rorie kicked off her heels with a sigh. "Babe, we need to talk about what happened tonight."

Lewis nodded, loosening his tie. "I know. I've already got calls from Toto and the Ferrari team. We're gonna have to move up the announcement."

Rorie flopped onto the bed, her mind racing. "This is gonna be a shitshow, isn't it?"

Lewis sat beside her, running a hand through his hair. "Probably. But hey, at least it'll take some heat off the lawsuit drama, right?"

Rorie couldn't help but laugh. "Always looking on the bright side, huh?"

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Kiki:

Girl, have you seen what's trending? #HamiltonToFerrari is blowing up!

"Great," Rorie groaned. "So much for keeping things quiet until your birthday."

Lewis's 39th birthday was just days away, and they'd planned to make the announcement then. Now, it seemed, they'd have to pivot.

"You know what?" Lewis said, pulling Rorie close. "Let's just roll with it. We'll confirm it tomorrow, have a proper celebration on my birthday, and deal with whatever comes our way."

Rorie snuggled into his embrace, feeling the tension start to ebb away. "You're right. We've dealt with worse, haven't we?"

As they lay there, strategizing and stealing kisses, Rorie's phone buzzed. It was Kiki calling.

"Girl, spill the tea!" Kiki's voice rang out as soon as Rorie answered and put her on speaker. "Is it true? Ferrari?"

Lewis chuckled. "News travels fast, huh?"

"You have no idea," Kiki replied. "So, it's legit?"

They spent the next few minutes giving Kiki a rundown of the situation, promising to fill her in on more details later.

After hanging up, Rorie turned to Lewis, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Speaking of Kiki... can you believe she did that to Deja?"

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "You mean the beat down? Yeah, but that's just KiKi."

Rorie shook her head, still in disbelief. "I can't believe she actually did it. I mean, I was thinking about doing it myself, but..."

Lewis burst out laughing. "You? Fighting? Babe, I've seen you stub your toe. You're not exactly Mike Tyson."

Rorie swatted his arm playfully. "Hey! I could totally throw down if I needed to."

Still chuckling, Lewis reached for the room service menu. "Sure, Rocky. How about we order some food instead of planning assaults?"

As they waited for their late-night feast, Lewis's phone pinged. He showed Rorie a photo from his mom, Carmen, of Lyric fast asleep in their Monaco home.

"Looks like he's settling in well," Rorie smiled, a hint of longing in her voice.

Lewis nodded, "Glad that he and Mum are doing well." His mother and Nina seem to have everything under control. The two of them were set for an extended stay in NYC before heading to Brackley for the unveiling of the 2024 season car for the upcoming F1 season.

The knock on the door came just as Rorie's stomach growled, perfectly timed. Lewis answered and wheeled in their feast, the aroma of truffle fries and gourmet burgers filling the suite.

They settled onto the plush sofa, plates balanced on their laps, when Lewis's eyes lit up with that mischievous glint Rorie knew all too well.

"You know," he said, taking a bite of his veggie burger, "this place has got me feeling all sorts of déjà vu."

Rorie glanced around, eyebrow raised. "Yeah? How come?"

Lewis grinned, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. "Babe, this is our old love nest. Same suite we holed up in when we first started dating. Remember? My condo was a construction zone, and we..."

"Oh my god," Rorie cut in, memories flooding back. A smile played on her lips as she recalled those early, heady days. "How could I forget? We barely left this room for a week."

"Mmm," Lewis hummed, pulling her close. "Maybe we should recreate some of those memories, for old times' sake."

Rorie laughed, but there was a glint in her eye. "Another night, maybe. We've got all week, after all."

As they ate, conversation flowed easily, jumping from topic to topic. Rorie found herself sighing wistfully. "You know, I kind of miss that condo. It had the best view of Central Park."

"We could always get another one," Lewis suggested, only half-joking. "Add it to our real estate empire."

Rorie rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Right, because what we need is another home to manage. Speaking of which..." She hesitated, then plunged ahead. "I've been thinking about hiring a personal assistant."

Lewis's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah? That's not a bad idea, considering how crazy things have been lately."

"I actually had Yael and Penni screen some candidates a few weeks back," Rorie continued, her excitement growing. "I've already done a couple of interviews. There are two that really stand out."

And just like that, they were off, Rorie detailing the potential assistants, their qualifications, and her impressions. Lewis listened intently, offering his thoughts and asking questions. The conversation meandered, touching on their early days, current challenges, and dreams for the future. The night stretched on, New York City humming below them, a perfect backdrop to their plans and promises.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

A couple of days later, the early morning light filtered through the curtains of their suite, casting a warm glow over the room. Rorie stirred, slowly waking up to the gentle sound of Lewis’s breathing beside her, her bonnet slightly askew from her slumber. She turned to find him already awake, his phone in hand, the glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes.

"Happy birthday, babe," she whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Lewis smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he turned to her. "Thanks, love. Best way to wake up."

Rorie grinned, cuddling closer. "How does it feel to be one year older? The big 3-9."

"Like I’m just getting started," Lewis chuckled, setting his phone aside. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "But I’ll admit, writing that post took a bit out of me."

"You posted it?" Rorie asked, propping herself up on one elbow, curiosity piqued.

"Just hit send," he nodded, a touch of nervousness in his voice. "It’s official. Everyone knows now."

Rorie gave him a reassuring smile. "I’m proud of you. This is a huge step, but it’s the right one."

Lewis leaned back against the pillows, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "Yeah, it’s been a long time coming. I’ve been with Mercedes for over a decade. But Ferrari… It feels like the right move for the next chapter."

"So, you’re really going to be wearing red, huh?" she teased, her tone light but with a hint of seriousness underneath. "Looks like Lyric needs to start learning Italian now."

Lewis chuckled, pulling her closer. "He's learning French from Nina, might as well add Italian to the list. He’ll be a little polyglot by the time he starts school."

Rorie laughed, imagining their toddler babbling in multiple languages. "Mmhmm, and you’ll be fluent in all of them, trying to keep up."

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, until Rorie’s stomach growled, breaking the peaceful silence. Lewis laughed, his hand brushing her hair away from her face. "Breakfast in bed?"

"Definitely," Rorie agreed, her eyes lighting up. "But after we eat, you should check your phone. I bet the internet’s already buzzing."

Lewis sighed, knowing she was right. He reached for his phone, seeing the notifications already piling up, but he set it back down, choosing to focus on the woman in front of him instead. "The world can wait."

They spent the day in a blissful bubble, ordering room service, lounging around in their plush bathrobes, and indulging in their favorite reality shows. No extravagant parties, no guest lists—just the two of them, savoring every moment.

"Where are you sneaking off to?" he asked, his eyes following her every move.

"Just stay right there," Rorie called back over her shoulder, a playful smile on her lips as she padded across the room.

She disappeared for a moment, and when she returned, she wasn’t wearing her oversized t-shirt and boy shorts anymore. Instead, she’d slipped into something much more revealing—a black lace crotchless lingerie set that hugged every curve of her body. The sheer fabric clung to her skin, the delicate lace tracing the curve of her hips, and the thin straps crisscrossed over her back, leaving very little to the imagination.

Lewis’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her. "Damn, Rorie," he murmured, his voice low and filled with heat.

But Rorie wasn’t done yet. She reached behind her back and pulled out a small box, then from the other hand, a single cupcake that she had secretly ordered from room service earlier. The cupcake was simple—chocolate with a swirl of vanilla frosting and a single candle stuck in the middle.

"Happy birthday, Mr. President," she sang in a sultry voice, channeling her inner Marilyn Monroe as she swayed toward him, the cupcake in one hand and the box in the other.

Lewis’s eyes darkened with desire as he watched her, his mouth curling into a grin. "You really know how to spoil a man."

She placed the cupcake in his lap and then handed him the small velvet box. "I’ve got one more surprise for you."

His curiosity piqued, Lewis opened the box to find a pair of handcuffs nestled inside. His grin widened as he looked back up at her. "Now, this is going to be fun."

Rorie leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "Happy birthday, baby. Make a wish."

Lewis held her gaze for a moment, the tension between them thickening, before he closed his eyes and blew out the single candle on the cupcake. When he opened them again, his expression was full of intent. "You know exactly what I want for my birthday," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Rorie giggled, running her hands through his braids. "Oh, I know," she replied teasingly, picking up the cupcake to place it on the bedside table. She then leaned in, their lips meeting in a slow, sensual kiss that quickly deepened, becoming more urgent as their need for each other grew. Her hands slid up his chest, fingers tracing the defined lines of his muscles before she pushed him gently back onto the bed. Lewis let her take control, his heart pounding in anticipation.

Climbing onto the bed to straddle his hips, the black lace lingerie barely contained the curve of her ass. The delicate fabric accentuated every inch of her body, and Lewis couldn't help but run his hands along her thighs, marveling at the softness of her skin.

"God, you look incredible," he breathed, his voice husky with desire.

Rorie smiled down at him, her hips moving in a slow, teasing grind against his growing arousal as her fingers slipped into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down.

Lewis watched her, his breath coming in shallow gasps as she took her time, savoring every moment. When she finally freed him, he groaned in relief, his hands gripping her hips as he urged her closer.

But Rorie wasn’t done teasing him. She leaned forward, her hands braced on either side of his head as she kissed him again, her tongue slipping into his mouth to taste him. Then, she pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "Are you ready for your present?"

Lewis’s answer was a low growl, his hands tightening on her hips. "I’ve been ready all day."

With a wicked grin, Rorie reached for the handcuffs and secured one around his wrist, her movements slow and deliberate, giving him plenty of time to protest if he wanted to. But Lewis didn’t. He watched her with dark, hungry eyes, his teeth biting his lower lip as the anticipation made his pulse race.

Once his hands were cuffed to the headboard, Rorie sat back on his thighs, taking a moment to appreciate the sight before her. Lewis Hamilton, the man who commanded so much power and respect on the track, was now completely at her mercy. And she intended to make the most of it.

She pressed a kiss to his chest, then another, trailing her lips down the hard planes of his torso. Lewis shuddered beneath her touch, his muscles tensing as she moved lower, her mouth leaving a heated trail across his skin.

"Rorie," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "Don’t make me beg."

She chuckled softly, her breath ghosting over his abdomen as she glanced up at him. "I love hearing you beg, though."

With that, she took him in her mouth, and Lewis let out a low growl. The sensation of Rorie’s lips and tongue on him was almost too much to handle. He tried to focus on the feeling of euphoria building within him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with every movement of Rorie’s head.

He tugged on the handcuffs instinctively, wanting to hold onto something as pleasure coursed through his body. Rorie smiled around him knowing the effect she was having on him. Her mouth worked magic on him, her tongue swirling and sucking with expert precision. Lewis’s hips lifted off the bed, desperate for more as he lost himself in the moment. He could feel the tension building in his core, and he knew he was close. But Rorie seemed to sense it too, because she pulled back suddenly, leaving him panting and aching for release.

"Not yet," she murmured, her voice dripping with seduction. "I’m not finished with you."

"Fuck…baby…" Lewis groaned in frustration, his voice thick with need. "What are you—"

His words were cut off as Rorie climbed up his body, straddling him again but this time facing away, causing him to have an eyeful of her pert ass. She reached behind her, teasing him with her touch as she positioned herself over his throbbing erection. Slowly, agonizingly, she lowered herself onto him until he was buried deep inside her.

They both moaned at the overwhelming sensation, Rorie gasping as she took him to the hilt. The feeling of him stretching her so perfectly made her shiver with pleasure. Lewis's hands clenched around the handcuffs, his muscles tensing as he strained to move with her, desperate to match her rhythm but unable to do anything but lie there and take it.

Rorie began to rock her hips back and forth, setting a slow, torturous pace that had Lewis gritting his teeth in frustration. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with need. "I need more."

A soft laugh escaped Rorie’s lips as she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes glinting with mischief. "You want more?" she asked teasingly, her voice a seductive purr. "You want me to fuck you harder?"

Lewis's response was a low, primal growl as he bucked his hips up to meet hers, driving himself even deeper inside her. The sudden movement made Rorie moan loudly, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure through her body.

She began to move faster, bouncing on his lap with reckless abandon, her moans and the sound of her skin slapping against him filling the room. Lewis’s head fell back against the pillows, his entire body taut with pleasure as he watched her, utterly captivated by the way she moved.

"F-fuck," he groaned, unable to form any other coherent words as she took him closer and closer to the edge. His entire world had narrowed down to the feel of her tight heat surrounding him, the sound of her moans, and the sight of her body moving so perfectly above him.

Rorie’s hands trailed down his thighs, gripping them tightly for support as she rode him with everything she had. Her body glistened with sweat, her hair falling in wild tendrils around her face, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the way Lewis felt inside her, the way he was making her feel like she was on fire.

She could feel her own orgasm building, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter with each movement. Lewis’s eyes were glued to her, his gaze filled with a mix of lust and adoration that only made her want him more. He loved seeing Rorie like this—uninhibited, wild, and completely lost in the moment.

"God, you feel so fucking good," Lewis groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He wanted this to last, wanted to savor every second of it, but Rorie was making it impossible. "You take this dick so well, baby."

She sped up her movements, her moans turning into cries of pleasure as she chased her release, her body moving with a frantic urgency. "Lewis," she gasped, her voice breathless and desperate. "I’m so close…"

"Me too, baby," he groaned, his hips bucking up to meet hers with each thrust. "Come with me."

That was all it took. With a final, desperate cry, Rorie’s orgasm crashed over her, her body trembling with the intensity of it. The sight of her coming undone above him, the feel of her tightening around him, sent Lewis over the edge as well. He came hard, his entire body shuddering with the force of his release as he emptied himself inside her.

They stayed like that for a few moments, both of them breathless and trembling from the aftershocks of their shared pleasure. Eventually, Rorie released his hands before collapsing onto the bed beside him, her body still humming with satisfaction. Lewis reached out with his newly freed hands, pulling her into his arms and holding her close.

As they lay there, their breathing slowly returning to normal, Rorie let out a soft, contented sigh. "You might’ve sweated out my silk press," she teased, her voice playful and light.

Lewis chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Worth it," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She smiled, snuggling closer to him, her heart full as she closed her eyes. "Definitely worth it," she whispered, her voice filled with love and contentment.

A few weeks later...

The Bahrain sun beat down mercilessly as Lewis strode through the paddock, his race suit unzipped to the waist. The air thrummed with anticipation, mechanics and engineers scurrying about like worker bees.

"Fuck, it's hot," Lewis muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "You sure you two don't want to wait in the air-conditioned hospitality area?"

Rorie shook her head, her newly blonde hair catching the sunlight. "We're good. Right, Lyric? We want to see Daddy off properly."

Lyric nodded enthusiastically, his little hands gripping Lewis's race suit. "Daddy fast car!"

They scanned the Mercedes garage, taking in the controlled chaos around them. C.J. appeared, tablet in hand, his presence a welcome addition to their entourage.

"Rorie," he said, his voice calm amidst the noise, "just a reminder that you have that call with Tommy Hilfiger in two hours. Do you want me to set up in the hospitality suite?"

Rorie nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, C.J. That would be perfect. And can you make sure Lyric's snacks are ready? He's going to need a distraction during the call."

"Already taken care of," C.J. winked, high-fiving Lyric before stepping away to handle the arrangements.

Lewis couldn't help but smile. "I still can't believe how quickly he's gotten a handle on everything. Reminds me of KiKi, but with better organizational skills."

Rorie laughed, the sound carrying over the roar of engines being fired up nearby. "Don't let KiKi hear you say that. She'll have your head."

They stood there for a moment, soaking in the atmosphere. Lewis felt that familiar pre-race buzz coursing through his veins, heightened by the knowledge that this was his last season with Mercedes.

"You nervous?" Rorie asked, reading his expression like an open book.

Lewis shook his head, holding onto Lyric's hands as he wriggled around him. "Nah, just… ready, you know? After New York, I feel like I could conquer the world."

Memories of their New York getaway flashed through his mind. Late nights, room service breakfasts, and days spent tangled in sheets… It had been exactly what they needed before diving back into the madness of the F1 season.

A mischievous glint appeared in Rorie's eyes. "Well, that week was pretty spectacular. Maybe we should make it a pre-season tradition."

"Don't tempt me," Lewis growled playfully, leaning in for a kiss that was perhaps a touch too heated for their surroundings.

"Oi, lovebirds!" Bono's voice cut through their moment. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need our driver in the car, not making out in the paddock."

Lewis chuckled, handing Lyric over to Rorie. "Duty calls. You two behave yourselves, yeah?"

"Us? Always," Rorie grinned, adjusting Lyric on her hip. "It's you we're worried about. Don't go breaking any records today, it's just testing."

"No promises," Lewis winked. With a final kiss, Lewis jogged towards the garage, his mind shifting gears. The unveiling at Brackley, the Vogue party in London - it all felt like a distant dream and now he was preparing for another long season.

As he slipped into the cockpit, the familiar scent of leather and fuel enveloping him, Lewis felt that surge of adrenaline he'd come to love. This was his element, where everything else faded away and it was just him, the car, and the track.

"Alright, Lewis," Bono's voice crackled through the radio. "You ready to show these youngsters how it's done?"

Lewis grinned, revving the engine. "Let's fucking do this, Bono."

As he pulled out of the pit lane, Lewis caught one last glimpse of Rorie and Lyric. Rorie gave him a thumbs up, her decision to step back from social media and focus on family making her presence here all the more special.

Lewis's car disappeared down the track, and Rorie felt the familiar mix of pride and anxiety wash over her. She bounced Lyric gently on her hip, more to soothe herself than him.

"Alright, little man," she said, turning away from the track. "Let's go find C.J. and get ready for Mama's call."

They made their way through the paddock, Rorie nodding and smiling at familiar faces. The F1 world was like a traveling circus, and after years of being part of it, she'd grown accustomed to the rhythm of testing and race weekends, but this year felt different. With Lewis's impending move to Ferrari looming on the horizon, there was an undercurrent of anticipation that seemed to follow them everywhere.

As they entered the air-conditioned oasis of the hospitality suite, Rorie let out a sigh of relief. The Bahrain heat was no joke, and she silently thanked whoever invented air conditioning.

C.J. was already there, his efficiency never failing to impress her. He had a laptop set up, a spread of healthy snacks for Lyric arranged nearby, and was typing away on his tablet.

"Everything's ready, Rorie," he said with a smile as they approached. "I've got the Tommy Hilfiger team on standby for your call in about an hour and a half. Also, I took the liberty of preparing some talking points for the new campaign, if you'd like to review them."

Rorie nodded gratefully. "Thanks, C.J. You're a lifesaver."

C.J. grinned, a hint of sass in his voice. "Just doing my job. Though I do expect a glowing review at my next performance evaluation."

Rorie laughed, appreciating his ability to keep things light even during their hectic schedule. "Keep this up, and you might just get it."

She settled Lyric with his snacks and toys, and her mind wandered to the upcoming campaign. Despite her decision to take a step back from social media, her commitment to her partnerships remained strong. The Tommy Hilfiger collaboration was a big deal, and she was determined to give it her all.

"Mama, look!" Lyric's voice pulled her from her thoughts. He was holding up a crayon drawing of what she assumed was meant to be Lewis's car.

"That's beautiful, baby," she smiled, ruffling his braids. "Should we hang it up for Daddy to see later?"

As she helped Lyric tape his masterpiece to the wall, Rorie caught a glimpse of one of the monitors showing the track. Lewis's car zipped past, a blur of silver against the desert backdrop. She felt her heart rate quicken, a mixture of excitement and worry that she'd grown accustomed to over the years.

"He's looking good out there," C.J. commented, following her gaze.

Rorie nodded, her eyes still on the screen. "Yeah, he is. Last season with Mercedes... he's got a lot to prove."

"Don't they all?" C.J. quipped, earning a chuckle from Rorie.

She turned her attention back to the papers C.J. had prepared, immersing herself in the details of the Tommy Hilfiger campaign. As she read, she couldn't help but reflect on how much her life had changed. From financial analyst to philanthropist and entrepreneur, married to one of the greatest F1 drivers of all time... sometimes it still felt surreal.

"Rorie?" C.J.'s voice broke through her reverie. "The Tommy Hilfiger team is ready whenever you are."

Rorie took a deep breath, centering herself. "Alright, let's do this."

She sat down in front of the laptop, Lyric coloring quietly nearby under C.J.'s watchful eye, Rorie felt a sense of purpose wash over her. She might be taking a step back from the limelight, but she was still very much in the game.

The call began, and Rorie slipped effortlessly into her professional persona, discussing designs, photoshoot concepts, and marketing strategies. As she talked, she could hear the distant roar of engines from the track, a reminder of the two worlds she straddled.

An hour later, as she wrapped up the call, Rorie felt a sense of accomplishment. She'd nailed the meeting, Lyric had behaved perfectly (with some help from C.J.'s expert distraction techniques), and according to the occasional updates from the team, Lewis was putting in some impressive lap times.

"Mama, hungry," Lyric announced as soon as she closed the laptop.

Rorie laughed, scooping him up. "Me too, baby. What do you say we go find some lunch and then see if we can catch Daddy between runs?"

C.J. chimed in, already tapping away at his tablet. "I can have something brought up if you'd prefer to stay in the cool air. Or I've got a list of the best spots in the paddock if you're feeling adventurous."

Rorie considered for a moment, bouncing Lyric gently. "You know what? Let's be adventurous. We've been cooped up in here long enough."

They made their way out of the hospitality suite and into the bustling paddock. The energy was palpable, with teams rushing about and journalists hunting for stories.

As they navigated through the crowd, Rorie spotted a familiar face heading their way. Toto Wolff, Mercedes team principal, approached with a warm smile.

"Rorie, Lyric! How are my favorite spectators doing?" he greeted them, ruffling Lyric's hair affectionately.

"We're good, Toto. Just finished up a call and now on a hunt for some lunch. How's Lewis looking out there?" Rorie asked, unable to keep the hint of concern from her voice.

Toto's smile widened. "He's in top form. You'd never know it was testing, the way he's pushing. But then again, when does Lewis ever take it easy?"

They chatted for a few more minutes, the conversation naturally drifting to the upcoming season and the changes it would bring. As they said their goodbyes, Rorie couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. This would be their last season with Mercedes, a team that had become like family over the years.

"You okay?" C.J. asked softly as they continued their quest for food.

Rorie nodded, plastering on a smile. "Yeah, just... a lot of emotions, you know? But we're here to support Lewis and enjoy the ride. Speaking of which, I think I smell burgers. What do you say, Lyric? Ready for some lunch?"

As they approached the food stalls, the aroma of grilled meat and spices filling the air, Rorie noticed a woman standing near one of the counters. The stranger's gaze was fixed intently on her and Lyric, a little too intensely for comfort.

Rorie leaned closer to C.J., keeping her voice low. "Hey, do you know who that is? The woman in the blue top?"

C.J. glanced discreetly in the direction Rorie indicated, his brow furrowing. "I don't recognize her, but she's got a paddock pass. Must be with one of the teams or media."

Just then, the woman locked eyes with Rorie. A wide smile spread across her face as she began making her way towards them with determined strides.

Rorie felt a flicker of unease, instinctively holding Lyric a little tighter. Before she could react further, her bodyguard, who had been maintaining a respectful distance, smoothly intercepted the approaching woman.

"Excuse me, ma'am," the bodyguard said politely but firmly. "I'm going to have to ask you to step back."

The woman blurted out, "Rorie! I'm Athena... I'm your sister. Well, half-sister."

Rorie felt as if the ground had shifted beneath her feet. She instinctively held Lyric a little tighter, skepticism evident in her eyes.

Athena, sensing Rorie's disbelief, quickly pulled out her phone. "I know this must be a shock. Here, let me show you..." She swiped through a series of recent photos showing her with Martin and two young men. "That's our dad, and those are our brothers, Azariah and Aaron."

Rorie's mind raced, trying to process this unexpected encounter. She glanced at C.J., who looked equally stunned but maintained his professional composure.

"I... I don't know what to say," Rorie managed, her voice barely above a whisper. She studied Athena's face, searching for any family resemblance.

Same nose, same chin. Just like the men in the pictures as well.

Athena's smile faltered slightly. "I'm sorry to spring this on you like this. I've been wanting to meet you for so long, and when I saw you here... I couldn't let the opportunity pass."

Rorie took a deep breath, trying to center herself. "This is... a lot to take in. How did you even get in here?"

"I'm an intern with one of the media teams," Athena explained. "I didn't plan this, I swear. It was just luck."

C.J. stepped closer, his voice low. "Rorie, do you want me to handle this?"

Rorie shook her head, her eyes never leaving Athena. "No, it's... it's okay." She paused, weighing her next words carefully. "Look, Athena, I appreciate you reaching out, but this isn't the time or place for this conversation. There's a lot to unpack here."

Athena nodded, looking crestfallen but understanding. "Of course, I get it. I'm sorry for ambushing you like this. Could we... maybe talk later? When you're ready?"

Rorie hesitated, then nodded. "Give your contact info to C.J. here. We'll be in touch."

As Athena scribbled her details on C.J.'s tablet, Rorie's mind whirled with questions and emotions. This encounter had just added another layer of complexity to an already tumultuous time.

"Mama, hungry," Lyric's small voice broke through her thoughts, grounding her in the present moment.

"Right, baby. Let's get some food," Rorie said, grateful for the distraction. As they turned back to the food stalls, she knew one thing for certain - she and Lewis would have a lot to discuss tonight.

______________________________________________

Lewis looked up from where he was helping Lyric into his pull-up, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Sister? Aaliyah's here?"

Rorie shook her head from a nearby armchair, her fingers flying over her phone screen as she scrolled through search results. "No, not Aaliyah. Athena. Apparently, she's my half-sister. Martin's daughter."

"What the fuck?" Lewis muttered under his breath, careful to keep his voice low enough that Lyric wouldn't pick up on it. He finished fastening the pull-up and reached for the lotion. "When did this happen?"

"At the food stalls earlier," Rorie replied, her eyes still glued to her phone. "She just... appeared. Said she's an intern with some media team."

Lewis smoothed lotion over Lyric's skin, his mind racing. "And you're sure she's legit?"

Rorie sighed, finally looking up from her phone. "She had pictures, Lewis. Her with Martin and two guys she said were our brothers. And get this - she's in a master's program for communications in London. Interning with a boutique media agency that covers sports, trying to break into F1."

"Convenient," Lewis remarked, his tone skeptical as he helped Lyric into his pajamas. "Bit of a coincidence, don't you think? Her just happening to be here?"

"My thoughts exactly," Rorie agreed. "I mean, it's the first race of the season. Of course, I'd be here. It feels... I don't know, orchestrated somehow."

Lewis finished buttoning Lyric's pajama top and gestured for Rorie to join them on the bed. She set her phone aside and sat cross-legged on the mattress, creating a little family circle. Lewis reached for the small jar of argan oil pomade they used for Lyric's hair.

As he gently worked the product into Lyric's scalp, careful not to disturb the neat braids, he asked, "What do you want to do about it?"

Rorie watched Lewis's careful movements, a small smile playing on her lips despite her troubled thoughts. She loved these quiet family moments. "I don't know. Part of me is curious, but..."

"But you're worried it's some kind of set-up," Lewis finished for her. He understood her hesitation all too well. Their life in the spotlight had taught them to be cautious, especially when it came to unexpected family appearances.

"Exactly," Rorie nodded. She reached out to hold Lyric's hand, the toddler's eyes already drooping with sleep. "C.J. has her contact info. Told her we'd be in touch."

Lewis finished moisturizing Lyric's scalp and carefully slipped a silky bonnet over the child's head. "Well, we don't have to decide anything tonight. Let's sleep on it, yeah? See how you feel in the morning."

Rorie managed a small smile, grateful for his steady presence. "Yeah, you're right. One crisis at a time, right?"

"Story time!" Lyric suddenly piped up, his sleepy eyes widening with renewed energy.

Lewis chuckled, reaching for the book on the nightstand. "Alright, little man. One story, then bed. Deal?"

They settled in, Lyric nestled between them, as Lewis began to read. It was a familiar tale about a little race car that could, one of Lyric's favorites. Rorie found herself relaxing as she listened to Lewis's soothing voice, the day's stresses momentarily fading away.

As the story came to an end, Lyric's eyes were firmly shut, his breathing deep and even. Lewis carefully scooped him up, and together they carried him to his crib in the adjoining room.

They stood there for a moment, watching their son sleep peacefully. Lewis wrapped an arm around Rorie's waist, pulling her close. "Whatever you decide about Athena, I'm here. We'll figure it out together."

Rorie leaned into him, drawing strength from his presence. "I know. Thank you."

As they made their way back to their own bed, Lewis couldn't help but marvel at the constant curveballs life seemed to throw their way.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[mamuzzy]

I only wanted to answer in reblog but it got so long i decided to make a separate post. But it had me thinking about media consumerism and how it could affect the open-mindedness for different shows soooo...

Here is a guide to...

HOW TO GET SOMEONE TRAPPED IN THE CLONE HELL

... not entirely a guide but more like an observation.

If we want to look at the problem with the fast-paced media consumer viewpoint, I think starting with the Bad Batch it's actually not a bad idea for someone who never watched Star Wars animated media before. It's sad but cartoons, animations can repulse people to watch things because they link them to child stories, something only a child would watch, also most of the people prefer live action instead of animated stuff. Especially if the said movie/series is quite old. cont. under the cut...

There could be a reason why people are not interested in clones

If a friend, family member, boyfriend/girlfriend/whatever only saw the movies and were not interested in TCW before, had not seen it as a child on TV, they will probably have prejudice against the clones. - They weren't the main characters in the movies therefor we have not seen them interacting that much with the main cast. - But even if you don't know star wars, you will probably know the clones for Order 66, white armored assholes who murdered the jedi aka good guys. And when the movies came out, inhibitor chips weren't in the picture. ---> this observations came while watching TCW with my dad who didn't like the clones because for this exact same reason: the clones basicly serve antagonist without question in a world where rules were set: jedi are good, sith are evil. -> I don't care that it is more complex that. It is what was shown. While he enjoyed the clone-centric episodes, he still stood at his point. They killed the jedi. End of story. - People have different interests :'(((((((

THE CLONE WARS 2003

Why do I recommend this first.

You can always say it's made by the same guy who made Samurai Jack. Strategically speaking Clone Wars 2003 would be a good starting point despite not being canon anymore because TCW is adapting some of the stories shown here. It recaps well what happened between Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith. Also this is the first media where Asajj Ventress and Grievous were introduced, and where you can actually see Grievous in his prime, an absolutely terrifying foe who actually can mop the floor with the jedi. Lots of jedi were introduced here which later also appeared in TCW. Why is this important: Having familiarity with the characters shown in memorable scenes helps that you will recognise them later in other media. Like... Hey it's the jedi dude who stripped in the middle of a fight! Hey, aren't these the same guys who mutated an entire village out of fun who kidnapped Echo??? And so on. TIME: 25 x 5 minutes episodes full of action so it keeps up the interest, and... FORDO. 5 minutes of full clone badassery. While TCW emphasises on the theme that the clones are living, feeling human beings who can die exactly like a human, in CW2003 they are shown like really the badass super soldiers (especially the ARC Troopers) who were bred for war. How much time it takes an episode to watch is an important factor. Because someone who binge watches 10 x 1 hour long netflix series under one day without sleep, drink, eat is not a guarantee that they will be able to sit through 133 x 22 minutes episodes. The sheer numbers will scare them away, nobody has a time watch 133 episodes when you can watch like... 5 different series instead! STORY TELLING COMPARED TO TCW: CW2003 goes for mostly visual story telling instead of talking. It's suspenseful, it's scenic, it's extreme, sometimes silly (rocket-launcher clone in the elevator with zero fuck given is still my favorite) but it's guarantee that you will remember. TCW episodes are varying from episodic to two-to-four episode arcs, it has silly comic relief episodes, it has serious dark episodes, obligatory beach episode, obligatory valentine day episode, obligatory school festival episodes obligatory-just kidding lol , so the lenght of one story can be varying, so is the quality of them. So unless you have a hyperfixation, or are a completionist, or interested enough, the episodes - in psychologycal term -, won't urge you the continue. Because in one 22 minutes episode you got a complete story without cliffhanger it won't make you think, because all the questions asked in the beginning of the episode was answered at the end. It won't rush you to continue, because you know that probably the next episode will be about an entire different conflict. You can stop anytime without the feeling of "just one more episode, just one more episode". Also, it doesn't help that you know how the story will end if you saw Revenge of the Sith. The forementioned uglyness... It took me years to finish TCW. I hated when it came out back in 2009 despite loving Star Wars and CW2003 and only after a decade picked up my interest again, it still took me years to finish it anyway. Back then, I really hated how everything got quickly 3D in neglection of 2D. But can't say it's ugly because it's old, it was ugly when it came out! You really have to force yourself to accept how it looks until you are fine with it, because your eyes got used to it. Also some episodes were boring, not entertaining, I just lost interest and only came back later to continue and I even forgot what happened before. I can't remember most of the arc expect those I was interested in to rewatch it again in the last years. Yes, the quality will improve. Season 7 is beautiful. The visuals of Bad Batch is also beautiful. But between season 6 and season 7, years passed.

THE BAD BATCH

Why do I recommend TBB for someone who ain't got time for shit™:

- TBB season are 16 episodes long. It's friendlier than 133 number wise. - There are only a few main characters to follow. It's important because when there are a large cast of characters, it's easy to get confused who is who and with literal CLONES as main characters, it's hard to distinguish them from each other. I know I can distinguished them, because I'm so fixated on them that every single verbal and non-verbal gesture they make will shoot me into outer space. - The Batch uses popular character tropes, different looks, different voices and tones, so they are recognisable, therefore, you will remember them for the rest of the show. So it will be a chance that you will fall for at least one member of the batch. And then you'll be thirsting mess over one character and eventually you'll be staning all of them, and eventually you will seek out more contents,fanfics, fanarts, headcanons with them that will attract TCW characters or events as well that will lead further deep down into the clone-hell. --> You can start showing the Bad Batch arc TCW where Jesse, Kix, Rex, Cody is also present, so there are plenty of topic and characters to talk about later. Also... Who is this Echo guy, how did he end up here? You can show the Domino Squad episodes, Kamino arc, citadel arc... - This could be a double-edge sword, but TBB are shown resemblance to Delta Squad, Omega Squad and Null ARC troopers. You know Delta Squad from the Video Game, Republic Commando, while the Omegas and Nulls are the main characters of the book series with the same name by Karen Traviss. I say it's double edged, because without these fantastic characters we wouldn't have The Bad Batch, but also I can understand the fans who wanted the Deltas adapted properly instead. - In season 1, the "fillers" add to the story and the characters as well and they won't get episodic-amnesia. (they may have TCW amnesia though... yes, I look at you Echo.) - In Season 1, there is a clear conflict which shadow always lingers even if the plot of the episode does not directly touches it. - Returning characters from TCW like Rex and Gregor could make the consumer ask the questions: who are these guys and why are they important? Rex is cute, is there more episodes with him? Oh yes, my dear prey friend, there is a whole series about him. - I only say season 1 because I'm not entirely satisfied how season 2 were handled while I enjoyed the first one. My hyperfixation for TCW last year literally started with Bad Batch. The trailer was so misleadingly awesome I wanted to watch it before season 2 would come out, but I wanted to finish TCW first (finally!). Season 6 and Season 7 were basicly binge watch and it got me interested again in the previous seasons too.

STAR WARS: THE CLONE WARS 2008 (movie)

Why do I recommend this before TCW - It has Fox - Because sitting through a one-night movie is still easier than watching 133 episodes while maintaining the same quality of the show. - It has Fox - It shows the story how Ahsoka is introduced as Anakin's padawan the first time and we get a glimpse of their initial relationship and dynamic. - It has Fox - Basicly two arc in one movie but the introduced characters stay the same the entire time so you have time to get to know them, recognise them, and later you can remember them. - It has Fox - It has Fox.

TALES OF THE JEDI

It has that one episodes with the clones where they train Ahsoka. Possible questions could be asked: wtf happens at the END? Where is the rest of it? You can instantly show the last arc of season 7. Which would lead to another questions: wtf are the mandalorians, why Maul is here, wtf happening with Rex during O66, why is he hesitating to shoot Ahsoka? Now you can show the Chip conspiracy ARC with Fives! This Fives is a nice guy, is there more episodes of him? Oh boy~

And if they are interested in watching TCW with you..

- Watching together as spending time together usually helps. I think discord also has a function where you can stream movies to others. - You don't have to watch it in the exact order the episodes came out - Show arcs. There are lot of clone centric arcs. I literally collected all the episodes where Echo and Fives are present. --> Dad remembered Echo the whole time and he felt sorry for him. I showed the episodes in such order that his story could be followed easely. ------------- I know. I get it. Every episode is awesome. Every character is awesome. They are. They are all blorbos. They are our blorbos.

[caligulalotus]

for the drabble prompts: 101 with whoever you like!

101. “We all want to be somebody.” with Parker Prime, York Silk, and bit of New Megan Ito

This got away from me a bit so the fic is under the cut

It takes York and Nagomi three days to find anyone else in the Vault. They meet Sosa first, and she introduces them to Loveless and Clare. They talk, and the three introduce them to where they’ll be spending the foreseeable future. The Vault is many things, but empty is one of the first that stands out to York. He finds it to be a whole lot of space for only five people.

He asks Sosa one day if anyone else is with them. She makes brief, nervous eye contact with Clare, before telling him it’s just them. Nagomi and York both notice it, and York resolves to find out who, or what, they’re hiding

It takes him two weeks more, or so, time in the Vault is strange, to find Megan. She’s squirreled away in the Library. trying to talk to Lōotcrates and getting very unhelpful responses as always. When he sits her down and drills her for questions, he finally gets answers. She doesn’t know much of what York wants to learn, but Megan tells him what she can. He does the same, tells her what history she’s missed in the last few decades. York notices how her eyes light up when he talks about the Commissioner, how her face hardens when he talks about The Coin and instability. He doesn’t ask her why.

He does ask her if there’s anyone else here. Megan’s answer is quiet, he almost misses her response entirely.

“Do you wanna meet him?”

“What?”

“You met Cote, Clare, and Sosa, right? You wanna meet the last of us?”

York sputters out an agreement, “Um, sure. Who is he?”

“Parker MacMillan. Not yours, not really. That’ll make more sense to you later.”

York doesn’t answer, just lets Megan take him through the winding halls of Vault towards Parker. She leads him to a very literal vault door, looming high above them, covered in combination locks. Megan opens them all with the ease of familiarity, as though she could have set them herself. The door swings a wide arc into another equally empty room, decorated to resemble an ancient Roman throne room. The “throne” inside, however, is not an imposing figure, rather a small chair with a familiar person perched atop it, hands and legs bound.

Megan leans against the back wall and gesture towards Parker, “Go on. He knows me, I don’t need to talk to him. No one but me and the boxes have come in here for decades, this’ll be fun for him.”

York approaches tentatively, his steps the only noise as they echo off the wide walls. Parker’s head is slumped over, but he doesn’t look much like the Parker York knows from what he can see. He has more defined muscle, and York can see clear scars and rope burn littering his arms and hands. When he gets close, Parker looks up at him and smiles, and now, now he looks like Parker MacMillan. The smile looks like the one he’s seen a million different times, his face is still young, and his eyes still bright. It’s uncanny, looking at Parker’s face on someone who is and yet is not him, and York’s eyes drift to anywhere else. He eventually settles on the ropes bounding Parker to the chair. They dig tightly into his wrists; whoever tied him here didn’t seem to care if Parker’s prison would be a comfortable one.

“Um, can I-” York’s hands move towards the ropes, and Parker leans back as best he can.

“Not worth your time. They won’t come off no matter what you do, Meg and I have tried everything,” He sees the concern in York’s face and sighs, “Don’t worry about it, I’m used to it. Who’re you?”

“Oh, I’m York Silk. And you’re Parker?”

“In the flesh.” His smile becomes a small smirk, and his eyes begin to look York over. He can feel how Parker’s gaze finds the peanut shell on his neck and the dust of debt under his fingernails. York was used to the staring, but he cringed nonetheless, and Parker quickly looked back up at his face.

“So they’re playing again.” It’s not a question, just a resigned statement of fact.

“They have been, for twenty years.”

Parker’s eyes go wide at that, “And you’re the first one they’ve put in here? How’d that happen? What did you do?”

York flinches, and his brain supplies him a million answers. I was good, I helped a god almost end the world, I died, I came back, I almost killed people, I wasn’t what they wanted anymore.

“It’s a long story,” he finally settles on.

Parker lets out a short laugh, “We have all the time in the world, don’t we?”

“Well, what did you do, then?”

“I asked you first, kid,” Parker’s smile is widening again. He’s having fun with York’s discomfort.

“Kid? Seriously? How old even are you?”

“That’s a long story too. You know that as well as I do if you’ve been player for twenty years.”

“Fuck off.”

There’s a moment of silence, York and Parker simply stare each other down, both unwilling to break the tension first.

“So,” Parker starts again. “What did you do?“

“I didn’t do anything. We didn’t have legends until a few seasons ago, for your information. No one knew what I was getting into.”

Parker is actually struck dumb by this, his eyes go wide and his mouth goes slack. “Why?”

“How the fuck would I know? The Shelled One didn’t do it, The Boss did, I don’t know why she does anything, let alone this.”

“She wasn’t-? The Shelled One? What the fuck are you taking about?” Parker’s eyes move over York’s shoulders to Megan, who’s moved off the wall and towards them.

“Yeah, turns out she wasn’t in charge this whole time. Lōotcrates hasn’t been making sense when he’s talked about management for a damn decade, so now we know why I guess,” Megan says. She managed to get behind York without her footsteps drawing his attention, and her voice makes him nearly jump out of his skin. “I talked to him about what we missed, Parker, I’ll tell you later.”

“Right, thanks,” Parker looks back at York, “Ok, kid, actually tell me this time. What were you trying to be that got you here?”

York sighs, runs through his entire career in an attempt to find a real answer. It’s been so long since he started, he doesn’t remember why anymore. He doesn’t know there ever was a why.

“I don’t know. I got chosen as a kid and then I was pretty damn good. I wanted to be good, I wanted to be someone, and then I got puppeted around for the rest of my career and nearly killed my friends and now I’m here,” York punctuates his sentence with a wide gesture to Parker’s prison. “Is that a good fucking answer?”

“Hm,” Parker hums, looks him over again, and nods, like something’s clicked in his head. “Not really.”

“Why the hell not?” York shouts back.

“We all want to be somebody, kid. What did you really want?”

“I don’t know! I wanted to leave? I wanted to be normal? I wanted to stop getting dragged around by people who looked at me like I hadn’t changed since I was eight years old?!”

Parker nods again, and looks York in the eyes. “That’s a better answer, I guess. We’ll work on it, help you figure yourself out.”

“Like hell we will,” York turns and starts walking towards the door, intent on never opening it again if he had a say. But really, when did he ever?

“Hey, wait a second,” Megan shouts in his direction, and when York turns to her she’s moved halfway across the room without him knowing again. “You sure you wanna go?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“I’ve got a good reason,” Parker says, leaning himself towards York. “I’m the only one in here who might actually understand you.”

York genuinely laughs for the first time since he arrived in the Vault. “Really? You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, Parker. How would you understand me?”

“I think we’re pretty similar, kid. But if you don’t wanna know, that’s fine. I won’t lecture you. Lōotcrates can tell you later if you really wanna find out.”

York stares Parker down, eyes moving up and down him to look at the oddly familiar scars littering his arms. They look like burns, when he looks at them again. When he looks back up and Megan and Parker, they’re both smiling. York turns on his heel and leaves without a word.

[usagi-mitsu]

Werlyt & Gaius - a bunch of thoughts.

I am a little late to the party. I know. But I just finished the Emerald weapon and before I go to try out the „not Zenos“ weapon as in „Diamond“, I need to get my thoughts on the story straight.

Perhaps I have been spoiled by 5.0s brilliant MSQ and cannot appreciate the inherent beauty of at least decent writing any longer. But this felt so wrong and out of tune with the rest of the game. I started writing this 2 hours ago! I wanted to one in bed by now! XD But I had to get it out of my system… so….

Spoilers for the MSQ and Werlyt incoming??? And no I did not re-read this so not just spoilers but also writing errors incoming. -.-

The good

These fights are epic! I have only ever cleared the normal versions, but I loved those. They are amazing. The callbacks to Eula (her being a woman here! When did they discover that???), Regula (may he rest in peace) and Gaius himself in his prime were delightful. But I could do with a little less rotating, ok? A dragoon has positional, you know? And being allowed to pilot my very own mecha was like *chefs kiss*. On that front? Well done Square Enix!

I am also glad they were able to get another use out of Porta Praetora! That place looks amazing with the wide open field and the lake – and Ala Mhigo across it. It was one of my favourite Stormblood areas and I am always glad to return there. And of course… being able to visit the allied camp again… And Werlyt itself. It’s simply a beautiful place. It reminds me very much of southern Greece. If you’ve watched the movie Mamma Mia you know what I mean.

The music too was really nice. But I don’t think I’ll… you know… listen to it on repeat as I am doing with other parts of the soundtrack.

I’ve also loved how much amazing lore we got about Garlemald and especially the garlean military. And the military abroad. The way soldiers not from the mainland get treated. I love learning about these things.

Gaius

The man. The legend. The guy yelling in Prae.

He’s so very boring here. He has so much potential as a character and maybe I’m missing something, but all throughout this story he has been nothing but passive. He’s a reactive character in this storyline. You know. The guy who made deals with Lahabread (the d is intended), tried to take over Eorzea, lead a whole army, stood idly by as the moon dropped, almost died but then decided just not to die and then though „hm… I’ve got so much freetime now. How about I go and hunt some ascians?“ That guy is NOT a reactive character. He is active. He goes out of his way to make shit he wants happen. And in here? He seems too starstruck and devastated by his adopted kids actions to actually have one clear thought.

The only explanation I have is that he might have gotten hit in the head by something on his way to the ruby weapon. I get why he would rely on Cid for help, but the WoL??? The alliance? If you wish to be an ally and help or something, fucking act like it. You were a former legatus and I expect you to live up to your name – even after retiring.

And yeah.. I guess it’s hard having to watch your kids willingly, knowingly dying. But you fucking raised them. You are a big part of the reason to why they are in that predicament. So like… Aside from that I don’t even get why you are in this story at all.

And for the record: I’m not sorry for him. I’m just flabbergasted by all the bullshit we’ve been learning about him.

To be quite honest, I think this story could have worked just as well or maybe even better, if we got another man as the „hero“ of the story. I am talking about none other than our engineering, hammer-swinging, ex-enemy - of course talking about Nero!

The MSQ has long established that his research into the Ultimate Weapon had been taken, twisted and turned – Estinien had to experience this first-hand. I’m not saying that Nero was in need of a redemption arc and I cannot remember if these weapons were of his creation or even stem from anything he did, but it would make so much more sense for me, to have him confront his past in the garlean military like this and be responsible for the death of his former colleagues. Soldiers that he served with, whom he faught with. Give me Nero and them working together to get the weapons going and him bonding with them as his pilots to a degree. Comrades. Not that strange familiar bond that Gaius appareantly has with them. … Scratch that: Let Gaius be the father figure. Him being that wouldn’t change Nero’s relationship with them, but maybe his with Gaius as his superior.

The story wouldn’t even need to try and redeem Nero: He has already gone through major character development with the MSQ and the Omega raid tier. It would simply be Nero, confronted with the things he created, hopefully instilling more morals and a sense of responsibility for his creations. Heck: Let Cid yell at the guy! Seriously! Cid sticking around to help out would make so much more sense if it was Nero instead of freaking Gaius! Cid hated the guy! He might be a professional, but he is not one to torture himself by staying around a guy he (as far as I know) detests.

Make Nero the central figure and give Cid and Gaius the roles of „angel and demon“: One desperately trying to reach out to his old friend, reminding him why they became engineers and trying to make him realise that he can’t just run around designing weapons and leaving the scematics for everyone to read; while the other has trouble letting go of his imperial past and is struggling to see the errors of his ways – if Nero was wrong, than he (Gaius) was wrong too -and of course they did all of this for their home, to further their cause, and to bring peace to the savage lands of Eorzea, who had been fighting amongst themselves for so long… You get the point.

And you could still have these gundam themed fights. But I think everything would make so much more sense in general.

But speaking of which-

The children

I do not truly care for any of them. And that is a shame: I do think there are great characters and dynamics hidden behind these very few cutscenes. When they were first introduced I was wondering why I was suddenly watching „heartwarming“ cutscenes of my foes as children – until I realised that I was supposed to care and that they were supposed to make me feel pity for Gaius. I was supposed to feel bad for him, because they died and he blames himself. But while their fates so far have been gruesome, I cannot say that I am sad they died. They chose to die as they did. There were a myriad more options. And they chose that.

Actually. Their whole story makes me feel like they were huge masochist from the very beginning. They could have just run away and gotten help from someone more competent than them, but they stayed in an abusive military arrangement just so nobody else got hurt?? Please. Use your brains next time. And for the Berserk-like torture scene? I mean. I get what was implied here. But was it necessary? As a writer myself I follow the rule that torture and sexual violence should never be used in a story, unless it must be in there for the story to work or to bring across a vital point important to the story or it’s moral (or if you are writing porn and you are into it – but we are talking official in-game content here). But the violence towards these „children“ seems unnecessary for the plot and the violence of their deaths by piloting the weapons is already gruesome enough. Sometimes it’s better to leave things like this out – the emotional torture of feeling stuck and having a martyrs complex would have been enough here, I think. If the rest of the story had been well written at least.

(I believe my utter lack of sympathy shows how little character developement they had. I love tragic characters, who choose to suffer for the good of other people – even better if those people don’t even like them. It’s just my thing. And those kids are just… well.)

Their reasons and especially why they were making Allie out as the one who would need to survive was also just… weird. Like. I feel like 75% of what happened would not have happened, if they actually talked to each other, used their brains and had done something about their problems. But no…

These characters are also so exchangeable with basic anime/j-RPG character tropes… I only remember Alfonse, Rex and Allie – because I just did the Emerald weapon. And right afterwards I thought, „huh. So… Fullmetal Alchemist?“ Which brings me to my third point …

…the story at large.

„Pacing is a virtue“ or was it patience..? Anyhow: The author of this story should have had more patience with his story and characters and taken a bloody break! And I am not talking about the obvious blunder of „How is Allie feeling?“, „she is in shock and you cannot talk to her“ turning to „oh yeah if you are careful you can talk to her now“. I mean. WTF. That was MAYBE 10-20 in-game minutes of dialogue.

But everything was moving so very fast – and not even in a good way. There are few things better than a fast paced, action rich story about a group of young people trying to safe (their) world. But if you try to cram in two expansions worth of character development and story telling into about two hours of content each patch.. Well, then you get whatever the hell this is.

Gaius is a very interesting character and while I did not understand why they needed to bring him back in 4.4 (?), I do see how he could be a good asset for endwalker. And his involvement in 5.0 with Estinien was just a dear delight. So I am not opposed to learning more about him, to watching his character grow and changed with time. But I am not ready for badly written content of which 50% get told by suddenly induced echo-sequences. I mean – weren’t there rules for the echo at some point???

I’m not sure which one of the devs said it, but the feature that let’s you play an NPC is super convenient for them to tell the story, because before they could only show what happened where the WoL was.

And that’s just it. Rule number 1 in writing anything is „Show don’t tell“. It feels like they literally turned this one around for these cutscenes. While Valens torture and diet-Fandaniel-routine were very much „show“, the rest of the story was one long cutscene of exposition: We get exposition by Cid, by Gaius, by echo, by Gaius and his crew again, then by Allie. Before having to watch scenes we are not there for.

BTW. Dear square Enix: Your writers are capable of writing amazing villains, antagonist and despicable assholes. You don’t have to write „asshole, must die“ on Valens name card. And I also think the „WoL, strike here“ sign above his head was a tad bit too much. Nuance, dear writers. Nuance. Or perhaps I just got spoiled by these last few foes in the MSQ.

When I said I wanted to just be able to punch a bad guy for once and not feel bad about it, I did not mean this! I meant that I just wanted to play training dummy with Danny-Boy.

(Oh! And as far as I’m concerned you can just… sideline Gaius … „would be killer“ and the lady? Make them targetable NPCs with Dialoge to read. Let them stand somewhere accessible and comment on the latest developement. But ffs don’t give me hour long speeches about how you are going to kill Gaius if he does something you don’t like. The guy could and would wipe the floor with you if he felt like it. -.- So. Please. Shut up.)

Conclusion

Basically. I have to finish the Diamond weapon. But I doubt it will change my perception of this story line even in the slightest.

To be perfectly honest though … bringing Gaius back, having this story with and about him, forcing a sort of redemption ark here. It feels like they are really „grooming“ him to be a morally grey ally in Endwalker, with perhaps a big part to play in the endgame. At this point I wouldn’t even be surprised if they pulled a GoT and made him „King in the North“. Or if they had him die a heroic death to save the world, but especially his country. And to do so they need us to think his sacrifice means something. Or that he is the right person to lead Garlemald into a new future (I don’t think he is). But: For one, neither we (the players) nor the characters need to find him worthy of throne or death by heroism for his sacrifice/ascension to work. To be a useful tool for the story, only the other garleans who might oppose the alliance and scions need to deem him or his sacrifice „worthy“. And only they. And Ishikawa-san has all of 6.0 to accomplish whatever the hell she needs him for. He did not need to be the center of his own botched redemption ark. If that’s what they wanted to do. Or maybe I’m looking at this all wrong and all they wanted was to give the writes in training some literal training grounds to test their abilities.

But! On a positive note: I have yet to be told that raids and other side content are canon to any degree. So when playing the next story quests I’ll blissfully ignore all that happened in Werlyt and if it get’s mentioned (because they do that sometimes when you’ve done certain content) I’ll just ignore it.

Happy ignoring! Also: GIVE ME MORE NERO CONTENT!

[theoriginalladya]

Dinosaurs on the brain? <3

*gigglesnort* I so LOVE how this became a thing with Rhys and Kaidan!

So... Dinosaurs on the brain is something Kaidan uses to describe Rhys since their first meeting on the way to BAaT when they were teenagers because Rhys wanted to become a paleontologist and he had SO MANY DINOSAUR BOOKS on his omni-tool it almost overloads. So as adults, whenever Rhys gets distracted by something prothean or just anything, really, Kaidan will tease him by saying he has 'dinosaurs on the brain."

This is actually the start of something ME1-ish, just prior to Eden Prime's events. Sara = Sara Ryder who is 'peacekeeping' on Eden Prime with the prothean dig team. (not sure where exactly it goes from here, but it was too much fun NOT to write out!)

~~~

“Why do you have that… thing?”

“Thing?” Rhys glances across the table at Sara. She is staring at him… well, not at him exactly, but his hands. His right hand, to be specific, and the item he holds. “This?” He lifts his hand toward her, swiping out at her playfully. She hops back a step, likely out of instinct as he does not even get near her, a soft gasp echoing around them, but after a moment, she laughs and grins at him. “What’s it look like?”

He holds it out for her to look at, waiting patiently as she leans back in, tilts her head first to one side and then to the other, and examines it. “It looks like a claw of some kind.”

He tips his Stetson at her. “You are correct,” he assures her. “Do you know what kind of claw?”

He holds the claw, some four inches in length, between his index and middle finger on his right hand. “No clue. A… creature of some kind, would be my guess. An animal? An alien?” She shrugs. “I have no idea.”

“Are you familiar with dinosaurs?”

Sara pulls back, folds her arms across her chest, skepticism oozing off her body. “Dinosaurs? Are you serious?”

His smile never wavers. “I’m always serious about dinosaurs,” he replies. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you about me?”

“No?”

Laughing, he pockets the claw and adopts a more casual pose leaning against the counter behind him. “When I was about… oh, I think I was ten at the time? I found a part of a dinosaur skeleton on my grandfather’s ranch in Wyoming where I lived. We reported it, people came out and eventually took it away for research and study, and that was that. After they left, I went back out there to see it again.” He sighs softly and shakes his head, the remnants of the dig site still as fresh in his mind as they were at that young age. “I was curious, you know? Wondered about what it was like for those creatures way back then, that sort of thing. Ever since I found it, I read anything and everything I could about dinosaurs.” The grin returns and he winks at her. “I was hooked. But that day, when I went back out there, I found this,” he pats his pocket where the claw was now tucked away. “I figured, they didn’t take it, I could keep it and I’ve kept it with me ever since. Like… a good-luck talisman, I guess.”

“A good luck talisman?” Sara chuckles softly. “Why not a rabbit’s foot or something more… traditional?”

“You obviously haven’t experienced the lure of dinosaurs first hand before, have you?”

“Ummm…”

Rhys snorts; the face she makes that of someone desperate to change the subject. “Tell you what, you bring the popcorn and I’ll make dinner and I will introduce you to them. How does that sound?”

She frowns. “How are you going to ‘introduce’ me?” she challenges. “It’s not like a… date or anything is it?”

Rhys nearly chokes. “A date? No, not a date!” Heat fills his cheeks, but he can’t stop it.

Sara, on the other hand, seems to take comfort from that. With a laugh, she clarifies, “I meant with the dinosaurs, doc. You’re… not my type. Sorry.” She winks back at him to soften the blow. “What movie did you have in mind?”

It takes him a long minute to recover himself. “Jurassic Park. Classic dinosaur movie and there are plenty of sequels, too.”

With a nod, she straightens and turns toward the door. “I’ve got to go check in with Doctor Warren, but yeah, sounds like an amusing way to spend a couple hours.” She pauses by the door and looks back. “Popcorn, huh?”

He nods. “Don’t forget the butter.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” And with that and a wave of her hand, she exits his lab.

[superbadassnatural]

Falling in Love

Summary: Sam has been in love with Y/N for quite a while and he does everything to win her heart. Square filled: Courting/courtship rituals (spntfwbingo) // Free Space (spnsongchallengebingo: Kiss me - Ed Sheeran) Pairing: Sam x Reader Word count: 4,624 Warnings: fluff and only fluff A/N: this was written for @spntfwbingo and @spnsongchallengebingo! I really enjoyed writing this one. This story was mildly inspired by The Vampire Diaries 3.14. The gifs are mine (I just learned how to make and I’m so happy). Oh, and this is the dress in case you’re wondering. Hope you enjoy it!

The sound of your heels echoed through the hall as you walked out of the elevator and headed to your office. The small chatter, the non stop pacing and the tired eyes were common things on Monday mornings.

“Good morning, Olivia,” you greeted your personal assistant as you stopped by her desk.

“Good morning, Y/N,” her lips curled into a sweet smile. “How was your weekend?”

“Oh, you know, just lots of work. I’ve been working on this case and the court hearing is next week so it’s taking a toll on me. Other than that I binged watch The Walking Dead,” you shrugged. “How about you? Did you go out with Thomas?”

“I did,” she sighed as she finished typing. “He’s not that fun. I think we just didn’t click.”

“That sucks.”

“Yep, but I had fun this weekend. Had some quality ‘me’ time. Although I need to catch up on The Walking Dead,” she chuckled.

“You do. It’s really great. I’m loving it.”

“Morning, gorgeous,” his voice echoed in your ears as he walked past you.

“Morning, ass,” you said as you turned to him, only to see his back as he headed to his office.

“Morning to your ass, too,” Sam said before shutting his door and winking at you.

“When are you going to give him a chance?”

“Never?” you scoffed.

“C’mon, Y/N,” Olivia nearly whined. “Sam likes you and deep down you like him too.”

“Liv, we work together. It would never work.”

“We work together and we are still friends,” she argued, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“It’s different and you know it,” you sighed. “Alrighty, guess I have to get my work started then. Oh and get us some coffee, please.”

“Roger that.”

She stood up and headed to the coffee machine down the hall as you walked towards your office. You opened the door and the first thing your eyes landed on was the bouquet of pink and orange-ish roses sitting on your desk. As usual, there was a champagne envelope in the middle of them. You opened and again you found yourself amazed by his calligraphy.

You look gorgeous today, Y/N. As always. Fondly, Sam

A smile made its way to your lips as you read his words. He was so sweet. A good way to start your day.

After turning on your computer, you sent Olivia a message, asking her to get you a vase. You placed the envelope in your purse. Once you get home, you’re going to put it in your box along with all the notes and letters he had sent you.

Although you only met Sam on your first day working on Winchester’s Legal Firm, your mother was friends with Mary. After you graduated from Harvard she told Mary you were a lawyer looking for a job. John contacted you and set up a job interview.

The first time you walked in the building, you were mesmerized. It was enormous. It looked exactly like a law firm from the tv shows you used to watch. On your first day, John introduced you to Sam, his youngest son who had chosen to stay in the family business. At the time, it had been three years since he’d graduated from Stanford. Sam helped you get settled in and showed you around the firm.

You had started small. At first you got small cases and sometimes a more experienced lawyer would help you out and guide you. John made sure you got help from the best lawyers in the company. Sometimes you felt like you were treated differently because you were the daughter of a friend, but when you brought it up to him, he denied. He said he did that for everyone starting in his company. You knew that wasn’t true.

Nowadays you work on cases that appear on the news. Your face appeared on tv a few times. You found it odd when you saw yourself on the news during prime time. Your mom would always send a picture of the screen of her television with you in it, telling you she was proud. Sam did that sometimes too. He’d shoot you a message saying how beautiful you were or how your voice sounds so perfect when it echoes in his home.

A soft knock on your door pulled your attention away from your screen.

“C’mon in,” the door opened and revealed Olivia with the vase you asked.

“Wow, these are gorgeous,” she said as her eyes landed on the bouquet. “And smell good too.”

“Yeah, they do,” you smiled, placing the flowers in the vase. “I bet his PA chose these ones. He usually gets me blue roses or dahlias or even sunflowers,” you shrugged.

“Trust me, he chose these,” she said. “I have known Sam Winchester since I was fifteen, he wouldn’t ask for someone else to buy flowers for the girl he likes.”

“He doesn’t like me, Liv,” you shook your head. “He likes flirting with me. He likes courting me like I’m some damsel,” you explained to her with a roll of your eyes. “He likes the idea of me. That’s it.”

“Sure, Y/N, keep telling yourself that,” she sighed exasperated. “You need anything?” you shook your head and she walked out of your office.

You had much more important things to focus on than Sam’s feelings for you and his attempts to win your heart.

When you first met Sam, he was shy and mostly quiet, but as the time passed, he became more comfortable around you. Then you both started flirting and joking around. When feelings started to get in the way, things escalated to another level. Whilst Sam grew more caring and started trying to win your heart, you tried to put some distance between you. Sam is adorable and he’s a boyfriend material, but you worked together. You worked for his father. Sam never gave up though you gave him every reason why it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t even bother to hide his feelings from others. Everyone knew he liked you and that he bought you flowers every now and then. Sam has been courting you for about a year now. You enjoyed everything he did for you. He bought you nice gifts — some of which were really expensive — along with cute notes or letters. Every now and then something would be delivered at your home or your office. At the beginning, you tried to return it to him, but he wouldn’t take it back, so you stopped bothering.  

Later that day, you heard familiar soft knocks on the door. You muttered a ‘come in’ as you looked through the papers scattered on your desk.

“Hey,” he smiled, shutting the door behind him. “How you doing?”

Sam was wearing his graphite suit with a marigold tie. He looked so damn good in those. It should be a crime.

“Hey,” you glanced up at him, eyes meeting his hazel ones. “I’m tired and stressed. You?”

“I’m okay,” he sat on your desk. “Still working on that murder case?”

“Yeah,” you stretched as a yawn left your lips. “I have to be in court again next Tuesday. Can’t wait to get this over with.”

He smiled sympathetically. His hazel eyes roamed around the room in search of something you couldn’t quite point out.

“D’you like it?” his head motioned to the flowers that were now decorating your bookcase.

“I did. They are gorgeous,” you stood from your seat, walking towards the shelf. “Your assistant knows which ones to buy,” you scoffed.

“What makes you think Charlie bought these?” he asked, standing beside you.

“Well, you certainly don’t have the time to go out and buy a bouquet of flowers for me, Winchester.”

“I do. It takes some time to choose which one I think you’d like better, but it’s worth it,” he shrugged. “Also, I really aced the color of the flowers. See, they match your clothes,” a cocky smile hung on his lips as his fingers motioned to your clothes.

He was right. It did match. You were wearing a cream bow neck blouse and bright pink pants along with nude heels.

“This one is the same color as your pants,” he pointed and you chuckled. “You coming to the ball next Saturday?”

“I dunno,” you pursed your lips, heading back to your desk. “I’m not really in the mood and I don’t have a fancy gown.”

“You should come. It’s the company’s 50th anniversary. My mom has been planning this party for a long time and she would love to see you there,” he tried to convince you. “As for the dress, that can be arranged.”

“Sam, don’t,” you warned him with wide eyes.

“Argh, fine,” he sighed. “I should probably let you get back to work.”

————

You unlocked the door to your home. A feeling of relief washing through your body as you stepped inside. There was nothing better than coming home after an exhausting day of work.

Relaxing on the shower, you washed your body. The stress leaving you with every stroke of your loofah over your skin. You needed this. After drying yourself and putting on some baggy clothes, you headed to the kitchen to make yourself dinner.

The doorbell rang. You jumped and then frowned. You weren’t expecting anyone. Opening the door, you noticed no one was there, but a paper bag was on your doorstep. You picked it up and brought it inside. You opened and a paper with his gorgeous handwriting sat on top of the things he bought.

Olivia told me you needed these...

Inside the paper bag there were some chocolate bars, gummy bears, chips and protein bars. At the bottom, you found a box of ibuprofen and another of ketoprofen along with another note.

Thought you might need these too. Also, in case you want something warm to cuddle and keep the pain away, text me and I’ll grab my pillow and come over ;p

You smiled at his words. He was so caring. It was the first time he did this kind of thing. As much as you were in complete awe over his endearment, you were also pissed that he knew when you were on your period. Damn you, Liv.

You thanked him over text and said you had a heating pad to cuddle and it was pretty capable of keeping the pain away, teasing him. Sam… he cared too much about you. He was investing his time and spending his money in a possible relationship that didn’t have a future.

---------

The days flew as you kept yourself busy with your big case and a few small ones. After the court hearing, everything became lighter. You had won the case and the defendant was given a life sentence without the possibility of parole. You were happy with how that had turned out.

As Saturday came closer, all everyone talked about was the company’s anniversary party. A part of you wanted to go. You needed to let yourself loose a little and spending some time with your colleagues outside of work would be great. But another part of you wanted to stay home, relaxing on your bathtub and binge-watching your favorite tv show. You still haven’t decided yet.

Every year, Mary and John threw fancy parties for the company’s anniversary. This time it’s going to be even fancier. A ball for its fiftieth birthday. It was a big deal so it deserved a bigger celebration. You understood that, but you didn’t like going to balls. You didn’t even have a long fancy dress to begin with. And you weren’t so sure you’d have fun at such a formal event. Olivia said she’d lend you a dress. She was the same size as you so it would fit, but you still weren’t sure if you were going to go.

You finished typing in your computer just as your clock marked it was time to go home. Fridays were usually busy and stressful, but not today and for that you were glad. Grabbing your purse, you walked out of the building and went straight for your car, starting the engine. You couldn’t wait to get home. Everyone had a day off tomorrow because of the party. You had less than twenty four hours to decide whether you should go or not. For now, at least until you get home, you will ignore the messages asking if you were going. They will know when you decide. And for them, you mean Sam, Olivia, and Mary.

Mary was friends with your mother. Although you only met her later when you filled an application to work in her firm, she liked you a lot. When you were a teenager you had heard many stories of her and your mom about their high school years. You had seen many pictures of her, but never had seen her in person. She cared a lot about you. She’d always tell you to give her son a chance. She said he deserved a person like you, but you just brushed it off and told her it wouldn’t work and he would only get hurt.

As you parked your car, you noticed a maroon package on your doorstep. Your eyebrows knitted into a frown. That was odd. You haven't ordered anything. You picked it up and walked inside. After locking the door and placing your purse over the counter, you headed to your room with the box in your hands. This could only be Sam. You placed it in your bed. It was a beautiful box, it had a cream satin ribbon tied into a bow. You sucked in a deep breath before opening it. What did he buy you this time?, you wondered.

Opening the box, a sapphire blue gown revealed itself before your eyes. You gasped. Sam had bought you expensive stuff before, but this was on a whole new level. You stared wide-eyed at the dress folded beautifully. You couldn’t find it in you to touch it. Slowly, your fingers reached for the satin, grazing over the material. This couldn’t be real. He didn’t do that. He couldn’t. At this point, you didn’t even want to know how much it cost him. Reluctantly, you took the gown in your hands, removing from the box. It was one of the most beautiful dresses you had ever seen. A cream envelope rested at the bottom of the box. Your name was written in a neat handwriting. You opened it and read the letter.

Save me a dance. Yours, Sam.

A smaller paper with his handwriting followed.

Olivia told me your size. Hope it fits. If it doesn’t, give me a call. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night.

You stared fixed at the smaller note, slack-jawed. He has really gone through all that effort just to get you a gown for a ball you didn’t even know you were going. Well, now you had to despite wanting to go or not. Sam had really outdone himself this time.

Sam had bought you jewelry before and you were sure it was expensive as hell. Sometimes he brought your favorite dish to your office so you’d stop working and have lunch. He knew if he didn’t do that, you’d spend the afternoon without eating because you were too busy. He got flowers delivered to your office and to your home. He left you sticky notes just to let you know he was thinking about you. Once he met this guy that could draw realistic things and he asked him to draw you. He showed him his favorite picture of you and the man drew you. At the bottom of the paper, it said ‘this feels like falling in love’. Sam was everything you could ask for in a guy. Sometimes you wonder why you just didn’t let him all the way in. He had the potential to destroy you in ways no one ever could. That scared you.

————

Saturday had started just like any other day. Except it felt as if it was actually Sunday because you had the day off. You went grocery shopping and used some of your free time to clean your apartment. Although you didn’t like to admit it, you were nervous about tonight. You were afraid of meeting Sam in a tux and feeling something different when you looked at him. You had tried for so long to keep your feelings shutted down and buried in the bottom of your heart. Now they were just all over the place. They were on the gorgeous gown in the box. They were on the blue roses in your living room, on the bright pink roses in your office. They were on the face masks he bought you, on the bath bombs he knew you liked. They were impregnated on the necklaces and earrings in your drawer. Your home had pieces of him everywhere. Most important, he was in your mind and heart.

After a relaxing bath, you put on your robe and placed your make-up on the counter. You didn’t want to do something heavy but you also didn’t want something too light. As your hair dried out, you started working on your make-up. Your skin was already moisturized so you prepared it with primer before applying a light coat of foundation. Then concealer for a light coverage, followed by foundation powder, a bit of bronzer and blush here and there, and highlighter. So far, you were satisfied with the results. You opened your eyeshadow pallete and opted for lighter shades. After curling your eyelashes, you wriggle the brush of your favorite mascara across the roots of your lashes. Then you applied your favorite lipstick over your lips and finalized your makeup with setting spray. By the time you finished, your hair had almost completely dried out.

Your heart started to pound in your chest as you entered your bedroom. You stared at the gown that was now on hanger. It seemed that it would tear itself apart if you touched it. It was so beautiful. Silvery jewels along the bodice. Thin blue straps only made it look even more delicate. The long, sapphire blue, silk-pleated skirt had you swooning.

You shrugged off your robe, pooling around your feet, and walked towards the dress. Your fingers brushed over its skirt. Sucking in a deep breath, you removed the gown of the hanger and put it on. It fitted perfectly, just like you anticipated. You walked to the full length mirror and were mesmerized. Jaw-slacked, you absorbed all the details of the gown. It felt as if it was designed just for you. The color blue looked good on you. The gown hugged your body in all its smoothness. You turned a little to get a full glance, the skirt swooned around your ankles. In that moment, you have never felt so beautiful.

After waking up from your trance, you knew exactly which heels to put on. Few months ago, you bought this pair of white heels that held a little bit of silver and were extremely comfortable. They probably wouldn’t be visible, but they matched the dress perfectly. You picked a delicate necklace Sam gave you to go along.

Your hair was done in no time. You had opted for pinning it up in a loose and edgy updo. A few loose locks of hair graced your face.

You called an uber and in twenty minutes you found yourself in front of the hotel. A sign pointed to the right indicated the ball was that way. You took a deep breath before walking in that direction. Deep down, you were nervous, but you were also confident about the way you looked. This time you might actually fit in.

Your eyes widened as you stepped foot into the room. The decoration was in shades of gold and white with a little silvery here and there. Your eyes searched for him in the crowded room. It was inevitable. Everytime you’d walk into a room you knew Sam was in, your eyes wouldn’t stop roaming around the area in search of him. They found him. He wore a shiny black tuxedo along with a black tie. It fitted his body perfectly and only made his shoulder look broader. In other words, he was hot as hell.

In a matter of seconds, Sam’s hazel eyes found yours. His gaze fixed on you. He had to use every last ounce of his strength to not to gasp. Yet, his lips parted. How did you manage to look even more beautiful? Sam couldn’t hear what his coworkers were talking about. He couldn’t hear the music playing. His attention was solely on you. Your lips curled into a smile as you held up your hand and mouthed a “hi” before making your way to Mary and John.

“Y/N,” Mary beamed, hugging you. “You look beautiful, sweetie. I’m so glad you came.”

“Yeah, I’m glad too,” you smiled.

“Please, help yourself. I think your friends are here already. If you need anything, just look for us,” she winked, leaving to welcome other guests.

Before you had the chance to walk to your friends, Sam approached you, offering you a glass of champagne.

“You look stunning tonight,” his eyes glistening as he stared at you.

“Thank you,” you smiled, as you sipped at your glass. “For everything. I mean, if you didn’t buy me this gown, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, you know, I was just passing by then I saw this dress on a shop window and thought of you.”

“Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that,” you scoffed. “I think I owe you a dance, don’t I?”

“You do,” he smiled, placing yours and his empty glasses on a table nearby.

You noticed him signaling to someone, before he held out his hand. You gladly took it and let him walk you to the center of the room. A few people were dancing. The song ended and a slower one filled your ears. One you knew too well. Your lips curled into a smile.

His right hand made its way to your lower back. Your left hand resting on his shoulder as the other held his big, rough hand. As your eyes met his hazel orbs, everyone seemed to dissolve around you.

Settle down with me Cover me up Cuddle me in Lie down with me And hold me in your arms

The rhythm of the song guided your movements. For the first time, you were nervous around Sam Winchester. He pulled you a little closer and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

And your heart's against my chest, your lips pressed in my neck I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet And with a feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now

“Someone once sent me a playlist they created with songs that reminded them of me. This song was the first one and they said it was their favorite,” you teased.

“I wonder who that is,” he smirked.

“Oh, you know, just some guy I happen to have a thing for.”

Kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved You wanna be loved

The warm pressure of his hand on the small of your back made uncontrollable feelings surge through your body. You were overwhelmed. You had let him in. All the way in. Sam Winchester has won your heart. There was no holding back now. Your body was acting on its own, it was at his mercy.

He leaned his head closer to yours. “This feels like falling in love. Falling in love. We're falling in love,” he whispered ever so softly against your ear.

Settle down with me And I'll be your safety You'll be my lady I was made to keep your body warm But I'm cold as the wind blows so hold me in your arms

You drew him closer to you. It felt as if you couldn’t get enough of him. Your eyes glistened as you stared at his beautiful face.

Oh no My heart's against your chest, your lips pressed in my neck I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet And with this feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now

He was so close. His breath fanning at your cheeks. Once again you let him sway your body around and around, your gown billowing out. His face was perfect. His hazel eyes held a spark every time he looked at you. His slightly parted lips only made you want to taste them. You love him. Simple as that.

Kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved You wanna be loved This feels like falling in love Falling in love We're falling in love

You couldn’t refrain your eyes from staring at his pink lips. They were so kissable. You were drawn to them.

“If someone had said to me a guy would spend a whole year courting me and trying to make his way to my heart, I’d have laughed and then punched them.”

“Well, you deserve to be courted,” he shrugged. “If you let me, I’ll spend the rest of our lives worshiping you.”

You continued to dance and spin around the room. You were amazed at yourself for not squishing his foot under your own not even once. The lights seemed to twinkle with every step as you spun delicately.

Yeah I've been feeling everything From hate to love From love to lust From lust to truth I guess that's how I know you So I hold you close to help you give it up

As the song came closer to its end, Sam raised his hand to your upper-middle back. He applied a gentle pressure to your back to let you know he wanted to dip you. You trusted him completely to not let you fall. You were safe in his arms. He mildly lowered you backward.

So kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved You wanna be loved This feels like falling in love Falling in love We're falling in love

Your eyes were locked. His hazel orbs glistened as they seemed to stare deep into your soul. Your whole body ignited with something you’ve never felt before. His pupils dilated as he took in every trace of your face, every detail. Your breath was caught in your throat. Your eyes remained lost in his as he pulled you back up with him. Your breasts pressed firm to his chest.

Both of his hands were placed on your hips now as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You smiled before capturing his lips into a passionate kiss. The whole world fell away once again. Your brain was lit on fire as a warm spread through your entire body.

Kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved You wanna be loved This feels like falling in love Falling in love We're falling in love

He managed to pull you closer to him until there was no space between you. Until you could feel his heart beating against your chest. His tongue grazed over your lower lip and at your granted access he delved into your mouth. The caress and the strokes of his tongue were softer than you could have imagined. You could never have enough of him. He was intoxicating, but in a good way. You felt his lips curl into a smile before you parted.

“We’re falling in love,” you whispered between panting breaths before pecking his lips once again.

Feedback is greatly appreciated! You can send it my way via reply, reblog or ask!

Sam Babes:

@maya-craziness

[hrtiu]

Worthy of Devotion Chapter 2

The room was secure, so Fox was happy. He stood behind the Chancellor’s seat, hands behind his back and eyes vigilant as he and the Chancellor waited for her pod to be raised into the bowl of the Galactic Senate. Chancellor Palpatine hadn’t been in the habit of bringing any of his personal guard with him into the Senate chambers, but Chancellor’s Chuchi’s youth, the relative unimportance of her home planet, and the unusual circumstances of her election all made her a tempting target, and Fox wasn’t about to take any risks.

Chancellor Chuchi took a deep breath, righting her long red chancellor’s robes and settling herself behind the podium that would, in only a few brief moments, lift up and into the very center of the Senate chambers.

“Don’t worry, ma’am, you look perfect,” Maja said with a bright smile, the white of her teeth forming a sharp contrast to her viridian Mirialan skin.

The Chancellor offered Maja a tight smile, her fingers clutching the folds of her robe tightly. She turned her head to Fox and he focused his attention on her, though from behind the helmet he doubted she could tell. “Fox, do I really look a mess?”

“No, ma’am.”

“What, is my word not good enough?” Maja asked with false outrage.

The Chancellor grinned at her friend. “Certainly, but you’re too kind. Whatever Commander Fox is, he isn’t a liar.”

Maja giggled and Chancellor Chuchi looked back to gauge Fox’s reaction. She’d been doing that more and more frequently, like a scientist testing if he had a soul. He remained silent and immovable behind the mask of his helmet.

The Chancellor sighed, the smile falling from her face, and Fox almost wanted to humor her. Then the roof above them opened up, Vice Chair Elba Ek joined them on the platform, and with a whoosh the pod rose into the midst of the Senate.

Over a thousand pods surrounded them in a giant dish of democracy, and the Chancellor looked like she was about to be sick. She’d been doing this for a half year now, but still Fox saw the terror in her eyes before every session—a terror she always managed to banish seconds before raising her face to the crowd.

She opened the session with all the usual pomp and circumstance while Fox kept his eyes on the Senate and his hand on his blaster. The opening rituals passed by without incident, and the Chancellor gave the floor to Senator Organa to introduce the bill freeing the clones.

Fox realized he should probably be more excited about this moment, but the feeling didn’t come. It was difficult to believe that any clone would know a life outside the GAR, no matter what a piece of flimsi said. And as the Chancellor herself often said, it was the budget that revealed what the Senate truly intended to do, and no money had been allocated to any transition or retirement programs for the clones.

So it was with little personal interest that Fox watched Senator Organa’s pod float out into the open air of the Senate for his speech. He addressed his colleagues, reciting the words Taam had written and the committee had workshopped over and over again to get just right, and to their credit the other senators appeared to listen intently.

“A government is only as good as its actions during its darkest hour, and I am afraid by that measure our Republic has fallen short,” Senator Organa began. “In our desperation to defend ourselves, we conscripted an army of sentient beings—of Human men—to fight our battles for us. Clones these men may be, but they are individuals with hearts and souls, and as it stands now our Republic has committed the grave sin of enslaving these individuals.”

A low roar rose up from the Senate, which was to be expected. Slavery was a cruel, dirty word, and it wasn’t a word anybody wished to associate with their own government, but Fox found some satisfaction in witnessing the senators be forced to reckon with their own misdeeds. Fox caught the hypocrisy of that last thought and grimaced.

“Order! Order!” called Vice Chair Ek, his gravelly voice amplified to fill the chamber.

Vice Chair Ek, a Human representing Hosnian Prime, wasn’t a close friend of the Chancellor and had been a surprising pick for Vice Chair. His appointment had introduced a lot of stress into Fox’s life as he triple and quadruple-vetted the politician and never felt quite comfortable with his one-on-one meetings with the Chancellor. Still, the alliance with a representative from a central, important system was probably wise for the Pantoran Chancellor.

Senator Organa waited for the chaos to die down, then continued. “We propose that, effective immediately, service in the Grand Army of the Republic become voluntary, that any clone who wishes to leave may do so, and that no clone is to ever be considered property again.”

“How can this be proposed?” Senator Burtoni objected. Predictable, Fox thought, his helmet hiding the roll of his eyes. “Is the Republic to unleash a hoard of men bred for violence onto the civilian population without any skills or resources to make ends meet?”

The corner of Chancellor Chuchi’s mouth ticked downwards, but she quickly caught the involuntary motion and returned to a look of calm control. There was no way the Kaminoan Senator’s objections were in good faith, but they were valid nonetheless, and the Chancellor and her allies would need to address them. Though Chancellor Chuchi wanted to pass the bill as soon as possible, it wouldn’t be practical for any soldier to actually take advantage of it until some assistance was made available to them.

“The Armed Services Committee is working on a program to support retired soldiers as we speak,” said Senator Organa, “and we will pass such a bill as soon as possible. However, no matter what program we pass, slavery will never be acceptable in the Republic. That will not change, and this is a wrong we should correct as soon as possible. We need to send a message as clear as daylight that slavery is not tolerated within the Republic—that our government abides by its own laws.”

The clones didn’t particularly like the term “slave”, but Fox could understand the tactical import in this situation. It just felt so much nobler and more palatable to see themselves as disciplined, obedient, self-sacrificing soldiers who willingly defended their Republic than property of said Republic with no other options.

Nevertheless, the facts were that the clones could not leave the GAR, did not have citizenship, and were technically property of the Republic, and thus the term “slavery” wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Fox hated it, but it was true. It had taken him a long while to come to this recognition, largely because it had hurt to allow himself to see how deeply the Republic he served and loved did not love him back. 

Senator Rathin, representing Shili, spoke up enthusiastically. “Hear, hear! My people have been the targets of slavers in the very recent past. How can we trust that the Republic will prosecute such crimes if they do not acknowledge slavery enacted on such a grand scale?”

“If the Republic truly intends to release all of the clones from their custodianship, they should be returned to Kamino,” Senator Burtoni said.

Senator Organa levelled the older woman with a frank stare. “You do realize that systems dealing in slavery will not be tolerated in the Republic, don’t you? Are you proposing Kamino withdraw from the Republic?”

“I said no such thing!”

Debate continued, though opposition to the bill was flaccid. Nobody wanted to be seen opposing a bill denouncing slavery, after all. Though the bill wouldn’t make much of a difference to his brothers’ lives until further legislation gave it teeth, Fox couldn’t help but feel some hope that things might actually go in a positive direction. It wasn’t a very familiar feeling.

After several hours of back and forth, Chancellor Chuchi called for a vote, and the yeas and nays were quickly tallied.

“The bill passes with 856 votes in favor,” Vice Chair Ek said, banging his ceremonial staff with a resounding thunk.

Fox felt the vibration of the staff through his boots, and his reality subtly shifted around him. It surprised him. He’d worked protecting the people in this building his entire adult life, but had never before felt like the things that happened here could affect him. But now the colors of the senators’ robes and frippery appeared more vibrant and alive to his eyes, the sounds of their voices echoing throughout the cavernous chamber more sonorous to his ears. Sure, there may be no practical way for him or his brothers to walk away from GAR right now, but the possibility was there, in a vital and real way.

He allowed a tiny smile to quirk up the corner of his mouth and his gaze flitted back to Chancellor Chuchi. She smiled in genuine pleasure at their success, and the now-familiar satisfaction of protecting someone he believed deserved his respect filled his chest.

The Senate moved on to other bills and procedures, and Fox tuned out any noise that wasn’t relevant to the Chancellor’s security. Regular check-ins from troopers stationed at each door came in like clockwork, feeds from various security cameras looked standard as he cycled through them on his HUD, and his visual spotchecks of the chambers all registered as normal. Eventually, Vice Chair Ek banged his staff again and Chancellor Chuchi brought the proceedings to a close. The podium lowered, the roof above them closed, and the session was over.

“What’s next on my schedule?” Chancellor Chuchi asked Maja.

“You’re meeting with…” Maja squinted at the datapad in her hand before realizing it was the wrong one and hastily swapping it with another, “Commander Fox’s recommendation for the clone seat on the Armed Services Committee. CT-7567.”

“Oh yes. In my office, right?”

“He should already be there.”

Commander Fox followed after the pair silently as they headed to the Chancellor’s office, the prospect of actually introducing the Chancellor to CT-7567 making him wonder if perhaps this recommendation had been a mistake. Rex might not be willing to work with Chancellor Chuchi if he couldn’t forgive Fox.

As Maja had said, Rex was already waiting outside of the Chancellor’s office when they arrived. He stood on their approach, helmet tucked under his arm, and saluted sharply. The Chancellor approached him with delicate cornflower hand outstretched, an easy smile on her face.

“Captain Rex, so pleased to meet a friend of Commander Fox.”

Captain Rex raised an eyebrow at Fox, likely wondering something along the lines of who told her we were friends? 

“Likewise, Madam Chancellor,” Rex said, shaking her hand.

The Chancellor led them into her office and she took her place behind her giant desk while Maja, Fox, and Rex sat across from her. The desk easily took up a third of the area of Chancellor Chuchi’s office—the very same office she’d occupied when she was still a lowly junior senator. Though Fox had enumerated the many security advantages of the old Chancellor’s office, Chancellor Chuchi had flatly refused to take up residence in those sumptuous rooms.

“Madam Chancellor, CT-7567 is one of the finest officers in the GAR,” Fox said. “He’d make an excellent addition to the Armed Services Committee.”

Rex’s eyes widened. “Armed Services Committee?”

Chancellor Chuchi nodded. “Yes. It’s absolutely appalling that the committee that makes major decisions for the GAR doesn’t have a single member with military experience. Commander Fox said that you were well-suited for the job.”

Rex looked sideways at Fox in surprise. “Sir?”

Fox shifted in his seat, unused to having to explain himself about these kinds of things. “The 501st is well-known for being a personable, tight-knit group. You’re close to your junior troopers and understand where they’re coming from, and you’re good with civilians.”

Rex cleared his throat, as uncomfortable receiving Fox’s compliments as Fox was with giving them. “Thank you, sir.”

“Captain Rex, the Armed Services Committee helps write legislation related to the Republic’s military forces, military research, and veterans affairs. The committee will be working on developing legislation that will reduce the size of the GAR and assist veterans in transitioning to civilian life, and it could sorely use your insight and perspective.”

“That sounds like a worthy cause, Madam Chancellor.”

“Are you willing to join?”

Rex hesitated only a moment. “Yes, ma’am.”

Chancellor Chuchi leaned forward across her desk, her arched eyebrow raised. “This isn’t an order, Captain. You can refuse.”

“I understand, ma’am. I’d like to join the committee.”

Chancellor Chuchi smiled and she clasped her hands in front of her. “Excellent!”

“Will I be removed from my current position?”

“You’ll retain your rank and place in the 501st, but you’ll be given this role as a temporary assignment. While working on the committee, you’ll be relocated to Coruscant and won’t be a part of any deployments with the GAR—at least until the legislation is passed,” she said.

“Understood.”

Chancellor Chuchi went on to go through some of the logistics while Maja gave her increasingly meaningful looks. The Chancellor was always doing that—getting too far into the weeds now that her job was the highest of the high level. It was something Fox could relate to. As Commander of the Coruscant Guard he’d often had to resist the urge to get too personally involved in whatever issue was at hand. That was one of the nice things about being Chancellor Chuchi’s personal guard. It was a simple task he could devote his entire self to without any distractions. Fox liked that.

Eventually the Chancellor took her assistant’s hint and thanked Captain Rex for his time, accompanying him to the door of her office. Rex thanked her back and turned to Fox, an uncomfortable look on his face.

“And, um. Commander Fox,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other before deciding on a crisp salute as a farewell. Fox supposed that was about as good as he could ask for.

Captain Rex went one way down the hallway and Maja and the Chancellor went the other way, on to continue the seemingly endless parade of meetings and committees and public appearances that each, in their own special way, provided the Chancellor’s many enemies with a fresh opportunity to kill her. Fox melted into the background where he was most comfortable, always wary, always at the ready. He hadn’t always been this way. He used to lead from the front, used to inspire bravery in his men and fear in his enemies, used to be the public face of the GAR. He didn’t deserve that anymore.

He followed the Chancellor and her assistant, always three steps behind, existing in her shadow. Where he belonged.

---

Riyo said goodnight to Maja for the fifth time, and this time the organized Mirilian finally couldn’t think of a single additional note or reminder to give her to drag out this interminable day. Riyo retreated into her apartment, shucking her shoes by the door and dragging her feet to the couch where she promptly collapsed.

She closed her eyes and let out a massive exhale, letting her bones liquify into the plush couch. The heavy steps of Commander Fox’s booted feet chased her into the apartment, their steady rhythm now as constant in her life as her own heartbeat.

“I wish you would take your boots off inside,” she said, eyes still closed. “Who knows what you're tracking inside.”

Fox sighed, as he had every other time she’d brought this up. “I can’t take any part of my uniform off when I’m on duty. But I wipe them off every time, to please you.”

Riyo sat up, a smile growing on her face as she turned back to him. Sometimes, usually at night after all her meetings were over, he opened up just the tiniest but—like a door cracked open just enough to let a sliver of light through. Those moments made her new life just a little bit less lonely.

“What do you think of Captain Rex?” she asked.

Commander Fox shrugged as he paced around the room in his nightly ritual, checking first the windows, then the doors, then any potential hiding places. “I already told you. He has an excellent reputation, is known as a people person, is well-respected by his men.”

“Yes, but it seemed like there was some… tension between you. I wondered why you would recommend him considering you two don’t seem to get along.”

Fox’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t break his stride as he continued his inspection. “I don’t have a lot of friends, ma’am. Rex is a good soldier, and that’s what you need.”

“Hmm…” Riyo said, disappointed but unsurprised by Fox’s unwillingness to elaborate. She folded her arms across her chest and put her feet up on the coffee table, relieved to finally be able to adopt an undignified posture. Sometimes Fox seemed just as lonely as her, but she knew if she ever tried to broach the subject it wouldn’t go well. That was fine—everybody had their ways, and it was no use trying to force him to change. In Riyo’s experience you got the best out of people when you let them be themselves.

Fox finished his sweep of the apartment and retreated to his favorite lurking corner, where he typically stayed put until the shift change at 0000. His departure reminded Riyo of a discussion she’d had with Maja earlier over dinner.

“Oh, Fox, can I run something by you?” she asked, wanting to catch him before he fully retracted into his bodyguard shell.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Fox walked back to Riyo, standing in front of her with hands behind his back and feet shoulder-width apart.

“Now that service in the GAR is voluntary, do you think people will start leaving?”

Fox remained perfectly still as he answered, helmet still on. “There are over a million of us—I’m sure at least some will leave. But probably very few. We still don’t have citizenship or any form of assistance.”

Riyo sighed. “Yes, I know. We’re working on that, but I’m worried that even after such assistance is made available, many soldiers will be reluctant to leave the only profession they know behind.”

“That’s likely to be a problem, yes.”

“In light of this concern, I’d like to make a request of you, specifically.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

Riyo motioned for him to sit, and he reluctantly obeyed, taking his helmet off without her prompting. Riyo leaned forward in her seat, understanding that what she was about to ask might mean much more to him than she could comprehend. “Will you be the first to leave the GAR?”

“I’m… not sure that I understand.”

“I can imagine that it may be difficult for many clones to imagine a life outside of the GAR, that the majority will want to remain soldiers simply because any alternative seems foreign and frightening. You’re the highest ranking member of the GAR. I believe if you set the example—show that it is nothing to be ashamed or afraid of—others will follow.”

Fox stared hard at Riyo, his eyes deep and unsettling in their intensity. She worried if she’d mortally offended him, but couldn’t imagine why.

“No, ma’am.”

“Pardon?”

“No, I won’t retire.”

Riyo’s eyebrows climbed high onto her forehead. This was the first time Fox had ever refused her anything. She’d known this might be a thornier issue than she understood, but she’d never imagined outright refusal.

“I know the legislation is not yet passed, but I can personally guarantee you lodging and a salary upon your discharge. You can even stay on as my bodyguard, if you’d like. It would purely be an opportunity for you to lead the way for your fellow soldiers.”

“I understand that, ma’am. I still won’t retire.”

Riyo stared hard at the inscrutable Commander, his passive expression betraying none of his reasoning. “Truly? I won’t force you, but is there any chance you might be persuaded?”

“None, ma’am.”

Riyo held his gaze for a long moment, then let her face fall into her hands in defeat. “If I can’t convince the one clone I know personally to retire from the GAR, then what chance do I have of convincing anyone else? This whole proposal is doomed to fail, isn’t it?”

“...I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to upset you-“

“It’s not your fault. It’s important the people around me be honest with me and keep me grounded.”

“No, I-” Fox started, then cut himself off.

Riyo looked up at him through her fingers and was surprised by the unprecedented sight of Fox at a loss for words. His jaw ticked nervously and his brow furrowed, his brown eyes looking soft and uncertain.

“Your plan is a good one, Madam Chancellor,” he said eventually. “My reasons for not resigning are… specific to me. Please don’t take my personal issues as a fault in your legislative agenda.”

“...Then why…?”

The vulnerability vanished from Fox’s face, and he got to his feet, putting his helmet back on. “You’ll be able to find someone else to be the first to retire, ma’am. I’d suggest speaking with Commanders Cody or Thorn.”

Riyo narrowed her eyes at him as he retreated to his corner of the living room, tempted to order him back but knowing she’d get nothing from him like this. 

Riyo slumped back into the couch, closing her eyes and just breathing for several long minutes. Then she braced herself and hopped up from the couch, ready for another late night of writing memos, urgent phone calls, and digging into budgets. Maybe her plans wouldn’t work, but there was no direction to go but forward.

[dreamcatcherjiah]

Until we meet again. JK x reader

Part 1

A/N: @mabel-k3​ sent these my way and I had a fantastic idea so I asked her and she allowed me to combine both!! What beautiful requests, these have unleashed my creativity big time!! Thank you for requesting, Momo!!

Also thanks to my lovie @lysjeon​ because she hyped me up so much after reading it and what can I say? THANK YOU TO YOU BOTH 🥺🥺🥺

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (Jungkook has different names throughout his different lives, but they’re easy to spot ;))

Genre: ANGST, fluff, Reincarnation fic

Word count: 11.5k

Warnings: graphic violence, weapons, mentions of death, mentions of war, assassination, main character death (repeatedly), (and I think that’s it. If you find something triggering that I haven't listed, please let me know!! Enjoy!!)

Kingdom of Great Joseon, Hanseong. Year 1398.

Voices carried through the garden. Some of the guards were posted at the doors to prevent the peasants from entering the palace. Or to stop someone from getting out. The tumult and noise wouldn’t stop, carried by gossipy maids and new, inexperienced soldiers. They would learn, either one way or another. The Palace had been in an uproar since the King started thinking about abdicating, the Princes feeling uneasy, waiting to see which one of them would wear the crown next. Having listened to your fair share of courtly gossip, as the first assistant to the royal doctor, you knew there was actually no love lost between the Princes. Their attitudes were haughty at best and most of them were more concerned with their whimsy pursues than the good of such an incipient kingdom as Joseon was. King Taejo was a good monarch; he made peace with China and the Ashikaga Shogunate, bringing peace to his country after many years of war and uncertainty, yet it seemed his problems laid closer to Hanseong than he would have hoped.

His advisors had been the most loyal to him until the moment came when they had to pick a side to place their loyalty. Only one of his eight sons would become King and with him would come new favours to those who supported him and punishment for those who went against him in the battle for the throne. Word at court was that one of Taejo’s advisers, Prime Minister Jeong Do-jeon, was siding towards the two sons Queen Sindeok had borne the king. He had managed to place Prince Uian as the main heir to his father a few years back, but the opinion of most of the advisors was leaning towards the opposite direction; Crown Prince Uian and his brother Prince Muan may have been the most beloved by the King, but it was clear they were not what the kingdom needed of a monarch.

“Word has it in the King’s chamber that he will heed Jeong Do-jeon’s advice and do away with the Fifth Prince once and for all,” said one of the Queen Shinui’s chambermaids. The Fifth Prince, Prince Jeongan, was the favoured alternative at court. He was everything his half-brothers weren’t, intelligent, determined, and good for the kingdom. Naturally, he was a threat to Do-jeon and his cohort. “I hope Crown Prince Uian does become king,” she said, a dreamy cadence to her voice, “I may think about asking my father to introduce me as a possible consort.”

They were so enthralled in their conversation that they did not notice how they were directly in your path and neither did you, carrying boxes of supplies definitely too heavy for you. The inevitable crash echoed through the place as an explosion, glass vases and tonic bottles breaking, the minuscule shards of crystal flying in every direction leaving you, sitting ungracefully at its centre looking bewildered and quite a bit furious.

“What in the world do you think you were doing, gossiping like that?” you asked them. Your authority in the palace giving you quite the leverage to properly chastise these two silly girls. “What would have happened if it had been a higher official you had crashed into? Or, God forbid, one of the Princes or someone from the royal family?”

That last remark made them both drop to their knees and start profusely apologising. The prospect of losing their heads was a tad bit more fear-inducing than crashing into the Doctor’s apprentice and doing away with their supplies. As they scurried away and you picked up what you could salvage from the floor, you thought how convenient it was for them, here in the palace; their fathers trusted advisors to the King, with significant names backing them with years of honour and courageous deeds for the advancement of the monarchy. They would have everything they asked for at their feet if they so much as muttered they found themselves wanting it.

Passing through one of the storage rooms by the Doctor’s quarters, a hand emerged out of nowhere and you found yourself losing your balance and the grip you had on the glass of herbal poultice you rescued from the wreckage in the garden, which crashed on the straw floor with a muted thud.

“What you did back there to the daughter of Nam Eun could as well cost you your head,” said a voice you could recognise in a crowd. The soft chuckle that accompanied the threat and the sweet of his breath against the shell of your ear calmed your anxious thoughts and gave freedom to your heart to beat its way out of your chest. Strong, calloused hands circled your waist and you found yourself leaning against a firm chest that vibrated with his laughter and got closer and closer to you with every breath he took. “But I won’t tell on you, my dear.”

Turning around, you laid your eyes in the weathered and dirty face of the person you held most dear in this world. Oh Jookee was the captain of the Palace Regiment assigned to the protection of the Crown Prince and he had just arrived from accompanying him on a stakeout, preparing for the hunting season. His brown eyes held yours tenderly and his whole face morphed as he tried to contain a smile from overtaking his features. His pink lips finally gave way to that beautiful smile, his eyes turning into crescents and his cheeks becoming flush with happiness.

“My love, how did you manage to come back so… untidy?” you asked, pushing back some stray hairs that had escaped his manggeon. His hair was curling at his temples having escaped from the confines of the leather binding in at the top of his head. The accessory was a bit crooked and you could see the sweat beads along the black cloth. He gave you the image of how he must have been when he was younger and played on the dirt with his brothers. “I thought the Crown Prince just wanted to breathe some fresh air and prepare for tomorrow’s outing?”

Jookee nuzzled his nose along the column of your neck, causing that welcomed current from the tip of your toes to the end of the longest hair on your head. You hadn’t seen each other in months, and this meeting, while short-lived and clandestine, would be what would carry you through the months before you could ask the king permission to marry.

“We encountered some trouble on the way back and thought it prudent to bring the Princes back earlier. They are in Prince Muan’s chambers as we speak and I am required to join them presently.” He said. Even though he was young to be in such a powerful position, he took his duty to heart and he would never disobey an order, which made you question what he was doing hiding with you in the supply cupboard, and so you made him aware of your worry.

“You know Crown Prince Uian,” he answered, a sardonic smile spreading his lips after he managed to steal a kiss from yours, “he enjoys beauty and pristineness. In my present state I am still beautiful, but much less than pristine,” he joked. “I was sent away with the mission to do myself up with clothes fitting for a general, my dear.”

“Why, General Oh, I am afraid you will find yourself quite a long way away from your quarters,” you flirted. “How will you go back to the Prince in time, and all decent, if you don’t leave me now?”

Laughing at your poor attempt at jesting, he hugged you close to his chest, releasing a sigh when he couldn’t get his body any closer to yours. The happiness you felt in these kinds of moments was matchless to anything you had ever felt before meeting him, and nothing you would feel in your life together from then on.

“I must change my clothes, I am afraid,” he said, separating himself from you, slowly as if it was costing him an immense effort to do so, “go back to your master and be careful today, my flower,” he frowned. “The slight inconvenience I mentioned before is not yet taken care of, please watch yourself.”

Knowing he wouldn’t play you with something he didn’t consider serious, you promised to be more mindful of your surroundings and watched him go, with happiness in your heart and that already familiar sensation in your whole being, that sensation you felt every time you were forced to part.

It was nearly dusk when you were called to what used to be Queen Sindeok’s chambers before she died. A normal occurrence, it made you be just that bit more careful today. Even though Jookee’s warning managed to keep you on your toes through the day, there was no harm in being reasonably suspicious. After all, you were living in court.

Princess Gyeongsun, regal and poised, was sitting at a low desk in the middle of the room, flanked on both sides by her brothers, Crown Prince Uian and Prince Muan. Giving a quick overview of the room before being granted access, you located Jookee easily, a very imposing presence by Crown Prince Uian’s elbow. He looked completely different, wearing dark clothing beneath his shining armour and a concentrated scowl distorting his handsome features. He was the living, breathing image of a hero. His eyes drifted to yours for a brief second and you noticed how his mouth set in a thin line and a crease of worry settled between his brows.

With a twist of her wrist, the Princess called you over, and you busied yourself with serving her special tea blend, infused to perfection, just the way she enjoyed it. The Princes were bickering, back and forth, about some unbelievable treason they had not expected, how it completely changed the power game between the walls of the palace. Having been living this power struggle since you arrived at the palace five years prior, you were quite accustomed to the tension and the fear of betrayal that so delicately held the equilibrium of life in court; that being said, there was a seriousness to Crown Prince Uian’s tone that you had never heard before. He was the youngest of the princes, carefree and with a happy disposition, so to say that the frown adorning his features was disturbing was quite an understatement.

Chancing a look at Jookee’s face, you noticed his eyes moving nervously from the windows on the sides of the room, flanked by armed soldiers of the Crown Prince’s guard, to the door equally heavily guarded. Something was seriously amiss, but you needn’t have wondered any longer, as there was a commotion by the door and Jookee along with some of his soldiers moved in unison, blocking the Princess and Princes, and subsequently you, from whatever it was that waiting on the other side of the door. After a few minutes, silence took over and the tension escalated. Prince Muan was whispering furiously to his brother, his face red and distressed.

“We should have fled the palace,” he was saying, “as soon as we found out Do-jeon was murdered!” When those words left the Prince’s lips you knew how serious the situation was. The delicate equilibrium of power had just been altered with the death of the most powerful pawn at the hands of a very powerful enemy. “We should have never trusted him, he played you brother—”

Jookee made a curt but powerful hissing sound that managed to shut the Prince’s mouth in an instant. In any other circumstances, that would have gotten him the most severe of punishments, but as things stood, Jookee and his men were the only thing standing between certain death and the royals, and both princes knew that.

The doors imploded and in flooded many soldiers led by a very tall imposing man: Grand Prince Jeongan, the Fifth Prince. His face was impassive and his clothes were covered in dry blood. He didn’t seem at all bothered by this fact, as he wasn’t at all worried that the blood of the people he had murdered at the door was reaching his shoes. He straightened his shoulders and marched on forward, standing eye to eye with Jookee.

Your blood turned to ice. Jookee was the Captain of Prince Uian’s guard. If this was an attempt on his life, he would be the first one to fight. He could keep up in a fight, you had been witness to his quick strength and cold strategy when he trained on the palace grounds, grace and sheer power emanating through every pore of his body. But still, he was a guard sworn to protect the royal family, what was his fate when faced with such a decision as to protect one brother from the other? He would be seen as a traitor if he did so much as to grace Prince Jeongan with his sword, but if he resisted and didn’t raise his weapon, he would be seen as a traitor either way and executed for it. Your heart was trying to beat its way out of you, this time out of utter terror for what was about to happen. Your thoughts were your own, and so you allowed yourself to pray for him, to pray for the brightest star in the universe, the reason you drew breath every morning, you prayed for him to know his duty but also to know the value of his own life in a world that valued it so little in comparison to the people he was sworn to protect.

Time seemed to be at a stand-still, Prince Jeongan and Jookee face to face, looking each other in the eye, not a word being uttered. The Prince was a few years older than Jookee and much older than his brothers by Queen Sindeok, the youngest of them having barely turned sixteen last spring. There had been a time when the brothers played together and there was deep respect from the younger ones to the older, and a deep sense of responsibility and desire to protect the younger ones from the older princes. Now there was only betrayal in the eyes of the Fifth Prince and utter fear in the eyes of his younger siblings.

“You have no authority to stand on the way of a Prince, General. Move aside while I feel benevolent,” Prince Jeongan’s voice was deep and imposing, the voice of a person who was used to having his will fulfilled and his detractors beheaded. Turning your head, you saw Jookee’s shoulders take an even more determined stand and he stood, taller, determined, while more soldiers filled in the room.

Prince Muan, taking advantage of the distracted state of his older brother, had moved slightly to his right, so he was partially hidden behind Princess Gyeongsun. In the meanwhile, his younger brother, Crown Prince Uian had shifted in his sitting position and was sitting facing forward, towards the soldiers, with an impassive frown and a set sneer. In your opinion, neither one of them was fit to be king of Joseon, but you knew now who was the best of the two; at least the King had managed to marginally avoid putting a gutless puppet on the throne.

“If I move aside you may do something you will regret, my Prince,” answered Jookee, his voice calm and levelled. His words were not betraying the tumult that he was sure to be feeling inside. In a subtle movement, while he was still watching the Fifth Prince carefully, his eyes turned to you and you wanted nothing more than to tell him not to worry for you, to keep his head where it should be. “If you are here to talk to your brothers, allow the Princess and the servant to leave, they shouldn’t hear what will be said here tonight.”

You had no time to wonder what that was, for the prince had already drawn his sword and was pointing it towards Jookee’s throat, making thick droplets of sweat appear on your temples.

“And allow them to go warn my dear father’s guards of my presence here?” Jeongan chuckled and pressed forward, his sword drawing blood from Jookee’s skin. “I don’t believe so. It is, however, such a pity that you should find yourself here, General Oh, on the night I have come to kill my brothers.”

Those words made the night turn into chaos. With a swiftness you didn’t think him capable of, Prince Muan raised his sister from her cushion and moved with her towards one of the windows. The Princess, scared, reached for you and dragged you along behind her coward of a brother. When you were close to the window, you realised there was a shadow moving behind it. What a terrible mistake to leave the windows unattended when the prince entered. With a crashing certainty you knew now there was going to be a bloodbath tonight and there was nothing you could do to either flee the scene with Jookee unscathed or having him leaving with you willingly. What a horrible night for all the intrigues in the palace to come to fruition.

The soldiers charged forward and Jookee finally drew his sword to fight off the Prince, his movements fast and certain to try to defuse the sheer rage with which Prince Jeongan was pushing him backwards. The closer the squabble got to the Crown Prince, the harder he fought, and the harder Prince Muan pushed his sister to get to the window. Reacting just in time, you pulled the Princess backwards in the same second the window burst open and an arrow pierced the Prince’s chest. Incredulous, he dropped his eyes down in time to see a crimson stain spread over his blue silk-covered chest. Mere seconds after his eyes rolled back into his skull and his body dropped to the floor as if he had been nothing more than a marionette whose strings had been severed. Princess Gyeongsun, to her credit, kept a stoic and quiet calm even while life escaped her brother and got a hold of your hand. The both of you retreated to the furthest corner of the room while the fight to get to Crown Prince Uian was still ongoing and the bodies were dropping to the floor at an alarming rate. Jookee, now fighting the Fifth prince tooth and nail, kept his place close to the door, mindful of his surroundings in case he had to intervene if one of the soldiers got too close to his charge. More soldiers were entering through the now open window and now there was the added issue of arrows flying in all directions through the narrow window, taking down both friend and foe.

One of the Fifth Prince’s soldiers got rid of the guard fighting him off and advanced on the Crown Prince. Jookee, seeing this, turned his back on Jeongan and dispatched him before he could reach his target. In the few seconds that passed between the soldier falling and him looking at you, the dimension of his faux pas dawned on you. With his back unprotected and his eyes fixed on you to make sure no wounds were visible, he didn’t see Prince Jeongan raise his sword over his head and drop it in a powerful arch that cut deep wounds onto Jookee’s legs. The momentum propelled him forward, landing on his knees with a deep grimace of pain distorting his features.

You were frozen, pushing your body against the Princess’ so that she would come to no harm, but your whole world was leaning out of its axis. Your breath caught in your throat and all you could do was watch helplessly as the Fifth Prince walked by Jookee as if he was nothing more than an insect and approach his brother, who remained imperturbable and unmovable at the table. Looking up at his older brother, his frown still set, he straightened his shoulders and adopted a regal pose he rarely displayed.

“What are you doing here, brother?” he asked, knowing perfectly well the circumstances of his brother arriving at the palace in the middle of the night, and still enquired.

“You know perfectly well why I have come, little one,” he answered, sneering down at the young prince. “There was an attempt on my life not two days ago by that rat, the Prime Minister! And you and your filthy family were all behind it!” his voice was rising with each word, ending on a terrible scream that made the paper lamps hanging from the columns tremble.

Jookee was still kneeling, two soldiers standing rock-still next to him, one sword at his throat, the other at the nape of his neck. His eyes kept moving from where you were standing at the back of the room, to the quarrelling brothers, not knowing what to do, whom to help. He looked utterly helpless, his shoulders slumping and his trousers absorbing the spilt blood of his men. When you caught his eye, you saw the intense desperation that his eyes were hiding. You were aching to run to him, to tell him everything would be all right, but with the corpse of Prince Muan at your feet, you felt that the circumstances wouldn’t actually improve.

“That conspiration you are mentioning, brother, was staged by my mother Queen Sindeok and the Prime Minister as you so eloquently put,” spoke then the Crown Prince, “At present, I believe neither of them is a threat to you; the Queen died two years ago and I believe you did away with Do-jeon’s head not so long ago.”

“YOU ARE A THREAT TO ME!” Jeongan shouted. “Don’t you see? Had you not blindly followed your mother schemes; you wouldn’t have to die!”

The princes faced each other now, Jeongan in his thirties and Uian barely a teenager, both standing their ground. You could see their younger versions, the siblings everyone saw when the Fifth Prince would come back from a campaign in the name of his father and his siblings would be waiting for him in the palace, waiting for him to tell them the stories of his exploits and missions. What a fanciful far away dream that was.

With a snap of his wrists, one of his soldiers zeroed in on you and the Princess, who stood her ground with a presence few were able to muster in such circumstances. The man didn’t immediately make any move to grab any of you but his menacing eyes were set and his mouth contorted on a wicked rictus. He was the kind of soldier who thoroughly enjoyed his job; they were rare, those who instead of the honour of serving the royals sought only the power and the bloodbath, but they did exist. Jookee noticed him approaching from his position on the floor behind the princes and your hopes of leaving the room alive flew out of the window upon seeing his ashen face turn even whiter. You tried to convey how much you loved him with one look but the brute got in between and you could only see the soldiers pointing their swords at your lover’s throat.

“You have always sneered down at me knowing you would be sitting on the throne, safely away from me, when I realised how deeply treachery ran in your blood,” someone was saying. Your ability to concentrate on anything happening around you was slipping away from you, a blindly, white panic taking its place. “You shielded yourself with all the glamour and fanfare while your family were busy scheming, even your dear siblings conspired against you.”

As if some silent signal had been given, the Princess was taken from your side and made to kneel next to her brothers. She was still impassive, but now that façade wasn’t so much bravery in the face of danger, but actual knowledge of what was going to happen in the room and certainty that it wouldn’t affect her.

“You see, out of all our sisters, this one here has proven herself quite useful,” Jeongan droned on, unbothered by nothing while the future of a kingdom hung on the tip of his sword. “I was told ambition is not an appreciated trait on a woman, but I’m inclined to disagree. You can leave the room now, sister,” he said while she rose to her feet. She was nearly out of his reach when he reached out with his hand and caught her arm just above the elbow. “I don’t need to tell you that your presence here and what has happened tonight is not for public ears, now do I?” She shook her head and scurried out of the room faster than lightning.

If his sister’s betrayal did something to the Crown Prince, he didn’t show it. His face remained unreadable, his eyes fixated on the Fifth Prince as he pranced around him, comfortable in his victory. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Jeongan faced Crown Prince Uian for the final time and raised his sword in a silver, lethal arch. Aside from a minuscule flinch, the younger prince didn’t betray any reaction to the crimson stain spreading over his silk garments, nor to the metallic smell that seemed to penetrate the pores of every person in the room.

“I could let you live,” said Jeongan, “if you begged for your pathetic life on your knees. You have no supporters and you have proven to be the coward every single one of your detractors thought you were.”

Jookee was vibrating with rage behind the Princes. His eyes were thin slits that promised murder. In all the years you had known him, he had never looked as lethal and dangerous as he did now. He had been tasked with protecting the Crown Prince when he was no more than a boy himself and he had told you many stories about who Uian really was behind his mother and the minister’s plans. Granted, Jookee was as exasperated with the younger man’s excessive knack towards frivolity as everyone at court, but he also admired the Prince’s tenacity and courage. Growing up in the shadows of bigger people has taught him how to stand out, and yet remain unseen, he had told you one day, while the two of you returned to the palace from a festival in the city. He was relaxed back then, the Queen was still alive and, even though Minister Do-jeon was meddling on the King’s affairs more than recommended, the air of the palace wasn’t stale with tension and the expectation of tragedy, at least not for a few more years. It was around that time when he took you to his hometown and introduced you to his family; his mother, who shed tears as soon as her son told her his intentions on marrying you, his father, a stern man but who had warm eyes and very pleasant disposition; and his older brother, a high ranking officer in the King’s personal guard. You had spent the week helping his mother with anything she needed, tending to visitors and sharing private smiles with him. Happiness filled you back then.

“You came here to kill me,” answered Crown Prince Uian, bringing you back to a much darker present, “so go ahead and do it. I will not be considered some lesser being and be reduced to begging for my life.”

Upon seeing the older Prince raise his sword you started struggling against the thug keeping you in place. To impede you from reaching the royals, the soldier threw any decency to the wind and, taking advantage of his position, groped you all over. You hardly noticed as Crown Prince Uian straightened his shoulders and faced his brother head-on, for you were trying your hardest to escape the ruffian and get closer to them, perhaps if you could get rid of him and run fast enough you would be able to get in between the sword, avoid more years of chaos and instability. A double assassination could throw the kingdom into war and that could not happen.

“That’s it, you little bitch, you asked for it,” growled the man, and seconds later pain exploded from just below your ribcage, ripping through you until you felt the skin of your back breaking apart. There was a moment of blissful nothing until the sword was hastily jerked from your body and your body broke into violent spasms, your knees giving away and collapsing on the floor with an audible thud.

“NO!” you heard Jookee scream, an agonising growl, almost animalistic, as if it had been ripped from the deepest part of his soul. You heard him from a distance as if your head was submerged in water. The black edges of your vision made it difficult to see through the haze setting in; there was movement and a good amount of noise, of which you couldn’t make any sense, as the room tilted and you felt your temple hit the ground. In comparison with the flaming hot agony you felt around your mid-section, this injury felt ridiculously insignificant.

“Restrain him!” was saying the Fifth Prince, but Jookee was putting up an impressive fight. Not minding the swords at his throat, he rose to his feet and charged forward, swinging his sword at anything on his way to you. Rotten luck his was, as one of the things keeping him away from you was Prince Jeongan, who narrowly missed one of Jookee’s swings by a mere breath, jumping aside and seizing him by the hair at the back of his head. The crazed look on your boy’s face slipped away for a second and you could see the determined captain fighting against his better judgement and thinking if whether or not it would be worth it to raise his sword against the Prince. “You fool,” the Prince droned on, a dangerous glint in his eyes, “do you even know what you could have done? Had you left a scar in my body, I wouldn’t have been able to become king and all these assassinations would have been fruitless! I see you care more about some servant than the people you’re tasked to protect, do you not? If I recall correctly, the punishment for high treason is death.”

If you weren’t already trembling and cold, the ice that covered your heart at the Prince’s threat would have had you an incoherent mess in the floor in seconds. Your throat produced a drawn-out wheezing sound, but no one paid any mind to the agonising woman on the floor, not even your murderer, who had gone back to his position behind Jeongan.

Restrained from moving by the strong hand yanking his head back by the hair, Jookee moved his eyes to look at you and you could see through them how much it was breaking him to see you on the floor, away from him, and not being able, if not to take the pain away, to be next to you. He turned his gaze to the Prince and, with a voice clearer and steadier than you expected, giving that he was trembling out of rage, defied him one last time.

“I won’t protect a King whose throne is cemented over the blood of his own kin,” he said, poised and authoritative, even in this situation.

Not even deigning to give words back, Jeongan took the sword with which the soldier had run you through and impaled Jookee with it. For an instant, your vision cleared through your panicked tears and you could see the placid smile on your Jookee’s face, as a small spring of blood run from the corner of his mouth down his chin.

“If you care so much for this woman, over your own Prince, you might as well die by the same steel that killed her,” said the Fifth Prince before pulling out the sword and pushing Jookee’s head forward by the neck so that he fell on his side, a bit closer to you.

Whatever happened from the moment he collided with the floor onwards was lost to you. The sole focus of your drifting attention was focused on how Jookee was pulling himself by sheer force of will away from the royals, leaving a crimson trail behind him, toward where you lay, tears leaving his eyes from the pain, but certain and determined.

Lifting his head, his eyes locked with you as he grunted and you could see a thousand moments in one second; when the Court Doctor had introduced you to a scrawny lithe fifteen-year-old boy from the provinces, that seemed so long ago and yet you lived it as if it had been that same morning. When the bickering of childhood had turned into a beautiful friendship over the years, with him visiting you every time he was stationed at the palace, going on walks together, patching him up when he got rough with another soldier during training. The day he told you about his feelings it had been raining. Both of you had gone fishing to the river and when the sky broke it rained down with a vengeance. Your clothes soaked through so fast you’d had no time to seek shelter, and so it made no difference if you walked leisurely back to the palace or run your way there. Laughing as his hair stuck to his forehead and got tangled on the hilt of the sword strapped to his back, you didn’t notice how he was looking at you, with the softest smile on his lips, and reached a hand out to grab yours.

“I love how you laugh with your whole body,” he whispered. You shouldn’t have been able to hear him over the thundering rain, but you did. “I was meaning to tell you something as soon as we left the palace, but I just seemed to be missing the right moment.”

Tell me, you had whispered, as he drew you closer by the hand, moving a lock of wet hair away from your cheek with his thumb and leaving his hand there, caressing your face. You felt your heart on your throat and your eyes wandered around Jookee’s face, committing every second, every movement of his face to memory: the little scar under his left eye that he had gotten playing with his brother when they were children, the little dimples that showed on his upper lip when he tried to stop himself from laughing, everything.

“I know I am just a simple soldier and you could do much better than me, but I can’t live another day without telling you how you make my heart beat harder and are there every waking moment, in my mind and in my thoughts,” he said, quick and without drawing breath, giving away his nervousness. “We have grown old together. I can’t exactly tell you when my feelings for you changed, but I can just hope that yours did too and I am not overstepping your boundaries. I very much adore you and would be the happiest man on this earth if you loved me back just half as I love you.”

You couldn’t remember if you said something, or just jump into his arms, yours around his neck, and hugged him for the longest time. By the time you got to the palace, soaked through, you were a giddy happy couple who had planned, in such a short little time, what your life would be like when you got married.

It is incredible what the mind remembers in the most inopportune moments. We have grown old together, he had said and damn destiny, you wouldn’t get to grow any older. He was still painstakingly dragging his body to you, your vision blacker as the seconds went by, his face ashen but set. You knew he would reach you even if it cost him the last breath of life he had in his body. You wanted nothing more than be close to him until the end.

When he did reach you, he manoeuvred his body so that both his arms were encircling you, your face set against his chest which was shaking with shivers as violent as the ones you were suffering. Lifting your head with his bloody hand, he angled his so that you could look him in the eye. There, behind all the pain and the sadness at having both your lives cut short, was your boy, your Jookee, the one who had kissed you under rain and sun, over snow and with joyous passion, now dimmed as his consciousness began to slip away as fast as yours was. His lashes were wet with tears as he smiled at you, his teeth tinted with blood. You wanted to scream at the unfairness of today. What were the chances that you had to be here, the both of you, when a power-hungry Prince and a Princess too ambitious for her own good, decided to go around killing their siblings for the throne? Your life was fantastic, you were to be married to Jookee, a loving, caring and sensitive man, who would, no doubt, make your days beautiful and worth living if only to see the smile on his face when he came home.

“I love you,” he whispered, a tear escaping his eye and running down his temple. Your hand, resting on his chest, felt the erratic thump of his heart, trying to pump the little blood he had left to the rest of his body. Numbness had finally taken a hold of your body and you could feel nothing except from an overpowering sadness and helplessness.

“I don’t want you to die,” you sobbed. The hiccup caused by your cries did no good to your tired lungs, that tried to bring back the air you had expelled but were failing miserably. “Why did you… why would you act… so rashly? You… could have lived! You… have so much… to live for.”

“I have nothing to live for without you,” he whispered back, a wheezing sound leaving his body with every word he spoke, “I have no regrets if we leave together, we’ll die as we wanted to live. Holding each other.”

You could no longer keep your head upright, unable to kiss him one last time as you desperately wanted to do. Looking him straight in the eyes, as you heart broke into a million pieces, you whispered to him as your vision blackened completely. His sparkling eyes were the last thing you ever saw.

“I love you,” you told him, feeling your eyes close.

“If there is a life after this, let me find you again,” he said and those were the last words you heard as his body stopped moving and you slipped into unconsciousness.

You were walking along a river, barefooted. You felt as the warm, dark sand caressed your feet as you trod along, tirelessly. You knew you were looking for something, but couldn’t know what. Your mind was foggy and you couldn’t make sense of the flashes of thought that pierced through the milky white sheet. So, you kept on walking, maybe someday you would reach that place. What place? Days turned into months, or did months turn into days? Each hour passed swiftly and each second seemed to last a millennium. The shadows around the transparent willow trees grew closer to you the brighter the sun shined and the meadows were the most brilliant when the moon made its course across the sky. At some point between arriving at the river and then, you had stopped looking at how the sand engulfed your feet and lifted your head to look upon the thousands upon thousands of multicoloured stars that seemed to go on forever and whose light took residence in the most hidden corners of your soul. Silence surrounded you, incredibly noisy, even your footsteps on the sand were silenced. Weren’t you walking along a river? Shouldn’t the stream make some noise and silence your thoughts? You were meant to be someone else, somewhere else, and this unknown guilt was eating away at you. Yes, the night was silent, until it wasn’t anymore. The sound made you drop your head and you saw. The lonely figure walking along the same riverbank, only in the opposite direction. It was getting closer and closer as the years ticked by and you could almost distinguish the dark hair and the strong complexion that made him unforgettable to who you used to be. He was walking towards a bridge, standing proud atop the calm waters of the stream, red and powerful in a land where the dullest of colours were the brightest and the stars shone purple and green. His eyes and expression were covered in shadows and his gait stood out brilliant against the dark colour of the sand. You spent months walking towards him as he kept his steady pace towards you and, even though he was close enough to touch him, you never stopped walking but never could meet him in the bridge standing between the two of you. You were losing hope of ever this familiar stranger, what with having walked what felt like the longitude of the world twice for centuries. He was surely meant to stay there, the focus of your vision, and yet out of reach. Without knowing why that fact struck you as highly unfair. What had you done while living that the person you wanted to hold the most would forever stay strange to your touch? The stars faced and died and still there you were, walking to him, arms wide open and eyes brimming with tears, whispering over and over strange sounds that seemed to form words. Unknown words to you but familiar to him as he started to run. The seconds seemed to tick as if you were now walking through treacle instead of sand and you reached the bridge. Your body collided with his and intense happiness filled your whole being. Keeping him at arm’s length you were finally able to see his features, similar to the ones you remembered but not quite the same; brilliant eyes that seemed to reflect the galaxy over your heads, the scar was still there, but his hair was shorter, trimmed at the nape of his neck. His smile was still the same, blindingly shiny and unchanged.

“I’ll see you on the other side, my love,” he whispered and everything around you dissolved into nothingness.

Pink Hibiscus Cottage, Dartmoor, England. Spring 1922.

Watering the plants in your little cottage, you waited for the people to arrive. After a couple of quiet days, the cottage was going to be full of people and noise again. It had been so long that you could barely remember a time before your husband and you were the only occupants in the small wood house, close to Plymouth in Devon County.

Putting down the hose with some difficulty, you painstakingly made your way back inside and busied yourself with making tea. Once the kettle was hovering over the fire stove, you set aside two teacups and a little saucer with scones. It wasn’t likely that your husband would have enough appetite to munch on some sugary treat, but you were still trying to convince him to drink some tea. He was so quiet these days, so subdued. Up until a couple of months ago, he had still been his mischievous, playful self. His eyes always smiling at you, even when you bickered over small things; where did you put the stamps again?, he would ask you, exasperated that he seemed to forget all the time or, We should invite the children over more often, Christopher feels intimidated when we are alone and it is incredibly entertaining to watch. Christopher was your youngest son-in-law and your husband still teased him about the first time they met and the poor boy had tried his hand at introducing himself in Korean. His wife, your eldest daughter, had inherited a knack for pranking her husband, back then fiancé, more often than not using elements from her father’s Korean heritage that obviously went over the young man’s understanding.

The kettle whistled and you put everything on a tray to take it to your bedroom. It was a very sunlit room, the most luminous of the cottage, with windows lining the south-east part of the property. The wallpaper was a lively yellow flowery print, worn in certain places from the sun and bright and striking on some others. An armchair was put against the furthest wall, memories of rocking your children to sleep coming to mind the second you saw it, next to a massive oak shelf filled to the brim with books, both in English and Korean. If there was something your husband wouldn’t stand for as your children grew up was them not knowing where they came from and the riches of the country of their ancestors. Only your daughter Areum had been to what used to be the Kingdom of Late Joseon up until ten or so years ago, but even you, having been born in Plymouth, felt somehow part of that distant country. The centre of the room was dominated by a massive bed, the headboard and intricate pattern of forged iron, soft pillows supporting your husband’s body while he rested a few moments. Both of you knew those few moments were getting longer and longer, but no one mentioned it.

“I brought you tea, dear,” you said, leaving the tray on the nightstand and sitting on the bed. You leaned closer to your husband’s prone form, moving a few strands of grey hair away from his forehead. You found it funny, how after so many years, his hair refused to let go of the black colour it used to be, settling in a stubborn dark grey when he was fifty and never changing to white. He had also refused to cut it a while ago, and now it was getting closer and closer to the collar of his shirts. “Wake up a short while, my love. You need to be awake when the children get here.”

Groaning a bit, he opened his eyes and looked at you. As soon as he did, his face turned from a sombre and pained expression to the smile he always greeted you with.

“You know, Y/N,” he said and cleared his throat right away, straightening himself against the headboard, leaving a space for you to sit next to him. “had you not woken me up, I would have continued dreaming about the day we met happily.”

“I’m sorry I disturbed you, love. That was such a long time ago, do you still remember?”

“How can I not? I was the best day of my life.”

My father and I were set to arrive at Plymouth by mid-April, given that we had had to make a little detour to Massachusetts, but we didn’t expect to arrive at the beginning of May. Your father sent a letter telling us not to worry about our arrival, as he lived close to the harbour and would have no problem picking us up whenever he saw our boat beginning to dock. I still remember how nervous I was, coming to England and not speaking anything close to basic English, I was afraid I would be carnage to the old dogs of the docks, no matter what a big merchant my father was. After crossing the Atlantic, we arrived and just from the deck, my father pointed to where you and your father were standing.

You were so short, standing next to your father and not reaching his shoulder yet, and yet you were looking up at the boat, listening intently to how he explained something to you. And then you looked at me. I still don’t know what happened that day but it felt ethereal as if I already knew you and I was already madly, deeply in love with you. I could see your smile from the boat and my father would never stop reminding me in the following years how the first thing I said in English soil was “Have I seen an angel?”. You were so friendly from the first time we spoke to each other and even came to see me to our little room by the harbour with your books and your little sketches. Plymouth became a home to me thanks to you, you made a new country feel just like I felt in Joseon before we left.

“Oh, but I remember that day differently,” quietly, you interrupted him. He smiled tiredly and threaded a hand through your greying hair. You loved the feeling of him being caring and close to you. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you stuttered and were so shy I even thought you disliked me from the beginning.”

He chuckled as he tried to make himself a bit more comfortable in the bed, his back cracking and his lungs overworking themselves from the effort. Even if he was feeling bad, the second he turned to look at you, his eyes regained their spark and he kissed your forehead, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder.

“Why, I thought you were the finest woman I had ever seen. I even heard bells when you kissed my cheek later that week.”

“You Casanova,” you laughed, “I was already madly in love with you back then, I had to show everyone you were mine.”

He turned quiet, remembering those early days of your relationship, how you had been always together, when he would accompany you everywhere, under the pretence that his father had tasked him with keeping you company while the adults worked. You had been keeping correspondence while he studied English back home and him, being the strong-headed man he was, refused to return to England until he could properly talk to you. He would say back then that English didn’t make his native Korean any justice to tell you what he wanted to tell you.

“I proposed to you after that man insulted you for associating with me, remember?” he asked you.

“Kwangsu, please,” you saying his name was something rare. He was so fond using pet names and terms of endearment with you and your children your names were rarely called in the house, only when someone was in trouble or seriousness was needed, were those names called.

“No, I know you don’t like to talk about this because you think it upsets me, but I want to tell you, once again, how proud I was that day of calling you my friend. If I had any doubt that you were the bravest woman I knew, it was obliterated that day. I knew marrying you was the best decision I would ever make, and I am still amazed to this day.”

You had been waiting for Kwangsu to arrive back to your house from the harbour. Your father had been overjoyed when you told him your intentions of starting a courtship with him and so had been mister Yi. The two of you had been closer than blood since you had met two years prior and no one could doubt how strongly you felt for one another.

Someone had knocked at your door shortly after noon and thinking it was Kwangsu, you had run down the stairs and was unpleasantly surprised when Jack Richmond walked through the door, cane and walking coat in perfect condition and blond hair slicked back. He used to be your friend back when you were children until he had developed an attitude not many could stand. He seemed to think that only because his father owned the biggest training company in the city everything was his and everyone in town owed him respect. This attitude translated into his uncomfortable obsession with you, not so much unpleasant as it was unwelcomed. He would drop by unannounced, demand that you accompany him on one of his many strolls through Hoe Park, take you back to his immense house for tea with his mother and many other things that were not entirely tiresome if they weren’t coming from Richmond. Today, of all days, his presence was particularly tiresome and you itched with the want to run out of the door and go find Kwangsu. As soon as you saw Jack’s face, though, your every thought dissolved into weariness. He seemed angry and unsettled, twisting his neck in every direction, in search of something that obviously wasn’t there. If you hadn’t been starting to worry, you would have laughed at the perfect ostrich impression he was gifting you with.

“Where is that yellow friend of yours?” he asked, foregoing all courtesy and jumping straight to the reason for his impromptu visit. Which made you incredibly angry.

“What did you just say?” you demanded, livid on behalf of Kwangsu. How dare he, from his high and fragile pedestal, to speak such ill words of the person you held most dear?

“Ah!” he ignored you, looking over your head as the sound of the main door closing reached you across the parlour. “It seems I needn’t had worried, your shadow just arrived! It’s my lucky day!”

He brushed past you, making you lose your footing and grab for dear life at the bannister ascending to the second floor for balance. Jack was tall, slim and sharp and yet, he didn’t reach Kwangsu’s jaw when he tried to face him head-on. He was at an obvious disadvantage and he didn’t seem pleased when he realised it was so, his nostrils flaring and his brow creasing past the point of possibility. His shoulders straightened and his breathing became shorter and swallow.

Kwangsu, on the contrary, was calm and collected. He didn’t seem faced at all, his posture relaxed as he took on the other man’s stand. His feet moved a mere millimetre, slightly separated and firmly planted on the floor, making you remember that time he had told you how he had been taught martial arts since he could walk. In the event that a fight broke out, you were sure which of the two would end up fairing worse.

“What, you think you can just arrive from wherever you crawled out and take our women?” Jack was livid without reason. What did he care what the relationship between Kwangsu and you was? Apart from it being none of his business, he had managed to anger you past the point of reason.

You marched and walked in between the two men, your back to Kwangsu’s chest. If you stepped on Jack’s foot with excessive impetus, you would never recognise it.

“And according to you, whose property am I?” you asked, leaning back into Kwangsu and glaring at Jack through your lashes.  If he thought he had the right to barge into your house and through ridiculous accusations left and right and lay a claim to you, he was sorely mistaken. “I must have lost the telegram telling me we were engaged to be married, Jack. Or is it that you are a long-lost member of my family to have a say in who I spend time with?”

His mouth turned into a deep frown and he screwed up his face in disgust. You could see the cogs inside of his head turning to figure out an appropriate comeback and coming back empty-handed.

“You are a good Englishwoman, Y/N,” he finally said, nothing better to voice. “I don’t know why you are wasting your time with this – this foreigner when you could be making connections for a good marriage.”

“Shove that good marriage of yours where the sun doesn’t shine, for all I care!” you retorted, as you saw your parents descend the staircase down to the parlour, surprised faces showing their confusion, but still they frowned and shot suspicious looks at Jack when they felt the tense atmosphere in the room. “Kwangsu is a thousand times the man that you are and if you insist to continue spewing your disrespectful propaganda, I am in the obligation of telling you that our association has finished today.”

Kwangsu took one of your hands in his and squeezed as your father shoed the dandy out of the door and your mother hugged you. None of you had ever cared highly for the Richmonds and thanks to what you did that day, you wouldn’t be forced to stand their company anymore.

“I didn’t last the week without asking you to marry me, did I?” said now your husband, hugging you tight to his chest.

“Oh no, you didn’t. and if you had I would have done something very indecorous and proposed myself,” you answered back with the same retort you did whenever you talked about that time. He loved how you weren’t the type to sit back and let things happen to them, much preferring to take the reins and make those things happen.

You lapsed into silence again as the shadows flickered around the room, highlighting parts of the wallpaper with brighter patches of light. Little by little the both of you drifted off to sleep and dreamed of the life you’d had. He woke you up with a coughing fit a couple of hours later and you painstakingly cleaned the beads of sweat from his forehead. He then asked you to help him change his sleeping shirt and trousers so that he could hug your grandchildren when they arrived. With a little too much effort on your part, he changed and settled back into the pillows, looking at you with guilty eyes. He had always been a very independent and dependable man, who would rather take care of everyone around him than being taken care of. As fate had it, he was destined to depend on you now.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you admonished him sweetly. “For every time you’ve depended on me, you’ve taken care of me a thousand.”

“I just find it difficult to make you worry so much,” he whispered, taking an iron hold of your hand. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “Guilt is eating away at me because I am leaving you behind, my love. I swore a long time ago that we would be forever.”

With a tired smile, you got closer to him and kiss his forehead. You had never had this conversation before, but you had known it was coming. He started looking at you with that guilty look the second the doctor had said there was nothing else to do except wait for the inevitable. He had been set on being as careful around you as he could be, not wanting you to exert yourself on his behalf.

“We both know forever is just a fancy young people tell each other, Kwangsu,” you smiled. If these were to be your husband’s last memories of you, you would make sure he remembered you smiling, if not happy. “We’ve had a great life together. Three wonderful children and so much love. I don’t regret anything.”

“Still,” he stubbornly retorted. It would be easier to sway a mountain than this man’s will. “I don’t like leaving you here in this house alone. We built it together and I thought we would have more time to share it. Why must I leave you when I would like to share a thousand more years with you?”

“Do you remember what I told you the day Soyeon was born? If you don’t remember that is the day in both our lives I depended the most on you.”

Frowning he nodded. You knew he remembered. As the years passed, he may have forgotten many things, but never that day.

“I nearly lost you both. I don’t think I’ll be able to forget it.” His face had turned ashen as the memories flooded him and it made you feel a little guilty at having provoked such reaction. Your intention was giving him fond memories to distract him while your children got to the cottage, but his mood had changed so suddenly you hadn’t thought it through.

“That day we got our Soyeonie, we became a family Kwangsu. I had never seen you so happy as the moment I woke up and you were holding her.” His eyes were now looking at you but he was very far away, maybe that day forty years ago when you had welcomed your first child into your hearts. “I still remember clearly how terrified you were when she fell off the tree in the garden one summer and she came back skipping, her mouth bleeding and her baby tooth held proudly on her fist.”

“That one was a calamity!” he said, letting go a strong laugh, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “It is one of the biggest mysteries of humanity how we survived her childhood. She was always bleeding and giving us a heart arrest after another.”

“Yun wasn’t so bad, he was just happy following her around,” you remembered, seeing in your mind a pair of small children. A dark-haired girl with a sweet pink dress stained with mud and her hair going in every direction, and a baby boy waddling behind her, trying to keep up and getting dirt all over his short trousers in the process.”

“Yet neither of them gave us as many headaches as Areum did fifteen years ago,” he sighed, even if those days were a fond memory now, at the time it had seemed terrible and dangerous. “To fall in love with Yun’s friend and go back to Joseon when the situation was as bad as it was.”

Your youngest daughter, Areum was eighteen when she met Hongjoong, your son’s friend. He had been living in Joseon up until he turned sixteen and was sent by his father to help manage the branch of their trading company in England. Yun and Hongjoong had hit it off instantly and Areum had been captivated the second she saw the young boy. She would be found sighing in corners, looking out of windows when the boys arrived at the cottage from Plymouth in summer. The young man was bound to notice and it happened the year he decided to go back to his home country and help his father with their boat company seeing the Japanese threat getting closer and closer. In a fit of what she labelled courage and you labelled stupidity, Areum had left with him without telling you and had married when they arrived at Joseon. After that little stunt had followed many letters, getting scarcer and more worrisome as the years went by. It was early 1910 when they had arrived out of nowhere, with their son on tow, telling the news of how the Japanese had taken over and they had decided that returning to you was the best option for their family.

“Grandpa!” screamed a little voice, followed by the slam of a door and many adult voices admonishing the younger ones.

A huge smile illuminated your husband’s face and he sat upright in the bed with more energy than he had displayed in the last months. He was brimming with happiness at the mere laughter of your youngest grandson who, at six, was the biggest calamity the walls of the cottage had seen. Knowing how much you’d had to deal with his mother and her siblings, you weren’t really in agreement with how much Kwangsu validated the child, but you wouldn’t say anything. The door to the bedroom opened and in poured many dark heads and some slightly lighter. Your grandchildren all approached the bed and smothered their grandfather in love while your children stayed standing by the door, shocked to see their father is such a state. They must have remembered him as the energetic, happy and generous father they had last seen at Christmas, not this weathered and tired old man, laying on the bed, his face ashen and his bones noticeable through his skin.

Your eldest daughter, Soyeon, approached you, setting a hand on your shoulder and smiling wearingly at you. That gesture was enough to tell you how much they had missed you both and how much they were hurting too.

“Mother wants me to study so much!” was saying Yun’s daughter. At fifteen, she was an exact copy of her aunt Soyeon, a little explosive body and a personality to match. If it were up to her, she would be out of the house exploring everything she could find, including the harbour and the docks, which was no place for a young lady her age, according to her mother.

“Your mother wants you to be a learned young lady, don’t you want to be able to outwit your cousins?” asked Kwangsu, knowing exactly what needed to be said, as always. She was your only granddaughter and she would do anything to get ahead of her cousins and prove to them “what a girl could do”. Usually what a girl could do included swimming, playing polo and any other sporting activity they told her she couldn’t participate in, but it seemed that now that would also include studying, judging from the determinate frown on her face.

The hours after the arrival of your children passed happily. All your grandchildren had something to tell you, their parents complaining about their choice of spouse in the case of the older ones as your husband had done with your sons-in-law when he had been in their place. At some point, between laughter and witty remarks, the younger ones had drifted off to the garden to catch insects while their parents and older siblings went around bringing out chairs to take the evening tea in the sunlight. Kwangsu had asked you to open the curtains a bit wider so he could see your family enjoying themselves in the garden and you had, joining him on the bed again after and laying against the headboard while he settled against the pillows.

“I know now what you meant before,” his whispered, his eyes looking at you, reflecting the young boy you met in the docks all those years ago. “They make everything worth it. I have no regrets.”

His eyes gave a last determinate glint, memorising every corner of your face and he kissed the hand caressing his cheek. He relaxed, his body a dull weight against your side and the both of you listened to the laughter of your family as the shadows were growing and the light turned dimer.

“I love you,” he whispered and when you looked down his chest had stopped moving.

Keeping the tears at bay and through the unbearable knot on your chest, you tried to breathe in deeply and that air escaped your lungs in a strangled sob. His face was relaxed and he looked at peace. How were you going to live your life without him?

“Wait for me,” you whispered back and stood up to search for your children.

He had been waiting for a while, sitting at the bottom of the imposing bridge. He didn’t remember much but the place was oddly familiar and he just knew he mustn’t cross the bridge. He had seen how the trees moved to the soundless music of the river, how the dark sand had been covered by snow and turned even warmer. He had tried to see his reflection in the waters of the river but had never gotten close enough. There was always something that caught his fancy and took his attention away from the water. One day, the stars had started a dance overhead that kept him mesmerised for what only looked like a second. He had dropped his head after and realised the trees had withered. Or was it only an illusion, for it seemed that nothing withered in this land. Time was also a strange concept. He felt like he had been walking for an eternity when he reached the bridge and the time he had been here having passed fleeting and short. The days and nights succeeded each other faster than they should have, had he been still living. Even if the red construction promised oblivion and a cease of this boredom, he still sat upon the wooden steps. It was night, and the stars shined brighter than the brightest sun in multicoloured patterns, so close to him he could feel their coldness in his whole being. And then, in between the stars appeared another figure, clear and almost ethereal. Her hair flying around her body in swift breaths and he stood up. He knew her, he had been waiting for her. No words were needed, he wasn’t even sure if words were possible here. He just hugged her to him with the strength of all those centuries he had spent without her. And together, they crossed the bridge.

to be continued x

[talesofafangirlwithadvr]

JULY PICKS!

You heard me correctly, I said JULY! Whoosh, this year is going by fast-but not in a good way if you know what I mean. This will be my last monthly wrap up where I am strictly staying home in quarantine as this upcoming week I’m heading back to work in person. Wish me luck!

We had quite the range this month from newly released, reality, musical and then some favorites from last month that I’ve continued watching. Without further ado here we go....

There’s going to be PLENTY of SPOILERS this go round. ESPECIALLY with my first pick of Stargirl. You’ve been warned!!!

DC’S STARGIRL

I need to talk about 1x10 or I’m going to burst!!! As stated above there will be A LOT of SPOILERS IN THIS POST!! So scroll down to the next picture if you don’t want it to be spoiled. 

You’ve been warned...again.

IT CANNOT END LIKE THAT!!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? Henry! Wow! 1) Epic fighting 2) The backstory and how he wasn’t going to give up on his dad AND THEN how he wouldn’t give into his dad. 3) HE DIED RATHER THAN JOIN HIS SIDE OR PRETEND (which I honestly felt was going to happen). His character arc and I can’t believe it’s over!!! 4) His speech at the end: *weeping.* I knew Brainwave was going to say he killed his mother. It just felt like the build up. Brainwave Jr. would have been a GREAT ADDITION TO THE JSA! AND OMG THE WAY THE REST OF THEM FOUGHT FOR HIM! I loved how they framed it so you could still see them in the back when Henry spoke to his father. Super heartbreaking. Man, it feels like a lot of people have been killed off this first season (or am I just still thinking about Joey?) 

Side note: Check out the Instagram Live between father and son Brainwave on Stargirl’s CW page. Jake Austin Walker did an AWESOME interview in his take over.

This was one of the strongest episodes overall and definitely one of my favorites so far. I agree with many others that while it is SOO GOOD and I want to rewatch it again, I don’t know if I can emotionally yet. I can’t remember the last time I felt that way about a show. 

Some other thoughts this episode: WAY TO GO BARBARA! Way to record them to translate later (such an awesome app btw, how do I get it?). I’m glad her and Pat came more to an understanding because I love them especially with that glimpse into how they met. Jordan’s parents give me the creeps, like the couple from The Visit vibes. I feel like Mike’s got to find out ASAP, especially because he’s spent time in the garage. Something’s got to show him the truth; because I’m really feeling he figures it out rather than being told. Very curious to see what his reaction will be. SOLOMON GRUNDY. Thank God Beth talked Rick down. She really is like Chuck in being the voice of reason. She did really well in the cafeteria too. While I still don’t believe Starman is Courtney’s dad, how cute was it when she put together her and Henry were cousins? Speaking of Court’s dad, who else didn’t feel like Starman was her dad until they saw that upcoming promo? I don’t know who that impostor is but he is not her dad. Something’s fishy.

Loving this show. So happy it’s renewed for a second season!! 

THE 100

From a show I can’t get enough of to one whose final season is a disappointment. I’m not going to spend too much time talking about The 100 because I feel I’ll just be repeating myself from previous posts. However, I did want to include it because I haven’t spoken much about the previous 2 episodes that I wound up watching back to back and I didn’t overly dislike them. 

As many have complained, when you have a final season you shouldn’t introduce SO MANY new characters and just push aside your originals (or the ones who are left). You also shouldn’t include so many confusing plots that are making it look like were the main points overall (like this many world concept was around since the first grounders) and playing with time in so many episodes is hard to keep up with too. Having so many people separated makes it difficult to remember what just happened to this specific group because I haven’t seen them in forever. ANYWAY, I did promise some positives. I didn’t except to like 7x08 because of it being a flashback episode with brand new people that was just going to feel like a potential spin-off pilot. Well...I actually really enjoyed it and the concept that the bunker was used before One Crew. The characters were easy to like and it was cool seeing Allie again (and this time not as the villain). While it felt forced including the orb (is that what it’s called? If not that’s what I’m calling it), but I liked how all the other pieces fit together (ex: the flame, the grounders’ language). Honestly, I surprise myself to say this, but I’d watch another episode. For 7x09, I liked being on Bardo and watching Octavia, Echo, Diyoza and Hope slowly get “brainwashed” I mean trained. We all knew it wouldn’t work for Hope and if I was them I would rather be on Sky Ring than Bardo (but then I guess I’d go crazy, so...) I enjoy the Octavia and Levitt relationship and would love them to work out, but if this show taught you anything it’s to be skeptical. I also want to shift to the Primes plot, just to showcase John Murphy for a second. THAT MAN! What a character development he’s had on this show. From the first season where I was like come on Murphy to now me awaiting his scenes. From cockroach to someone who won’t view himself as a hero. So good and something that is fantastic about this final season. They might have forgotten about other characters, but they’re doing it right by Murphy. 

Well, that was more than I was expecting. ;)   

THE CIRCLE

It feels like I haven’t watched a lot of reality TV this year, which makes sense because of our quarantine situation (but then again I’m watching World of Dance, but that’s a different because it’s more of a competition/dance show. I’ll stop rambling). The Circle is a reality ‘game’ show that could be easily completed during quarantine and social distancing because the contestants do not see each other in person. They each have an apartment in this complex and only communicate with each other on a social media platform called the Circle. The objective is to become the most popular and an influencer who gets power over who stays and who goes in the competition. There’s some side contests throughout, but most of the show is just people chatting through an insta messenger and trying to learn as much as they can. Alliances are formed and cat fishes try to thrive all for the grand prize of $100,000. (Wow, that’s a lot!) It is SUPER addicting and very funny. Having a voice-over narrator really makes it even funnier because she says what we’re all thinking. Just about every episode a contestant leaves and then is able to meet one other person in their apartment. It’s been cool seeing their reactions as oftentimes it’s someone they did not expect AT ALL. I can’t wait to finish it. If you’re a fan of Big Brother than this is definitely for you. Looks like there will be a second season, which I am excited about.  

THE BABYSITTERS CLUB

Jumping from one Netflix show to another. Released on Netflix on July 3rd, I tried not to binge it all in one day because then it would be over (and we still don’t know if there will be a second season yet). This is definitely my feel good watch for July. If you want something that’s a quick watch and just wholesome and fun to escape our current world than this is for you. I always felt so happy after watching and couldn’t wait to watch another. While I was familiar with the franchise--the 90s movie and of course the books (although I was more of a Babysitter Little Sister fan, so I was very excited to see Karen), you don’t have to have any knowledge of the Babysitters Club to enjoy this show. I was hooked just about right away by this new series shown by me watching the first three episodes back to back. I really like how they set up each episode with one girl as the main focus (just like in the books) where she takes over the voice-over narration. Great representation and made modern to fit in with our current times. The first example that comes to mind is when Mary Ann babysits Bailey who is transgender. I liked how Bailey says those are her old clothes while they’re playing. It’s shown in a way that explains the situation without feeling like a lecture. It fits so naturally into the episode. And then Mary Ann’s speech at the hospital is super powerful for both Bailey and herself. This is just one example of how well represented this show is. Extremely strong cast and actresses who are the proper ages. I also love the adult casting and how they threw in a Clueless reference from Alicia Sliverstone (who plays Kristy’s Mom). As someone who is writing for this age group, I really liked hearing and seeing how authentic this show is. 

FEEL THE BEAT

A Netflix original movie that has been on my list for a while that I just got around to watching. It didn’t come out too long ago. In the film, Sofia Carson’s character is a dancer who is a perfectionist. She gets on the bad side of a big NYC producer when she not only leaves her in the rain as she steals her taxi, but also knocks her, accidentally, off stage and becomes a viral video-this basically blackmails her in Broadway. This all happens within about the first 10 minutes of the film and the majority takes place back in her small home town (very Hallmark-like) in Wisconsin. While there her old dancing teacher wants her to share her Broadway wisdom with her young students. Meanwhile Carson has only been a chorus girl, so she doesn’t really have any. What draws her to helping the young girls is the chance to perform in front of a big choreographer that could get her to be the star she always dreamed of. The catch is that it’s the teacher dance in the childrens dance competition. While this might sound like a movie you’ve watched many times before, it was still worth it and a really fun watch. I think the kids really make the movie. They are adorable, funny and super talented. You feel connected with them really fast and want to see them succeed. I loved Dickie and how he joined the group. I think he was my favorite overall. I loved how inclusive the cast was here too (just like BSC) from a mixed race family, to single parents and even a student who was Deaf. It was great seeing the other actors sign to her. Carson’s character, April, can be annoying at times, but you understand it’s her character and something she needs to overcome. As I said before the plot may seem familiar, but the ending was something I didn’t see coming. Overall, wholesome, feel good and fun for the whole family. You can consider to watch while babysitting. (See what I did there??)  

VIOLETTA SEASON 2

She’s back! I know last month when I included Violetta it was mainly me being excited to see the second season FINALLY streaming on Disney Plus. I had watched a few episodes (remember there’s 80 altogether, so even if I watched 20 that’s still very early on and just a dent in the season) and was still getting used to this season. Well, now I’m happy to report I am in the 40s and more than half way. For a bit I was watching many of these episodes a day, which told me that I was loving it again. Recently, I feel I need a little more of a push to watch, but it’s mainly because of certain story-lines that feel like they’re dragging. (For example: Violetta’s voice. One minute it’s fine and the next she’s like dying). For this section I have two words: LOVE TRIANGLES. And I’m not just talking about Violetta, Diego and Leon. For a bit it felt like each character had their own love triangle, which honestly I was loving. These characters have definitely developed a lot from last season, which allows this to happen. Olga was in a love triangle, which just recently got resolved. I think German is still in one because of his alter ego Jeremias. Jackie was “kind of” in one. For her it was more of a misunderstanding, which is very classic on this show. Lots more secrets have been uncovered in these episodes as well as songs! You know how excited I am for those. Overall, I think I’m still enjoying season 1 songs more (which get referenced enough in this season), but some of the season 2 ones are really growing on me. Specifically Leon’s Entre dos mundos and when he sings with Diego Euphoria in English. Also, Yo Soy Asi has been real catchy. I know Frederico will be coming back soon and I can’t wait to see him again!  

HAMILTON

Like many I watched Hamilton this month-actually on the day it came out. It’s been a musical that I’ve been intrigued by, but never thought I’d get a chance to watch because of how popular and expensive it is to see on Broadway. So, I was very excited to hear I’d get the chance when it was to be released in theaters for a special event. Then because of Corona it was released to Disney Plus, which was EVEN more convenient and exciting. I really enjoyed it and watched it twice within the same week. I immediately downloaded the playlist and started singing it around the house. I do this a lot with many of the plays I see, but depending how good they are is shown by how long I listen to the soundtrack. (Some of my top ones are Bandstand, Once, Newsies and Anastasia.) Because there are so many songs in Hamilton it is taking me a little longer to know all the words, but I feel pretty confident with the first act. It was the perfect timing for this to be released on Disney Plus. Not only because it was July 3rd, but also because of the world we are living in. Lin’s diverse cast brings to life the world of 1776 and the revolutionary war (as well as the time after it), but it’s such a strong commentary on our world today. This is something I am continually noticing with historical dramas/pieces being released within the last 5-10 years. It feels like there’s more we can say in this genre than in a commentary piece. I also like all the analysis videos I’ve seen popping up, which just make it even more powerful. (Like it being Eliza’s story and her putting herself back in the narrative. That the play Hamilton is named for both her and Alexander.) I don’t know if all of what I see were intentional, but  either way well done. I hope it doesn’t leave Disney Plus soon. 

1917

And lastly, 1917. I promised quite the range this month and you can see that’s definitely the case. I always enjoy watching war films and with 1917 there was so much hype (both before it came out and after) that I was interested to give it a watch. Giving the movie to my dad for father’s day felt like the perfect excuse to be able to watch it. Even though our DVD stuck in a few places (still don’t know if it was the player or the DVD itself), the film was very entertaining and I would suggest it to anyone who is a history/film buff. Taking place in WWI, we follow two British soldiers as they attempt to deliver a message about an upcoming ambush that could take countless lives. I feel that I often watch more films revolving around WWII, so it was very interesting to be immersed in the first great war. After watching I am not surprised that the film was up for so many Oscars. While cinematography is the first thing everyone discusses when it comes to this movie (and it should be because the one shot/long shot is sooo impressive and beautiful to watch. It really brings you into the scene and has a way of making you feel like you’re there too. There’s a realness to it that’s raw and new compared to other war films I’ve watched in the past), there’s so much more to this film too. First, I like how it connects back to Sam Mendes’ grandfather, so while it’s not a true story it has real facts in it. I LOVE the score and music to this film. In the scene where George Mackay runs at night through those ruined buildings I could really hear how well the music worked with the action. Because of this I made sure to listen to some of the soundtrack and now I’ve added some of the songs into my writing playlist. I have chills just thinking about it. The other point I want to bring up is the cast! While there are SO MANY big names in this film from Colin Firth to Benedict Cumberbatch, the two main characters are played by George Mackay and Dean Charles Chapman and they are the ones with the most screen time. If their chemistry and acting wasn’t so great then the movie wouldn’t be as successful as it is. Because of this I have been watching non-stop YouTube interviews of the two of them for this film. 

They are so well-spoken, stand-up guys and I can’t get enough of their dialogues with each other and others. (You should watch these interviews too). While familiar with Chapman’s time on Game of Thrones, I haven’t seen him in much else, so I’m excited to see what he’ll have in the future (as well as checking out his IMDB page). For Mckay, I’ve seen him before when I just watched Ophelia earlier this summer so that was my first time watching him act. After that film I was curious what else he was in, but it was only after 1917 that I started doing more research. So far, I’ve only been able to watch the short film he was in called Infinite. While only 17 minutes it was very strong and deep. I highly recommend. As I’ve shared on this page already, in another post, the more I hear him talk the more of a crush I am developing. It’s been a long time since I’ve experienced a celebrity crush this strong so soon. This quarantine has to end so I can make it to England to just casually bump into him like one does. :) 

[leonthecardboardunicorn]

The Ruined King, chapter 3

(Credit to @ghostnightbride​ for the materials for the banner!)

Pairing: Felix x Liz

Summary: Hawkeye is once again moving through Gedonelune, and it looks like their aim is on the heart of the Dragonkin Ruins. It looks like we’ll need the help of the three Reciters to solve this mystery!

Previous: Chapter 2

First: Chapter 1

Contains spoilers for the Melody of Awakening spinoff!

Emerging through the forest, a decrepit gate and cracked window frames greeted us.

'It's strange,' I thought, 'I must have been here a thousand times before, but it's different now.' Different to be visiting it with actual Dragonkins. 'What must this have been like when it was in its prime?'

I stole a glance over at Felix's face, gazing up at the ruins. Sadness and surprise flashed across his face. "This is.. What has become of us?"

"Felix.."

"..We should get going."

"Can I ask an awkward question?" Lacan's voice broke through the silence as we walked.

"What is it, Lacan?"

"Um.. what are your names? I know Liz, I remember you, and I know Hugo and Mischa, since they've come round for tea. But the rest of you.. I mean, I know that we met before, but it was all kind of a blur back then.”

Oh, right. Just because we knew his story didn't mean that he knew anything about us.

"I.. probably should have asked about that as well,” Felix admitted.

"What? Lacan, I can understand, but you Felix.. You don't even know our names?!"

Felix met Zeus with a blank stare. "..Why would I? You were just pains in my side."

"Well, I suppose there's no harm in introducing ourselves again," Caesar said with a laugh. "I'm Caesar Raphael."

"The loud mouth is Zeus," Hugo said, glancing over his shoulder.

"Ah, I wondered who that was!" Lacan said. “Hugo's always talking about you!” Felix nodded.

"Hey!” Zeus shot a dirty look at Hugo.

One by one, they introduced themselves. "I'm Yukiya; this is Seth."

"I'm Elias Goldstein; Alfonse here is my eldest brother."

"Elias was the other one who defeated Drago," I said.

"Ah, I do know of the Goldsteins," Felix mused.

"..Yeah, you broke into our laboratory," Alfonse said.

Lacan gave him a confused look, but Felix coughed. "..Moving on. What about your merchant friend? The one who had Twilight?"

"Oh, Hisoka?" I wasn't expecting him to remember him. "He's not with us right now; I think that he's in Queensblade right now."

"You certainly have a lot of friends.." Felix muttered. In the back of my mind, he almost sounded wistful.

I shivered as we walked deep into the ruins. I'd been down here in the ruins before, but it never got any less creepy to visit them. As we walked, I noticed that some of the others seemed to be slowing down.

Lucious, Zeus, and Hiro seemed to linger behind us. Shu, on the other hand, was even more lively, chirping happily as he flew behind us.

Even Felix seemed a little unnerved. 'I wonder what this is like for him.'

"So, how do we know Hawkeye will be headed to these ruins?" Caesar asked, trailing behind Willem.

"There are certain treasures that the humans entrusted to us long ago," Willem said. "Though we were sealed away, they should still be buried deep enough that they shouldn't have been found by the humans.”

Caesar sighed. "I wonder if Hawkeye's already gotten there by now. They did get a bit of a headstart on us.”

"Who cares?" Zeus said, grinning from ear to ear. "If they've gotten the jewels or whatever, I'll just summon something big and scary to fight them off! Maybe I'll summon Vulcanaux!"

"You will not!” Zeus jumped as Felix walked up to him, his voice as cold as ice. “If you were to summon a creature like Vulcanaux here, you would bring this place down on top of us. I will not allow you to destroy this sacred place!”

Zeus recoiled as though burnt. "Sorry.."

Felix turned away, walking past him; I hurried after him. I heard the others muttering to Zeus. “Nice going, genius..”

The eeiry feeling continued as we went deeper down the halls. Shu flew ahead of us, happily chirping as we explored the halls.

'It almost feels like.. someone is watching me.' I glanced over my shoulder, but I didn't see anyone. 'I don't know why this place gives me such creeps..'

I looked at the walls. Even if it was growing darker, I could make out intricate carvings on the walls. I was so focused on the walls, I wasn't looking where I was going, and my foot caught on a loose tile-

"Woah!"

And suddenly found strong arms catching me. I looked up into green, green eyes.

"..Watch your step," Felix said, helping me to my feet.

"Right." I stood up, though I couldn't understand why my heart was racing so much.

“I'm sure that we've come down this way before.” Lacan peeked his head down the branching pathway.

“No, I'm sure that that way is connected to the Labyrinth,” Willem said with a sigh.

“Don't ask me, you're the ones who always came down here.”

It was a strange sight, seeing the three powerful Dragonkin bickering over something like directions. But a noise echoed through the halls- a stomach growling.

“..It's probably been a fair few hours since we set out,” Willem said gently. “Perhaps this would be a good time to stop and eat?”

We all took seat around the hall, pulling out our lunches.

"I brought some cookies for everyone!" I said. With the Reciters, our group was larger than normal, so I'd made sure to bake more than usual. I had made little bags for everyone.

"Cookies?" Their expressions lit up as they took the bags.

"Here," I passed out the bags. I pulled Shu close to me. "I've got some treats for you too, Shu." He happily chirped as he nibbled on the treats. I patted his head.

'So adorable..'

I noticed Felix gazing at us curiously. He had seemed to like cookies before when we had been at the Night Cafe together. “Would you like some too, Felix?”

“I suppose.” He hesitantly took one of the cookies, nibbling on it.

"Willem's been introducing us to all sorts of wonderful foods," Lacan said happily. "I can't believe we've never tried them before!"

"I have to thank Liz,” Willem said sweetly. “She's taught me a lot of the recipes."

“Hey, Felix, there's something that I wanted to ask you.” He looked up at me from his cookie. “I noticed there's a lot of carvings and writings on the walls. Do you know what it says?”

He sat up a little straighter. “Yes, actually, the three of us were the ones who put the carvings in. It was our job to transcribe the history of the Dragonkin upon these walls.”

“So then the Reciters are like the historians of the Dragonkin?” I asked.

“I'm sure you could find a lot of records on these walls,” Willem said.

“My favorite story was about our friendship with the Night Kingdom,” Lacan said. “I think that should be somewhere around here.”

“You have records of that?” Lucious said, his eyes lighting up. “I want to see!”

The others pitched in their questions, asking about the various tales on the walls. And I could see Felix's eyes light up as he answered their questions.

In the end, we agreed to split up into three groups, each group following one of the Reciters down the various paths. Hugo, Zeus, Shu, and I followed Felix down the hall.

As we walked, the terrain of the ruins grew rougher. Even Felix and Zeus seemed to be struggling. 'I never thought that I'd see him struggle like this..'

And once again, we came to a branching path. “Should we split up again?”

“That won't be necessary,” he said coolly. “We shouldn't be far from the heart of the ruins now; I can send a few mini dragons to scout ahead.” As he spoke, he clasped his hands together, darkness pouring out of them and taking the form of two minidragons. They quickly scampered on the path ahead of us.

“Do you just have like minidragons that you can carry with you everywhere? You don't even need to summon them?” Zeus asked.

“Not quite. The power of Nightmare is the power to create out of shadows; what form that takes, whether it be minidragons, shadows, or a magical beast is up to me.”

“That would explain a lot.” I remembered the various magical beasts he had sent us before. Even a kraken.

“..Felix?” Felix glanced over at Zeus, who looked strangely sheepish for him. “I'm sorry about  what I said before. About summoning the Vulcanaux earlier, I wasn't thinking about what this place meant to you.”

“Hmm.” It seemed like his expression softened. “I suppose this place must have always been a ruin in your time.”

“This place must hold a lot of memories for you,” I said.

“..Most of my memories of this place are of the battles that raged here."

"Battles?" I shivered.

"Many of them, tearing this place to ruins," he said, his gazing turning to the walls. The eeiry feeling was only starting to grow. "Those dragged into the dark." Okay that wasn't helping-" I can still hear-"

"Eep!" All eyes fell on me, and I quickly covered my mouth.

Felix looked at me, his eyes wide in surprise. "I.."

"..My apologies," he said after a moment. "Perhaps it would be best to stop there." I nodded.

"Thank you," I said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Something feels off in this place."

"There are places we've built that are more pleasant than this," Felix said wistfully. "During the war, the Dragonkin built a city deep beneath the earth, using crystals to light their path."

Wait, that sounded awfully familiar! "Are you talking about the Illusionary Town?"

"Have you been there?"

"Yes, we visited there when we were searching for the Star Sapphire! It was so beautiful.. Well, except for the part where we got chased by a winged man throwing feathers at us."

"Winged man.. winged man.." Felix muttered under his breath. "Are you talking about Ventus?"

"You knew him?!" But one look at Felix's face, and he burst into laughter. "Hey!"

"No, I have no idea who you're talking about," he said. "Perhaps a trap laid by the Dragonkins who made the town."

"Who knew he could laugh like that?"

"Look, there it is."

Shu stopped before a set of intricately carved doors.

Felix smirked. "Trust that a dragon of light would be able to find the temple's heart," he said. "The Gem of Light should be just beyond there."

"Can we go in there and just wait for the others?" Zeus asked.

"There's a reason it hasn't been disturbed yet; it is locked to Lacan's magic alone. Only he will be able to unlock it. I'll send the signal." He pulled down his hood, his horns starting to glow black.

"And now we wait," Zeus said, sitting down.

Felix turned to me with a smile. "I think if you look close enough, you can find a Ratatoskr in the designs.”

"Hree?" Shu flew up to the doors, examining them with such intensity that I couldn't help but laugh a little.

I took a closer look myself; indeed, there were many dragons carved through the door. "Ah, I found you!" Sure enough, there was a four winged dragon, brightly singing his little song. Shu cooed in happiness.

I noticed another carving in the door, of a dragon much larger than the rest.. one that I'd seen carvings of all of my life. "Felix," I said, "is this.."

"Hugo, the Dragon of Time." Even Hugo examined the door more closely.

"Did you know him?"

"Somewhat. Though why he trusted the humans.." His expression softened, then went blank.

"Does this have something to do with him?"

"We'll explain everything when we get inside," Felix said.

After a little while, I heard chatter; Willem appeared with Elias, Alfonse, and Yukiya.

"Wow, so you're telling me that you went back, after all of that?" Voices boomed round the corner. I looked up to see Lacan leading the way; Lucious was strolling at his side, Hiro and Caesar trailing behind.

"Ah!" He beamed as he came up to us. "Lucious was just telling me about your adventure in the Labyrinth, and how you all freed him and Felix!"

"That's one way of telling it."

"Lacan, will you do the honors?"

"Of course." Lacan walked up to the door, his horns glowing with light. In a moment, the doors parted, revealing the hidden chamber.

My breath hitched as we stepped inside. The chamber was set up like a throne room. A bright light shown from the center of the room.

"May I?" Lacan nodded; I carefully walked to the center, shielding my eyes from its glow.

The light was coming from a brilliant diamond, shining as bright as the sun; it looked to be about the size of a pomegranate. "This is.."

"The Gem of Light," Felix said. "The humans entrusted us with it, and we've kept it in here ever since."

"Will you tell us what's going on now?" The three reciters shared a look, stepping close to each other.

"The founders of Gedonelune crafted six gems, one for each element," Willem said. "Three of them were entrusted to the Dragonkin and buried within our land. Even when war was waged, we buried them so deep in our temples that the humans couldn't find them."

"What about the other three gems?"

"I believe they were entrusted to Gedonelune's noble families," Felix said. The noble families of Gedonelune?

"Oh!" Alfonse's eyes widened. "I've heard about those!"

"It is said there is a secret place, known only to the royal family, where the six gems are brought together," Willem said. "But if that should ever happen.."

And a voice spoke up from behind us, a voice that sent chills down my spine, "Then the Dragon of Time will be awakened once more."

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

Lucious: It was really interesting to hear about the history of the Dragonkin from them. I had no idea their history was so closely intertwined with ours.

Caesar: Did Lacan tell you about the history of the Night Kingdom?

Lucious: Yes! Apparently, our times were so close that some of our history got mixed up with theirs. Who would've thought?

Caesar: Oh, so you're as old as dirt just like them.

Lucious: ..Listen here!

Caesar: Uh-oh, looks like it's time for me to get out of here. Next time, Ruined Battle.

[alltheselights]

Snippet

Someone on Twitter asked me for this and since I suck, I’m posting it. This is for my fic Secret’s Safe With Me and it probably won’t make much sense unless you’ve read this snippet I already posted.

--

On Monday morning, Louis wakes up early and puts extra effort into his outfit, even taking the time to dig the iron out of the back of the hall closet so his pants will be properly creased and his sweater won’t look like he just slept in it. He may be fired today, but at least he’ll look neat and professional doing it. 

Zayn’s only half awake when Louis leaves, but he gives Louis a sleepy kiss on the cheek and wishes him luck.

Louis times his arrival at work so he’ll be walking in around 9AM alongside most of his coworkers, hoping that he can slip in largely unnoticed. Brad’s already been texting Louis for an hour telling him to keep him updated on what happens, which is only worsening Louis’ anxiety.

His plan works for the most part, though Louis still acts with extra caution by taking the eight flights of stairs up to his floor rather than risk being packed into the elevator with coworkers who might ask questions he’s never going to be ready to answer. Louis is sweating and panting by the time he makes it up all those stairs, but when he manages to get to his cubicle unnoticed, he knows he made the right call.

Louis immediately collapses into his chair, taking a moment to catch his breath. He sits there with his back tensed as he turns on his laptop, convinced that Simon or one of the other higher ups will round on him at any moment and chew him out in front of the entire floor.

After about ten minutes pass with nobody approaching Louis’ cubicle, however, he breathes a sigh of relief as he realizes everyone is too busy running around and preparing for Harry Styles’ arrival to worry about him or last week’s meeting. Louis knows this distraction will pass once Styles arrives and has been introduced to everyone, but for now, he takes the win for what it is and allows himself to relax slightly.

He’s responding to some pressing emails and adding scheduled meetings to his calendar — not that he’ll have the chance to attend them since he’ll probably be unemployed by then — when he realizes that his coworkers are still running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Everyone is frantically dusting desktops, shoving stacks of documents into drawers, triple checking that there’s paper in every printer, and restocking every type of coffee and tea you can imagine in the kitchen.

Louis glances around his own cubicle. He isn’t exactly known for his tidiness — admittedly, he’s actually better known for the tornado of a mess that he leaves behind him wherever he goes. Thankfully, his desk space is minimal considering he has both a desktop computer and a laptop, but Louis figures the least he could do while he’s still employed is make his work space look presentable for when young Mr. Styles arrives.

Louis hides his cigarettes in his desk drawer, which he should actually be doing daily since they keep going missing. Louis suspects it’s Liam who’s stealing them ever since he stopped buying them himself, trying to convince himself and everyone around him that he’s quitting any day now.

Then Louis rounds up all of his pens, shoving them carelessly into the Doncaster Rovers mug he uses to organize them, and flips his calendar to the correct month since he’s a quarter of a year behind in doing that.

There are also a ton of papers in three different tall stacks around Louis’ cubicle, including one on the floor in front of his rubbish bin, so he begins doing the quickest sort through them possible. He gets so into the task that he fails to realize when the noise and bustle all around him finally slows down. If he stopped for a moment, he would probably realize that Mr. Harry Styles has finally arrived and all of his coworkers have now transitioned into doing everything in their power to look hard at work.

It’s only when Louis hears Oli, the guy two cubicles away from him, introduce himself to someone that Louis finally stops what he’s doing long enough to recognize that he’s moments away from meeting the new CEO of Kiwi Corporation and the person who will likely decide his fate later today.

Louis wants nothing more than to lean back in his spinning chair and peek around the side of the cubicle wall to see what the new CEO looks like, but he’s an adult and doesn’t want to embarrass himself, so he resists.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Louis hears a deep voice say. Louis freezes. It’s obviously the Styles kid’s voice and he sounds genuine enough in his pleasure at meeting Louis’ co-worker, but that’s not what catches Louis off-guard. Instead, it’s the eerie familiarity of that voice that sends a cold chill down his’ spine. Louis only heard that voice very briefly, but he’s heard echos of it in his head all weekend. He would recognize it anywhere.

Louis refuses to believe it. Sure, they have the name in common, but it’s not like Harry is an uncommon name, particularly in the UK. Louis would’ve sooner expected Prince Harry himself to show up as the new CEO of Kiwi Corp than a random man he encountered during one flight to London.

Louis takes a deep breath and counts to ten in his head, completely blocking out the conversation between Harry and Louis’ immediate cubicle neighbor after Harry moves on from Oli.

When Louis finally hears his own name, it’s not by that deep voice. Instead, it’s Simon Cowell’s annoyingly condescending tone that tries to capture his attention.

Louis inhales and exhales again slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose before finally turning his chair around. If Louis were less dramatic, he would admit that it only takes him a second to spin around and face Simon and Harry, but in the moment, it feels like it takes forever for them to meet face to face.

And of course, that’s when Louis can no longer deny the nightmare unfolding before him — a nightmare worse than one Louis’ brain could ever conjure by itself because it would seem too unrealistic.

Harry Styles, the new CEO of Kiwi Corporation and Louis’s new boss, is none other than the handsome Harry that Louis spilled all his secrets to on the plane.

An expression of surprise immediately overtakes over Harry’s face, immediately followed by an expression that’s difficult to place. The closest description of it that Louis can offer is that it’s an infuriating combination of delight and self-satisfaction.

“Louis, this is our new CEO, Mr. Harry Styles. And Mr. Styles, this is Louis Tomlinson, our marketing assistant,” Simon says snidely, looking at Louis like a bug that he’s about to crush under his shoe. Knowing Simon, that’s probably not far off from what’s about to happen. “He’s the one we’ll need to have a conversation about later.”

Louis refuses to wince at that. Instead, he gets to his feet for a proper greeting, though he avoids eye contact with Harry as he does so. He takes the opportunity to take in Harry’s outfit, which consists of a black suit that appears to have sequins on it. It’s a unique vibe for a CEO, Louis will admit, and it’s certainly worlds away from the horribly fitted and bland suits always worn by the elder Mr. Styles, but Harry pulls it off.

Once Louis is on his feet, he reaches out to shake Harry’s hand. He hopes his hand isn’t sweaty, but he figures at this point, there’s not much more he could do to embarrass himself in front of this man.

When their hands meet in a firm clasp, Louis finally looks up at Harry’s face again. Harry is giving him a smile with dimples, which makes Louis feel like someone who’s brought a butter knife to a gunfight. It’s unfair.

“Louis Tomlinson,” Louis says, his voice impressively steady considering the butterflies tearing through his gut. He also opens his mouth to say “nice to meet you” as part of the natural progression of an introduction, but since it is very much not their first meeting, Louis snaps his jaw closed.

“So nice to meet you, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry says smoothly, letting go of his hand. Louis wets his bottom lip and meets Harry’s eyes again just in time to see him wink.

Okay, so that’s how they’re­ going to be playing it. For now, at least. Harry is clearly not keen on making anyone else aware of the incident on the plane, though perhaps that’s only because he’s planning on using it against Louis privately or bringing it up at an opportunity for prime embarrassment later. Regardless, Louis is grateful that their previous encounter is not being called out in front of Simon right now.

“Simon,” Louis says then, nodding in the man’s direction.

“So good to see you, even after what happened Friday,” Simon says, sticking out his own hand, clearly intent on exchanging a handshake with Louis as well. Louis grits his teeth and forces a smile.

He takes a step toward Simon as he accepts the handshake, intentionally pressing his foot down on the toe of Simon’s boot in the process. Immediately, Louis’ smile widens into something more genuine.

“Only four days without me and you missed me this much,” Louis says, just as Simon cries out in pain from his toe being crushed under Louis’ foot. “Oh, sorry, Si,” Louis adds, glancing down at their feet.

“Well, I don’t want to hold you up when you have so many people to meet,” Louis says without giving Simon the chance to complain, stepping back again. When he looks back at their new CEO, Harry is biting his lip like he’s trying not to laugh. Louis’ heart thumps in his chest. “See you around, Mr. Styles.”

[creeping-crowley]

♱ Satanic Panic ♱

Something in the air felt wrong.

The perpetual absence. The sudden drop in the atmosphere that comes in the breath between lightning and thunder. A plummeting sensation of wrongness had settled over London beneath the darkened clouds that chanted for rain. From outside, everyone was stirring and hurrying about the Mayfair streets, scurrying about as the first errant drops of the coming storm cascaded downward.

Crowley was busy. What he was busy with few acknowledged as a real task, but he went about the routine with just as much (if not more) dedication than to most of his other work-related endeavours. Every week he would patrol his flat, tending to the plants and stirring the petrifying knowledge into them of what happened if he noticed any failures to thrive. As he went about his business (with a good degree less discussion than he usually made), Crowley permitted his attention to dip in and out of the news report on the television in the living room.

The disembodied voice echoed softly throughout the flat.  A man’s voice presented numerous stories in a stern sort of severity- the way one might deliver the news that a family member had suffered an unfortunate accident.

‘With last year being London's bloodiest in almost a decade, as the number of homicides reached 135, the plague of knife crime is not nearing its end.’

Crowley closed a window as the first drops of rain devolved swiftly into a torrential downpour.

‘…Slews of schools across London have introduced them…But for some people, the implementation of knife arches comes too late.’

The TV flickered, jumped, then continued. A low rumble shook the sky.

‘Tory leadership contender Jeremy Hunt has refused to guarantee that the UK will leave the EU before Christmas, but said he "expects" it to happen by then.’

Crowley rolled his eyes. There was a rumour flying around that he’d had a hand in setting Brexit in motion. A rumour that Crowley had not directly addressed to anyone. Nor did he intend to.

‘Up to 160,000 Conser—’ The power blinked, crackling as another rumble of thunder passed overhead.

Ignoring it, Crowley moved onto the next plant. A quiet frown crossed his features. He had already started to tune out the topic as talk of politics babbled away across the empty rooms.

‘…voting for their next party leader - and UK prime mini—’ Static broke the report, lulling into a temporary hiss until the voice returned.

‘… replace Theresa May.’

A flash of lightning filled the room with a temporary brightness. And then it was gone.

As was all the brightness. And power. And sound.

Crowley ignored it. Moving on to the next plant that trembled at his mere proximity.

From the living room the distant hum and crackle of static flickered in and out, picking up on the hollow tone of the reporter’s voice but failing to provide enough clarity for his words to carry in anything more than an indistinct hum. The lights did not turn back on.

“…Well that’s not good.” The demon remarked at last with an absent sort of tone that implied the comment was not entirely tied to the thoughts he was having towards the power cut. Or the storm.

“IT’S SIMPLY DREADFUL, CROWLEY.”

The silky tone of his Master oozed from the sound system, echoing out of the hollow reporter’s mouth.

Static continued to pick apart at the voice, but the message came loud and clear. After a long moment of remaining rooted to the spot, Crowley abandoned his plant mister and skirted back into the living room. Perhaps this was what he had possessed such a vile feeling about. He’d felt some sort of ill-will in the air and now Satan himself was reaching out- it had been a while since they had spoken. He certainly sounded significantly less angry on this occasion.

“YOU’VE QUITE MARVELLOUSLY OUTDONE YOURSELF, CROWLEY.”

“Err.” A faint noise of acknowledgment sounded at the back of the demon’s throat as he eyed the static that danced across the television screen, playing with the features of the news reporter and occasionally causing his expression to twitch into a wicked smile.

Well hang on, Brexit hasn’t actually been completed yet. Wasn’t this a little early for a commendation?

“YOUR EFFORTS TO CORRUPT OUR ENEMY FROM THE INSIDE OUT HAVE BEEN RECOGNISED, CROWLEY.”

Crowley squinted. Perhaps this wasn’t to do with Brexit.

“WHILST MY DUKES AND BARONESSES HAVE SECURED ME SOULS OF THE MORAL KIND, YOU HAVE EXCEEDED EVEN THEIR WORK, CROWLEY.”

A thin sheen of sweat began to creep across Crowley’s forehead.

“HEAVEN HAVE INFORMED ME THAT THE NECESSARY PAPERWORK WILL BE COMPLETED SHORTLY, CROWLEY. THE ANGEL OF THE EASTERN GATE IS OURS AND IT’S ALL THANKS TO YOU, CROWLEY. HE WILL BE COLLECTED SHORTLY FOR THE PROCESS TO BEGIN. YOU HAVE ACHIEVED THE UNACHIEVABLE, CROWLEY. AND

YOU

WILL BE

R̸̨̛͙̱̙̭͐́̐͗͝ Ẹ̴͍̼͎͉̩̫̝͙̮͖̣̪̪͈͑́ Ẃ̸̗͍̼͐̀̄̀ Ḁ̶̞͇̒͐̒̽̊͌́̅̽̊̌͘͝͝͝ Ṟ̸̡̡̜͕͎͚̮̲͇̼̥̗̀̒̍̍ͅ D̸̛͎̗̅̅̎̆̈͆̽̌̕͜ È̸̛͙͉͙̣̯̦̤̤̭̯͋͐͂͗̎͑͘͘ D̶̡̖͕̦͙͚̮̻͎͖̼̰̤͋͆́̈͒̎̄ “  

“…Thank you, lord.” Crowley breathed. His voice almost as numb as the news reporter’s.

A horrified sinking sensation bored its way through him.

How?

What had taken place in recent history to justify such a vast overreaction from heaven?

Deep down, a part of Crowley felt he knew. Along with the mounting fear, there kindled a deep, unforgotten hatred. A hatred towards the ones who had likely come to this decision. The ones who were about to enact a ritual of such pain, hurt and humiliation it had stripped away the very essence of every angel that survived it.

A thought stuck in Crowley’s mind as the television flickered back to life and the reporter began drawling on about referendums and deals once more.

They were coming to collect Aziraphale.

Scenes of the bookshop engulfed in flame flashed back into the demon’s head. He scrambled out of the flat as though it had been doused in holy water. Like a bat out of hell. Or like one whom had the fear of God put into them. The latter would be the most accurate.

Half-throwing himself into the Bentley, Crowley set himself hurtling towards the first place he knew the angel would be. With the help of breakneck speeds, tactically willing traffic lights, officers and pedestrians out of the way, Crowley worked to slice his journey down to a mere fraction of what it should have been.

“Call Aziraphale.” A wracked voice that hardly sounded like his own demanded.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. Until an automated voice ended the call after a redundant offer to leave a message. With a snarl Crowley smacked the steering wheel.

“CALL. AZIRAPHALE.” The phone shuddered.

It rang. And rang. And rang.

Nothing.

Faster than should have realistically been possible, the Bentley pulled up by the bookshop. No fire. At least not visibly. Ignoring the ‘Sorry, we’re closed!’ sign and the locks, Crowley entered. The entire bookshop radiated the essence of Aziraphale- every corner was so thoroughly steeped in love and many cared-for volumes that it felt as though he was always there even on the occasions where he was absent.

“AZIRAPHALE!” He couldn’t not shout. By this stage it was horrifically urgent.

“AZIRAPHALE YOU BASTARD DON’T DO THIS TO ME AGAIN.” Crowley’s voice shattered mid-roar. Saving little time, he tore into the back room, growing frantic. Snake-like eyes bolted across the room for the sign of anything that appeared remotely out of place. The sign of a struggle. Anything.

“WHERE ARE YOU!?”

“IT CAN’T HAVE HAPPENED YET!” Desperation twisted his tone upward.

After pacing the shop a good number of times, Crowley fell to his knees atop the thread-bare carpet that covered a neatly-drawn chalk circle. He wasn’t supposed to be in such proximity to it. But it hardly mattered now. Golden eyes lifted, pleading skyward for someone, anyone, anything- some divine voice that had cast him aside only just after time began- to listen.

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS!

HE’S—

HE’S GOING TO LOSE EVERYTHING AND IT’S ALL MY FAULT!

I’M THE ONE YOU SHOULD BE HURTING! NOT HIM! HE’S GOOD, KIND, FORGIVING—NONE OF THE BAD STUFF WAS HIM! WHY DO YOU PREACH FORGIVENESS BUT NEVER PRACTICE IT? YOU’RE GOING TO BE THE REASON THERE ARE NO GOOD THINGS LEFT!”

A series of deep, ragged pants stole Crowley’s words away. No reply.

They never replied.

Frustration spurned him back into motion. Although a dawning part of Crowley knew that if Aziraphale was not in the bookshop and failing to answer his phone, he was too late. But abandoning the search was unimaginable. He had to find him.

In a series of stray attempts to locate the angel’s aura, Crowley simply found himself stumbling upon various places they had met over the previous two weeks: places that had been touched by the angel’s aura. Restaurants, cafes, The British Museum and Hyde Park. Two hours later, Crowley returned to his flat, soaked through from his attempt to battle the rain on his hunt. Outside, thunder and lightning continued their violent dance. He had not given up, but a grim realisation had presented itself to Crowley: now that he had exhausted his most likely options (and checked the bookshop once more for good measure), it would make sense to reconvene, dry off and attempt to focus somewhere more quiet in order to tap in to Aziraphale’s energy.

It was difficult to not feel defeated as he scaled the stairs to the flat. Once entering, Crowley kicked off his sodden shoes. With a wave of his hand, the rainwater vanished from his clothes, leaving the only evidence of his trip outside in the mop of sodden auburn hair atop of his head. After a couple of steps, Crowley stilled.

‘Thanks very much and hello! Welcome to The Chase, tonight four celebrities will be raising money for a charity of their choice. Hello, yes, welcome to the show Ian,’

That’s strange.

He hadn’t left the television on when he’d left.

Warily, Crowley began to slink towards the living room. A familiar shape sat on the sofa. No-less tense, Crowley edged over the threshold. He didn’t need to see Aziraphale’s face to know he was too late. At Crowley’s presence the television flickered, blinked, and switched itself off.

“Angel…” The word dripped painfully from his mouth, thoughtless in the very moment of things.  

Not anymore…

Resignation swept over the demon as he rounded the sofa to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale’s face. It was too late. There was no undoing such an act. Hopeless guilt writhed across Crowley’s features as he inched closer, not quite knowing what one says to someone who falls and does not mean to. Crowley had been in the minority in that sense (and nobody had offered him any words of assurance when the day of his fall had taken place).

“What have they done to you?” A mournful whisper encapsulated Crowley’s words as he uttered them. Golden eyes drank in the extent of the damage. With great care to be gentle a finger extended to run reverently along a coal-black feather. Oh, the world was wicked.

It was unjust.

But never quite so much as those who had created it all.

(( @gaily-gavotte ))

[elyssebeeart]

Requiem’s End

Fandom: Transformers (Universe: Movie/Bay!verse) Rating: G Word count: ~3.3k Warnings: Death mentions Summary: Not long after the events of The Last Knight the Autobots travel to Cuba, a designated sanctuary for their kind. There they hope to reunite with old comrades and surviving members before returning to Cybertron. However, the reunion isn’t entirely sparkwarming. Disclaimer: This is to bridge the last movie and the hinted events of the [cancelled?] next film and make sense of some plotholes/unexplained things throughout the past 3 films (Dark of the Moon, Age of Extinction, The Last Knight) while keeping comic happenings/backstory in mind. Also it includes a couple of OCs who have full backstories the cinematic verse: Fyreant (c) me and Ravebreaker (c) @pumpkinachai​ (On Deviantart, Pending Ao3)

“Shouldn’t we be gettin’ a welcome party or somethin’? We’re war heroes, y’know.” Crosshairs complained loudly in his Cockney accent, looking unimpressed at their apparent new home as he transformed from his alt-mode. The green Autobot paratrooper bit at his dentapick in annoyance, “Sanctuary nothin’, this is punishment. Why we here again? Thought we’d be headin’ for Cybertron lickety-split but it’s been four days!”    

“Qui vivra verra. Be patient, mon amie.” Hot Rod encouraged, transforming next to him. The sleek black robot with orange accents tried his best to interpret his unshakable French accent, “You might like what’s inside, no? Might like it here.”      

“Anyone home?” Drift inquired as he shifted to bipedal mode, the red samurai-esque robot tilting his head. “Perhaps we got the place wrong?” 

“Shh, quiet you lot. I’ve been dying to do this.” Their burly comrade, Hound, hushed as he rolled up and transformed as well. He grabbed a grenade off his belt and chucked it into the open building, calling out, “Fire in the hole!”

There was no sound for a few moments before banging and clattering was heard followed by a string of curses as a blue robot with a blue visor scrambled outside, shouting in a southern accent, “Slag it! Who in the Pit thought it was a funny idea!? Which one of you hooligans did it? I swear-”

“Topspin, there ya are. Almost didn’t recognize ya with that new look of yours, nearly took ya for Leadfoot.” Hound identified the fellow Autobot, leaning back in satisfaction as he crossed his arms. “Getting a bit rusty are we?”

“Hound, you ole dog! You tryin’ to frag me?” Topspin’s demeanor instantly changed to one of fondness as he saw the culprit. “And I got a mod in Lead’s memory, got a problem?”

“No problem. And there ain’t be no trying if I did. Didn’t ya notice the pin wasn’t pulled?”  

“‘Course! I’m not blind, you piece of slag. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t about to frag someone.”

The two mechs proceeded to clasp arms affectionately before giving each other a friendly punch. Topspin let out a laugh, slapping Hound on the back, “Looks like you made it to Cuba in one piece! I’m never sure who’s going to end up on my doorstep; I heard Prime’s broadcast, guess radio silence is over.”

“It’s not like ya to miss out on a fight let alone multiple battles. Didn’t take ya much for a ‘Bot looking for retirement.”

“Yeah neither did I but losin’ my Wrecker crew and gettin’ wounded got me thinkin’. Then my buddy Simmons hooked me up and here I am! Still tryin’ to get him to tan those pasty legs of his; they could blind somebody.”

“Greetings, Topspin.” Drift bowed politely to the uncouth robot. “It is good to see you again. Are you alone?”     

“Hah, hell naw. Wish I was sometimes, hold on. Yo!” Topspin shouted as he turned toward another building nearby, letting out a sharp whistle. “We’ve got company, get on out here. Vámonos!”

“You know, I don’t recall you ever being made the boss.” A young husky voice called in a mocking tone, “Maybe you should get your head examined.”

“He forgets that I’m nearly as old as him and still tries to bully; his CPU must be slipping.” Another voice replied, sounding a bit older and more relaxed. “Ah, well. We just gotta roll with the music.”

“If he has any part of his CPU left. I think he does most of his cognation through his-.”

“Whoa momma! Thank you Cybertron!” Crosshairs exclaimed, looking up where the planet could be seen in the atmosphere as two figures emerged, revealing themselves to be an orange and red femme. He turned to look at Hot Rod with pure relief and excitement, “You’re right. I like it here.”

“Other Autobots?” The red femme looked interested, a smile on her faceplates as she looked over the small group, eyeing them through her dark visor. “Mmm, some fine looking mechs too. Primus is smiling on me today.”

The smaller orange femme was silent as her red gaze swept over the others, looking hardly cheerful, “Oh goodie.”

“Ravebreaker, Fyreant, meet my old comrades. ‘cept for that guy, I have no idea who he is.” Topspin gestured at Hot Rod who shrugged and bobbed his head, confirming it was true.

“Some we already know, rustbrain.” Fyreant drily informed to which Drift politely bowed.

“‘ey, I’ve got you in my sights and… I must say it’s a nice view. Name’s Crosshairs, numero uno.” The green mech introduced himself, grinning at the femmes as he gave a wink. “How’s about I let you two ladies have the ‘onor in being by my side. Best bot in the biz after all.”

Ravebreaker instantly let out a laugh and put a servo over her mouth. Her companion however looked far less amused.

“Excuse me, I need to go perform self mutilation to spare myself from repeating this experience.” Fyreant quipped flatly, equally unimpressed and disgusted. “Meeting you all was a real pleasure, like purging my tanks.”

“Mademoiselle! Wait, s’il vous plaît! Crosshairs, he is imbécile! Gros lourdeau!” Hot Rod protested, attempting to appease while shooting the offender a look. “I’m Hot Rod; I apologize on his behalf.”

“Ooo, I like your accent.” Ravebreaker purred, drawing closer, “Keep talking.”

“Figured Prime would be with you, being you fought together; heard all about it from Simmons.” Topspin scratched his head as he got a better look at the newcomers, ignoring his companions.

“Optimus will be here soon, he had something to take care of first. Didn’t fancy he needed a convoy. Besides, me and the boys were curious about this here place you got set up.” Hound informed, looking not concerned in the slightest.

“Blimey, speak of the devil.” Crosshairs grumbled as he looked back, “Can’t let a star like me shine for long on my own, can he?”

A distinctive looking red and blue semi-truck was heading toward the group. Next to the large vehicle a sporty yellow with black racing stripes car followed, keeping an even pace with the apparent Autobot leader.

“Wait… is that, Bumblebee?” Ravebreaker’s voice was full of disbelief seeing the oncoming Camero. “That has to be him! He made it! Fyre, he made it!”

Fyreant halted her retreat, her optics wide. Her snide tone softened slightly as she turned to see her old comrade, “It’s Bee?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Doesn’t like to leave Optimus’ side much when he can help it. That’s loyalty for ya.” Hound acknowledged, grinning at the approaching duo. “Kid’s got guts, but ya probably know that.”

As the two Autobots drew closer the yellow car sped ahead only to suddenly transform to bipedal mode. The robot did a somersault before landing on his feet, breaking out into a jog toward the others, giving a casual two finger salute as he joined the group.

“Bumblebee reporting for duty. Nice to see familiar faces; not so much the ugly mugs.” He shifted his gaze from his mech comrades to the two femmes, brightening, “Rave, Fyre, you’re here! Been what, five Earth years?”

“Y-you can talk?” Ravebreaker stared at the yellow mech who appeared proud and bashful as he nodded. “Like, talk talk!? That’s all you!?”

“Really? How’d you manage that?” Fyreant exclaimed, gawking as she came closer. In hearing his true voice for the first time her memory cells echoed back various audio clips he’d played previously to converse, leaving her dazed.

“It’s… hard to explain.” Bumblebee let out a small laugh, shrugging. “But yeah, this is me. This is my voice.”

“Oh, sweet-thing I’m so happy! I’m so proud you got it back!” Ravebreaker rushed over and hugged him, giving him an affectionate pat. “What a fine voice it is too to go with a fine bot!”

“Congrats.” Fyreant seemed to relax, but still managed to look semi annoyed, “A bit sorry I couldn’t repay you by fixing it but I’m glad for you; though, it’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going soft.” He teased, edging closer and giving her a playful nudge. “We still need our little spitfire.”

“In your dreams.” Fyreant elbowed him back, grinning deviously. She lowered her voice, “After dealing with Topspin all this time, him treating me like his personal medic, I’m rearing to get back at him. Wanna help?”

“A chance to troll? Of course!”

“Autobots, it is good to see you here.” An all too familiar deep rolling voice called out, commanding attention. Everyone turned to see their mighty leader Optimus Prime transform, revealing his towering robot self in knight-esque armor with some retrofits. “I expect more will be arriving in time in response to my call.”

“Well, it looks like everyone else is takin’ their sweet time. Whoopdeedoo.” Crosshairs sniffed, folding his arms as he looked around for some source of entertainment. “Waste of time waitin’ around, I could be doin’ somethin’ useful.”

“Patience.” Drift urged his restless companion. “Those who have yet to arrive are late, but perhaps they have much farther to come than us.”

“Including Ratchet! Can’t wait to rub that in his face when he gets here.” Fyreant admitted to Bumblebee, sounding delighted at the prospect. “So much for nagging about being first on scene!”

Instantly the demeanor of Optimus’ group changed, Crosshairs suddenly becoming still, Drift looking away, Hound hanging his head while Hot Rod looked lost. Bumblebee appeared conflicted as Fyreant gazed up at him expectantly, the mischievous twinkle still in her optics.

“He-” Bumblebee began but Optimus placed a servo on his shoulder, causing him to go silent as he glanced up at his leader.

Optimus took a moment before speaking, “It is with a heavy spark that I must inform you that Ratchet is one with the Well of All Sparks.”

The statement hung in the air like a noxious cloud as it became uncomfortably silent. The quiet appeared to invite further unease by allowing the words to echo in audio receivers as the rest of the world seemed muted.

“… No.”

The response was barely audible but it cut through the thick silence like a knife.

“Fyreant-”

“No! Pit! No!” She shouted, her voice clipping as outrage consumed her sorrow, rejecting Bumblebee’s attempt to comfort. She stepped back, her red optics flaring, looking as if she’d been betrayed; her gaze flicked in accusation to the newcomers, “He can’t! He said I was still in training! He needs to finish teaching me! How can I… NO!”

“I’m sorry.” Bumblebee hung his head, his optics closing, “I’m so sorry. We weren’t there. We couldn’t save him.”

“No, no, no! Why!?”

“War hasn’t been kind to any of us, kid.” Hound solemnly acknowledged, turning his gaze to the ground as the memory of Ratchet’s fate haunted him. “Thank Primus you didn’t see… he wouldn’t have wanted it.”

“Who did it? Who killed him?” Fyreant’s optics smoldered with hatred, her voice dripping with venom. She looked at each of the newcomers, probing for an answer as she shook, “Tell me, Primus so help me.”

“Kid-”

“Tell me, slag it!” She screamed, fluid escaping her optics as she cut off Hound. Furiously she wiped them away, trying to will the function to cease but failed. Instantly Ravebreaker was beside her, gently holding her arm out of support not restraint. “What filth took down a medic!?”

“It was Lockdown. He was workin’ together with some humans.” Crosshairs admitted, spitting at the memory. “Chasin’ us down like animals. Gutless, the lot.”

At this information Ravebreaker’s demeanor shifted, her already sad posture tensing. Though she kept a servo on Fyreant, attempting to sooth her friend who shook with fury, a tremor ran through her as well.

“I’ll burn his optics out. I’ll cauterize his nerve circuits and then scorch them repeatedly with acid!” Fyreant swore, her optics pulsing a deeper red, her original Decepticon alignment surfacing. “Then I’ll put his head in a vise and rip it off!”

“Fyre… it was five years ago.” Bumblebee softly informed, the pity plain in his optics and voice.

“I know this is hard news and I’m familiar with your rage as I also felt it deeply. But know Ratchet, my old friend, has been avenged.” Optimus knelt down on one knee to get a better look at the grieving young femme. “I personally slew Lockdown and took care of the human responsible for ordering the attacks and defilement of our kind. While I cannot say how many of our comrades fell to his cruelty he has been stopped, permanently.”

“Slag it, slag it all…” Was all Fyreant could get out as she turned away, relieved yet angry that justice and revenge by her hand had escaped her.

“What about anyone else? Surely there are more survivors.” Topspin inquired, looking upset but knew the sting of casualties too well to be surprised. “Though, y’all are the biggest group to come; usually they’re alone and it’s been gettin’ far between arrivals.”

“I am uncertain of most of our comrades’ fates.” Optimus admitted, solemn, “My hope is that they’re still in disguise here on Earth, safe until they can come to this sanctuary or return to Cybertron.”

“Sideswipe’s gone.” Ravebreaker suddenly spoke up, her casual tone cold and distant, a slight quiver in her voice. “Just over five years ago… Must have been right before Ratchet.”

This time the shock hit Optimus’ group, Bumblebee instantly shaking his head with disbelief while Optimus closed his optics in pain and let out a tired sigh.

“That bot knew how to raise hell… him and Ironhide.” Hound lamented, taking off his helmet in respect. “Primus, they were fine mechs. My condolences, little lady.”

“Rave, I’m so sorry.” Bumblebee looked back and forth between her and Fyreant, helpless as the latter closed herself off and the former, despite the steeled look, screamed raw.

“Humans attacked, I heard it over our commlink. I couldn’t do anything to help, I was too far away.” A tremor ran through her body as she took a shaky breath, “I felt it when his spark was extinguished.”

“You felt-?” Crosshairs began, confused.

“They were sparkbonded.” Bumblebee explained in a quiet voice, “Before we all split up and scattered.”

“Mon Dieu!” Hot Rod could not control his surprise, his large optics wide.

Crosshairs let out a whistle, earning an elbowing from Drift who looked just as surprised. Meanwhile Topspin was quiet, looking awkward as it was old news to him while Fyreant was still trying to control herself, her back turned.

“It grieves me to learn of Sideswipe’s demise, he was a fine comrade and a valued warrior. He chose a fine sparkmate in you, Ravebreaker.” Optimus’ tone was bittersweet though sincerity could be heard. “He will forever remain in our sparks, as well as Ratchet and all our fallen comrades. They will live on in our memories.”

“Yes, he is forever in my spark.” Ravebreaker softly spoke, placing her servo gently on her chest. “And he lives on… through our sparkling.”

At this news the others perked up, glancing at one another to affirm they heard correctly. Bumblebee’s look of sadness turned to shock and then joy, “Really?” to which Ravebreaker nodded, her servo over her spark where the apparent new life was.

“Oi now! She’s taken and goin’ to be havin’ a baby? Just my luck.” Crosshairs complained in a not so low voice to Drift, earning himself a smack across the back of the head from Hound. “Ow! Me head!”

“Zip yer lip before I bust it.”

“Despite these sad times I find joy that life continues. There is hope with this sparkling, promise that life is returning to our race.” Optimus rose to his feet, looking proud as confidence tinged his voice. “This is the mark of a new beginning.”

“Ah, good ‘cause all this melancholy is crampin’ my mojo.” Topspin declared, “This is paradise, y’all. Lighten up, sad times are behind us! We’re moving forward, amigos!” “Yeah, what he said! Ding dong, the witch is dead!” Crosshairs agreed as he sulked, rubbing the back of his head, referring to the manipulative yet deceased Quintessa.

“Not everyone is good at brushing things off.” Drift sagely commented, “Some wish to return to their roots or continue their chosen path.”

“Yeah, well this is my chosen path: I’m keepin’ my aft planted right here. Dunno about the rest of y’all, but I got over Cybertron when I thought for a while it was destroyed by the spacebridge’s implosion eight years ago. I’ve made my peace; I’m retired!”

“Could have fooled me.” Bumblebee muttered, rolling his optics at the Wrecker’s mouthiness as he mocked talked with his servo.

“I respect the decision to remain on Earth but I’ll be going to Cybertron as the Knights of Iacon have already departed for it. There is much to be done and time is short.”

“What are you here for, Prime? Obviously not the beaches.” Topspin pressed, crossing his arms. “Speaking of which, I’m losin’ good beach sun standin’ here.”

“To assemble a new team and assess this sanctuary.” Optimus informed, “I will wait here for one Earth week, giving fellow Autobots time to respond to my broadcast and choose whether to convene here for sanctuary or join me in returning to our home world. Those who choose to return to Cybertron will aid in its restoration. However they are free to come and go as they please.”

“You know, communications is just one of my many talents.” Ravebreaker placed a servo on her hip, coy smile across her faceplates. “I can help boost the signal and encrypt it so it’s harder for enemies to pick up. That should speed things up a bit too in getting the word out.”

“I’ll go.” Fyreant spoke up her voice back to its hard edge. She looked up at the Autobot leader, her red optics no longer flaring dangerously. “There is nothing left for me here on Earth despite it being my creation place. Plus I need resources to complete the frame for Rave’s sparkling… even if Ratchet isn’t here, I need to continue in his stead.”

“I understand. I look forward to having you in my company once more, Fyreant. Your expertise is extremely valuable. Ratchet would be proud of his pupil; you make a fine medic with that fiery passion.” Optimus nodded, acknowledging her resolve.

“And of course I’ll be going with her. Us gals need to stick together.” Ravebreaker announced, leaning down to the shorter femme and giving her a hug, grinning. “Can’t be without my medic, can I? Besides, Cybertron will be dying to hear my tunes once more; they don’t know how much they’ve missed this femme.”

“What about my medic?” Topspin whined, clearly not thrilled at this development, “My volleyball elbow! And my leg that locks up!”

“Go soak it in oil and stop playing slagging volleyball and do something else!” Fyreant snapped, tossing her servos up as she glared at him. “And for the last time: it’s tennis elbow, you wingnut!”

“That’s such a wussy name, and I don’t play no tennis! Simmons is wrong, I tell you.”

“Ugh, a week can’t come soon enough if I don’t die first from any more of this torture! You’re the worst patient!”

Hound let out a laugh he tried to disguise as a cough, turning away to pretend it was coughing fit that he blamed on his cy-gar under his breath. Crosshairs looked amused, grinning as he chewed his dentapick.

“Oh yeah, I’m goin’ to enjoy this.”

“I see why the young one wants to leave.” Drift observed to which Hot Rod nodded in agreement.

“Oui.”

“Autobots, today marks the start of our new mission. We shall gather our comrades and soon return to our home world in preparation for the new threat that lies beneath our feet. We will protect not only Cybertron but Earth as well, despite each’s faults. Together we will rebuild.”

“We’re with you, Optimus.” Bumblebee affirmed, nodding with conviction. “Always.”

“Thank you, my friend. Let us set forward to this dawn of a new age. An age of Cybertron’s rebirth and our people.” The imposing Transformer turned his attention toward the sky where the battered planet orbited, his blue optics serious. “It is time for this requiem’s end.”

[crystal-siren]

Other Worlds (Obi-Wan x Reader) Pt.4

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

@dovies666

You’re important to me. I think if there’s anything that will last forever, it’s that. Whether we separate, stay in touch or rarely speak again, you will always be that little someone I really do care for, that I would sacrifice everything for to protect and keep safe. ~ Beau Taplin // Feality

As he followed the Prime Minister’s assistant down many passageways, Obi-Wan began to wonder if this ‘host’ for the clones, had anything to do with the attacks on the Senator and Y/N’s disappearance. His thoughts were interrupted when they suddenly stopped in front of a rather non-descript door.

Waving his hand seems to initiate a doorbell, of sorts. They did not have to wait long until the door slid open and a boy greeted them silently. Obi-Wan noticed that he was identical to the boys back in the classroom he had observed earlier.

“Boba,” the alien spoke, thus introducing the boy. “Is your father here?”

Silences answers them for a short while before the boy nods. “Yep.”

“May we see him?” The Kaminoan asked.

The boy, Boba, nodded again before answering, “sure.” Stepping to the side, he allows both Obi-Wan and his guide to enter the apartment beyond. As they enter, Boba announces their arrival to his father, “dad! Taun We’s here.”

His son’s words draw the bounty hunter out of his bedroom. If he was surprised by the company, he did not show it. His expression remained impassive, even when Taun We introduced Obi-Wan and explained his reason for being there.

“Your clones are very impressive. You must be very proud.” There was truth in what he said and Obi-Wan hoped he sounded convincing enough.

“I’m just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe, Master Jedi.” The complement was brushed to the side as Jango eyed his visitor.

Obi-Wan smiled slightly, not the least bit convinced. “Aren’t we all.” His gaze momentarily wandered over the apartment when something caught his eye. An open door displayed segments of body armour, similar to the one Obi-Wan had seen Zam Wesell’s killer wear. While this seemed proof enough that this man was involved, another item snagged his attention. The cylindrical shape of an all too familiar lightsaber rested against the armour. Y/N. There was no doubt in his mind that that weapon was her’s. What was it doing here?

Jango, however had noticed this silent observation and moved to stand in front of the door, blocking Obi-Wan’s view.

“Ever make you way as far into the interior as Coruscant?” He was curious to see how the man would respond.

Jango answered without hesitation. “Once or twice.”

“Recently?”

Jango narrowed his eyes at the Jedi, “possibly.”

Obi-Wan then decided to take a slightly different route. “Then you must know Master Sifo-Dyas.”

Briefly speaking to his son in a different language, Jango turned his attention back to the Jedi. “Master who?”

“Sifo-Dyas,” Obi-Wan supplied, “isn’t he the one that hired you for this job?”

Jango shook his head. “Never heard of him. I was recruited by a man called Tyranus on one of the moons of Bogden.”

Curious, Obi-Wan thought to himself. Out-loud he said, “No? I thought...”

Taun We then spoke up for the first time since the introductions. “Sifo-Dyas told us to expect him. And he showed up just when your Jedi Master said he would. We have kept the Jedi’s involvement secret until your arrival, just as your Master requested.”

Obi-Wan nodded, deep in thought.

“Do you like your army?” Jango asked, breaking up his thoughts.

Obi-Wan looked him straight in the eye. “It seems to me it’s your army, being that they are all clones like you.”

The man seemed pleased, “they’ll do their job well. I guarantee that.”

No doubt. Obi-Wan did not break eye contact as he spoke, “I look forward to seeing them in action.” Bowing slightly, he made his farewell, “thank you for your time Jango.”

“Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi.” Jango’s words gave Obi-Wan an unpleasant feeling. Was he talking about Y/N as well? Did he know where she was? Was he the one that had taken her?

Upon exiting the apartment, Obi-Wan knew that the Council had to be told everything.

~ ~ ~

Nightmarish visions of his mother had led him here. To Tatooine. Breathing in the all too familiar dry hot air, Anakin led Padme across the dusty marketplace of Mos Espa.

He approached a well known shop with an all too familiar blue skinned alien sitting out the front.

“Excuse me?” Anakin spoke in Huttese, the same language as what the alien had previously been speaking.

Looking up from his work, the creature eyed Anakin suspiciously. “What? I don’t know you,” he continued to speak in the same language as before, oblivious as to who stood before him. “What can I do for you?” His eyes then widened as he took note of Anakin’s attire, “You look like a Jedi. Whatever it is...I didn’t do it.” In his panic, he dropped the screwdriver he was holding and swore quite colourfully.

“Here,” Anakin reached for a piece of machinery, obviously in need of fixing. “Let me help you with that.” His actions did not go unnoticed by the alien in front of them, who blinked at Anakin in surprise.

“I’m looking for Shmi Skywalker,” Anakin continued speaking Huttese as he proceeded to fix what he was holding.

His words cause the creature to narrow his eyes at him until realisation dawned. “Annie? Little Annie ?” His suspicions were confirmed when the machinery in Anakin’s hands sprung to life. “You are Annie! It is you.”

Anakin seemed unaffected by the small alien’s surprise and attempt to make conversation. His patience was running dangerously low, “my mother...?” He interrupted.

“Oh yeah, Shmi..”the blue alien scratched the back of his neck and paused a little before answering. “She’s not mine no more...I sold her.”

Anakin didn’t know how to process this information. Blinking he met the creature’s gaze, “sold her?” His voice shook ever-so-slightly.

“Years ago. Sorry Annie, but you know, business is business,” he tried to brush it off but Anakin had no intention of letting him. “Sold her to a moisture farmer named Lars,” the alien said by way of explanation. “At least I think it was Lars, he said thoughtfully before perking up. “Believe it or not, I heard he freed her and married her!”

“Do you know where they are?” The look in Anakin’s eyes and the set of his jaw seemed to get the message across.

“Long way from here,” his former owner murmured, “someplace over on the other side of Mos Eisely, I think...”

Anakin’s expression didn’t change, “I’d like to know.”

Quickly taking the hint, the blue alien led Anakin and Padme inside. “Absolutely, let’s go and have a look at my records.”

~ ~ ~

Now was one of those times that Y/N really wished she had her comlink. Not that it would do her much good with bound hands.

Surely someone would have noticed her absence by now. Y/N prayed and hoped that someone had taken the hint and noticed that while she may have been gone, her precious ship was still there.

This man, the one that held her on this Force-forsaken planet, still had the audacity not to introduce himself. Y/N hated being in the dark. It was as though he expected her to know who he was.

The way he addressed her when he had found her by the foundries, was the way one might speak to a youngling.

Looking down at her hands, Y/N groaned as her eyes landed on a chain that ran from the wall to the cuffs around her bruised wrists. She yanked on them experimentaly and screamed in frustration when nothing happened. “I’m not an animal.” She shouted to anyone that might be listening. No matter how hard or often she pulled, the chain would not dislodge from the wall.

“Then I suggest you stop acting like one.”

Y/N ground her teeth in frustration at the voice. Turning to face him, she sent him a withering look and curled her lips. “How. Dare. You.” Lurching towards him, she was brought to a halt by the chain. “Let me go. Right now.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, “you mean you don’t want to.”

The man sighed as though he was dealing with a stubborn child. “The Council has received your distress signal. I imagine a rescue party is on its way as we speak.”

This brought her up short. “But I didn’t send one,” her brow furrowed in confusion. Then it hit her. “No.” Her voice became a strangled whisper. Looking up, she looked her visitor in the eye. “Who is coming? Who did they send?” Her already tormented mind could only think of one name and she prayed that it wouldn’t be him.

“Someone who knows you better than, perhaps you know yourself.”

Y/N shook her head, struggling to keep her emotions in check. “They wouldn’t.”

“Master Kenobi is on his way as we speak.”

That name shattered any resolve she may have had left. She tore at the chains harder than before. “You’re lying,” she hissed. Her heart hammered in her chest at the prospect. “No. Please. Anyone but him.”

The man only smiled coldly. His suspicion was confirmed. For years now, he had kept an eye on her, watching her. In all that time, he found that she only had one weakness and now he intended to exploit that.

As he turned to leave, she tried once again to reach him. The sound of the chain snapping taut made his smile grow. Perhaps his Master was right and emotional torture was worse than physical.

Fighting to keep the impending tears at bay, Y/N watched him leave and the moment the door closed, she let go of the control she had been clinging to. Her scream of denial echoed off her cell’s stone walls. This really couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare, it had to be. Collapsing against the wall, Y/N closed her eyes and her tortured mind went to the only place that would grant it some peace. Oh Obi-Wan, she thought sadly.

~ ~ ~

The moment that he left the building, Obi-Wan was soaked to the bone. Making his way over to where his starfighter was waiting. With every step, he looked to see if anyone was watching. Sensing and seeing no one, he promptly turned back the way he had come. Relying heavily on his memory, Obi-Wan traced his steps back to Jango’s apartment. The moment he entered, he was met with the tell-tale signs of a hurried departure. The bedroom door was thrown open and the body armour was gone. Obi-Wan immediately began to look for her lightsaber, he could not think of anyone other than her wielding it.

Obi-Wan, the sound of his name brought him up short. That was her voice and she sounded so sad. How he had longed to hear her voice since her disappearance, if only to make sure she was safe.

His search for her weapon proved to be fruitless and as he was about to turn and leave the apartment, something small and metal caught his eye. Picking it up, he noticed that this one was her’s as well. Tightening his grip on it, he noticed a small screen off to the side and watched with widened eyes as he watched Jango and his son prep their ship for take-off.

Confident that he had something to do with Y/N’s absence and the attempts on Padme’s life, Obi-Wan headed to the nearest exit and drew his lightsaber.

He lost his element of surprise when Boba alerted Jango to his presence. Thus began the duel between the Bounty Hunter and the Jedi. Managing to deflect Jango’s numeours blaster shots, Obi-Wan resorted to physical combat skills when his lightsaber flew from his hand and skidded across the wet landing platform.

The physical fight that ensued between the two eventually sent both tumbling over the edge. As a desperate last resort, Jango fired a cable into one of the numerous towers, thus causing both to dangle dangerously close to the edge.

Managing to grip onto a nearby railing, Jango severed the cord, sending Obi-Wan down towards the raging waters beneath. Not waiting long enough to find out whether or not Obi-Wan had survived the fall, the bounty hunter climbed into his ship and prepared to leave.

The Jedi had indeed survived. Landing on a platform just above the waves, Obi-Wan ran as fast as he could towards the departing ship. Seeing the loading ramp close and the thrusters ignite, he threw a small homing device onto the ship’s hull.

Hold on Y/N, he thought to himself, I’ll find you soon.

To be continued...

Part 5

[arielsojourner]

Vader Strikes Back - Part the 7th

Not beta read/really rough/not really proof read/plot holes and OUT of order.  Also spoilers for the original first story in AO3 Back From the Future: Episode VI The Clone Wars.  Check the tag #vader strikes back on my page for the other parts to this mess/fic outline. 

Trying something new with this part. Not sure if it works or if I will rewrite the whole thing. Let me know if it works.  

*

“So we made it to Tatooine,” a voice with a noticeable Mando'a accent began as the holocam view spins slowly around taking in yellow dunes and a cloudless sky. “Most of the settlements are in the northern hemisphere of the planet. I say settlements, but this is pretty much all there is in the north. Sand and looking over here, even more sand. And what’s over in the west? Sand. The south? Almost no one goes to the southern hemisphere because there’s absolutely nothing to see there either. Except sand of course. There’s nothing to see on this entire, Force-forsaken, garbage masher of a–”

*click*

“Are the scramblers in place?”

Even through the helmet, one can see the visible eyeroll that question causes. “For the tenth time Joc, the scramblers are in place. We’re good to go. As soon as He gives us the signal, we go in and we get everyone out.”

The holoimage shakes and wobbles.

“Stand still, will you?” Another helmeted figure hisses. “We’ve got the easy part.”

“You say that but where’s the signal, huh? Why hasn’t He–“

Static garbles the holo-transmission for several seconds and there is an ear shattering boom.

“Move, move!” a trooper orders and they are on the run, bursting through the subterranean tunnels and breaking down every door they can find. It’s dark and only the lights from the clone trooper helmets’ illuminate the cells and the huddle broken figures packed inside.

*click*

From the high angle of the holoimage, the viewer can see a male Crolute is standing on a raised stage before a raucous crowd, shiny datapad in hand. “I hear 32, do I hear 40? 40 peggats for this fine specimen. She’s still got some youth to her, do I hear 48? 48 to the Lady Murra, thank you for you bid. 56! Thank you, sir. Do I hear 64? She’ll earn you that back in a week, look at her!” he crows reaching over to pull off her barely closed shirt exposing her to the eyes of the crowd. “Do I hear 64?”

The girl, barely into her teens, simply keeps her head lowered. She makes no move to cover herself. She stands still and silent on the stage.

“Tell me I can kill him,” a voice mutters darkly.

“Wait, Redeye.”

“I want to kill him. I’ve got the shot. Let me take the damn shot, Captain.”

“Wait.”

“Sold!” the auctioneer roars and two Weequays take hold of the newly purchased slave and drag her from the stage. The Crolute motions for the next lot and the guards drag forth a Twi'lek child from the holding pens. The child is barely old enough to toddle on his own two feet. His face is a howling mask of grief and pain.

“Ryma!” the child cries, his hands reaching desperately behind him to the figures packet tightly into cages. “Ryma! Ryma!”

“Skrag this,” Redeye swears and the holocamera captures perfectly the moment where the guards and the auctioneer are taken out with three quick headshot blasts from sniper rifle.

“REDEYE!” a voice roars.

“Go ahead and put me on report, Captain. I don’t care!” Redeye yells back as the camera angle shifts again and again as he snipes people in the panicking crowd, taking out slavers execution style with one perfect headshot after another. “I’m not watching one more second of this kriffing, messed up–“

There is a thrum of an engine, the familiar whine of a troop transport. Air support casts a large shadow over the auction square. A dark blurry figure falls from the sky to a land amid the screaming chaos of bodies. The mic on the holocamera picks up an all to familiar snap-hiss.

*click*

“–so introduce everyone already, Echo!” the trooper out of the holoframe, but holding the camera, calls out.

“Right, so this is Xian,” Echo says pointing at one of the people sitting with him in the courtyard. They are a motley crew each standing or sitting with slug throwing rifles in their hands, braced against their shoulders, resting on their bent knees. “And this is Lore, Etamin, Kor-Joo, and Anequis. They’re here helping us with the liberation of the planet. Lots of people are willing to help, which sure makes a change from the Wars. They’re helping us organize. Say hello to the rest of the GAR everyone!”

*click*

The holoimage moves around as if the camera is being held by someone drunk.

“Put it into focus. No! Not like that! Push the other button!”

“I can do it, CT-9779! I’m not a nerf, you know.”

“Could have fooled me,” CT-9779 replies under his breath.

“Shut up.”

“Can you just let me do it? It’s my camera! I don’t want you to break it. What are you even trying to do?”

“I’m trying to– ah-ha!” The image stops shaking and then zooms in quickly on the building. Hanging by a chain from the highest tower is a bulbous blurry mass. Then the image comes into focus.

It is the body of a Hutt, dangling in the air. It is wrapped and strangled by chains, purifying in the desert heat, and covered with insects feasting on the rotting remains.

“Really? Of all the things to use my camera for, you want to take a holo of that? You think people want to see that festering pile of–“

“Are you kidding me? This is THE holo. This, right here. People are gonna want to have this framed and in their homes, I tell you. Jabba, dead at last! I only wish we’d managed to get a holo of that moment where He used the Force to wrap the chains around him and choke him to death. The look on his face!”

*click*

“Put the weapon down! Put it down!”

The richly dressed man presses the blade even deeper into the young boy’s throat. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him if you don’t let me go!”

“Put the weapon down and release the boy or we’ll fire!”

“We can come to an arrangement. You can take this one if you leave me be. I’m a reasonable man! I’m being reasonable!”

“Kriff you, we don’t make deals with child raping scum! Let the boy go!”

The boy who’d been hanging limp in the slaver’s grasp seems to suddenly steel himself. He raises his hands and digs his nails into the arm pinning him and turns his head, heedless of the blade at his throat and bites down, hard.

The man screams, the blade slices, blood arcs, the troopers fire.

The camera jostles and the troopers’ hands come into view, pressing against the boy’s gaping throat as he lies fallen on the carpeted floor of the lavish bedroom. “Sith hell! Get a medic! GET A MEDIC!”

*click*

Sharp cracking shots fill the air. The helmet holocamera view is partially obscured by a building wall.

“They’re above the catina!  Left Foot! Bats! Do you hear me? They’re above the cantina!”

A woman pushes the trooper aside, steps out behind the cover of the building and brings her slug throwing rifle to bear.

“Get back!” The trooper yells grabbing her and yanking her back under cover. “Xian, are you crazy? We need to coordinate, you can’t just–“

There is a sudden pop and the front of the cantina explodes into a fire ball.

Xian spits and then stands, weapon at the ready and advances into the fray.

“Skrag this! Left Foot, we’re going in!”

*click*

The holoimage is dominated by the cockpit of the fighter. Armored hands work the controls. A piece of starry space is visible through the bend of the transparisteel canopy.

“Swinging around for another sweep,” a trooper voice crackles as if heard through a long tunnel.

“Stay in formation, Kickback. We’re having a hard enough time covering the whole planet with this CAP to have you straggling.”

“Negative, Pike. I’m getting something, something from the southern hemisphere.”

“I’ve got nothing on my scopes,” another voice protests. “No one even lives in the southern hemisphere.”

A sliver of the yellow sunbaked planet is visible now through the canopy.

“I’m telling you, there’s something,” Kickback insists, priming his weapons. “Come around to flank me. I think we’ve got someone about to try and run the blockade.”

“Another feeling, huh?”

Kickback laughs. “I haven’t been wrong yet. There! Do you see? Switch to visual tracking. The engine trail. Point five.”

“They’re flying like a mynok outta hell,” Pike remarks. “Unidentified ship. You are ordered to stand down and prepare to be boarded.”

“They’re not answering and they’re not stopping.”

“I can see that Oddball,” Pike responds with exasperation. “Comm the Dauntless, tell them we have our first catch of the day. Kickback, can you--”

“Hyperspace event!” another voice shouts over the comms. “We’ve got someone coming out of lightspeed!”

“Who is it?”

“GAR cruiser, sir!”

“Blast it, forget about that! The ship is making a break for it!” Kickback yelled. “We can’t let them–!”

*click*

“Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth or are you just a meat sack in armor with a gun? I don’t keep slaves. Everyone works for me because they chose to,” the woman insists. “It’s a job.”  She turns and gestures to the various barely clad species huddled behind her.

“Everyone gets scanned,” the trooper insists. “Denal?”

The trooper steps forward and raises the strangely cobbled together device.

The woman stares at the scanner and her eyes widen and she pales. “L-look, I’m telling you. There’s been a mistake. This is a house of pleasure. The girls and boys here make a decent living. What’s wrong with a little companionship? You, trooper.  Denal, is it? Don’t you want to rest a bit? Spend some quality time with one or two of my employees? On the house, of course!”

The device flashes once and Denal turns the screen so the woman can see. “Employees, huh? Then why are they all implanted with transmitters and bombs?”

*click*

In the dim light it is hard to make out much, but the clone armor still stands out, reflecting back the emergency lanterns as the trooper digs frantically with his hands, a part of his own armor, and what appears to be the Force, at the side of a mountain.

“Hardcase?  Hardcase, there’s nothing more to be done.”

“They were just behind me, sir,” Hardcase explains as he strains to move more debris. “The little one, he was hanging from my shoulders. They’re probably just past these rocks. They’re probably waiting for us to get them out. We just need to dig a little bit more. We just need to prop this up with something--”

With every boulder shifted, ever meter dug, his progress is eaten away by the force of gravity, dragging down more of the mountain.

Hardcase lets out a noise of frustration. “I need some help,” he finally says. “I just need some help digging.” He turns and faces the officer who is trying to get him to stop. “Captain, is Fives up yet? What about Chatterbox? And Cooker? If they’ve recovered, we can clear the entrance together. We can use the Force and–“

“Fives, Cooker, and Chatterbox are still unconscious,” Captain Rex interrupts quietly.  “So’s Flare and Bats. They held up the mountain as long as they could. You need to rest too, soldier.”

Hardcase blinks. Then he shakes himself and turns back to his task.

“Just a bit more, Captain. They were just behind me. They’re waiting. I’ve just gotta move a few more rocks.  Just a few more, yeah.”

*click*

“Anakin? Anakin, enough now. Turn it off, please.”