#emerald city ass ship

[lonelylittledot]

Wicked

~ a Wicked scholar's thoughts on the movie

Okay. I had detached myself from any feelings about the movie truly years ago, and so I walked into the movie theatre with really low expectations.

My overall opinion: it was not a bad adaptation. I'd expected to give it 3/10, it turned out as a solid 6.5/10.

Here are just a few things that stuck out to me:

The landscapes - didn't hate them but didn't like them.

The costumes - amazing. Pretty much every outfit slayed. I feel like they could have been even a bit more extravagant, but they were great as they were. - As for Elphaba, I think my favorite outfit was the first Shiz dress and the post-Popular outfit. - Glinda's bubble dress was exquisite, and I really liked her Emerald City ensemble, although I do miss the yellow dress, I feel like it doesn't get enough love

I liked Ariana's G(a)linda surprisingly a lot. Maybe it's because I know she's a huge Wicked fan, but I felt like her love for the source material really showed.

I wasn't really sold on Cynthia. Don't get me wrong, she has a truly fabulous voice, and she absolutely did shine in the big, loud parts - but overall, I wasn't a fan of her versions of the songs. She looked and acted great, though.

Michelle Yeoh, the woman you are. Fantastic casting, no notes.

Jonathan. Oh, dear, Johnathan Bailey. Looks? Hot. Vocals? Gorgeous. Vibes? Flawless. I wish he'd played the role a decade ago, because he does look forty and not college-age, but I think everything else about him truly makes up for it.

Speaking of - I liked that Fiyero got just a few tiny little additional scenes/lines, really helped to flesh out his character more.

Grammar-nazi Elphaba, my beloved.

Listen, I have shipped Fiyero and Elphaba since I was 14. And I'm not going to stop now. I stan them, I loved their chemistry in the movie, I will ship them until the day I die.

The direction on G(a)linda/Elphaba - hella gay. But I didn't quite feel their chemistry, neither friendly nor romantic. It was okay, but didn't blow me away.

IDINA AND KRISTEN???? love love love love my og queens

The movie dragged on. A lot. This is my only really big criticism, unfortunately it's a really important one. I think they could easily have made the whole musical into one 3h long movie, and it would have been much better for the pacing. - there weren't even that many added scenes; and a lot of the additions were pretty good, actually - some were totally unnecessary though. like the guards chasing Elphaba and Glinda and the whole balloon shenanigans? - similarly, many scenes were just unnecessarily stretched out; with the camera staying too long in one place or one moment being dragged out way too long - some of the songs just had slightly longer (like 2 bars?) breakes between the choruses added for no reason

Defying Gravity. This is the same thing as one of the previous comments, but I feel like it deserves its separate mention. The pacing in that scene (or, here, more like a collection of scenes) was extremely off, the song losing all of its momentum by being chopped up into pieces. And the way they made us wait for the iconic vocalization at the end; I honestly thought I'd die of boredom.

Sometimes I felt like the movie couldn't decide if it wanted to be more stage-y and theatrical, and lean into the whole campy vibe, or more cinematic and "naturally" acted; and sometimes it switched weirdly between the two.

There was one single thing that looked way better onscreen than onstage. The Lion cub. In the movie, he looked extremely cute, tiny little adorable darling baby kitten. Way better than the creepy-ass puppet they use in the show.

There were many more tasty little details that I simply couldn't remember/write down, or else I wouldn't have been able to pay any attention to the movie. Once it's available, maybe I'll rewatch and dissect it in more detail (I should also finally watch the 1939 Wizard of Oz, it's a CRIME that I still haven't! I'm sure people who know it well could also see many references in the new Wicked - even I noticed the ruby slippers in Popular, for example!).

Summing up this unnecessarily long rant:

It was not a bad adaptation; although I doubt it will make many people into Wicked fans. At the end of the day, it's clearly a story made for the stage, and even though it was transferred to the big screen fairly well, I think it still belongs in the regular theatre, not the movie one.

[mikimakiboo]

The people have spoken

Well, here's my boy :D

His name is Toxicity ! Pictures and lore under the cut because it's long lmao

Also if you have any questions about him please don't hesitate to send asks I'll be happy to answer 👉🏻👈🏻

Fun fact: I created him because I wanted to ship Hate with someone but I didn't want it to be with Nightmare, and since I couldn't find anyone I ended up making a whole ass oc (so yeah Toxicity is shipped with Hate lmao)

Hate is by : @/6chimeraqueen9 (I think ??)

He's a tall demon-like skeleton (approximately 1m80) with green wings (his wings look like the Lightfury's wings in HTTYD except they're green instead of white), a green tail and an emerald horn

His magic allows him to make people toxic towards their partner/family/friends/anyone but he doesn't use it often, when he makes someone toxic it usually means that the person they are toxic with was a jerk and deserved to be treated like shit in his opinion

He also has a passion for chemistry and biology and he can make lots of different potions, using his magic as components to vary the results and make anything he wants

He also cannot use his magic to fight as it is not made for that, so instead he learnt how to build bombs and use firearms (here's him with a gun as a shitpost lmao)

He is usually pretty stoic and doesn't show much his emotions, he actually has troubles expressing his feelings and needs time in order to put them into words, so he'll usually stay silent and will tend to bottle it up (same with love, he'll show it through act of services, quality time or gift giving instead of verbally)

One good way to determine what he's feeling tho is by looking at his tail because it will wag or move according to his mood

Noowwwwww his backstory:

He was born between two wars in an isolated universe where peace was an abstract concept, at a time where no one trusted each other because anyone could be a spie, so everyone was either ready to fight anyone in their way or manipulative to either get people on their side or not be suspicious

The ambient toxicity mixed with some left-over magic from the previous war ended up creating a child around six years old (similar as to how Paperjam was born from the mix of Error's and Ink's magic, instead in that case it's magic residues and toxic atmosphere)

He roamed around at first, trying to find someone who could guide him and teach him how things worked, but due to his aura (that he couldn't control yet) he was only met with aggressiveness and ended up having to learn everything by himself (all while living outside since he didn't have any family)

He was a teen when the second war started, so too young to be enrolled in it, and stayed in the city instead

By that time he had learnt to control his aura, but with the war it amplified his magic and as a result he had to wear gloves as to not influence people by touching them by accident (which happened frequently)

His universe ended up collapsing on itself due to its instability (multiple wars, emotional unbalance, ...) but he luckily managed to escape, becoming an out-code (he was a young adult, around 20yo at that time)

Since he didn't have anything else to do and nowhere to go he started traveling the multiverse until he settled in a calm surface AU in which he discovered his passion for chemistry and biology and started studying it

He still travels during his free time and met other out-codes like that, some of which he became friend with as well as universes he likes to visit sometimes (he met Hate during one of his trips)

He still has an apprehension of physical contacts when he is not wearing his gloves so he mostly never takes them off (except for laundry or cleaning himself and sleeping, of course)

He also has troubles opening up to someone or trusting others as he grew up mostly alone and didn't have anyone in his AU since they were all suspicious of everyone

Also the hole in his tail is actually an injury, he got stabbed when he was a kid as he was trying to steal food and it didn't heal properly so it made a hole (that's why he doesn't have it in the last pic)

And obviously he learnt how to build bombs and use firearms in his AU, firearms he learnt by watching the soldiers and training in the forest, and bombs he learnt by disassembling those that didn't blow up and looking at how they were made in the factories (mostly by sneaking inside or looking through the windows)

Then it was a lot of practice and he is now able to create little portable bombs and use firearms

So yeah that's my baby :D

[vatiiagames]

The Cast || Romance Options

Overall there are six main romances. I plan on introducing secret romances later down the line, but we will see. (;

All characters are romanceable regardless of gender.

|| EWAN GERAUNT, THE VIPER [M] ||

Appearance - Ewan is a strikingly handsome man with short, chestnut colored curly hair and dark amber colored eyes with flecks of brown in them. He is clean shaven and when he smiles he has deep set dimples. His skin is tanned with sparse scars covering his arms and other parts of showing skin. Ewan stands at 6'0 and has an athletic/lean muscled build.

Personality - Despite being very flirty and charming, Ewan isn't into flings and wishes for something more. He is fiercely loyal and protective of those he cares about; even willing to put his life on the line for to keep them safe. Ewan will often share fond stories of previous adventures with those he takes company with.

|| VARRE DELATORE, THE MAGE [M] ||

Appearance - Varre is elven, marking him with extremely elegant but handsome features. His hair is stark white and cascades down his back with elegant braids interwoven in its strands. Varre’s eyes are a deep emerald green, contrasting greatly with his pale skin color. His cheekbones are sharp, as well as his jawline. Varre stands at 6’4 and has a slim but toned build.

Personality - Despite being elven, Varre has no connection to his people. He is considered a city elf, born away from the cultures of his people only to be shipped off to the White Tower when he displayed magical capabilities. He is a quieter individual but very caring in his own way. Varre’s intelligence is rivaled by almost none and he is well aware of this.

|| CARLISE AURELIOS, THE LEADER [F] ||

Appearance - Carlise has the typical Aurelios features: Black hair, olive skin, grey eyes. Her curly hair is long and normally worn in a long, thick braid thrown over her shoulder. Loose curls fall over her forehead. Her olive skin is peppered with beauty marks. Carlise has a hooked nose that is adorned with a golden hoop. She stands at 5’6 and has a curvy build.

Personality - Times have changed Carlise. Her father’s assassination turned her once caring and warm heart to ice. She is afraid of letting people close to her and has a habit to push them away. Carlise is a driven individual and enscripted the help of Varre to learn how to weaken Harkahn. She is not afraid to pull strings to get what she wants.

|| DEA, THE HALFBLOOD [F] ||

Appearance - Being a half-elf, Dea gets a good mix of both her parents’ lineages. Her sandy blonde hair is thick and wild, barely being wrangled into a high ponytail whose length reaches her mid back. Her eyes are dark and piercing, with sharp cheekbones and a beautiful face. Dea’s ears are pierced, with the left one being scarred and cut short at the tip. She stands at 6’1 and has a muscular build.

Personality - Dea grew up rough. Halfbloods, as they’re called, are extremely frowned upon and outcast in Ordaire. She had ran the streets for quite some time before finally joining a mercenary band. Traveling and working with different groups of rougher people has earned Dea a crude mouth but a heart of gold. If you needed the shirt off of her back, she’d gladly give it to you. But if you needed a swift kick in the ass, Dea would gladly give you that too.

|| KIZAN FREMONT, THE KNIGHT [M] ||

Appearance - Kizan's most striking feature, apart from his stature, are his mismatched eyes. His right eye is a striking electric blue whereas his left is a rich brown color. Kizan's blue-black hair is styled into a short dreadhawk. His cool brown skin is practically flawless, save for one small scar on his bottom lip. Kizan stands at 6'2 and has a thick, muscular build.

Personality - Kizan can be intimidating at first. His father served the Grand Duke as his protector, and now Kizan serves Carlise and her brother Asan as their protector. Due to his position, Kizan is expected to be the typical stoic knight and leader of his men. While he fulfills his role well, he is actually quite the charmer outside of the armor. He finds fun in the little things and lives to enjoy every day he lives.

|| AMYSA BRIARFEL, THE APPRENTICE [F] ||

Appearance - Amysa has a youthful appearance. Her soft brown hair is pulled into two waist length braids, one over her shoulder and the other hanging down her back. She has short choppy bangs that cover her forehead. Amysa’s nose is straight and topped with circular glasses. She had a beauty mark above the right side of her lips. Her skin is a peachy color. Amysa stands at 5’4 and has a thin build.

Personality - Amysa has spent a short time outside of the White Tower of Castavel. Not quite acquainted with the way of the outside world, she can appear naive. However, Amysa is a knowledge sponge and learns extremely fast. She is incredibly caring and eager to please. Although she is an incredibly intelligent individual, she thinks with her heart instead of her brain. It has gotten her into trouble numerous times.

[the-wraiths-wife]

ADJALA BREKKER

POV : Ur so obsessed with the idea of Kaz Brekker having an adopted sister who is the only thread between his past and present that you wrote a whole ass fanfic and are now posting your first fanart of her on a platform for millions to see.

*In a soft smoll bby voice* : Her name is Adjala btw and she has thirteen knives...... and she simps for Inej secretly like her bro.... she ships kanej to......

• AND SHE'S A BAD B!TCH WHO BURNT DOWN EMERALD PALACE FOR HER BROTHER!!!!!

• ‘This city shows no remorse. Much like myself if I dare say.’

• LITERALLY MURDERED A TON OF GOONS FOR HER HUSBAND!!!!

• She likes to kneel down...... To Inej Ghafa

• Is the saint of the dead b!tches

[kg-clark-inthedark]

So my fic is corvosider and all that but today I’ve been rereading it to help with writers block and was reminded again just how infatuated I am with the city of Karnaca. Dumping some examples of my love-letter-ass descriptions of that sweet sweet Jewel of the South below the cut because why not:

Corvo returning to Karnaca by ship (ch 13):

Karnaca emerges dreamlike from the morning haze when the shoreline comes into view days later. Where my attention would normally be drawn by the sprawling metropolis, its edges touched softly by the summer sunrise, I instead watch the mountain overhead. Shindaerey Peak slices a sharp, bleeding edge through the mist. Pale, pink streaks of light from the east lie, refracted through the early fog, upon the side of the mountain that faces the city. But that curious crevice that splits the mountain in two is cast completely in shadow. A dark, mysterious wound carved into such seemingly unyielding stone. It appears to me an omen of the Void that lies within.

The Outsider looking down on Karnaca from up on Shindaerey Peak (ch 12):

The view of all that is below flourishes before my eyes. The beautiful spectacle that is the Jewel of the South is distant and sprawling, showing how far up we’ve come. A low fog has settled into the valley, streaming down from the mountains and dissolving away at the ocean’s edges. The city persists through the mist with its brilliantly colored rooftops and emerald umberwood canopies, unable to be rendered pale by the gray, unsaturated filter through which the sun radiates. I can make out the northern Campo Seta District from here and dare to wonder if I can spot my old apartment building…

The Outsider briefly stopping in Karnaca for supplies before embarking on a dangerous journey (ch 12):

I follow him down the bustling street and familiar smells of Karnaca fill my nose - the spices of a street vendor cooking meat, raw seafood hanging from the stall nextdoor, the summer humidity bringing earthy, leafy aromas with every breeze that flows down from the wind corridor to mingle with the salt-tinged air of the bay. The comfort of it all is intoxicating.

I end up hurrying past him. If we dawdle here too long, I’ll never want to leave.

Corvo and the Outsider leaving Karnaca together (ch 7):

The ship begins moving now and we quiet down. The two of us watch as the city we both love fades further and further away. As the minutes pass, its details begin to blend together in the windy seaside haze. Individual buildings become whole city blocks, masses of beige plaster and painted concrete shining in the late morning sun. The towering wind turbines appear as thin as dandelion wisps at this distance. Now from this vantage point, the mountains look like great hands, cradling the city and lowering it to drink at the water’s edge.

[aggravateddurian]

Freerunners!! for wip game

Thanks for the ask!

Freerunners is an original speculative fiction universe devised and written by me!

Freerunners is set in our future (approx. 2470), in a galaxy where humanity fell into a dark cyberpunk age, but managed to pull itself out with the unlocking of a future among the stars. It shares a timeline with my other original speculative fiction universe, Subsurf.

The story blends elements of cyberpunk (notably: cyberware, evil corporations ruining peoples' lives, vexes: a technology similar to braindances, but more inspired by BTLs from Shadowrun, and the whole high tech, low life feel of the universe), moderately hard science fiction like The Expanse and makes concessions towards unrealistic tech like jump drives for the sake of the story.

Full detes below the cut:

The story itself follows the crew of the Independent Contractor high-endurance courier ship 'IC Isthmus' as a simple cargo mission to deliver a replacement rocket engine to a Capellan intelligence officer (Moses Marcellus Booker, who I have always imagined as being played by Idris Elba, so screw you CDPR I thought of it first!) drags them into a complicated series of interweaving and competing interests and designs between the galactic powers.

The crew of the Isthmus comes from a variety of backgrounds. Some have clear inspirations, others are completely original creations.

Captain Connor 'Truck' Pearce - a war veteran and the captain of the Isthmus. Fiercely protective of his crew, and dealing with PTSD after losing his arm during the war. He's a native of the United Arcturian Colonies.

Zoe Alvarado - a former scrapyard techie from the ass-end of the resort planet Paraiso, who learned to fly from her grandma before being recruited by Truck. Chief inspirations: Avril 'Scrap Queen' Mead (Ace Combat 7) and Judy Alvarez (Cyberpunk 2077). Citizen of Paraiso, a free planet under Arcturian protection.

Jaidyn Armas - a webcrawler (net specialist, think netrunner or decker) from Paraiso's largest city, New Emerald. She worked as a net technician in New Emerald's biggest brothel for a while. She joined Truck's crew when Truck and Zoe helped her escape a deadly situation. Jaidyn and Zoe are in a relationship. Chief Inspirations: Valerie Ocampo-Gonzalez (Cyberpunk 2077 OC). Citizen of Paraiso.

Noah 'Chief' Rodriguez - a loadmaster, and a former Warrant Officer in the United Republic Space Force. He was Truck's first crewmate, having joined him after working a stint with Truck for Transstellar Spaceways. Noah is in a relationship with Cory Morgan, another crewman. Citizen of the United Republic of Earth Colonies.

Cory Morgan - a space nomad. He's a webcrawler, or at least, has the cyberware to be a webcrawler, but his true speciality is in astrogation. When he's not keeping the FTL computer running, he's arguing with Jaidyn about nerd shit. Citizen of the Commonwealth of Capella.

Isiah Larson - a former Capellan Navy medic who joined the crew on Terra Nova. Larson is a snarky, quippy man, who uses humour to put people at ease, a talent he picked up during the Capellan war with the Star Rakers, a large nation of pirate space nomads.

Slate - Slate is... Slate. She's a 6'7" beast, equipped with state of the art combat cyberware and has been bioengineered for peak physical performance. She is known for her husky, monotone voice, and her freakish combat performance. Only Truck could accidentally recruit a supersoldier. There's one problem, she can't explain how she got the way she was, or even who she is, because her memories are sealed behind some kind of neural lock technology. Isiah believes that she might be a corporate weapons experiment, given much of her cyberware is produced by Kagiyama-Soryu.

Chapter 1 'Disengage' is finished, but is stuck in editing hell. Chapter 2 'Replacement Parts' is about 10% finished. I'll be posting these soon.

All things Freerunners can be found on by sideblog @durianwritesoriginalfic, or by following the original setting: freerunners tag.

[tiffcore]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀june 'eve' buggs

twenty - five. the titular spiderman. jumping june bug!

hailing from earth-420-1, trying to keep the many worlds of the multiverse safe.

they/them. a former athlete turned leaping loon.

really, this wasn't supposed to be their job. swinging from roof-tops or throwing punches, putting a pause on their athletic pursuits in favor of saving the city from the numerous masked menaces that have seemed to ... pop up in such a short amount of time. puts their old skills to good use tho, bounding, leaping (because now they can jump super high) often head first into danger!

they are good enough at it. so good, in fact, that a portal rips open in space and presumably time, and some musclebound (june knows a fellow gym rat when they see one) bloke is mansplaining some shit about a multiverse to them. how they could be a 'valuable asset' to his cause.

trying to keep the all the infinite worlds safe definetly seems like a tall order, but, who knows? maybe they'll find that sense of 'fufillment' grandma was always yammering on about.

childhood?

june knows of their parents. never really knew em though, always relied on their abuelos to hold their hand and patch up their scrapes. abuela always seemed to be in poor health, but june never really noticed it when they were younger.

they were always a rough and tumble kind of kid.

loved to be outdoors. all the time. every single bump, bruise and scrape was a testament to their vitality, the love of life that used to ripple through them back then. their grandparents always encouraged them to do sports!

june loved long jumping and pole vaulting, but was good at track and field and did a small bout of boxing at their grandfather's request.

they could have been a real up and comer! gently encouraged to pursue passion's and dreams that the grandparents couldn't, they start putting themselves out there, networking, showing their prowess and talent, doing really well at sports in high school and eventually college- then their grandmother passes away. but they still got that smile on their face! they are still trying. it's what grandma would have wanted. then grandpa's ailing too …. then he goes as well … and they are so alone…. they visit the graves almost every week. and one day, a spider appeared. they wack it off of their grandmother's tombstone because how dare it, take up that little bit of space, it's like an insult, a spit in the face even! it's a brilliant emerald green, almost unnaturally iridescent. they get bit, and nothing is ever the same.

them?

june is just a silly goofy guy. using humor to cope (sweetheart) and generally staying away from being too serious unless the moment requires it. they don't care for conformity and are unapologetically bold, especially with their appearance. they have very specfic likes and tastes,

adores piercings, loves analysis and learning about things from other people as opposed to entirely on their own. enjoys other's presences, can talk someone's ear off if they'd let them, and overall a happy go lucky person. they have their own struggles with abandonment and depression they don't often talk about, but is often comforted by the other spidermen.

june has a fit and toned body. they have thick arms and shapely shoulders, strong hips and a superior ass. their thighs are rippling muscles, utterly powerful - could definitely crush a watermelon. make a grown man tap out.

they got bit by a jumping spider, and as a result they have ultra hops.

ships?

vague ones. would consider themselves good friends with penelope, miguel, and semi-entangled with hobie.

[the-firebird69]

The Chief of police has never encountered such a thing before😳 #film #m...

We know about this stuff but we didn't know about the green emerald we didn't know about the comet empire ships not all of us and there's a ton of people that did not in the city of their fat asses in the way and people were trying to get us the hell out of the way and they can't do anything here either we now see what we're doing wrong we're helping the empire by dying they brought the cabinium up there by simply having them build chips and some of them are going to use power sources the other is for couplings we're a war at ladies and gentlemen and we are in a lot of trouble this is terrible and my nephew deserves stuff for his efforts not to be ridiculed but I see why

Garth

[vulpes-fennec]

The Fae Equality Initiative (Ch. 3) 🌊

Summary: Tarquin, High Lord of the Summer Court, has sent ripples of shock throughout Prythian with his plans to eliminate discrimination against Lesser Fae. When the Night Court is invited to send a delegation to Summer Court, Elain Archeron can’t wait to show everybody what she’s capable of on her first official Inner Circle assignment. Little does she know that Tarquin has also recruited Lucien Vanserra’s assistance…

Read: Ch 2 | AO3

🌸P.S. This is what I had in mind for Elain's dinner dress! Night Court black but with a touch of Elain's style🌸

I feel bad thinking this way, but Tarquin’s palace is nicer than the one in Hewn City, Elain thought. She loved how the sunlight streamed through her window, loved hearing the squawking gulls and watching the ships sail by. Although the Hewn City palace was lovely with its open views of the night sky, it was also quiet and distant from all signs of life. 

Because she and Balthazar were the only ones staying for the entirety of Tarquin’s conference, they had rooms with window views. The males graciously agreed to share a room so that Emerie and Melanie could have their own spaces. 

Elain had packed and unpacked her travel bags four times in her excitement for the trip. It was her first trip after all, even if it was for official Night Court business. A real business trip, her heart swelled with pride. She had brought a mix of breezy dresses, formal gowns, and comfortable work frocks. Summer clothes that had been tucked away for winter were given another opportunity to shine in a Seasonal Court. She busied herself with hanging up dresses and setting several books she’d borrowed from Rhys’s library on the bedside table in a neat little stack. Velaris history, Lesser Fae laws, Night Court governing bodies…hopefully reading these will keep me from appearing wholly ignorant of Night Court matters… 

“Elain? What are you wearing tonight?” Emerie was knocking on her door. Just as Elain opened her door, Melanie popped out of her room on the other side of the suite. The vampyr’s huge, furred ears sticking out of silky blonde hair—and uncanny sense of hearing—were clearly her defining features. 

“If you have wardrobe troubles, you have come to the right place.” Melanie’s pitch black eyes gleamed as she hollered at the door next to her, “Balthazar! Nikon! Get your asses out here! We need to plan our outfits for dinner!”

Balthazar’s boyishly charming face poked out of his door. “No need to yell,” he grumbled, mildly amused. “You’d think someone with sensitive hearing would speak more softly.” 

Nikon stepped out of the bathroom, already dressed in a fine black suit and pants. “This is the only suit I brought,” he said apologetically. 

But Melanie nodded her approval. “I can work with that,” she replied confidently. The seamstress assigned Balthazar to a black suit, popping open the top buttons of his shirt to display his Illyrian tattoos. Emerie was fitted into a strapless, knee-length black dress that showed off her muscled calves. Melanie tied a forest green sash around Emerie’s waist, the pop of color trailing behind the warrior like a miniature train. Elain excitedly loaned Emerie her emerald necklace, claiming it would accentuate Emerie’s collarbone. 

Melanie had selected a black, more conservative version of Mor’s strappy red gowns for herself before focusing her efforts on Elain. “Hmm,” Melanie mused. “Black isn’t reeaaally your color, but we’re all dressed in black already.” 

“I don’t mind wearing black,” Elain said, though it sounded more like a question than a definitive statement. 

“Well, I suppose the one you brought is still cute.” Melanie held up the black gown Feyre had given Elain. It was on the frilly side, with slightly puffed sleeves and a shimmering mesh overlay. “I think it would look better if you wore—” Melanie scrutinized Elain’s jewelry collection “—these pearl earrings with it. After all, we’re in the Summer Court.” She pointed to the very pair that Lucien Vanserra had gifted Elain two Solstices ago. The white orbs nestled in a ring of gold seemed to taunt Elain by reminding her of Lucien’s distraught expression that night. 

Elain flushed. I thought I left those at home. “Oh no, I can’t wear them,” she said, grabbing them from the box. Melanie gave a quizzical look at Elain’s flustered response. “My…my mate gifted them to me. But I haven’t accepted the bond…haven’t spoken to him—” 

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. The tell-tale sound echoed through the air. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

Elain froze mid-sentence, her brown eyes widening. “Sweet gods above,” she gasped. What is Lucien Vanserra doing here? Her heart, which had inevitably soared at the thought of seeing his handsome face again, plummeted with dread when she remembered that they were barely on speaking terms. 

Melanie’s eyes widened. “What happened?” 

“He’s here,” Elain murmured. “My mate. I can hear his heart.” 

Melanie’s furred bat ears twitched, listening. “Hmm…I don’t…hear anything?” She frowned. “I can take a look outside and see…what does he look like?” Melanie offered. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. Elain was at loss for words, aware of only Lucien’s heartbeat. Even though the vampyr heard nothing, Elain knew it was him. 100 percent. She had recognized his heartbeat even in her sleep, back when she was a freshly Made Fae. 

“No, that’s alright. Perhaps he’s just passing through,” Elain said faintly. The temptation to seek him out tugged at her self-control, but…no, better to do nothing than to make a mistake. She shoved the desire away. “Maybe I’ll wear these amethyst earrings instead.” She smiled at Melanie weakly. 

“Yes, that’s also a good choice. We should hurry, though, since we only have half an hour before dinner. Let me know if you need anything!” The seamstress left, leaving Elain clutching at pearls and listening to her mate’s fading heartbeat. 

***

I’m sure Lucien came and left. Casual emissary business, right? Elain could have sworn Lucien Vanserra’s scent lingered in Tarquin’s hallways as they followed servants to the Great Hall. And you know what, maybe Tarquin’s palace just happens to smell like crisp apples and earthy leaves…no big deal. Or at least that was what she told herself. 

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Nikon whispered to Elain as their little group readied themselves to enter the Great Hall. “If only my sons could see this.” The Velaris council member had two young boys who had cried profusely when their father departed.

Same, Elain agreed silently. She wiped her clammy hands on her gown, feeling especially anxious. Hearing Lucien’s heartbeat had turned her general excitement into high-strung restlessness. I’m finally representing the Night Court, she told herself. This is my big moment. Nothing can go wrong. 

“Elain, you go first,” Emerie gave Elain a gentle nudge. “Balthazar and I will be behind you.” The Illyrian warriors had tucked in their velvet wings, keeping the Night Court’s entrance humble.

“Nikon and I will follow,” added Melanie. They embodied the two sides of the Night Court: Velaris and Hewn City. Elain swallowed nervously. It was unlike her to be nervous in social situations, but representing Feyre and Rhys was a big deal. She wanted to protest: don’t make me the leader! I don’t know what I’m doing! But before she could, the double oak doors swung open to reveal a full hall of Fae staring at her. 

Lucien Vanserra was sitting at one of the round tables in all his red-haired glory. 

Elain froze. Cauldron boil me. WHY. IS. HE. HERE? WHY. Fuck. She bit her tongue to keep from swearing out loud. Oh gods. Oh gods, he’s attending the conference, Elain realized with horror. 

Over the last few years, every time Elain saw Lucien Vanserra felt like a gut punch. And today was no exception. Something deep down called out to the male sitting across the room, like her soul was yearning to merge with his. Elain’s self-control strained to keep her gaze forward, to ignore his cruel beauty.

The one person I CANNOT work with in all of Prythian is here?!? There goes my plan to ace this assignment. Mother’s tits, I might as well go home!   

She wanted nothing more than to turn and run tail-tucked between her legs. She didn’t want him to see her like this, all dressed in garish black and fumbling her way through a political conference. It’s too late now, Elain realized with dread. Court-assigned tables of Fae were looking at the Night Court delegation expectantly. Everybody is looking at us. He’s seen ME. And if I falter…Emerie gently put a hand on Elain’s trembling shoulder, encouraging her to move forward. 

No, no, no. I can’t mess up when I’ve barely started, Elain tried to calm down with Nesta’s Mind-Stilling tips. Just…just breathe and get through dinner. I can deal with this later…Elain inhaled shakily, willing herself to keep her composure as she moved dazedly towards the Night Court’s table.  

***Lucien***

The Cauldron has a sick sense of humor. “Shit,” Lucien muttered. “She’s here.” My mate, my mate. His instincts stirred to life, as they always did around her. You are mine, I am yours. Lucien clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the possessiveness coursing through his veins.

He’d taken time to explore Adriata after lunch, allowing Luke to escort Viviane back to the Summer Palace. He’d walked straight to the Great Hall upon returning, which was probably why he didn’t cross paths with his mate earlier. Feyre and Rhys sent ELAIN? He had not been expecting Elain. Absolutely fucking not. This cannot be happening...oh gods. Gwyn and Azriel knew. They fucking knew, and that was why Gwyn was acting so strange. Lucien was in disbelief at his own ignorance. Did Tarquin know too?

His eyes followed Elain as she drifted across the floor to the Night Court’s table. Her soft brown eyes were bright, but apprehensive. Like a curious fawn stepping out of the woods. She was easily the most beautiful female in the world, even with the black dress leeching the warmth out of her skin. 

Elain looked anywhere else but him. Smiled at everyone else but him. Lucien’s heart quickened as she tucked a lock of brown hair behind her pointed ear, the subtle gesture criminally endearing. The purple gem glittering from her earlobe brought out a wince. I don’t know why I keep stupidly having hopes that she would one day wear the pearl earrings I gifted her. It’s more likely that she threw them away or pawned them off. 

Lucien glanced at Tarquin, whose smile was so wide it looked uncomfortable. Tamlin, seated at the Spring Court table across the hall, gave Lucien a subtle grimace. And Viviane flashed him a shocked look. Lucien’s heart clenched at his friends’ sympathies. Elain’s coldness towards me is nothing, he told himself. My pride has been snubbed so many times over the centuries there’s nothing much for her to ruin. 

Without a court. Without an eye. Without a loving family. Without a mate. I’m used to it. 

Lucien managed to wrench his gaze away from Elain to assess the general situation. It was evident Autumn Court was not coming, though Lucien wasn’t surprised. My father has always been a fucking bigot, he thought. Lucien’s gloom with Elain heated into visceral disgust for Beron Vanserra. Expecting the male who’d murdered his son’s Lesser Fae lover to send a delegation to the Summer Court…is like expecting the sun to reverse its course in the sky. It would never happen. If anything, Beron would have sent a mob to protest Tarquin’s efforts.

He was interrupted from his thoughts when Tarquin stood up from the Summer Court table. The High Lord cut a majestic figure in his navy jacket, his white hair cascading over broad shoulders. His earthy brown skin radiated youth, but his turquoise eyes were resolute. As his liquid power ebbed throughout the room in a subtle display of dominance, the Fae stilled in response, ready to listen to the High Lord speak. 

***Tarquin***

“Good evening! I believe I have personally introduced myself to everyone, but in case it wasn’t clear, I am Tarquin, High Lord of the Summer Court.” To his relief, a few appreciative chuckles arose from the room. 

Tarquin swallowed thickly at the sea of expectant faces. Giving political speeches was second nature. And he’d practiced this particular speech hundreds of times: in his dreams, in his private office, and in front of his most trusted advisors. 

So why am I so gods-damned nervous?  

“As you all know, the Summer Court will no longer use terms that imply differential status among the Fae. From now on, we will refer to each other as ‘Fae’ or by our respective species.” 

A smattering of appreciative claps sounded, boosting Tarquin’s confidence. No boos, yet. That’s a good sign. They seem receptive to my initiatives…except for the Autumn Court that didn’t show up. I suppose that was expected. Tarquin continued. “The last few decades have been tumultuous. The Wall has come down. We are building back stronger than ever after the war. Prythian now has two High Ladies.” He acknowledged Viviane with a nod. 

“As jarring as change may be, it does not have to be bad. Have we not enforced abhorrent discriminatory practices for centuries? Will countless more Fae have to suffer senselessly? Are we capable of changing for the better? Well…I believe we are.”  

“I understand many Fae have qualms about the future. I understand that we have many obstacles in the way of Fae being treated equally in our society. That is why I value input on how we can move forward.” 

“I am truly honored by the presence of so many different Fae, so many delegations here tonight. It is my genuine hope that our conversations in the coming weeks will spark collaboration and progress across all courts. So…here’s to a more equal, more compassionate Prythian!” Tarquin lifted his wine glass in the air. His hand shook slightly in trepidation. Will they join me, or will they scorn me? After all I have given, after all I have said from the bottom of my heart…there is no guarantee that I will succeed. 

Resounding cheers and affirmations echoed throughout the room as the Fae lifted their goblets in response. As Tarquin scanned the tables, he could see that some Fae had tears in their eyes. The optimism shining in their faces warmed Tarquin’s heart, boosting his morale to greater heights. We’ll get this done, he resolved to himself. I cannot fail them now.     

Resources linked here!

Read: Ch 4

[elegantwoes]

In the pale dawn light, the young knight looked as though he were sleeping. He had not been handsome, but death had smoothed his rough-hewn features and the silent sisters had dressed him in his best velvet tunic, with a high collar to cover the ruin the lance had made of his throat. Eddard Stark looked at his face, and wondered if it had been for his sake that the boy had died. Slain by a Lannister bannerman before Ned could speak to him; could that be mere happenstance? He supposed he would never know

Perhaps I am conspiratorial by nature but I believe that Hugh was killed by command. Clegane may be a bloodthirsty and violent individual but I don't see him acting out without getting a sanction from his boss. This was under the order of someone else. I can feel it in my bones. Or maybe that is my vitamin D deficiency talking

The squires smiled nervously until the king turned on them. “You. Yes, both of you. You heard the Hand. The king is too fat for his armor. Go find Ser Aron Santagar. Tell him I need the breastplate stretcher. Now! What are you waiting for?” ... Always, though, the graver thoughts crept in. He could not help taking note of the two squires: handsome boys, fair and well made. One was Sansa’s age, with long golden curls; the other perhaps fifteen, sandy-haired, with a wisp of a mustache and the emerald-green eyes of the queen.

Look. Yet another adult who bullies children. Is it any wonder why Bob died thanks to Lancel? That is what happens when you relentlessly bully a young kid. It will bite you in the ass.

“The woman tried to forbid me to fight in the melee. She’s sulking in the castle now, damn her. Your sister would never have shamed me like that.” “You never knew Lyanna as I did, Robert,” Ned told him. “You saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath. She would have told you that you have no business in the melee.”

Now I can't help but imagine a world where Lyanna and Robert did marry. I know a certain type of fans (*coughs* dudebro asoiaf fans *coughs*) act like Robert would have treated Lyanna differently, but no. Robert would have turned any woman he was married to into a Cersei. Perhaps not to the extent that they would start an incestuous relationship with their brother and pass of their illegitimate children as legitimate (that is a Cersei thing lol) but Robert would have pushed any woman to the brink where they consider killing him so they are free from him and enjoy widowhood. And personally I would have cheered them on just like I cheered Cersei for killing him.

Ned turned back. Robert took up his horn again, filled it with beer from a barrel in the corner, and thrust it at Ned. “Drink,” he said brusquely. “I’ve no thirst—” “Drink. Your king commands it.”

This scene reminds me of another instance:

Sansa lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. The wine was cloyingly sweet, but very strong. "You can do better than that," Cersei said. "Drain the cup, Sansa. Your queen commands you."

Like father like daughter (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

“Let me tell you a secret, Ned. More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the crown. Take ship for the Free Cities with my horse and my hammer, spend my time warring and whoring, that’s what I was made for. The sellsword king, how the singers would love me. You know what stops me? The thought of Joffrey on the throne, with Cersei standing behind him whispering in his ear. My son. How could I have made a son like that, Ned?” “He’s only a boy,” Ned said awkwardly. He had small liking for Prince Joffrey, but he could hear the pain in Robert’s voice. “Have you forgotten how wild you were at his age?”

If you don't like him so much, Ned. Then why in the fuck is he still betrothed to your daughter??!! (* ￣︿￣)

This was the boy he had grown up with, he thought; this was the Robert Baratheon he’d known and loved. If he could prove that the Lannisters were behind the attack on Bran, prove that they had murdered Jon Arryn, this man would listen. Then Cersei would fall, and the Kingslayer with her, and if Lord Tywin dared to rouse the west, Robert would smash him as he had smashed Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident. He could see it all so clearly.

I have nothing to say to this. I am that speechless. However, I will make on note though. The naivety of thirty five year old Ned is less crtiqued in this fandom than the naivety of eleven/twelve year old Sansa. Let that sink in for a moment.

Littlefinger overheard. “If you know who’s going to win the second match, speak up now before Lord Renly plucks me clean,” he called to her. Ned smiled. “A pity the Imp is not here with us,” Lord Renly said. “I should have won twice as much.”

Ned Stark is hearing all of this and yet never does it occur to him that Littlefinger has duped him with how he lost his dagger. Think Ned, just think. I beg of you. I am on my knees.

But Sansa had the right of it after all. A few moments later Ser Loras Tyrell walked back onto the field in a simple linen doublet and said to Sandor Clegane, “I owe you my life. The day is yours, ser.”

Look Cujo did one good deed. I suppose he should get credit for it. He gets a quarter of a brownie point from me.

That night at the feast, Eddard Stark was more hopeful than he had been in a great while. Robert was in high good humor, the Lannisters were nowhere to be seen, and even his daughters were behaving. Jory brought Arya down to join them, and Sansa spoke to her sister pleasantly. “The tournament was magnificent,” she sighed. “You should have come. How was your dancing?” “I’m sore all over,” Arya reported happily, proudly displaying a huge purple bruise on her leg. “You must be a terrible dancer,” Sansa said doubtfully

Arya and Sansa are finally get along after several weeks of tension. How cute.

Ned ran his fingers through his hair. Any decent master-at-arms could give Arya the rudiments of slash-and-parry without this nonsense of blindfolds, cartwheels, and hopping about on one leg, but he knew his youngest daughter well enough to know there was no arguing with that stubborn jut of jaw. “As you wish,” he said. Surely she would grow tired of this soon. “Try to be careful.”

So let me get this straight. You see your daughter finally learning something that she actually enjoys and what do you do? Consider putting an end to it. What is wrong with you Ned?

He took out the dagger and studied it. Littlefinger’s blade, won by Tyrion Lannister in a tourney wager, sent to slay Bran in his sleep. Why would the dwarf want Bran dead? Why would anyone want Bran dead?

You literally overheard a conversation that disproves this, but okay continue believing this lie, Ned. (╬▔皿▔)╯

He was at the door when Ned called, “Varys,” The eunuch turned back. “How did Jon Arryn die?” “I wondered when you would get around to that.” “Tell me.” “The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, clear and sweet as water, and it leaves no trace. I begged Lord Arryn to use a taster, in this very room I begged him, but he would not hear of it. Only one who was less than a man would even think of such a thing, he told me.” ...... Ned had to know the rest. Ned felt half-poisoned himself. “The squire,” he said. “Ser Hugh.” Wheels within wheels within wheels. Ned’s head was pounding. “Why? Why now? Jon Arryn had been Hand for fourteen years. What was he doing that they had to kill him?” “Asking questions,” Varys said, slipping out the door.

So far I have reread ASOIAF as a whole a couple of times, however, despite knowing this book series for ten years now I still don't know the point of Vary misdirecting Ned from who the true killer is. Do perhaps any of you know, dear readers? Please share your thoughts.

Next chapter the King of Incels; Tyrion

[scruffyplayssonic]

Are the ArchieSonic comics actually an 80's/90's syndicated cartoon? Episode 26: Hero and villain glued/chained/otherwise stuck together and begrudgingly cooperate to gain their autonomy (part 2)

Looks like you guys get a second post from me today, because I was reminded that I had missed a fairly infamous story back when I looked at the "hero and villain trapped together" episode. I hardly need an invitiation to bitch some more about Ken Penders, so let's take a look at the final main story arc from the Knuckles the Echidna comics before they were cancelled, King of the Hill.

I'm not quite sure what this cover's supposed to be saying. "No guns allowed"? Why didn't they just do what E.T. did and give Hunter a walkie talkie instead? :P

This story featured Knuckles having to deal with two new antagonists who wanted to tear him a new one: a human (or Overlander, if you prefer) hunter named... err, Hunter, and a purple gorilla... or monkey... named Monk.

I will now pause for a moment so you can all get your laughter out of your systems.

I know, I know. But let's not forget (as was pointed in an Off Panel strip I sadly have not been able to find) that the Sonic the Hedgehog series is full of silly names. The speedy hedgehog is named Sonic, the two-tailed fox is named Tails, the spiky-fisted echidna is named Knuckles, the pyrokinetic cat is named Blaze, and so on. But don't worry, Mr. Penders will give us plenty of other material to shake our heads at in this story.

The story kicked off when Monk, Knuckles' childhood bully, returned to the Floating Island looking to pick a fight with him. And considering why he'd been missing from the island for years, it's hard not to blame him for being pissed. Look, don't get me wrong - bullies are a massive problem and often ruin people's lives. I was bullied when I was younger, and it can do terrible things to your self esteem. But check out this flashback of how Knuckles' father and grandfathers decided to deal with Monk back when he was bullying preteen Knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Ken! This is how you portray your so-called heroes?! Knuckles' father and other ancestors, the ones who supposedly knew best and had all the answers?! Monk looks like he was still a teenager at the time, and for the crimes of (refers to notes) stealing Knuckles' yo-yo, bear-hugging him, and tossing him out of a tree, the cabal of mysterious grandpas just sentenced him to death?! I just... they go from hiding in the shadows and leaving Knuckles completely alone to... this? One of the memes most associated with Locke is how he microwaved his baby because he had a bad dream, but I feel this decision is just as worthy of mockery. Robotnik invades the island multiple times and tries to steal the Chaos Emerald? Meh, it'll be fine, Locke clearly doesn't need to do anything about it. But a teenage gorilla steals his kid's yo-yo? That is apparently worthy of an execution party! As Bart Simpson would say, "No offense, Locke, but your half-assed under-parenting was a lot more fun than your half-assed over-parenting."

Anyway...

Before the fight between Knuckles and Monk could be resolved, our other new antagonist showed up. Easily knocking out Monk, Hunter invited Knuckles to join him and his new captive aboard his ship, where Knuckles found out just how passionate of a hunter he really was.

Man, I can't believe Sonic the Hedgehog got his head cut off by this lunatic. :(

It turned out Hunter was looking for a challenge, and decided he wanted to hunt both Knuckles and Monk for sport. Knuckles initially refused to cooperate, but reluctantly agreed after Hunter threatened to shoot a photo of his girlfriend, Julie-Su.

Monk and Knuckles were ordered to wear special collars and to run for their lives, but quickly found out that the collars would shock them if they got too far from each other.

Knuckles led Monk into the hidden sewers of Hydro City, hoping to shake their hunter, but he managed to track them down via their footprints. They managed to hide overhead in the pipes and tried to lay a trap, but when Knuckles lost his footing and slipped it set off their collars. Monk didn't handle that very well.

Alas, poor Monk, we hardly knew him. No seriously, we really didn't. Anyway, Knuckles got so angry that his chaos powers went off and...

Is that supposed to be blood coming out of Hunter's hands? I guess they couldn't show red blood in an all-ages comic book, maybe? That's the only way I can make sense of that panel.

Anyway, Knuckles and Locke stripped Hunter down to his underpants - for some reason - and locked him up in an underwater bubble.

Actually, Knuckles raises a good question. How does he eat in there? ...or go to the toilet? ...oh god. I really hope my second question wasn't the answer to my first question.

This storyline gets a lot of criticism, and rightfully so. The story itself isn't really engaging to me, and back when I read it for the first time all I wanted to know was why I should give a damn about this stupid purple gorilla who used to beat up Knuckles when he was a little kid. And of course, there's the lack of unoriginality from this whole story. Aside from the characters' dumb names there's also an undeniable similarity between this Hunter and a certain other well-known Hunter, from the Spider-Man franchise...

...as well as this story likely being inspired by the novel "The Most Dangerous Game." Oh, and there's this panel from part two of the story which James Bond fans may recognise from The Man with the Golden Gun:

Weird, but at least it's not as cringey as that time he traced Anthony Mackie's face for his Lara-Su Chronicles project. But anyway, this was the last story Ken Penders got to tell in the Knuckles comics before they were cancelled. It didn't really seem to throw him off though, he just ended continuing telling them as the backup stories in the main Sonic book instead. Sigh.

I'd like to finish up tonight on a positive note though, so here's a shoutout to the person who reminded me that I'd missed this story, the superstar that is Aleah Baker! A former contributor to the ArchieSonic series, Aleah wrote for, coloured, and designed characters for numerous issues before the series' cancellation, with her most well-known work probably being the fan-favourite Spark of Life arc that she wrote for Sonic Universe #71 - 74.

More recently she coloured Jon Grey's alternate cover for IDW Sonic issue #50, and the two of them made it look gorgeous!

Aleah is an awesome individual, and it is nothing short of an honour to know she's been reading my rants. :)

All right, that's it from me for tonight. As I said in my post from earlier today, next time I'll be looking at times in ArchieSonic when the hero was kidnapped and it was the sidekick's time to shine. See you then!

[thecrowskeep]

Ch. 3 - The third option.

Kaz Brekker x OC

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Physical abuse, sexual assault (mostly implied), mentions of blood/gore/vomit.

A/N: The story is getting a little darker in this chapter. It's more about Aeyla's life at the Emerald Palace. There might even be a few familiar faces this chapter. I'm really enjoying writing this, so please let me know if you are enjoying reading - it's super motivating to have a little feedback!

Masterlist

It’d been a few weeks since Aeyla had become indentured to Pekka Rollins. She’d learnt a lot in those few weeks, about Pekka Rollins and the Dime Lions, and about the city — though she still hadn’t been allowed out of the Emerald Palace. In all honesty, it hadn’t been that bad. Aeyla was adaptable, and she’d never really felt at home since she’d left the Wandering Isle as a child. So, this new situation was no different, really.

She got along with Shea well while they worked together in the evenings, and during the day she spent time with Corym. He’d been working at the bar of the Emerald Palace, mostly. But he’d also been out with some of Rollins’ other men, drumming up customers. Corym had been teaching Aeyla to pick pockets in his free time away from the Dime Lions. He said it’d been how he was caught by the slavers. Picked the wrong pocket. Aeyla was getting good at it, too. She quickly realised she could manipulate the moods of patrons in the Palace, and then swipe what she could while they were relaxed. It helped when they’d had a bit to drink and were distracted by the cards, alongside a bit of well timed flirting. Corym sold what Aeyla collected while he was out — pocket watches and jewellery, mostly. He took a small cut of the profits, for the risk of having to sneak away to sell the items. There was risk for Aeyla, too. If she was caught stealing from Rollins’ patrons she didn’t know what would happen to her. But the thrill was addictive, and the kruge was piling up. Her stash was hidden under a floorboard in her room that she’d pried loose with a pretty knife she’d stolen from a particularly handsy gambler. She’d kept the knife, too. Aeyla had slept better at night with it tucked under her pillow.

Over the weeks Aeyla hadn’t had much to do in regard to healing Rollins’ men. There were a few bullet wounds, and a couple of stab wounds. It appeared she was only healing the men that Rollins trusted not to reveal her identity, as the lower ranked members of the Lions never seemed to be the ones she was healing. The wounds were nothing Aeyla hadn’t dealt with before with the First Army. It had turned out that the reason for the slow work was Rollins and his main men had been away for the majority of the time Aeyla had been indentured. Though, nobody knew where they had gone, and if they did they weren’t saying anything.

It was a few nights after Pekka Rollins had returned that he’d called Aeyla into his office again. She was worried she’d been caught in her pick-pocket act, and was relieved when he’d only told her he was to have a meeting shortly and she was to be in the room. Though, the relief didn’t last long. Aeyla realised she was to act as a trophy for Rollins in front of his associates. She was the pretty Kaelish girl indentured to him. His new favourite toy. When Rollins told her to fetch him a drink and had slapped her ass when she’d turned around, the men he was meeting just laughed. Aeyla had gritted her teeth and said nothing, a flush of anger creeping onto her cheeks. He’d dismissed her back to her room at the end of the night, after he was done with her, and the sleazy men in their merch getups had said their goodbyes. Aeyla had wanted to scream, but she hadn’t.

—

The next time, it was worse. Pekka Rollins had had a meeting with the head of another gang to make a deal, going halves on a crew to pirate a new shipping route. He’d ended up drinking with the man. More than his fill. He was ecstatic about the deal, and had bragged and boasted to Aeyla when the other man had left. He’d poured another glass of drink, and then a second for Aeyla. He’d slapped her when she’d first refused the glass, so she drank it. The liquid was bitter and harsh on her throat, but she refused to react to it. Aeyla had know what had been coming from the glint in his eye, and the way his hands roamed over her waist, and her hips, and her thighs. She’d had been expecting it. She’d also expected that when it happened, that she’d fight him. But she’d frozen. She’d frozen because he’d told her if she fought him, he’d send her to the Sweet Shop where she could learn how to please a man properly.

Aeyla had vomited in the basin when she’d returned to her room. The alcohol burned the same coming up as it had when she’d drank it. She was sweating and shaking when she’d crawled into bed. She hated Pekka Rollins. She hated the Emerald Palace. She hated the slavers that had brought her here. She hated Ketterdam. But mostly, she hated herself. She hadn’t fought him. She hadn’t even tried.

—

The next time Aeyla had been invited to Rollins’ office, the deal hadn’t gone well. Rollins was drunk again, but this time he’d raged when his associates had left. Smashing glasses against the cabinets and throwing papers off his desk. Aeyla, in a panic, had tried to soothe his mood. That had only made him angrier. She hadn’t been subtle, and he’d known what she was doing. Rollins had slapped her hard across the face, and sent a great, meaty fist into her stomach. When Aeyla had doubled over in pain, he’d kicked her and she’d fallen onto her side onto the shards of broken glass littering the hardwood floor.

She’d spent that night awake in her room. Picking glass shards out of open wounds with only her fingers, one by one, and closing the gashes they’d left. Again, she was shaking and sweaty when she’d climbed into bed. She hadn’t bothered to clean off the blood. The glass shards had remained in the basin until the morning, when Aeyla had woken from a nightmare and gathered the glass up. She’d tossed it out through the bars on her window, and listened to it shatter in the alley below.

—

The pattern continued over the next few weeks. Rollins would invite her to his office before important meetings. She knew what to expect either way — if it went well, or if it didn’t. Aeyla didn’t know which was worse. But she was angry. Angry and ashamed. She felt herself withdrawing from the meagre relationships she had built during her time at the Emerald Palace. Withdrawing from Shea and Corym. She became bolder in her pick-pocketing in the evenings, no longer afraid of getting caught. What would Pekka Rollins do to her that he hadn’t already? What could he do?. Aeyla had stopped giving Corym the trinkets she’d collected to sell. Rollins had allowed her to start leaving the Palace during the day, escorted by Eldar. She’d pretended to lose him in the crowds at the market, the first time she’d snuck away. Ducking under arms and twisting around corners. She’d sold a few watches to a market stall vendor Corym had told her about, pocket the kruge, and pretended to be lost and scared when Eldar had finally caught up with her. He’d grasped her by the upper arm, not unlike the way he had on the slavers ship, and half dragged her back to the Emerald Palace. Aeyla knew he wouldn’t tell Rollins that he’d lost her for a period of time, for fear of punishment. And she figured once she had enough kruge saved up, she’d loose Eldar at the markets one last time and disappear for good. It’d only take a few months. Maybe more. Then she’d have enough for passage back to Ravka.

—

The night had started the same as the other had these past few weeks. Aeyla had kept to herself in the dressing room of the Emerald Palace. She’d missed the worried glances from Shea as she dusted gold powder across her freckled cheeks and inspected herself in the mirror before brushing past the other girl on her way out of the room.

The casino itself hadn’t changed in the past few weeks, and Aeyla still wore the same green silk dress. Though, she’d had to ask for a new one after most of her run-ins with Pekka Rollins. It was slowly increasing her indenture. A few of the other girls were already on the casino floor, milling around as patrons filed in for the night through the just-opened doors. Aeyla scanned the crowd for anyone who looked like they might be carrying something expensive. She noticed a wealthy looking merch touch a hand briefly to a pocket on his vest as he passed the men on the doors. Likely checking something important was there. She would make a note of that for later. Another man who’d entered nearer the end of the cue had caught Aeyla’s attention. He looked Zemeni, or half Zemeni at least, and walked with a confidence that piqued her interest. He likely had a weapon on him, with confidence like that in this area of town, and Aeyla was looking to upgrade.

She kept an eye on him while she served men at the same table. He was losing, badly, though Aeyla kept his interest on the game. She’d noticed the outlines of two holsters, one on either hip, under the thin fabric of his shirt. The boy had been unconsciously touching his hand to them every so often during the game. Clearly, he was attached to the guns. At this point Aeyla figured she’d have to wait until later in the night if she’d wanted to have a go at nicking them. And she’d only be able to if the holsters covered the ends of the pistols, otherwise the boy would feel one missing as soon as he moved to touch them the next time he lost a hand. Aeyla realised it was a gamble, but a rare smile tugged at the corners of her lips at the prospect of owning the weapon herself. Wasn’t that what gambling dens were for?

The Zemeni boy was still at the tables as the night wore on and other patrons had slowly abandoned the cards. Aeyla had kept him interested in the game by making every win more exciting, though, the boy hadn’t needed much encouragement. It was near closing when she’d decided to make her move. She hadn’t picked any other pockets that evening, so she would be going back to her room empty handed if she didn’t lift the pistol. It was a motivating thought.

Aeyla sidled over to the table, letting her silks brush the boy’s arm to get his attention. He’d lost another hand.

“You haven’t been having much luck this evening.” It was a line Shea had taught her, to reel men in. It made the men think that the girls had been watching them all night. It was an ego boosting tactic. But it almost always worked, since no one had much luck with Pekka Rollins’ dealers. The Zemeni boy looked up at her, a brilliant grin splitting his features.

“Maybe I just need a lucky charm?” He raised an eyebrow suggestively and shifted his chair back, patting his lap. Too easy.

“I’ve been told I’m the luckiest.” Aeyla gave him a suggestive smile and sat down on the boy’s lap, wrapping one arm around his waist and letting the other drape across his chest. Aeyla could almost reach the holster’s buckle from here. She had to fight her own disgust at the body contact, but the idea of her own pistol pushed her on.

“Well, I need all the luck I can get.” Aeyla hummed an agreement and traced circles on the boy’s chest with a delicate finger while the next hand was dealt.

The boy had been dealt an almost perfect hand, and when he’d won, he’d won big. He’d let out a whoop and leant forward against Aeyla to collect his winnings. She clapped her hand delicately on his chest and laughed, putting on a show. She used the boy’s movement to disguise her own, as she flicked open the holster with practiced ease. The back of the boy’s chair blocked the view of her antics from the majority of the floor, but still she worked quickly to lift the revolver, and tucked it into a ribbon that she’d started tying around her thigh when she first started pocketing items at the casino. It was hidden easily by the flowing silk dress when she was standing. The boy appeared to be none the wiser about the robbery that had occurred, still counting the kruge he had won. He turned to look at her with a grin that almost made him look drunk on joy.

“Maybe you are good luck.” Aeyla just smiled enticingly and ran a hand down his back.

“I told you I was.” She looked up to see Eldar crossing the room toward her. Her stomach dropped. Pekka Rollins had sent for her. The show must go on. She forced herself to pretended to pout at the boy, “But unfortunately, I have to go. Duty calls.” The boy’s expression dropped. He truly believed she was good luck. Superstitious gamblers. Aeyla did her best to curb his disappointment as she stood up off his lap. The relief at no longer having to touch the boy was immense.

“Next time?” His voice was hopeful.

“Next time.” She winked at him and ran her hand across his chest a final time, before stepping away from the table, toward Eldar. She could feel the cool surface of the revolver on her upper thigh.

As Aeyla walked away from the table she saw a dark shape move over to the Zemeni boy — another boy of a similar age. His face was obscured by the angle, and for the fact he had his hat tilted downward, casting his features in shadow. She jumped as the dark haired boy dropped the end of the cane he was carrying down on the table in front of the Zemeni boy with a crack, knocking the cards out of his hand. He said something to the boy at the table that Aeyla couldn’t quite make out before he looked up and caught her grey eyes, his own dark and clouded by anger. Aeyla felt a chill pass over her skin, but she didn’t look away. She realised in her own stubbornness she didn’t want to give the boy the satisfaction. Eventually, the boy had looked away first, a slight crease between his arched brows, just as Eldar had taken her by the upper arm in his usual manner, and led her toward the staircase to Rollins’ office.

[silverswanqueen]

Felt like making a list, so here’s a list on the status of each kingdom and how much each kingdom lost as a result of Salem’s attack and/or the mains actions:

Vale

in bad shape?? Unknown

Propaganda message messed with the world (Cinder)

Beacon = infested with Grimm

dead headmaster

dead Fall Maiden

dead war machine

Frozen Wyvern vibin’ on the tower

demolished CCT

where’s Glynda? Lmao chillin’ with Shopkeep

Oobleck and Port who?

Husk of a big ass military ship just sitting in the city somewhere probably

Reliant on huntsmen since there is no army(some huntsmen would rather water sunflowers than help *cough cough* Taiyang *cough cough*)

(No hate against Taiyang but like can he do something besides sit around at his house whenever we see him pls)

Relic is somewhere but CRWBY hasn’t pulled a location out of their ass yet

overall status: frozen in time until the plot remembers it

Mistral

civilians who? We don’t know them

Haven sitting empty

dead headmaster

runaway Spring Maiden

WF invasion (then return to Menagerie? Idk it’s not explained what they do)

students = gone

teachers = gone (dead?)

literally every huntress/huntsman was murdered

no army / local militia established

only established working system is a fuckin crime network

Relic = taken

Bandit tribe running rampant with Spring Maiden as its leader, has wiped out settlements before

overall status: fucked

Atlas

Fucking obliterated and thoroughly fucked

Propaganda message messed with the world (Ruby)

Atlas = destroyed

Mantle = destroyed

Solitas eco-system = fucked

Civilians = dead by Atlas Grimm, cities crashing into each other, flooding, falling into the abyss, or Vacuo Grimm (they saved the racist lady tho, cool cool cool really important to focus on her)

Dead headmaster

Dead soldiers

“Dead” main girls + Jaune

robotic forces destroyed

airships and military grade weaponry destroyed

food and medical supplies destroyed

Obliterated army

Fragmented special ops + two dead special ops

Dead war machine / Winter Maiden

Largest and only dust supplier destroyed

Advanced technologies destroyed

CCT Tower destroyed

Amity destroyed

Remaining population displaced / homeless in wildly different weather conditions

Relic = taken

Pietro and Maria who lmao

Robyn’s STILL HERE (why)

overall status: refer to point one

Vacuo

Large amount of Atlas refugees at front door with limited supplies/housing to give out freebies

Along with refugees, backup is young boy with two souls, dysfunctional Renora, known terrorist Emerald, Happy “we do nothing” Huntresses, and Winter “part of the family that fucked over the entire continent by sucking its resources dry” Schnee

Inexperienced Winter Maiden who is still grievously injured

alive headmaster (for now)

Summer Maiden???

No army / loose legal system

Difficult to defend because of harsh sandstorms reducing visibility / degrading exposed equipment

Cannot request dust shipments (Atlas is gone)

Cannot request weapon shipments (Atlas is gone)

Cannot request for backup (other three kingdoms are demolished / lacking any defense / still under siege by Grimm - Atlas, Mistral, and Vale respectively)

Only transfer students / Shade students as defense

According to books: large criminal organization able to mind control people consuming Shade attention (is this resolved in the books??)

Vacuo inhabitants: sweating profusely

overall status: it ain’t looking good bois

Hmm. Notice how the level of destruction gets worse as the mains gets more involved…

[yamaoni]

The Second Great War of Remnant has begun. Once more, Vale and Mantle are embroiled in a massive conflict, only this time, they are on the same side against Atlas.

I don't think it was a coincidence that so many people drew parallels with the last episode and WWI. We've never seen people fight that way in RWBY. Grimm don't use projectile weapons the way humans do, so the benefits of the trench are diminished; especially if you compare it to the drawbacks.

Now, I understand not everyone in the Atlas military has their aura unlocked and the squishy soldiers need some cover, but if The Long Memory didn't nuke every grimm on Atlas, the lines would have been overrun and then there would have been nowhere for them to retreat to.

You think the very real hand to hand struggles in the trenches of WWI were bad, imagine being trapped in a narrow trench with a bear. Or having this thing explode out of the ground under you.

I refuse to believe no-one in Atlas ever thought, "if we put the dirt from the trench in a box, no only can we give our soldiers cover, we can also give them an elevated position to fire from."

The top of a wall has been the primary defensive position for the people of Remnant for a long time. You can see them in the establishing shots of most settled places the team has visited. So why are we seeing a trench now?

Simple.

Show, don't tell.

RWBY has done a pretty great job, especially in the last few seasons, of showing the audience what it is trying to convey without explicitly telling them. They especially like drawing from well known folk lore to give insight into the future of the show.

Only difference here, instead of drawing the parallel between characters, they're drawing parallels between worlds.

Remnant's first Great War started with Mantle suppressing freedom of expression, the destruction of Art and Color. Ironwood always has little in the way of color, but in his first broadcast since everything started hitting the fan, he has none.

That broadcast also included evacuation ships being blown up by fighter-bombers, Dunkirk. It threatend to level a city if they didn't surrender, Battle of Brittan. All delivered by a dictator trying to scare his opponents into submission through careful use of film.

Theories

If the rest of the season is WWII, I have several theories on plot direction. Considering how well they did keeping up with both ends of the battlefield it wouldn't surprise me if they followed all of them at the same time.

Operation Dunkirk

Or, the evacuation of Mantle.

Players: Penny, Nora, Ren, Happy Huntresses

The Happy Huntresses involvement is a given. Not only has saving Mantle been their goal the whole time, they're also stuck in the middle of it right now.

Penny is the Protector of Mantle. It would be a shining moment for her character to fully throw off the virus Watts implanted and overcome Ironwood's threats to do so. Just crossing my fingers that it doesn't end like the Iron Giant.

Nora is currently Penny's tether to sanity, so she has to go with, and I doubt they would separate Ren from her for the next arc so he's going too.

Surprise twist for this plot I'm betting will be the Starwars "they aren't warships, just people" scene everyone loves to rag on. After all, the broadcast went out that they needed help and, at least at Dunkirk, it was fishing boats and pleasure crafts that retrieved the 338,000 surrounded on all sides.

Why We Fight

Or, countering Ironwoods propaganda.

Players: Robyn and Qrow

For one, these two are unaccounted for and in the heart of Atlas' military machine. If anyone has means to do so, it's them.

The film, Why We Fight, also countered the dramatic cinematography of Goebbels propaganda by painting it as ridiculous and making a folksy call to action much like Robyn has done in the past.

Operation Fortitude

Or, the deception of Ironwood.

Players: Emerald, Jaune, Oscar

This is the mission to make Ironwood think the team is going after the relic. This theory is why I actually thought of and wrote out this whole thing. Thanks @maxiemumdamage, I had things I was supposed to do tonight.

https://maxiemumdamage.tumblr.com/post/644291955872890880/willing-to-bet-my-own-soul-that-emerald-uses-her

Only difference in my theory and their's, is Jaune is going to be playing the part of Penny.

I say this for two reasons. One, Joan of Arc pretended to be a man. While we've gotten both Jaune pretending to be something he's not and him in a dress, this would pose the first time in the story he could do both. Two, it would put him on a direct collision path with Cinder. It needs to happen at some point to bring his arc to a conclusion, but man I hope we're not about to watch him burn.

With Ozpin active again, Oscar has to go along to direct them to the vault. He's also one of two backing the idea of Emerald joining the team and Jaune wouldn't be willing to work with her without him.

Operation Overlord

Or, busting down the doors of Atlas Acadamy.

Players: Ruby, Blake, Weiss, Yang

Where Operation Fortitude was the faint, Operation Overlord was the real deal. For those that aren't history buffs, this is D-Day.

I think this is the reason we've only seen the main team fighting together once since their split from Beacon. And even then, that fight was at most pairs of fighters and not all four of them supporting one another.

RWBY tricked us into thinking season 4 was the post-timeskip level up we come to expect from anime when really we ended up watching the training flashbacks as they happened instead.

We've seen hints of it with the various team ups and combinations, but are we really ready for how much ass kicking they are about to do?

I'm hoping for a One Piece level of badass entrance that can give me shivers whenever I go to watch it again like the walk to Arlong Park still does to this day.

(Aside: if you try telling me RWBY isn't anime, I'm just going to ignore you. Anime is an art movement. If you don't understand what that means, watch this video. https://youtu.be/uFtfDK39ZhI)

Now last and certainly not least

Operation Valkyrie

Or, the death of Ironwood.

Players: Winter and Marrow

The long awaited defection. Plenty of speculation has already floated around about if and when these two where going to cave to their morals and jump ship. I don't know how many of us were expecting the straw to break the camel's back to be a nuke held over Mantle, but I certainly wasn't.

What worries me, is Operation Valkyrie failed and all its conspirators were executed. As if there weren't enough death flags for Winter before.

Even if it's not Winter that kills him. I don't see Ironwood surviving this season. Even if it means he goes out like another hated dictator. It's not like it would be the first time RT had a fallen hero chose to use his own sword.

Wildcards

Or, Murphy will have his due.

Players: Cinder, Watts, Neo, Tyrian, Mercury, Clover

These players can go any which way. Three we know for sure are going to be active in the coming episodes and I wouldn't be surprised if the other three play a part as well.

Oscar made a hell of a light show for Tyrian and Mercury to see behind them. Not to mention, Salem will still need a ride home when she pulls herself back together.

Clover keeps getting mentioned even though he's hospitalized. If he was truly out of commission for the rest of the season, they would have made us think he's dead before bringing him back like they did with Penny.

Up to now, what we've seen is a three way conflict. But one of the hallmarks of Remnant's First Great War, was making temporary alliances to fight off grimm.

The grimm might be gone, but the wild cards can't complete their own objectives if they are dead. The question is who's goals better align with their own.

Two surprise twists I can see here. One, Mercury stabbing Tyrian on his way to defection. He was raised by an assassin and has not going to get a better chance than that. Two, Clover joining Operation Valkyrie. He might have accepted that sacrifice is a necessary evil to ensure Atlas' survival, but might go Schindler's List on us and find horror in what Ironwood plans to do.

TLDR

I spent way too long writing this out. All the WWI imagery means we're getting a WWII movie with RWBY characters. Major death flags for Penny, Jaune, and Winter.

Also I finally figured out how to do a readmore. Apparently it's just been a long time since I updated.

Note: kept seeing things talking about clovers death and I kind of went ???? Isn't he barely alive in medical? Went back and watched that scene and though I am 90% sure he is dead still kind of weird that they have him in his own room instead of a morgue and the initial framing made my mind instantly think he was propped up on a hospital bed. I mean, I guess we needed to have all the ACEOPs there for their reaction to Ironwood... but it definitely made me think he was alive. That and they have a bandage on his chest wound... when he's supposedly dead. Also have a phantom memory of Harriet saying something about him being in critical but I think that's my memory playing tricks on me.

Having his face exposed instead of covered by the sheet and seeing him in the same frame as Winter being treated also didn't help my gut reaction of "Oh Shit! He's alive? How?!" If I'd followed up more on the "how" might not have made the blunder of writing his return as the final twist in my theory. Oops

[softboywriting]

Hate To Love You | Poe Dameron

Summary: You and Poe have been friends since you arrived at the Resistance base three years ago. Well, friends who often want to strangle each other as much as they want to take the other to bed. After a solo mission gone wrong you get teamed up with Poe for a follow up mission on Canto Bight. The two of you together under the right circumstances may lead to something neither of you can resist, and confessions that can’t be taken back. [Star wars universe] [nsfw themes no smut] [fluff] [fr-enemies to lovers [[sort of]] 

Word Count: 6k

|Masterlist In Bio|

You find yourself in a bad area of Kajimi while on an intel mission for Leia. There is supposedly a man with information about the location of an abandoned First Order fleet ship that would be an excellent salvage opportunity. Stars above know the Resistance can use all the weapons and ship parts they can get their hands on. You went in alone, opting to leave behind your usual partner Daya, while she was laid up from a blaster burn. It was supposed to be an easy job. You go into Kajimi City, go to a cantina called Knicks and meet a man in an emerald green robe. He would give you a holopad and you would leave. Of course that does not happen.

You enter the cantina and immediately note that it is absolutely packed from wall to wall. It's loud, as most are, and you make your way around, looking for the man in the emerald robe. It's hard to see as it's barely lit. It's a divey place, sketchiness oozes from every inch of the establishment. Bad things, illegal things, happen here. You keep your head down, pull your hood up and keep moving.

"Oh look at her! Hey honey, gimme some of that body." Some guy hollers as you pass him.

You step forward and push past two big aliens that are conversing in grunts. You cannot stand being hit on. It's so irritating. You wore baggy jumpsuit pants and one of Poe's jackets to make yourself seem shapeless. Apparently that didn't work as well as you hoped. You wish the contact would show up or make himself seen because you're not keen on asking the barkeep about him. Last time you did that it ended badly, as the person you were after was not well liked.

There isn't much time to worry about all of that when a loud boom shakes the cantina, causing a hush to fall over the crowded room.

"First Order! Run!" Someone yells and then panic erupts.

You're jostled around as patrons begin to hurry for the exit. This sucks, there is no way you're going to get the intel now. Fuck it. You head for the exit, squeezing past a few droids to get out into the cold night air. Sure enough there are stormtroopers everywhere grabbing people left and right. You duck into an alley and head for anywhere that is not the middle of town.

The alley goes to a dead end that has an open sewer tunnel grate. It's better than nothing. You'll camp out in the tunnels and wait until things settle down topside. You slide past the bars and head into the dark passageway, pulling your flashlight out for a better visual. Unfortunately you don't make it too far before you come face to face with a blaster as you enter a dim lit tunnel.

"How'd you find this place?" The woman on the other end of the blaster says. "You're not part of the crew."

"I ran from the stormtroopers and slipped through an open sewer grate. I don't mean any harm."

"That jacket, where'd you get it?"

You look down and back up. "Uh, someone gave it to me?"

The woman walks forward, blaster still trained on you. "I know this jacket. Who are you?"

"I'm with the resistance. I can leave, I will find another place to stay until the stormtroopers clear out."

"What's your name?"

You swallow thickly. Why does your name matter? And why is she obsessed with this jacket? "Dameron. My name is Dameron."

"Dameron? Poe Dameron? Are you related?"

Oh fuck. She knows Poe. Shit. Fuck. He told you he once had bad luck on Kajimi, but he also said he had friends there. He never specified exactly what bad luck meant, but of course you'd run into someone who knew him. It's a fifty fifty chance, either this person is a friend or an enemy and you're gonna have to roll the dice. "He's my...husband?"

She scoffs. "He's alive? That son of a bitch. I should tea-"

"Zorii! They've taken Burnham!" Someone shouts from down the tunnel.

The woman makes a noise of annoyance. "Listen, you tell Poe if he ever steps foot on Kajimi again I will have his head on a platter and serve the rest of him to a sand worm. And if I see him outside if Kajimi it's on sight. Got it?"

"Yep. Got it." You turn and head back to the entrance of the tunnels. Sweat runs down your back and you walk faster, feeling the wall for guidance. You're too afraid to turn your light back on in case Zorii comes after you. You're done taking chances today, it's time to get back to your ship and get back to base. Fuck the intel.

_____________________

"Hey! You made it back!" Poe cheers, clapping you on the back as soon as you enter the command center. He's the only one in there, seemingly going over the latest attack plans on a First Order base. "How was Kajimi? Did you get the coordinates?"

"No, I didn't." You pull off your hat and gloves, slapping them on the table. "Do you know a woman named Zorii?"

Poe's face pales, eyes wide. "Perhaps, why?"

"I ran into her on accident. She recognized your jacket!" You pluck at the leather collar. "I'm fairly certain I'm lucky to be alive."

"Whoa hold on, did you say it was mine?"

"Sort of? I don't know, she asked my name and I said Dameron because I didn't want to give my real name because safety and whatever and I didn’t think any more of it. But of course she knew you! And she seemed to think you were dead. Wanna explain?"

"You gave my name?!" Poe grabs his hair and turns away, pacing the length of the star chart console. "Fuck! What did you tell her? I need to know. Did you say you were my sister? My cousin? My child?"

"First of all I'm too old to be your child you idiot. I said wife."

"Wife?! Oh for ewoks sake. You told her I was married?!"

You shrug the jacket off and throw it on a console. "I took a chance Poe! I had no idea if she was a friend or a foe!"

"Oh you took a chance alright. I'm so fucking dead now."

"Why? She was pissed but how bad can it be?"

Poe laughs debilitatingly. "Faking my own death to get out of the crew and join the resistance? Is that bad? Or hold how about this, I faked my death and we were seeing each other at the time I did."

Your jaw drops. "Poe Dameron! You did what?!"

"Yeah! Yeah, no I know! I'm a huge piece of shit but I did what I had to do to keep my ass alive."

You throw your hands up and turn away, walking toward the seating area. "You couldn't just break up with her like a normal person? No?"

"It wasn't about her, it was about leaving the crew."

"Then just leave!"

"Just leave? You have no idea how much shit that would put me in. I faked my death to sever all ties. Spice runners don't let people just leave when you know about their production and-"

"SPICE?!"

"Yeah that's what I said. We all have a past, don't start with me." He groans and sinks down into a chair. "I'm so fucking dead."

"You're only dead if you set foot on Kajimi. Just don't go there."

"Ah, yeah sure. Didn't plan on that regardless. The point isn't that I want to go back to Kajimi one day, it's a shit hole anyway, it's that Zorii knows I'm not dead and I lied to her. She's going to be furious and probably come after my ass."

"Well she can't miss it."

Poe gives you a death stare. "I'm aware my ass is big. Believe me, the seats in the falcon remind me every fucking time. I don't need this right now." He stands and heads for the exit as a few Captains enter. You watch as he leaves and turn your chair toward the console behind it, burying your face in your hands and sighing heavily.

______________________

"Poe?" You call out tentatively as you enter the area of the hangar where he's been working on his x-wing for the last several hours. It's been a day since you got into it in the command center and you feel horrible for making him angry. He's your commander, and you'd even say friend though you butt heads a bit, but at the end of the day you do care for him. A lot. More than you probably should, even if he is a real pain in your ass. He gets under your skin and makes you hotter than any man ever has. It's a fine balance of attraction and irritation.

Sure enough he's laying across the top of his x-wing, foot hooked into the opening of the cockpit, stretched out reaching something inside the engine. He's got on just his cargo pants and a black tank top and you cannot help but stare at his ass. Yes, you teased him about it earlier but in all honesty you love it. It's so...grabable and sexy. He has no idea. Or maybe he does. It seemed like a sore subject earlier but you had been teasing him so that's your fault.

"Poe?" You say a bit louder and he pushes up out of the engine, arms holding him up against the mainframe. His hair is curled beyond belief, the humidity and sweat most likely.

"What now?"

"I wanted to say sorry for yesterday morning."

He pushes himself up farther and repositions himself to slide off the edge of the x-wings body to stand in front of you. He wipes his hands on his tank and crosses his arms. "Why'd you say you were my wife?"

"Huh? I told you, because-"

"No. No, you could have said sister or cousin, anything. But you chose to say wife. Why?"

"I guess I thought it was the safest option." You shrug and dig your boot into the dusty concrete. You definitely haven't imagined what it would be like to be his wife. To be his girlfriend even. Definitely not.

"You thought- oh." Poe hums. "Well I got news for you, wife. We have an assignment together."

"What? Why?"

"Because our friend with the coordinates has taken refuge in Canto Bight."

"The casino resort city? Why the fuck would he go there?"

Poe shrugs. "It beats me. Maybe the guy has a gambling problem. Either way, you and I are going and we are getting those coordinates."

"Why do you need to go?"

"As your partner."

Your heart sinks. Leia knows you blew it on Kajimi. It wasn't supposed to be a solo mission but you said you could handle it. Not that it was your fault the first order decided to raid the city. But why Poe? Why not send someone else with you? Daya? Rose? Wexley?

"Why?"

Poe jumps and hits the release for the hood of the x-wing to fall closed. "Why, because Leia said so."

"Why you? Doesn't she need you here for stuff?"

He smiles and hooks his thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. "It's gonna be me because I asked for the mission."

"You're messing with me aren't you? This is some kind of retribution for outing your fake death."

"Maybe, maybe not." He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you against him. "Pack your bags, because it's honeymoon week on Canto Bight."

"What?!"

"Oh yeah. They're only letting couples in and seeing as you're my wife now..."

"POE DAMERON!"

"Mmm?"

You shove him and he cackles. "You asshole! You are so petty for this."

"Yeah well you signed my death warrant. The least I can do is get even just a little bit."

"I'm not going to sleep with you!" You shout back as you walk away. "I'm not your real wife!"

"We'll see about that!"

_____________________

Poe Dameron can clean up nice. Galaxies he looks like a model when he peels off the fighter suit and runs his hand over his curls. He's in a red silken dress shirt, the top three buttons undone and showing off his gold chain beneath that dips down low on his chest. Black slacks that are definitely tailored because they hug his butt and thighs like they're made for him. Fuck.

"Are you going to change?" Poe asks, gesturing to your flight suit. "I don't think they'll let us in if you're in that."

"Of course I'm going to change." You tug at the velcro of your suit and peel it open to reveal your dress beneath. It's not too fancy, just a simple black dress, knee length and short sleeved. You don't have a lot of nice clothes, they just aren't something you keep around. You do have a necklace from your mom, a nice silver chain with a blue gem pendant. You don't look nearly as nice as Poe does.

"So our cover is that we're a newly wed couple who can't keep their hands off each other. I'm more likely to get noticed here. I can hide my face in your neck and hair. People don't care much for PDA so they will hopefully just ignore us and-" Poe stops mid briefing and you look over at him. "Oh damn." He mutters softly. "My wife looks hot."

"What? Shut up." You toss the flight suit into the cockpit and attempt to fix your hair in the reflection on the windshield. "You're being an ass."

Poe lays his hand on your lower back. "I give you a compliment and I'm an ass? What kind of backwards planet are you from?"

"It was not a compliment. You said wife. Which is not a compliment, it's teasing, so you are an ass."

He leans in close and you press against the x-wing. You can see him in the windshield behind you. Your eyes meet in the reflection and you refuse to look away. His voice comes close to your ear, eyes still boring into yours as he says, "My partner looks stunning and beautiful and I cannot believe I get to do this mission with her. Is that better?"

Your stomach sinks and your heart stops. "You're not bad yourself."

He chuckles, still close to your ear. "I know."

"Confident much?" You press back against him to move away from the x-wing and he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you tight against his warmth. Your body flushes, heat pooling in your stomach. Flashes of what you'd like him to do race through your brain. Galaxies what you wouldn't let him do to you. No. You have to get your mind out of the gutter. You have a job to do.  "Let go, Poe."

"Better get used to it. We're going to do a lot of touching." He purrs before he releases you.

You roll your eyes and he smirks.

"Don't think I can't see that blush." He walks beside you as you head to the grand entry way of the Canto Bight resort. "I know you want me."

"In your dreams, Dameron."

He chuckles. "I do have lots of dreams." He matches your pace and slips his arm around your back. "Fun dreams. We should share them sometime."

You cut him a glare and he grins. "You're really playing into this cover."

"Who says I'm playing?"

______________________

As soon as you're checked in, the hunt is on. You can't help but wonder how many of these people would just leap at the chance to throttle you and Poe for simply being part of the Resistance. There's only one way to get this rich in the galaxy and that is weaponry and sympathizing with the First Order. After an hour or so you and Poe head for the elevators that go to the game rooms on the top floor. It's the roulette rooms to be exact. You got word from base that the contact is a roulette player, always betting black.

"I hope we find him." You say to yourself as the doors to the elevator close. It's only you and Poe inside, which is fine with you. At least you don't have to act when no one is around. The last hour has been an excruciating test of will power. You want this to be over, to never have to touch Poe again because it is killing you inside. You know this won't last.

"As do I."

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. I still feel like we're flying a little blind."

"We'll find him."

You look over and Poe has his arms crossed, staring straight ahead at the reflective doors. You look at the doors and take in the two of you together. He looks like he belongs here and you don't. People are going to know you're fakes. This isn't a mission for you, you're not a good actor and you're barely dressed for the part.

"You look great, stop worrying." Poe says softly.

"What? I didn't say anything?"

"You're staring at our reflection intently. I know what you're thinking and you're wrong. You look great."

You fold your arms over your chest and lean against the wall. "You're staring too."

Poe turns and steps directly in front of you. "I'm staring at you."

"Well stop."

"I can't." He catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger and your hands start sweating, heart going wild. "I wanna take it all in while I have it."

"You think I'm not going to dress up ever again?"

"Maybe. I've known you for three years now and I've never seen you like this."

"Don't get used to it."

Poe releases your chin as the elevator dings, signaling your floor. "I won't. But I'm going to relish it while I can."

"Yeah, you do tha-ah!"

He grabs your hand and pulls you out onto the game floor, tugging you against his chest. He slides a hand into your hair and your knees go weak. "Remember our cover?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Newly weds." He drops his lips to your ear. "That can't get enough of each other. You can touch me again, it's okay."

You rest your hand against his chest and his heart is beating fast and hard. He's really into this. "How are we supposed to find the contact if we're all over each other?"

"We will. Just follow my lead."

Poe wraps his arm around your back and guides you to walk with him to a table. He crowds you against the table in front of him, lips going to your neck. "Ask what the buy in is?"

"What's the buy in?" You smile sweetly, looking at the dealer. You're trying not to tremble but Poe is really making you feel weak kneed. He's taken to sliding his hand across your stomach and massaging his thumb just over your ribcage.

"Twenty thousand Madame." The dealer says happily. "Shall I put you on the board next round?"

"Uh.."

"Yes." Poe says more lustfully than helpfully.

You shiver and nod. "Yes please."

The dealer gives a nod and begins to set out a marker for you while the roulette wheel spins away.

"How exactly are we doing this?" You hiss at Poe and he chuckles. "Seriously what money do you-"

"He's here."

"What? Where?" You look around the table and no one matches the contact's description. "Where?"

Poe bites at your neck and you let out an embarrassing little noise of pleasure. He's hitting all your sensitive spots and it's driving you mad. "Table at our two o'clock."

You look over and sure enough there is a man in a long emerald green robe. "Great let's go talk to him."

"Not so fast." Poe murmurs, fingers flexing on your stomach. "We have a game to play."

"No we don't. We have no money." You seethe and he hums against your back. "Seriously what are you-"

Poe lays a bundle of tokens on the table and your eyes go wide. "Don't lose." He presses a kiss to your cheek and pulls away.

"Don't- how the fuck am I supposed to-" You look back and he's crossing the game room to get to the table where the contact is. You look back at your own game and white knuckle the edge of the table. You don't even know how to play roulette.

"Madame? Your bet?" The dealer calls, looking at you.

"I- thirteen?"

"The color Madame?"

"Black."

"Very well."

You watch as the wheel spins and the little ball bounces around inside. It's insufferable. You can't watch. You know it's going to cause you to lose this stack of tokens Poe just slapped down out of nowhere. Why does he have so much money? You look up and find him standing near the contact. He doesn't appear to be talking, just observing.

"Winner!"

Your eyes snap back to the table and the dealer is pushing a large amount of tokens toward you. "What..."

"Thirteen black, straight bet. You've taken the majority of the pot Madame. Shall I put you down for another round or cash you out?"

"Cash out."

The dealer stacks your tokens into a carrier and pushes the small box toward you. "Best of times madame."

You gather the box and make a beeline for Poe. The moment you're in range you lay a hand on his back and he turns, scooping you against him and pressing his lips to your cheek. "I-...Okay?"

"The contact is a spy from the First Order," Poe whispers, kissing along your jaw and your mind goes fuzzy. "This is a trap. We need to stay low, contact Leia and find out more information."

"H-how do you know?" You stammer, brain split between wanting to focus on the mission and getting Poe alone in a bedroom.

"He's wearing a ring that only First Order commanders have. I've seen it before."

You slide your hand down his back and rest it on his ass. It takes everything in you not to squeeze. "We should talk elsewhere. Like you said, we need to get ahold of Leia."

"Did you lose my money at the table?"

"No, and on that subject, where the fuck did you get that much in tokens? Since when do you just have an extra twenty thousand laying around?"

"Don't worry about it. What did you win?"

"I don't know?" You move away and hold up the carrier full of tokens. "The dealer just gave me this."

Poe takes it and his eyes go wide. "Holy sh- this is way more than I laid down. Okay first things first we cash this out and get a room. Then we call Leia."

"Sounds good."

_____________________

The room is huge, a suite for a small family. Seriously you could house at least four people in there comfortably it is so large. You take a seat on the end of the giant gold and black bed in the center of the room and Poe starts rolling up his sleeves. It's way hotter than it should be and your brain wanders. It'd feel so good to have him pin you down, kiss you until you can't think straight anymore. His tongue is probably so skilled and-

"Hey, hello, you alive?" Poe says, touching your shoulder. "Did you bring the communicator?"

"Yeah, yeah it's in my purse."

Poe looks around and spots the small purse you had been carrying. "This could have been very bad."

"Do you think he would have tried to kill us?"

"No. I think he would have given us the coordinates and lead us into a death trap." Poe dials out the command center code. "I knew this abandoned ship was too good to be true."

You flop back and stare at the ceiling while Poe talks to Leia. It's painted gold with black stars imprinted throughout. It's interesting, ritzy and obnoxious, but still pretty. You smile to yourself. You've never been in a place this nice. Never in a million years did you think you would find yourself in Canto Bight. Heat rises in your stomach as you reflect on the last hour or so with Poe. He was so willing to touch you, to make you squirm under his attentions. Does he feel some type of way for real? Is he playing the part? You know one thing, you are never going to recover from this. You're going to have dreams for months.

"You know your dress is leaving little to the imagination."

You snap out of your thoughts and sit up, staring at Poe who's standing at the end of the bed looking down at you. Galaxies it's so sexy, his eyes are trained on you and you can't look away. Your dress is hiked up to your thighs, so laying down he could probably see your underwear. "Maybe you should look elsewhere."

"Maybe I don't wanna." He smirks and your blood pressure skyrockets. He reaches out and flips the bit of fabric laying on your leg and exposes a bit more skin.

"Poe!"

His big hand covers the top of your thigh and he gives a little squeeze. "Tell me to stop."

"Poe...what're you doing?"

His other hand finds your opposite thigh and he slides them up under the dress. He's just touching your legs and you're getting riled up. He presses his face into your neck and you let out the most feeble whine of pleasure. "If you don't want this for real, tell me now."

"We shouldn-"

He gives a little bite and you fall backwards, body no longer able to handle it. "Yes or no sweetheart, I need to know if you want this?"

"Yes. I want you." You bite your lip and it's all over. Poe climbs over you, holding your wrists just like you imagined. His lips find yours, kissing you hungrily while you squirm beneath him, aching to touch him in return. You know it's going to be a long night and that's just fine.

____________________

Sometime in the middle of the night you wake up, eyes opening to the darkened room. For a moment you cannot sort out where you are. The bed feels unfamiliar, the air smells different, nothing is right. Then it hits you. Canto Bight. Poe. You roll over and sure enough there he is beside you, arm over his face.

Last night comes back to you. Oh man. That's why you're sore and naked. You turn back over and Poe shifts on his side. An arm wraps around your chest, pulling you flush against him under the blankets.

"Go back to sleep sweetheart."

"You're awake too."

His hand slides up your chest and settles against your throat. You shiver, remembering last night. A wave of heat courses down your body and settles between your legs. He must know this because he chuckles softly. "Quiet now aren't you?"

"Shut up."

"That's not what you told me last night." He kisses along your shoulder and rubs his thumb back and forth across your throat, applying gentle pressure. "I believe the words were, harder please."

"Poe we just woke up. Do you really need to do this now?" You groan and he slides his hand away, settling it on your chest instead.

He nuzzles against your hair and places another kiss to the back of your neck. "I don't want it to end."

"What?"

"Us, this."

You turn over and face him, nearly nose to nose. You can feel his breath and you stare at each other for a long moment. "You want this?"

He nods. "Please?"

"Okay, I'm down for exploring this." You smile and he leans in to kiss you gently. "I guess I wasn't so far off when I said I was your wife."

Poe cards a hand through your hair. "Easy now, we could make that a possibility. There's a dozen union halls here."

"We're not getting married!" You laugh and he does so in turn. "Fuck a guy once and he wants to make you his wife. Damn, how long has it been Poe?"

"Shut up!"

"No seriously, how long?"

"A while."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Sure. It's your fault."

You narrow your eyes and he's grinning. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means, it's your fault I haven't gotten laid." He flips your nose with his finger and you swat him away. "I'm spelling it out here."

"No you're not? How is it my fault exactly?"

"Because I'm...inlovewithyou." He mutters the last bit, and stares diligently at your pillow.

You touch his cheek and turn his head up to look at you. "Run that by me again?"

"You heard it."

"I heard the impossible. So I know I heard wrong."

"Fuck you, impossible."

"Then say it again!

"I love you!" He takes in a shaky breath. "You're the only woman I've ever met that goes toe to toe with me and gets under my skin to the point I just want to rip your head off but also fuck you so hard you're begging for it. I look forward to seeing you every morning, I look forward to talking to you every day. When you go on missions I can't eat or sleep because I'm so damn worried you won't come back. Fuck, you're everything and I-I must look like an idiot."

"Poe."

"Don't say it. I know it's fine. You don't feel the same and-"

You lean forward and kiss him to make him shut up. He catches on immediately and cradles your face as he returns the kiss. "First things first Dameron..."

"Yeah?" He mutters, eyes closed as he chases your lips as you speak.

"Don't ever tell me how I feel."

He grins and opens his eyes, staring back at you with burning fire. It's passion, challenge, interest. So many emotions you can't settle on one. "Can I tell you want to do?"

"What do you think?"

"Yes?" He slides his hand down to your throat, not squeezing, just touching. "You seemed to like me telling you what to do last night."

You bite his lip and he groans. "Maybe sometimes."

"I'll take sometimes." He pulls you against him, tucking your head under his chin. "Can I take you to breakfast?"

"Like a date?"

"Yes."

"Sure, but you gotta tell me where you got those tokens last night."

He chuckles. "They're fake."

"Fake?! You gave me fake tokens?!"

"I told you not to lose didn't I?"

"You son of a bitch."

"No my mother was a kind woman, thank you."

"I hate you."

He kisses your head and holds his lips to your hair. "No you don't."

You grip his back, pressing your face into his chest. "I don't. Not even a little."

_____________________

Three days after you and Poe return to base things don't seem to have changed. Poe doesn't seem to hint at wanting to be together, he doesn't say anything about what happened between you two on Canto Bight. It's weird. You had such a good night and a lovely breakfast. As far as hook ups and first dates go, they were some of the best you've ever had. You thought things were going well, that you were going to be a couple when you got back to base, but that isn't happening and you don't know why. It's a little annoying and you wonder if Poe is embarrassed to be with you. Or maybe he doesn't want people to know because he wants to keep his options open. You feel played and it is not sitting well.

"Bout time you got back." You say as Poe walks up to the supply cart you're stocking in the hangar. He has been out on a mission with the black x-wing team. Some sort of attack on some stormtroopers invading a resistance friendly settlement.

"Miss me?"

"Yeah, sure." You roll your eyes.

Poe grabs the handles on the cart and leans forward as he speaks. "Is there a problem?"

"I don't know, is there?"

"Don't start with me."

You slam down a pack of fuses and lift your eyes to meet his. "Don't start with you? Oh no problem, you already didn't start it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh fuck you."

Poe raises his eyebrows. "Fuck me? I'm not doing anything. You're coming at me for who knows what. Tell me what I did!"

"Nothing! You've done nothing Poe! Since we got home you've barely looked at me twice. We spent an incredible night in Canto Bight and for what? For what Poe?!"

"That's what you're mad about?!"

"Yeah! I feel like I've been played!" You laugh angrily, stepping away from the cart and walking around a pile of scrap parts in boxes. "Is Poe Dameron too good to admit he fell in love?!"

"Fuck all, you don't need to shout that across the base!"

You narrow your eyes at him. "You want me to shout? Oh I'll shout." You turn your back to him and face the open expanse of the hangar. "I'm in love with Poe Dameron and he is in love with me! We fucked on Canto Bight and it was amazing!"

A few pilots and crew nearby make noises of encouragement.

Poe grabs your shoulder and turns you around a little rougher than you expect. He backs you against the wall and your heart goes absolutely wild. "You want something to scream about? I'll give you a reason to scream my name."

"Put your money where your mouth is Dameron."

He leans in close, caging you in with his hands on the wall beside your head. "Call me by my last name again and I'll make sure you scream it too."

You stare at him in heavy silence for a moment. The tension is teetering on thin ice. "Tell me you love me. Say it again."

"I love you." He presses his forehead against yours. "I love you until the stars burn out."

"Then why have you been putting me off for the last three days?"

"I've been working through some personal shit."

You swallow thickly. You feel like an asshole now. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't know." He drops his hands from the wall and holds your face. "I promise I'll tell you everything one day, just bare with me."

You grab his wrists and rub your thumb over the back of his hands. "Are you okay? Like...y'know?"

"Yeah."

"You're sure?"

Poe nods. "It's just my PTSD and some other stuff. Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Do you really love me like you just shouted to the base?"

You smile and he bumps your noses together. "Yeah Poe. I love you."

He leans in and kisses you, smiling into it as he does so. "You're really hot when you're angry."

"You are too." You grin back as you slide your hands over his butt. "Maybe we should work on communication."

"Mmm. Then let me tell you how much I want to get you alone right now."

"What's stopping you?"

"Nothing." He grunts as he slides his hands under your legs and lifts you up. "I'm taking you straight to the commander's quarters for punishment."

You grip his back tightly as he walks you out of the hangar. "What's my offense?"

"Verbally attacking a commander and stealing his heart."

"You're cheesy."

"You love it." He purrs, placing his lips against your throat. "You love me."

"Yes, yes I do."

---------

End

------

Header pic by delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

[heywejustheretohavefum]

Attachment - Chapter Two

- yes I know that my writings shit but that has never stopped me before so why would it now -

word count : 1.8k

warnings : swearing, canon-like violence

You had been meditating since before sunrise, finding peace in the faint buzz of the city. After spending most of your life on a nowhere planet, you found the unfamiliarity of your surroundings strangely comforting. The sun finally begins to peek through the skyscrapers and bastes your delicate (s/t) skin in it’s warm rays. Pleasantly, the Force hums around you as you let your mind drift into its throngs. Lost to the world, you bask in the Force for Maker knows how long until you’re brought out of your meditative state by a metal hand on your shoulder. Assuming it was a Sepratist droid, you twist around, grabbing the attacker’s arm and swiftly bringing it behind their back with a harsh tug. Only when a very human grunt of pain comes out of your assailant do you realize that it was just your master.

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, releasing Master Skywalker’s arm out of your strong grasp. “I-I thought-I mean I didn’t know it was y-”

You were cut off by a hearty laugh from Anakin, his gorgeous blue eyes sparkling in amusement. “You’re good, (n/n). Just be sure to fight like that against Grievous today and we’ll be sure to win!”

“Thanks, master…” you pause, realizing what your teacher just said. “Wait, what?! General Grievous! Today?”

Anakin laughs at your shock before settling down and beginning to explain. “Our most recent intelligence suggests General Grievous and his fleet is within three parcecs of Coruscant. The Counsel and the Senate are worried about what they could be doing so deep in Republic territory, and as the closest General, it’s my job to chase him away. With any luck, we will hopefully be able to capture the bastard before he can escape our grasp again.”

“So why do you need me, master?” You ask him as you walk into the hanger to board a ship headed towards the oversized clanker’s fleet. From a nearby supply room, you grab a small blaster to tuck into the hidden pocket in your pants leg.

“Well, while our fleet will be distracting Grievous, we will secretly fly in and dock in his ship in order to capture him. The Counsel thinks you’re ready for such a daring mission.”

You notice how he says the Counsel thinks you’re ready and you wonder if he disagrees with them. Judging by his annoyed and upset tone, you’d guess he does. Obi-Wan walks by, diverting your attention from the angsty Jedi Knight. “Master Kenobi! I take it you’re coming too?” You ask. Clone troopers march behind him in their white battle armor, loading the ships with blasters and explosives.

“Yes, I’ll be in charge of the diversion, desperately trying to keep Anakin out of trouble - as always,” he responds. You laugh at his joke, which makes your master scowl as he finishes helping load some cargo onto a ship. Anakin catches himself doing so, and quickly stops, wondering why he’s being so hostile toward your happiness. Your happiness is caused by Obi-Wan, yes, but still is your happiness.

“Let’s go (y/n), my ship should be fueled up,” Anakin rushes to pull you away from his former master, grabbing you by the arm as you wave a quick goodbye to the bearded Jedi. He continues to pull you until you reach his yellow starfighter on the other side of the hanger - and you choose not to comment on how he abruptly and rudely ended your conversation with Master Kenobi.

“Wait a second master, this ship only seats one,” you tell him.

“Then I guess you’ll have to sit on my lap, won’t you?”

一

Flying through hyperspace, Anakin can step back and truly appreciate his situation. You, sitting on his lap, begrudgingly cuddled into his chest in order to give him room to reach around you and fly the ship. Despite the dangerous mission you are both hurtling towards at literal light speed, Anakin feels completely relaxed by your warmth and scent. Oh yes, your scent. Though he knows you must use the standard issue soap every Jedi uses, you smell different than that. Like warmth - like the sunlight he found you meditating in this morning.

Neither of you had talked for a while. You’re still mentally trying to prepare for what is sure to be an exhilarating first mission, and your master is basking in the wonder of the moment. He still has yet to understand why being around you gives him such a rush (different than how he had felt with Padmé, greater than it had ever been), but for now he won’t contemplate it. For now, Anakin will just enjoy the feeling of your breath against his skin, of your heartbeat in time with his own and his face pressed into your sweet smelling hair. And you won’t know of the rush you give him.

So enraptured by your presence, Anakin doesn’t feel the ship jump out of hyperspace jerkily. You do, however, and you also notice the large wing of the Sepratist ship growing ever closer as he does nothing to slow the ship down. “Look out!” You shout, snapping your master out of his daydream just in time for him to pull back on the controls and stop the small starship from smashing into bits. “Kriff, Anakin, what the hell was that!?” Your elbow comes around to jab him for almost killing the both of you.

After a quick, half-assed apology, Anakin docks the ship, connecting it to the ‘Good’ General’s ship in order to gain access. He frowns as he feels your comforting weight leave his lap; you slip out of the cockpit and into the halls of the ship, giving a hand to your master as he does the same. Together, you make your way through the ship towards the bridge, carefully avoiding droid patrols as you go.

Now at the bridge, you find the doors to it sealed. You share a look with your master, and you both pierce through it with your lightsabers, each cutting a half circle until your lightsabers again meet at the bottom. Master Skywalker moves the cut circle out of the door with the Force, and you slip through the hole, blocking the barrage of blaster fire with your verdant saber.

Your master runs in after you, and goes straight to Grievous who spun two lightsabers. Deciding you focus on the droids to keep them occupied and away from your master, you start cutting swaths of the smaller ones down. The Force warns you of something coming from behind, and you swing around just in time to block a black pole sparking purple energy from both ends. Jumping onto a control panel behind you, you launch yourself over the black droid’s head, swinging around mid-air to slice the droid in two.

With three more of the strange black droids in the room, all of which were far too close to Anakin for comfort, you slide under Grievous’ legs to get to another one which was about to strike your master before you cut it clean in half. Back on your feet, you twirl to narrowly avoid their sparking sticks and you use the opportunity to kick one of them back into the control paneling before chopping the other one in two.

With them dealt with, you swing at the general, who’s second pair of arms come out in time to meet your saber with two of his own; the force of the swing knocking it out of your hand. Anakin, distracted by your situation momentarily, loses his own lightsaber as General Grievous prepares to kill both of you.

“And now, I will rid the galaxy of two more pathetic Jedi,” he laughs, before he sputters off into a coughing fit.

“Wait!” You say, trying to think on your feet. “Before you kill my master...could I get my revenge on him?”

“What?” Grievous turns to you, his monstrous eyes staring questioningly at your own.

“You heard me,” you double down, “the Jedi have been nothing but cruel to me my entire life, and Skywalker’s been the worst of all.” You spat, glaring at Anakin. “I-I’m not asking you to let me kill him, no. You deserve that honor. J-just let me kick him around a bit. Let me hurt him like he hurt me.”

Grievous narrows his eyes at you in suspicion. You pray that this would work, and wouldn’t just make Master Skywalker think you hate him on his last moment in this galaxy. The droid-man moves the lightsaber away from your head, giving you the go ahead to go over to your master. As gently as you could get away with, you kick his chest, sending him to the floor. Again, you kick him, this time squarely in his side. Slowly blocking the view of the metal man in a way that would be interpreted as accidental, you kick your master again, waiting and hoping he’d understand.

And he did. At first Anakin was destroyed by your confession to hating him. He looked up at you, eyes watering, but your eyes - the gorgeous (e/c) hued eyes that he had come to adore staring into - were trained on General Grievous ganguly figure. But then, when you looked at him, he found there was no resentment in your eyes. Just desperation. And with your first kick, he understood. The unfamiliar feeling of metal against his ribs made him remember how you tucked a small blaster into your pants.

Grabbing it, he shoots at Grievous from the floor, forcing him to block the shot which gives you an opening to summon your emerald saber and ferociously slash at him; his bottom left arm falls to the ground with a useless thud. As cowardly as ever, Grievous turns to scuttle away on all five of his remaining limbs, and you give chase, leaving Anakin to pull both his lightsaber and the one from Grievous’ discarded arm.

By the time he catches up to you, you’re locked, saber to saber with Grievous. His hidden pair of arms unfurl and Anakin knows you won’t see them coming until too late. He charges towards Grievous, and manages to block one of his sabers from slashing down into you, but not the other.

Anakin’s heart stops as you fall back, your tunic ripped open and your chest spilling blood. He doesn’t notice Grievous slip away, or the way the ship shakes dangerously. He can only see you, the way your chest heaves as your shirt grows damp with blood, the way you cringe in pain as you frantically try to control your breathing. “Ani,” your voice is rough and jagged with pain. “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s sh-shallow enough. Just go after Grievous, I’ll be fine.”

Your master refuses, seeming to think your injury is much more serious than it is, and he frantically lifts you up and begins running back to his ship, abandoning the mission for Grievous.