#fucking train on the bounty mission my friend and i were on. Just The Train he deposited the people on the track but the train? gone)

[luvsavos]

decided to cave and name my nergi plushie after vodrem. that was, predictably, a Mistake

[ase-trollplays]

When We Were Kids (Part One)

...s-so... how are you feeling?... ...s-still s-sore?...

Y'all got no idea. The only thing that don't hurt is blinkin'. I swear, soon as I can move again, I'm suplexin' Dan inta next sweep.

...he only picks on you because he cares... ...its his way of making s-sure you dont obsess over everything...

Ya mean like the fact I fucked myself an' can never have anythin' close ta a normal life ever again cuz I lost my fool head?

...yeah... that... ...im just relieved you werent killed... ...i... ...i was going insane thinking id have to bury another moirail...

I wouldn't be too relieved. I can't go out in public ever again with legis an' fleet dogs out fer my head. Prolly got a hefty bounty, too, an' rewards fer turnin' me in. Y'all two ain't safe either if anyone finds out y'all know me.

...yeah... ...when dantli comes back... we s-should all talk about where were going from here...

Ugh, I can't even get my shit from my hive. It's prolly bein' watched or somethin', or it's been raided an' bugged by now in case me'r one a y'all shows up. God, my lusus ain't gon' know what happened ta me, an' he can't come here like yers. I ain't sure he'll wait a sweep fer me ta come back like when I was a kid.

...that reminds me... ...when i was in the hospital... you s-said you knew exactly how i felt when i was being held captive... and that i s-should ask you about your childhood...

Yeh. Yeh, I did say that, didn't I? I'm guessin' this is yer way a askin'?

...yeah... if you dont mind...

Alright. It ain't a happy story, but I'm sure ya already figured that. I guess I'll start from the beginnin'.

I was even more a a hotheaded stubborn shit when I was a kid, if y'all can believe that. Pickin' fights with every troll I saw an' tryin' ta befriend the ones who beat me. Which was damn near all a them cuz fer all my bluster, I was a twiggy scrawny little toothpick, ain't had a ounce a muscle on me. I didn't want nobody thinkin' I was weak just cuz I was a skinny rust.

I was always gettin' my dumb ass beat up an' hurt tryin' ta prove I ain't no wimp, but I did get some good friends outta it. Even had a li'l flush crush on one a them, a girl who beat me in a fight just by knockin' me down an' sittin' on me 'til I wore myself out tryin' ta get her off. I had a whole group a friends back then. I can't tell ya what their names'r caste was, but we were a happy li'l group.

Here's the part where everythin' goes ta shit. When I was five, I was out patrollin' my li'l territory when I spotted a scraggly-lookin' teal prowlin' around. He was a adult an' a lot bigger'n me, but I challenged him all the same. He hauled off an' kicked me dead in the stomach an' told me ta get lost. If I was smart I'd a left it at that, but who said wrigglers are smart? I wasn't ready ta say I lost, so I picked myself up, grabbed a big ol' rock, an' chucked it square at the back a his head. Hit him so hard he started bleedin' an' staggered a good bit.

He looked back at me real mad at first, then he started smilin'. Said I had a lot a fight in me for a twiggy brat. I told him there's more where that came from if he don't git, an' he laughed an' said he'd have a ball breakin' me. 'Fore I knew it, he was right up on me, an' I didn't have no time ta react 'fore he got me in the gut with a stun gun an' knocked my ass right out.

I woke up in a cell with a couple other young trolls. I asked where I was, an' they said I was in the slave camp. Said I was here cuz they were gon' break me, train me inta a perfect li'l pet slave, then sell me off ta the highest bidder. Needless ta say, I wasn't havin' that shit. I made it my mission ta put up as much a a fight as I could an' refuse ta be domesticated.

First handler they assigned ta me was that teal that grabbed me. Since I already fought with him once, I knew what ta expect. He got a lotta good licks in over the first couple nights, but eventually he slipped up an' I was able ta steal his stun gun an' shock him dead in the eyes. After that, they decided to gimme their toughest, meanest, biggest handler.

He was a big blueblood who made us call him "Mister," an' he took that shit serious. I called him asshole exactly once an' he slapped me 'cross the face so hard he damn near snapped my neck. I couldn't feel my face fer a night afterward. Most a my abuse came from him, an' I just know he was havin' fun beatin' my ass every night tryin' ta make me give up.

But I'm the most stubborn bitch ever hatched, so I didn't make shit easy fer him. He beat me ta shit, starved me, locked me in a tiny li'l cage, an' made sure no one talked ta me'r tried helpin' me'r they'd be in the same boat. His favorite punishment fer me was the post. There was a big wooden post in a sort a courtyard outside with a pair a manacles attached. He'd lock me in, hike up my shirt, an' tear me ta ribbons with a whip. Afterwards, he'd leave me out there fer nights with only a thick blanket thrown over me ta keep me from bein' completely cooked ta death by the sun durin' the day.

He liked hearin' me cry an' scream in pain, so I'd try my damnedest to keep my mouth shut no matter how hard an' how much he whipped me. I'd stay quiet for the first thirty seconds, but after that I could never hold it in anymore. Then he'd whip me more fer resistin'. So many times I was close ta givin' up if it meant he wouldn't torture me no more, but I didn't wanna let him win.

...oh my god... ...im s-so s-sorry... ...i cant even imagine... and i s-said all that--

Y'ain't gotta apologize fer bein' mad. I get it. Ya were in a scary situation, an' hearin' that I never even tried ta find ya when this whole thing was my damn fault ta start with? I'd a been pissed, too.

...s-still though... ...it was s-so insensitive...

It ain't like y'all knew any a this at the time. It's fine.

...how did you get out??...

Heh, that's where shit gets real interestin'.

They kept me at that camp fer half a sweep torturin' me, but I held on. I dunno why they didn't just cull my stubborn ass a long time ago. My guess is cuz Mister wanted the satisfaction a breakin' me cuz ain't no one else been this much a a challenge fer him fer so long. If he let them cull me, it ain't a real win. But eventually he reached the end a his patience with me.

I managed ta get a hold a a fork an' taunted Mister 'til he grabbed me 'round the throat an' got right in my face ta threaten me. I stabbed him in the eye an' tried ta make a break fer the exit while he was screamin' an' cursin' an' bleedin'. A course, I didn't make it nowhere close ta the door 'fore I got caught. Mister was fumin' somethin' fierce, and I didn't even get a chance ta register what he was about ta do 'fore everythin' just became blindin' pain.

I remember one a the supervisors cussin' him out cuz they was plannin' on sendin' me ta The Pit, an' now I ain't in no condition ta be transferred. That fucker cut me open from rib ta hip with a dagger. I spent nights in the infirmary tryin' ta get stabilized an' patched up. I was so weak from bein' starved an' beat on a regular basis that I almost died.

But like I said, I'm the most stubborn bitch ever hatched. I was able ta recover enough ta get my stitches out, but after they they decided ta cut their losses and finally cull me. Mister wanted ta do the honors himself. After what I did ta him, he didn't care about winnin' no more. He wanted me dead. He filled a tub full a water, threw me in, an' held me down with his foot while I thrashed an' tried ta free myself 'fore I drowned. Eventually I lost consciousness.

I woke up chokin' on water an' hackin' the shit out my lungs in the middle a the forest. I figured they dumped my body fer the undead an' the animals ta eat once I blacked out. I didn't know where I was or how ta get back home, an' I was fuckin' scared. But I was free after half a sweep in captivity, an' that was more important than bein' afraid. I picked a direction an' started walkin'.

I didn't have no way a huntin' ta feed myself, an' I was still fuckin' weak as shit, so I didn't eat much a nothin' 'cept whatever bugs an' small animals I was able ta catch. I had ta sleep up in trees durin' the day ta avoid the roamin' undead. Eventually between the hunger an' bein' exhausted all the time, I dropped.

Next thing I know, I'm wakin' up in a hive belongin' ta some li'l jade even younger'n me sayin' him an' his lusus found me. I was still a ornery li'l shit an' wasn't exactly a good hiveguest. He still helped me an' everythin' though. Kept me fed, gave me a place ta sleep. Once I was mostly healed an' had my strength back, I robbed him blind an' ran. Took every piece an' scrap a food I could carry, stole a couple knives, an' I was off. I'd prolly apologize ta him if I ever see him again, not that I remember what he even looked like, an' I'm sure he don't remember me or wouldn't recognize me now.

I spent the next half sweep doin' whatever I could ta survive an' try ta find my way home. I stole, I killed, I broke inta hives, I did whatever I had ta do ta make it ta the next night. When I finally made it hive after that half a sweep, my pa was there waitin' fer me. He waited fer a whole sweep fer me ta come back instead a takin' in a new charge. I bawled the hardest I ever have in my life. Makes me feel extra shitty that I can't go back an' say my goodbyes ta him. He's prolly still waitin' fer me ta come back just like I did last time I went missin'.

...if you want... i can ask dantli to go to your hive and tell your lusus you arent coming back... ...i dont think hes on anyones radar s-since he doesnt s-socialize... ...i can tell him to make it look like he's robbing you s-so they dont get s-suspicious... and itll be a convenient way to get s-some of your things for you...

That ain't a bad idea. S'long as he don't say nothin' stupid'r incriminatin', that could work.

Anyway, speakin' a going back hive, when I finally made it back ta mine after my sweep in Hell, I couldn't function fer shit. I didn't wanna reach out ta my friends cuz I didn't want 'em ta see how broken I was. I didn't wanna look weak ta them, an' none a them reached out anyhow. In just that one sweep, they moved on from me, which still kinda hurts ta know that's all it took ta lose 'em.

Fer perigees after, I'd have daymares a bein' back at the slave camp, weak an' in pain with Mister standin' over me with the whip, then draggin' me out ta the post. I was barely gettin' any sleep, I couldn't eat, an' I was terrified a bein' in water. That's when I decided ta start bulkin' up an' gettin' stronger so I couldn't be taken back there or anywhere else.

Fer three sweeps, I had the mother grub a anxiety. A lotta nights, I couldn't even get the nerve ta leave my hive. I'd get anxiety attacks an' panic attacks when I saw highbloods, 'specially male blues. An' y'all know me. When I start gettin' anxious, I get real mad an' itchin' fer a fight. Even now, I don't hate highblood s'much as I get anxiety bein' around 'em. An' I do also hate 'em.

That's when I started drinkin'. It wasn't about gettin' drunk. It was a way ta calm my frazzled nerves an' keep my anxiety under control. Over time, though, it turned inta a addiction, an' y'all know how well that ended up workin' out fer me in the end.

That's basically everythin' about my childhood, so believe me when I say I know exactly what it's like ta not know if yer gonna live ta see another night, an' cryin' yerself ta sleep durin' the day cuz everythin's so awful, an' prayin' that yer loved ones ain't next or won't be too tore up if ya don't survive.

...i... im s-so s-sorry... ...no one s-should have to endure that... especially not a child... ...i... i...

C'mon now, y'ain't gotta cry about it. It sucks, but it's in the past now, an' fallin' ta pieces over it ain't gon' fix nothin'.

...i... i know... but...

It's okay, I get it. If it'll make ya feel better, go ahead an' cry it out. I can hold ya if ya want.

...but arent you s-still sore?...

Not so sore I can't comfort my pale. It ain't gon' kill me, so get yer li'l cryin' sniffly self over here.

[eriexplosion]

Clone Wars - Clone Cadets

DOMINOES DOMINOES DOMINOES.

Bravery, valor, unity, the lifeblood of victory on the battlefield

This is very funny because I think they put this bit over a clip from Hidden Enemy which, no matter how you look at it, is certainly not an episode about unity.

Anyway there's a lot dropped into this opening including that all of the clones teachers were bounty hunters, surely a group of people well known for their patience and gentle handling of children. Also, "Bred to be perfect soldiers, these cadets must first be subjected to intense physical and mental training before heading off to war" is simply a sentence that gives me the heebiest of jeebies.

The different vibes the chronological order gives to the clones existence continues to be blatant though. Like I know I've pointed it out several times in these but like, it really is front loaded with some truly terrible content when it comes to clone mistreatment, and having Slick's episode lead into clones dropping every five seconds in the movie into this episode about their training from birth to almost inevitable battlefield death is just a lot. I CARE A LOT ABOUT CLONES AND I WANT SOMETHING BETTER FOR THEM DAMN IT.

MY CHILDREN ARE HERE THOUGH. And god but baby Echo is so stressed all the time. Nobody is in formation. They don't like their nickname. Everyone is shouting. They insist on calling Fives by his full CT number and it makes thank yous a very intensive process. Don't worry, if you think your team is difficult to keep track of now it won't be long until you find yourself with and even crazier one. The audacity of this simulation being The Citadel though given what happens. AUDACITY.

And 99 ;A; Treasure.

"YOU'VE NEVER EVEN MET A GIRL" remains one of the funniest throwaway lines in the show.

Baby Echo though has one (1) thought and it's WE NEED TO FOLLOW ORDERS, PLEASE DEAR GOD. And instead all they get is punched. Team Cohesion? Never heard of it.

Leave my man alone he's just fucking standing there why you gotta bring him into it? Anyway this line makes me really wonder why we haven't heard ANYTHING about 99 in TBB, like it just seems that in two seasons we should have gotten something about the guy that they're named after in two different ways.

Ma'am, I think that you've been here long enough to have noticed that Lama Su does not care about petty things like 'the rights of living beings.' Shaak Ti is one of my most Complicated Feelings Jedi, though, because she'll say things like this and later talk about Fives as property and kind of treat him like it too. (Permanently thinking about when Fives was trying to see what the hell they were doing to Tup and Shaak Ti closes the shutter on him without a word.)

I do think she sincerely feels empathy for the clone troopers but I'm not convinced that translates into '100% believes they are full human beings" just going by actions through the show. "You Jedi show too much compassion" sure but Lama Su thinks literally anything is too much compassion, it's not a high bar.

Every day I am caught in the conundrum of what's likely just writer inconsistency.

GOD THE ABSOLUTE AWKWARD SILENCE AFTER COLT ASKS HOW THE DOMINO SQUAD IS. RIP BOYS.

Still love that they named that poor bastard Droidbait. Do you think it puts a damper on things when Echo and Fives look back and remember their squad like you can be normal about mourning Hevy and Cutup but you try to memorialize Droidbait and shit gets awkward. You'll never believe what happened to their good friend. Droidbait.

It is interesting that leaving a man behind is an automatic fail only because every other thing we see with the clones is that the mission comes first and individual clones are expendable. But still, not the vibe they were going for with this episode so the rules change accordingly.

Bric is definitely on the list of most unlikable characters for his whole scene with Cutup. Fuck this guy throw him into the ocean. Complete counter to the sweet scene with 99 trying to encourage Hevy.

"Stop calling me that. We're just numbers 99. Just numbers." "Not to me. To me... you've always had a name."

LINES THAT MAKE ME WANT TO FUCKING SOB EVERY TIME. I absolutely adore 99 and we do not get enough time with him.

Do not like that Shaak Ti validates Bric's assholery by letting his actively trying to fuck over the cadets slide. Yes Jedi wisdom or whatever but genuinely fuck this guy.

And of course... the Hevy and 99 scene at the end. "We'll see each other again. How else am I supposed to get this back from you?" Agonizing. AGONIZING.

This is one of the episodes I think works much better in its original order. Watching it chronologically is interesting of course, but can't bring the unmatched brutality of seeing them try so hard for a victory knowing that in almost no time at all three of them are going to be dead anyway and that Hevy is never coming back for that medal. So yeah, not too far in and we've hit at least one that definitely works best as a flashback.

[thevalleyoftriumph]

Since I reblogged it from you, here’s what I’m curious abt for your OC’s!!

MY ENTIRE EXPLANATION FOR 11 JUST GOT DESTROYED IM GOING TO KILL TUMBLR. anyways since last ask had an 11 im choosing a different ocverse for this one

11]

hi. um. roblox ocs :3 their lore takes forever to explain so im just gonna explain the characters instead of the plot.

basically theres 3 of them ok.

cody, a noob who loves playing fighting games and helping people get their footing in them. very silly, very kind, and has a bestie thats a guest named horns [horns is my friends oc :3]. cody ALSO has a bit of a slow moving "curse" that is the result of their arm being Fucking Cut Off. its a corruption in their code that is slowly spreading across their body, which will end up with their entire set of code and body being Basically unraveled from the inside out in a way thats Worse than death ! :D they spend most of their time trying to figure out a way to undo that while still being the same happy person. they see blade [other oc] as a brother figure once the two meet!

blade is a bounty hunter of sorts, who goes after exploiters to make the world safer for people, thanks to his own experiences as a kid with exploiters. he is VERY good at his job, having been training since he was a younger teen, and has been doing his job for anywhere from 15-20 years [havent decided.] his current target is inkcap, his childhood friend and previous crush. its a whole thing. also, hes the one who saved cody from being COMPLETELY killed during their exploiter encounter!

inkcap is . well. the exploiter mentioned previously. instead of their encounter with exploiters driving it to better itself and help others, its trauma [and also blade leaving it when they were both 15 to go on his first mission, and then just. never coming back] had led it to lean into its trauma, and learn the same exploits that hurt it, and more. it decides that if it couldnt be happy anymore, if it lost everything and everyone it loved, then no one else should be able to have these things - because no one tried helping it when it needed it. its the one who attacked cody, and the one blade is currently hunting down - but inkcap is sneaky, and good at its own "job," being the most infamous exploiter - and for good reason.

the whole story with these three is the different ways people deal with trauma, mostly the.. unhealthy ways, and their very, VERY slow path to healing and getting better. it has a happy ending! it just takes a long time to get there. they all have a Lot of stuff to work through.

12] pick a fav

OK THATS THE THING I GENUINELY CANT.

theyre all equally loved as a whole because i adore them, but in terms of different catagories, THEN theres favs, so just. choose whichever one you think is most valid.

for drawing, i LOVE cody. theyre so simple and cute to draw i have little doodles of them in Every notebook and sketchbook. i like drawing them with my friends oc. :3

for actual design, i LOOOVE inkcap. inkcap is my beloved their design is sooo <333 pretty

for LORE.... i love blade the most SORRYYY his whole deal makes me sick in the head

19] describe the sillies you think about that dont go in the story

I HAVE OTHER ROBLOX OCS FOR UMM. A THEORETICAL GAME. theyre not related to those threes^ story at all so they count for this question lol

theyre another noob/guest duo, agon and unnamed/default [both are interchangeable]. since i do one day wanna make their game a reality i wont go Too into detail but they live in a mountain town and are besties who have Something going on and theyre super sweet to each other and are bestest friends Ever ever but then default goes MISSING one day and NEVER COMES BACK and agon has to DEAL with it and gets all SAD and um. yeah :]

20] how have they horribly mangled your message/theme

they would either villainise inkcap to hell into an irredeemable villain, OR turn blade into a budget cop. i hate it so bad but thats just what would happen.

THAT or theyd completely IGNORE the message of the story being about healing from trauma and how some coping mechanisms are unhealthy and turn it into like. a classic "everyone just gets over it" thing and turn the whole trilogy into a shitty action film and ignore the characters trauma and their paths towards healing and it would be so bad and oh god oh god . puts my head in my hands.

theyd also probably turn inkcap into a girl and cody into a boy so like. not a story mishap but a general fuckup theyd do because of how inkcap is an it/they w a romance plot w blade [and also their character model has the "girl torso" from the blocky character pack on roblox] and cody is a they/them with a masc name.

[dream-meister-translations]

OUTSIDE HOLIDAY DASTE CARD #1

━

Yoriki Island, a luxury resort blessed with a mild climate all throughout the year. Under the clear blue sky, colorful beach balls flew through the air. SEARLE : Let the match begin~! DASTE : Yeah, just watch this! ELMA : Whoa! Daste's spike is so cool, huh!? URBANO : The beach, it's completely wrecked......!?

━

EMMA : Daste and Searle's team wins with 21 points! SHEILA : Good job! DASTE : Don't say weird things like that! And don't let your guard down! We only won this one!

SHEILA : ...Okay. I can't help it Yoriki Island also happened to be the vacation destination of the surfing guild Passionate Ocean. We were working part-time here to help fund the guild, and I had a very unexpected reunion with Daste, who also just so happened to here chasing a bounty..

EMMA : Daste, you did a great job! DASTE : We win for the sake of it. Not for fun or praise. ELMA : Oh, man, this is so frustrating!!!! I'm so gonna win next time! URBANO : Sheila will serve next. I think he's got a nasty plan in the works.

SHEILA : If we lose, it’ll be annoying and stress me out. So I'm going to crush you with everything I've got. SEARLE : Oh ~ !! DASTE : ...... These guys are so damn serious, it's mind-boggling. EMMA : Haha, Elma and his friends are always at their best! DASTE : Well, they are kinda funny. Playing like trash but staying so encouraged. At least they got guts.

Daste’s bounty had already been taken care of, thanks in part to the cooperation of himself and Passionate Ocean. However, only one boat came and went from the island any given week, so even with his mission accomplished, Daste was unable to return home. EMMA : Daste, you were reluctant when Elma and the others first asked you to join them, but now you're really good friends with them, aren't you?

DASTE : They're just so fucking pushy and annoying, that's all. I'm just trying to pass the time, you know?

EMMA : Since you're stuck here, why don’t you take the chance to relax? DASTE : You want me to relax? Then keep them away from me. Morning surfing, beach flags, volleyball... They're all too obsessed with physical fitness. EMMA : It's pretty impressive that you can keep up with it all. DASTE : Well, duh. I was trained by Shiharu, and that dude's totally insane. There's nothing more intense. This place is draining on me. I've been stuck on this sad island for too long and it's dulling my skills to blow the crap out of people! EMMA : It does make sense that someone from Hound Sweeper would hate a place like this... DASTE : Not only are my arms getting weak, but my head is about ready to explode! EMMA : Hmmm. But the ship won't be here for a while. DASTE : Well, I guess I'll just have to make peace with it. I'm gonna open myself up to the idea. If I'm gonna be stuck here, I might as well have fun, get drunk, and eat, right? EMMA : I guess you're right. DASTE : Hey, you guys, come hang out with me. It's no fun to drink alone! His smile, while blocking the sunlight with his hand, looks softer than usual. EMMA : Sounds good to me. EMMA : (I hope Daste has been having fun on this little vacation of ours.) I couldn’t help but offer my prayers, knowing how intense Daste’s day to day work usually is...

[athenasbloodyspear]

The Viper: Chapter One

What happens when an agent of the Red Room falls into  the hands of Hydra? What happens when Hydra puts out a hit on their  favorite assassin? Who is the mysterious woman with a twisted history  and an even more twisted mind?

The team wants to know. They want to know what you know. Nat and Bucky want to know if there’s any light left in you.

They want to know you.

Bucky x Female Reader

The Viper Master List | My Writing Master List

The sounds of car horns are loud around you. The blaring, beeping and  bustle of pedestrians creating layers and layers of sound. You’re  trained well enough to sift through the sounds, listening to pieces of  conversation and various sounds of your environment to orient yourself.

You can feel the smallest shift of every person who’s moving in the  space around you. Your senses are so focused you can practically hear  the blood rushing through the people closest to you. Your prey is about a  block up, completely oblivious to where you followed.

The streets around you were loud and the sounds were strong, but nothing could keep your focus off your mission.

Underneath your hood and the rim of your baseball hat, your face was  hidden in shadow. If anyone would have seen or marked it, they would  have seen the wicked gleam of a grin.

--

“What’s got you all in a tizzy, Tony?” Nat asks from Bucky’s right.  The whole team was gathered around a conference table in Avengers tower  looking kinda bored. Tony had called everyone here this morning, much to  everyone’s chagrin because he had promised a week off and then  apparently changed his mind a mere three days later.

Bucky sighed and rolled his shoulders, leaning back in the office  chair he currently sat in, lifting the two front feet off the floor. All  he really wanted was to go back downstairs and into the city with Nat  and finish looking for a birthday gift for Steve. That’s what they were  doing this morning before they were quickly called back to the tower.  He’d procrastinated too long and really had zero idea of what to get the  man.

“I’m confused about something and I don’t like being confused.” Tony retorted.

“Oooo” Sam piped up from across the table. “The great Tony Stark  admits to not knowing something. I’m surprised there isn’t steam coming  out of those ears.”

Bucky smirks at his friend. God he loved Sam and his remarks. He  would say something similar, but his relationship with Tony still wasn’t  perfect and he didn’t want to push his luck at the moment.

“What is so confusing, Iron Man? Don’t know what to get Pepper for  your anniversary? Or did you say something stupid again and your giant  brain can’t figure out exactly which asshole statement pushed her over  the edge this time?” Nat chimed in with a mocking smirk.

Tony pointed a single finger at Nat. “I have had our anniversary  present for two months already and I’m actually getting better at  figuring out which one of my snarky comments goes too far, just so you  know.” He sighs and presses a few buttons on the large screen under the  glass conference table, whipping up a bundle of information to appear on  the screen behind him. “What I’m confused about is why Hydra put out a  public hit on one of their top agents.”

At that, Bucky’s chair drops back to all four legs abruptly. The  confusing piece of information startled him into finally giving his full  attention to the conversation. His heart rate picked up a bit.

“They did  what ?” Steve asks from the end of the conference table opposite Tony, voicing the question on all their minds.

“This morning Hydra posted a bounty on a known dark web forum. It’s  not unheard of for them to post some of their lower enemies on this  anonymously for unaffiliated assassins and bounty hunters to take down.  What’s different this time is they made it very clear that  Hydra  was posting.” He whipped up what looked eerily similar to a reddit post up on the screen. “And what makes even  less sense is I know for a fact that the person they called a hit on has been their little secret weapon for over ten years.”

Bucky scanned the post up on the screen. Sure enough, it said that  Hydra had a hit out on a well known assassin and was offering 50 million  along with diplomatic immunity in a country of their choosing for the  head of the operative.

“Who’s the target?” Nat murmured.

“So, this is the fun part. Especially for you two.” Tony continued, pointing at Nat and Bucky.

“What?” Bucky grumbled. Fun for him? What the hell? What could  possibly be in Tony’s twisted brain to think anything to do with Hydra  would be  fun for him?

“Here’s the mark.” Tony pulled up a blurry photo of a figure wrapped  in muted colors clearly captured on some sort of security camera  somewhere on a bustling street. If Bucky was tracking the cobblestones  and architecture of the buildings correctly he’d guess it was taken  somewhere in Cairo.

“Is that the best fucking picture you can get us, Stark? You can  barely see their face.” Sam quipped, leaning forward in his seat to  squint at the screen.

“This is the clearest photo of her face, yes.”

“Her?” Nat snapped, popping her eyes to Tony.

“Yes. Her.  The Viper .” He smirked back at Nat. Bucky heard a quick intake of breath from his right. Nat.

“No…” She whispered, and trailed off.

“Oh yes, Natasha. Oh yes.” Tony flicked his fingers across the table  again and all the known stats on the Viper pulled up on the screen.  “This is where the fun begins for us. This is what we know about the  Viper. She was “found” at a young age somewhere in middle America. It’s a  little unclear where, but from where I tracked it must have been  somewhere in the Midwest.”

“They stole a kid from Wisconsin? Why would Hydra bother when they  had their fingers in so many other countries?” This was from Steve.

“It wasn’t Hydra…” Nat murmured.

“ What? ” Bucky piped up again. He felt like his brain was  spinning. A top Hydra assassin? Did he know her? He would have to spiral  into his memory to find out if he ever met this Viper…

“It was the Red Room.” Nat whispered then. Her eyes staring directly at the table.

“Yes indeed!” Tony quipped. “Remind me Nat, were you still there when  they dragged in the little girl kicking and screaming or not?”

“Tony!” Steve seethed from his end of the table.

“I wasn’t living there anymore, no. I had just graduated. She was a  couple years younger than me. They said she caused quite a nuisance  during the assassination of a target. Instead of killing her they decided  to bring her back. I saw her maybe twice. They had always referred to  her as the snake. She was less refined than the other girls, she started  her training a little too old, but she was… desperate to make up the  difference.” Nat shuddered a bit then and Bucky felt compelled to reach  out and place a hand on her shoulder. “She reminded me of… me.”

There was a small moment of pause before Tony started again. “So our  little snake graduated from The Red Room and spent a few years as an  agent for them before falling in with our buddies at Hydra.” Tony looked  at Bucky then, “Where she was trained and conditioned to fill a missing  position in their ranks after they unfortunately lost control of a very  important  asset. ”

“You’re a prick Tony.” Steve muttered, his eyes falling on Bucky.  Bucky waved him off. He was fine, really. He’d started making peace with  his history when he was on Wakanda and though he still had a long way  to go, he wasn’t going to fall to pieces at the mere mention of the  Winter Soldier.

“You’re telling me that they…” He trailed off, his mind spinning in  circles. This poor woman he didn’t even know subjected to what he went  through, simply because he had left. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he  still felt responsible that someone else had to fill a hole he had  created.

“Yes they trained this little spitfire to be their top assassin and  she has been in their top ranks since about 2010, only stepping into the  role of top assassin after the events in 2016 finally severed you  completely from the organization. She’s been racking up kills ever  since. Much like you my dear metal armed friend, she’s nearly impossible  to catch on camera, let alone see with your own eyes.”

From the corner of the room, where he sat in a chair separate from  the table, Bruce finally spoke. “I always thought The Viper was a  myth.”

“Yeah and you thought the Winter Soldier was a myth. Hell I always  thought Thor and Loki were just some folklore.” Sam remarked. “I believe  almost everything nowadays.”

“Wait so, this woman was a trained Red Room assassin, then a top  Hydra operative and now they’re asking the internet to kill her? Why  didn’t they just take care of her themselves? Surely they had her locked  up or brainwashed somehow.” Bruce said.

“You guys are seriously just assholes sometimes.” Steve murmurs.

“I’m fine, Steve.” Bucky says. “It’s a valid question. Even when they  wanted me eliminated, they only worked with people inside.”

“Exactly.” Tony said. “My theory is, they want us to know that they  want her dead. In fact, my more specific theory is that this is bait in  order to get us to hunt and eliminate her. I want to know why.”

“She must have slipped away from them.” Nat said then. “Even if no  average internet bounty hunter could ever touch her, surely they’d at  least keep her a little busy. Busy enough that we might be able to get a  jump on her. She must know something.”

“Exactly. What does she know? And why don’t they want her to utilize whatever information she knows?”

“So we’re going to find her then.” Steve said. “What if this is a  trap? Specifically set up to intrigue us into bringing their very own  top operative into our facilities.”

“It could be.” Nat responded. “But it seems a little weird to send a  bunch of people they don’t control after her unless they genuinely  didn’t care about what happened to her. It seems unlikely she’s still an  asset to them if they’re willing to risk her actually being caught off  guard, no matter how unlikely that is.”  

“See, this is what I meant by being confused.” Tony quips then,  heading for the door. “I’ve sent everything I know about the woman to  each of you. Study it. See what conclusions you come to on your own.  We’ll reconvene here tonight to discuss an action plan.”

--

You sat in a corner booth at a tiny cafe, facing the door. There was a  swinging door into the kitchen to your left, which led to three back  exits. Directly in front of you was the only door facing a main street.  The whole front of the coffee shop was glass, giving you a clear view of  the two targets you’d been tracking all morning, who had stopped to  grab breakfast at a restaurant across the street.

You were twirling a long since lukewarm cup of coffee in your hands,  your eyes flicking back and forth between your marks and the swinging  kitchen door at your shoulder.

You watched as your marks both stretched and stood up. The woman hailed a cab. They seemed disgruntled.

 Interesting.  

While the woman tried to snag the attention of a cabbie, you threw a  few crumpled bills on the counter of your table and slipped through the  swinging kitchen door. There were a few shouts of alarm as a stranger  wandered into the bustling diner kitchen, but you quickly weaved through  the crowded kitchen and out a back door. You jumped on the sleek black  Kawasaki bike you’d stashed behind a dumpster in an alley.

You pushed the bike out and around the corner before turning it on,  waiting to confirm that they had both piled into a cab. You revved the  engine and punched the accelerator, weaving quickly   between the piled  up traffic, causing lots of horn honking and a few near rear-end  accidents.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you tore after that cab.

The grin still plastered on your face.

--

Bucky’s head was reeling as he read through the intel, albeit a small amount, that Tony had managed to dig up.

There were a total of 3 videos captured on a security camera of the Viper on a job. He watched them all multiple times.

The Viper was ruthless and unnervingly calm. It reminded him of  himself, what he saw in the footage of the Winter Soldier. It made the  bile in his stomach churn. He knew that feeling of uncontrollable calm  very well and it made him break out in a cold sweat.

The first video showed her walking calmly up to a high security  warehouse, putting bullets between the brows of every operative in  sight, barely even looking in their direction before pulling the  trigger. She walked directly with purpose toward the door that was  clearly her mission. Once every operative in view of the camera had  fallen she reached for the door handle. Before she slipped inside, she  lifted her pistol without looking and fired one round into the camera,  cutting the feed. With the hood on her jacket, there was no clear  footage of her face. Bucky wondered how they were even sure it was her.  Her murderous calm must have been enough evidence.

The second was a terribly grainy video taken in some basement  somewhere. There was someone strapped to a chair and he watched as the  Vipers fists slammed into the man repeatedly. A choppy, distorted, and  heavily accented voice spoke about 40 seconds in. “Good, Viper. You may  play now. Make sure there’s something left of him to interview  tomorrow.” Bucky flinched as he saw the woman stride toward a table,  likely filled with instruments of torture. The man strapped to the chair  began to scream, pleading in Russian that he’d say anything they wanted  him to. He heard a low woman’s voice come through the video, murmuring  “Too late.”

The third was a more recent video according to the time stamp. It was  less than six months ago off a security cam in Maracaibo. It was about a  9 second video, just watching the woman cross a bustling street in  Venezuela. Bucky remembered that some hot shot Hydra agent had been  found dead in Venezuela this year. Could it have been the Viper taking  down one of their own? Is that why they were mad?

There were about 5 other attachments of images. The only photographs  that Friday could find of this enigma apparently. 4 were blurry security  camera footage from various places. The one Tony had shown this morning  was truly the only one that even sort of showed the woman’s face. Well,  except the 5th.

The 5th made Bucky even more sick than the footage of brutal  violence. It was a Polaroid image of what appeared to be a 16 or 17 year  old girl in ballet clothes, standing in the middle of what he assumed  was a dance studio. It would have been normal, a young woman after a  dance class, if it wasn’t for the red blood splattered up her pink  tights, dripping off her knuckles and smeared on her jaw. The subject  wasn’t looking at the camera, but rather seemed to be standing at  attention with her focus to the right of the photographer. Written in  sloppy Russian at the bottom corner of the Polaroid was “Option 4.”

What does that mean?  Bucky thought to himself.  Option for what?  

It made him sick staring at that photo. If the blood wasn’t there, it  would just look like a young woman preparing for a ballet class, or  perhaps being photographed so a costume designer could see her figure  while they created dazzling outfits for a production. It was so wrong  for someone so young, whose face was filled with innocence, to be  covered in blood. He felt so protective over her, this young woman he  didn’t even know. This young woman who he knew grew up to be a murderer  with a kill list almost as long as his.

He knew, looking at that photo, that this woman had never wanted  this. He didn’t know how he got such a gut reaction to the image, but he  saw himself in it. A young person who was given the worst hand of cards  to ever be dealt, and was simply trying to stay alive. He stared at her  thin frame, the hollow look in her eyes and nearly wept.

He needed to find her. He needed it more than he’d needed anything in  a long time. He needed to find out how far she had fallen from this  image, and if he could pull her back.

He needed to do it, because he’d always be grateful that someone did it for him.

--

Your marks had gone into the tall skyscraper a few hours ago. You  were too antsy to sit around and wait to see if they’d venture back out  into the city.

You prowled the sidewalk like a caged animal. Tracing patterns through the busiest blocks. Keeping track of nearby cameras.

Everything smelled like garbage and piss. You hated it. You loved it. It was such an easy city to get lost in.

An even easier city to be found in.

--

When Bucky finally dragged himself back to the conference room that  evening, he felt like a wreck. He had worked himself up considerably  throughout the afternoon. He was antsy and apprehensive.

He really didn’t know what was wrong with him. It was just some random assassin, why was he so worked up?

Steve noticed his touchy mood as soon as he walked in and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m fine.” Bucky grumbled. “Just want to figure this out. It’s bothering me for some reason.”

“Maybe because it’s a little too personal, Buck.” Steve said quietly.

“Yeah maybe.” Bucky coughed out. His chest felt tight with someone who knew him so well staring at him like this.

Before Steve could rib Bucky more, Tony sauntered into the room with  Nat behind him. “So what’s everyone’s thoughts on our little snake in  the grass?”

“I think the woman is damn fucking scary.” Sam piped up from the same  chair he’d been in this morning. “And really good at her job. Reminds  me of robocop over there a little too much if you know what I mean.”

“That’s what I find so interesting.” Steve says. “Because obviously  we know that Bucky wanted out, and was not the person that the camera  showed. I wanna know what’s really going on in her brain.”

“Banner, question for you, if we managed to set a little trap for our  snake and actually got her in here, would you be able to scan her brain  and see how much of it was under her actual control?” Tony said as he  dropped into a chair at the head of the table.

Banner responded from where he sat in his normal chair in the corner.  “I could compare a brain scan to early scans of Barnes’s brain. See how  similar they look. Then compare to his post-Wakanda scans. In a sense,  yes. But the brain is complicated as you know.”

“Can’t we just talk to her?” Bucky pipes up. “I mean, if it makes you  feel more comfortable to hook her up to a lie detector whatever, but I  just… I know what they do to people there and let me tell you there’s no  way she’s in control.”

“What makes you so sure?” Tony questions. “I mean, I was wrong about  you. I’ll admit that. I’m a bigger man now. But not everyone is Cap's  former BFF brought back from the dead with a heart of gold trapped in a  twisted hydra web. She could have gone willingly. In fact, I have a hard  time believing that a Red Room agent was accidentally captured by  Hydra. What if she went to them willingly?”  

“But then why did she leave?” Natasha counters. “Who’s to say that  she ended up in all this willingly. I don’t know the whole story of how  the Red Room got her, but it’s rare that people join without coercion.  There’s more to this story, I can feel it.”

“Me too.” Bucky whispered. There had to be so much more to that 17 year old girl than a brutal murderer.

“Nat, can you explain this image to me?” Tony says, pulling up the  very polaroid that was going to haunt Bucky for weeks. “This looks like a  pretty willing agent to me.”

Bucky cringed at Tony’s short sighted assessment. Sure, the subject looked relaxed but that didn’t mean willing. Nat sneered.

“Well Tony, when every week your instructors challenge two students  to spar and the loser is killed however the classmate prefers, you too  would willingly fight back, to the death if necessary.”

Steve flinched, and looked at Nat with eyes full of grief. “They made you kill each other?”

“Kept us from attaching to each other.” Nat said simply.

Steve just shook his head, placing his face in his palms. This was  one of the reasons Bucky and Nat had gotten along pretty quickly. They’d  come to terms with their trauma, and the others sometimes had a hard  time brushing past the torture that the two of them had simply moved on  from.

“Touche.” Tony shrugged. “So why does this image say option 4?”

“That I don’t know.” Nat sighs. “No photos were ever allowed to be  taken of us, but the fact that this was clearly taken by an instructor  confuses me.”

“So we have no answers.” Sam quips. “Do I need to go stand on the  street with a sign that says “Viper take a crack at me” so we can maybe  get a glimpse of her? I’m only doing it if I can wear the suit Tony.”

“That’s the thing, there have been no sightings of the woman for  years, and the one tiny glimpse in that surveillance shot from Venezuela  6 months ago was a blip. There was no record of anyone matching that  description entering or leaving that country or any near it. We have no  idea where she is.” Tony muttered. “I have Friday combing every single  camera we can get access to, and hacking into those we don’t. The tip  line on that forum is blank. No one seems to have seen her.”

There was silence for a moment, as everyone sunk into their own minds. Letting the gears turn.

“Mr. Stark.” Friday’s voice came lilting out of the ceiling. “I have a hit.”

Everyone jumped a bit, leaning forward in their seats.

“Put it on the screen.” Tony snapped. Suddenly the whole blank wall  of the room was filled with various camera angles showing crowds of  people wandering on the sidewalk. In the middle of a cluster of  pedestrians was a figure draped in black, a baseball hat on their head  and a hood pulled up over it. As the person moves, the different  security camera’s flip past on the screen, keeping up with their  movement.

Instantly, Bucky’s blood ran cold.

“Where is this?” Sam whispers.

“Queens.” Bucky, Steve and Tony answer in unison.

“Very close to Parker’s apartment…” Tony whispers.

“It’s empty.” Steve mentions. “Happy and May are on vacation and Peter is staying with his friend. That Ned kid.”

“I know.” Tony says. “Doesn’t mean I like her being around the corner from his place regardless.”

The room goes quiet for a few moments as they all watch the Vipers  progress through the streets of Queens. She never picks up her head,  seeming to be watching the sidewalk in front of her. She slips easily  between groups of people, never bumping into anyone even though she  doesn’t seem to be looking at anyone.

“What are we doing?” Sam says then. “We know exactly where she is. She’s so close. Let’s go suit up.”

“There’s no way she’s here by accident.” Nat says quietly. “It’s like she wants us to find her…”

“Another layer of intrigue.” Tony snarks.

“She wouldn’t be stupid enough to show up in this city unless she  actually wants us to find her.” Nat continues. “Either they sent her  here as a trap and finally had her look into a security camera long  enough for us to track her, or she’s doing this on her own. Either way, I  don’t understand the motive.”

There’s another moment of silence as they all watch the cameras track the target.

Abruptly, the Viper stops in the middle of the sidewalk. The  pedestrians continue to flow around her, many seem to be grumbling and  some throw rude gestures in her direction.

There’s now only a single security camera in the area able to capture her image, she stands right in the center of the frame.

“What is she doing?” Steve whispers.

Through the grainy camera footage, the whole team watches as it looks  almost like her shoulders shake slightly. She seems to be looking at  her feet.

No one breathes as the woman in the center of the video lifts her  head slowly. Her eyes land directly on the lens, as if she’s peering  straight through the shitty security camera and into Avengers tower.

There’s a huge grin on her face.

Then, from the pocket of her hoodie, she pulls a pistol and calmly points the barrel at the camera.

The last thing the camera sees in her head dropping back as she begins to cackle. Then she pulls the trigger, ending the feed.

“Holy shit.” Sam whispers.

Bucky is speechless. His heart is pounding in his chest. He felt like  her eyes seared through the camera and right into his chest. He can  barely breathe.

“Friday, show us the other cameras in the area.” Tony barks.

Friday pulls up tons of camera angles of the street the Viper was  just standing on. The crowds are screaming, attempting to run away from  the spot that the Viper had clearly just been standing. However, there  are no further gun shots and no one looks injured.

“What the  hell? ” Bucky says under his breath. She just shot out a camera in the middle of a busy street in Queens? For what?

“Are there any figures matching her description on any of these feeds?” Tony snaps again.

“No sir.” Friday replies. “I’ve scanned every camera in the borough and I can’t see her on any of them.”

Everyone sits in shocked silence as the security footage continues to  roll. The NYPD show up, helping to calm the pedestrians. They watch  quietly as they start to tape off the area. Everyone knows however that  if no one was hurt, it’s unlikely that the cops will pursue the incident  further. They have much bigger fish to fry in this town.

“Well goddamn.” Sam finally breaks the silence. “That was quite a little performance.”

“She really wants us to find her then.” Nat mutters.

Around the room everyone mutters their agreement.

Bucky finds his voice finally.

“So let’s find her.”

--

There’s unending adrenaline in you now. It was reckless you knew  that. It was also so obvious what game you were playing with them at  this point, but you didn’t care.

They clearly weren’t going to make a move, so you had to play your hand first.

For better or worse, it was their move now.

[wing-ed-thing]

Cliché (shy!Reader x Might Guy, Part III)

Notes: OOOOOoooh boy. You know, I’m usually really insecure about my writing but I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Probably my favorite. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading as I did writing. Links to part I and II are on the Masterlist pinned at the top of my blog. Unfortunately, Tumblr won’t let this post show up in the tags if I link them here. Lots of love!

Warning for foul language and some sexual innuendo.

It was a small step, but that small step began your blossoming bond with Might Guy. The both of you became almost inseparable. You didn’t know what it was exactly about him, but whenever he was near, you just felt at ease. Wherever you went, Guy accompanied you. Whenever Guy went to train, you were there if not to just spectate. It was apparent to the whole village that you were a good match, yet the two of you stayed near oblivious. Day by day, you grew bolder. You spoke more, laughed more, and for once it felt like you had a seat at the table in your own life. He balanced you as you balanced him.

“You can slow down sometimes, you know,” you would tell him, “Life isn’t a race, it’s meant to be savored.” He took your advice. At times where he normally would have been training for the umpteenth time, you would spot him taking his team out to dinner. When he normally would have run 500 laps around the village, he walked with you as the both of you chatted. You were still soft-spoken and Guy was still outgoing, but you had grown together. You thought you’d never see the day that Might Guy would become the closest person to you, but here it was. Even if you stayed friends, you would be happy.

It was the end of the training day. Your team was splayed out among members of Team Guy. All six children panted, catching their breath on the dirted training ground. Guy worked them hard today. You, well, you reminded everyone that water existed while you tended to the inevitable scrapes and bruises. You were always told that you had too much of a gentle hand when it came to training up Genin, but with Guy’s tough love attitude, both of your teams seemed to be benefiting from your mixed style.

“Alright Team, be sure to thank Guy-Sensei.” You announced as they gathered their kunai from around the field. They gave a tired yet resounding thanks to your colleague. Guy stood across the grounds and gave a thumbs up. One of your students came up to you.

“Do we always have to train with Team Guy?” she complained in a hushed tone. Your other students turned to face you, nodding in agreement. You gave a quiet laugh.

“And here I thought you liked spending time with Team Guy.” The kunoichi in training sighed. The two other boys stood beside her now, directly in front of you.

“We like Team Guy but Guy-Sensei always goes overboard!” one of your boys protested earnestly.

“Yeah,” the other pouted. “Just because you like having boring talks with Guy-Sensei doesn’t mean we should have to do all these crazy routines, (Y/N)-Sensei.” You blinked in shock for a moment before the shock turned into annoyance. Why these little-!

“I’m sorry.” You crossed your arms, a smile on your lips. Your brow twitched. “Do you want to run another 500 laps? Because that’s what I’m hearing right now.”

Your smile made your team uneasy. They passively felt your increasingly negative energy. Creepy. That was the end of those questions. They trudged back home as you trailed behind and walked with Guy.

“What did they want?” Guy asked, lightly bumping your shoulder with his.

“Who?”

“Your team!” he chuckled jovially. “It looked like they wanted to talk to ya.” Your students had begun to branch off at this point as they headed home. Guy continued to walk with you.

“Oh.” Your student’s words echoed through your head. Just because you like having boring talks with Guy-Sensei doesn’t mean we should have to do all these crazy routines, (Y/N)-Sensei. You kept your features light despite inwardly cursing those brats you loved so much. “Nothing! You know Genin. Complaining!”

You looked at Guy whose aura was as positive as ever. You really were smiling more, weren’t you? The both of you continued. In the distance, you saw two figures waving over to the pair of you.

“(Y/N), Guy, you’re just in time!” Kotetsu declared loosely. “Genma and them just got back from a mission!”

“We’re all getting drinks, the whole gang! You gotta come along,” Izumo chimed, “When’s the last time we were all in the village together?”

You did miss your friends and it had indeed been a long time. However, you didn’t know if the bar was the scene for you. Guy had already made up his mind.

“Aw yeah! I can’t wait to see everyone!” The two shinobi before you quite obviously pregamed before running into you, but Guy’s enthusiastic energy still matched theirs. You stood by, watching as the three hyped each other up for the night to come. You inched back.

“Um,” You started in a small voice, “I’ll see everyone later.” Despite their slight inebriation, Kotetsu and Izumo heard that.

“No! C’mon (Y/N)-chan, you gotta come!”

“Yeah you gotta come! We’re on missions tomorrow, and Kurenai and Asuma are being sent out the day after us! When’s the next time we’ll all be together?”

“When’s the next time we’ll be together, (Y/N)?”

Guy cleared his throat, putting a large hand on the shoulders of both men.

“Don’t pressure the lady. She doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.” You could’ve melted right there. What a dream for introverts! However, you were trying to be bolder, to step out of your comfort zone every once in a while.

“No,” you peeped, “It’s okay, let’s go. I’m sure it’ll be… fun!” Guy gave you a look as if to ask if you were sure. You nodded.

Kotetsu and Izumo led you to the bar where the others were already seated. They migrated to the bar where Kakashi sat with Asuma and Kurenai. Anko seemed to have claimed a circular booth so both you and Guy slid down at one of the ends. Shizune and Ebisu greeted you as Genma called for another round for the table.

The bar was busy but not enough for you to mind. In fact, the more you drank, the less you minded about most things in general. Despite your earlier hesitation, you were starting to really enjoy the company. Listening to your fellow Jounin tell stories, your posture relaxed.  You had one leg slung over Shizune’s thigh as you leaned back against Guy, his arm coming up to rest on the top of the booth behind your shoulders.

“And this dude really fell! Like ‘BOOM’ flat on his face!” Genma narrated animatedly, slamming his open palm against the table. The glasses on the table jiggled. “When I picked him up I asked him, ‘Are you sure you have a bounty? Because you’re the easiest catch I’ve ever hooked!’” The booth was in hysterics. Even the ever-stoic Ebisu couldn’t hold back upon hearing his ex-teammate’s story. Tears welled up in your eyes from laughter as you felt the deep rumble of Guy behind you. You sat up.

“Excuse me!” You exclaimed, waving the short distance from your booth to the group at the bar. “Would someone please do me the favor of getting me another sake?” Your words slurred towards the end. Anko snorted.

“Well fuck, I didn’t think we’d be getting (Y/N) shitfaced tonight!” She cackled.

“I am not drunk!” You defended, accepting your third sake from Kakashi who leaned against the side of the booth with an amused look. “But I may be a little tipsy.” The table howled as Genma reached over to ruffle your hair.

Guy leaned down to whisper to you. His fingers came over yours, delicately taking the glass from your hands. “Maybe you should lay off the drinks right now.” He breathed in your ear. He set your sake down by the one he had been nursing all night. You turned to face him, your leg slipping off of Shizune’s. You leaned more into his shoulder. Guy tensed.

“Maito-Kun…” You whined. Guy was taken aback. Maito-Kun. That was new. He took in your features: the pout on your lips, your large eyes framed by silky strands of hair, the fact that you were slowly trying to reach for your sake cup. He moved it to the end of the table. His attention was drawn again to your lips as they moved. Guy had never paid particular attention to your lips before… wait, as they moved? Guy shook himself out of his thoughts as he realized you were speaking. Now wasn’t the time.

“What did you say?”

“I said I was fine, really. Please don’t worry about me.” You smiled up at him. Before he could answer, Izumo’s voice boomed from the bar.

“Guy! Kakashi!” He called, “Come do a shot with me and Asuma!” Guy hesitated.

“Go!” you encouraged, lightly prodding him with your elbow. He stood up, Kakashi giving him a pat on the back as they walked towards the bar.

“So,” Kotetsu started, sliding into the other end of the circular booth.  You retrieved your drink from where Guy placed it. “How long has that been going on for?” You waited for someone to respond, but no one did. You looked up and all eyes were on you.

“Who, me?” You inquired, taking a sip. Anko puffed.

“Yeah, you.” She took a swig from her drink. “You’re the one who Guy’s been feeling up all night.” You almost choked on your drink.

“What? No, no he hasn’t been-”

“‘Cause you’ve had a thing for him forever, haven’t you?” Kotetsu questioned. Your heart sank. How did he know? “I gotta hand it to you, (Y/N), I don’t think anyone thought you had it in you.” He shrugged. You didn’t think anyone knew about your crush on Guy. You looked over to Kurenai. There’s no way she told anyone right? Your eyes drifted to the man in question. Did he also know?

“Yeah,” Anko barked, “It was always so cringy watching you try to talk to him.” You tensed, the pit in your chest growing larger and more painful the more she spoke. Every word felt like a punch in the stomach.

“It was painful to watch,” Ebisu added. “Especially back in the academy.”

Anko continued, “But we’re all happy for you that you pulled it off, (Y/N). I wasn’t sure how much more I could take! You know, all the stuttering.”

It felt like there was a knot in your throat. You cleared it. Your cheeks had begun to burn from more than just the alcohol. You batted back the tears that began to gather in your waterline. They weren’t from laughing this time.

“Actually, Guy and I are just friends.” You corrected, hoping that you could end the discussion there. That sentence alone barely made it out. You prayed for this conversation to end. You murmured, “Always have been…”

“Heh, I’m sure.” Genma leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. He gave you a wink. “So what? Are you just thirsty for his, uh, Green Beast, huh (Y/N)-chan?”

“Genma!” snapped Shizune. “Stop being gross.”

At this point, you regretted coming. You felt crushed, like you could burst at any moment. All your energy went into maintaining a straight face. You would not be the one to cry in front of your friends at the bar. It was a silly promise to yourself that held your last shred of dignity. Luckily, the topic of conversation quickly changed. You suspected that Kotetsu and Shizune picked up on your discomfort while Anko and Genma were too out of it to notice the bluntness of their words. You have never felt such embarrassment. You wanted to leave. Guy stayed at the bar. It made you relieved, despite a small part of you wanting him to come back. Despite time passing, you couldn’t help but continue to feel dejected.

You couldn’t hold out for long. As you started to sober up, you whispered to Shizune that you were leaving. She gave you a nod and an apologetic look. You only planned on talking to Kurenai and Guy before you left. As you were getting up from the booth, that’s when you heard it.

“C’mon Guy, what about that one over there?” Izumo was gesturing towards a woman near the other part of the bar. You had to admit, she was beautiful. Much more beautiful than you thought you were. “You should go talk to her! Guy, when’s the last time you got, you know, some action?”

You didn’t want to hear the rest of that conversation. It all became too much for you. You weren’t sure if you were overwhelmed. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t really want to come in the first place. Perhaps it was just the alcohol, but you felt wetness on your cheeks and you quickly made your escape.

You stood outside under the moonlight, surrounded by cool air. You began to shed silent tears, your hands covering your face. You wished you could’ve at least walked home first, but your legs felt locked, as if they would collapse if you tried more than just standing. How did everyone know about your secret? Were you that obvious? Was Guy just playing with you? Your face burned. You thought about the conversation between Guy and Izumo. You had no right to be upset about what Guy decided to do with his own life. He didn’t owe you a relationship of any kind. You knew that, but it wasn’t Guy you were upset with. It wasn’t Genma or Anko or Kotetsu or Izumo. It was- someone called your name. You turned your head slightly. It was Kurenai.

“I just-” you tried to wipe the tears from your face, but they only kept flowing- “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“Tell anyone what?” She came to stand in front of you.

“About my crush on Guy-San.” You felt like a Genin, like a child all over again getting upset about something as dumb as a boy. Shame coursed through your body.

“No, I didn’t.” Kurenai reassured you softly as she pulled you into an embrace.

“I know you didn’t,” You cried into her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just feel so pathetic.” Your friend patted your head slightly.

“You’re not pathetic, (Y/N).”

“I just-” A sob wracked your body- “I feel like everyone thinks so! Why am I like this, Kurenai?” You shook violently. “I just, I just feel… horrible right now. I’m sorry, Kurenai.”

“Shh… don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about. You know how Genma gets when he’s had too many. And everyone knows Anko is a mean drunk.” Your friend whispered.

You let out another sob, “She is a mean drunk!”

Kurenai smiled at you. “Yeah, she is. Let’s get you home. We can talk more when we get you home.” And that’s where you went.

[katsuflossy]

For the Sake of the Mission

Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x reader

TW: obscenities, slight sexual scene, angst

Word Count: 2.3k

Taglist: @sunset-novice-writer @goatsenpaiultimate

A/n: I’ve decided to change it from 18+ because it really isn’t just please use descretion as there are uncomfortable scenes. Asides from that I’ve gotten this idea from some British show my mom was watching so props to y’all who’ll now the reference. Please enjoy!! (Edited)

The whirring of the vents took advantage of the silence in the room, making up most of the sounds in the metal chamber. It made the air cold, scattering goosebumps on your skin even though around you wore a black sweater. Walls showed no sign festivity, bare of any creative artworks, just reflective of where you currently are. A face devoid of any emotions looked back at you, but even without proper clarity you knew the purpose of the reflection; it wasn’t a giant metaphor to reflect on your mistakes and crimes nor was it supposed to be calming. Its purpose was to make sure you had nothing else left to blame. The only blame was to lay you and your “confessions”.

The interrogation room was like a confessional that didn’t allow you to come back from mistakes.

The contact of soft yet pointed footsteps on the tiles of the floor now dominated the mechanical drone of the vents. Like a sly fox purposefully tapping around its prey as a taunt. Your heart never raced harder before this scenario. Getting caught in the middle of a police raid will definitely pull you into more trouble than you are already in.Your eyes switched from the wall to the ominous black window in front of you. You can’t see them but they can see you. Hell, you don’t even know who is behind that window, gauging your entire reaction at this moment. But that wasn’t what struck your heart in fear.

The footsteps could be heard behind your seated figure. Its dynamic raised louder, practically echoing through the vacuum of a room. You swallowed with much tension as the knob turned, breaking the new presence in the room.

You wondered who it was and prayed it was a low ranking police man. If it was Naomasa, Kenji or any other high ranking officers, your cover would be blown and two sides would place, on your head, a hefty bounty, dead or alive.

Black boots stepped across your vision as you peered on to your own attire, crinkled and worn from the activities you were caught in. The whirring dominated the room again as he laid on the wall, one leg used to support his weight. Your eyes finally connected to his face.

“I spoke at your funeral, you know that right?” You stared blankly into his face. Aizawa wasn’t deterred from your deadpanned face however.

“Imagine making a eulogy for someone you care so much about, believing for 3 months they have died only to have her right in front of you again—” He moved to the chair on his side of the room, “not saying a word to you. Like it has just been a bad dream.”

You kept your tongue on a leash. Your gaze went to the window and back to the hero. He sighed in discontent before placing his hand on the recorder, lifting it up to show the lack of light on the device.

“The recorder is off and there’s no one behind there. So your words stay with me.” You sighed in relief however the situation now seemed more tortuous than what you were fearing.

“I know.” Your voice breaks in soft waves to Aizawa’s ears which croned to get more. After all, he went from listening to you everyday to straight radio silence. There was no explanation or your ‘death’ and disappearance and he had endured the worst. But now he has a chance to find answers.

“I did some little digging,” your head whipped back to his own as he went on, “the most I’ve found was a covert special ops able to infiltrate the League with only two members. One uses death to gain the respect of the league members in order to join their ranks and get a bulk of the information while the other stays on the side of the heroes. I’m assuming the former is you and the latter—“

“How did you get that information! You’re sleuthing around could ruin the whole mis—“

“You were dead.” His words ran echoes through your ears and sent chills down your spine, not in the ways that it used to. In three words his raw emotions shook you to your core and shook your trained mind. It seeped in back the old memories that had been blocked out for the sake of your profession.

“The latter, they’re keeping airtight, I’m assuming only the high members of the Commision have that intel.”

Panic began to whirl around you. If Aizawa had been able to collect such intel on you, others would too. And those ‘others’ are willing to go to any lengths necessary to find that information at the sniff of betrayal. Aizawa sat back and drank in your appearance. Your hair grew in the short but torturous span of 3 months and your skin accepted more battle scars. You should be seen as disheveled, crooked and less attractive but Aizawa thought you were the most beautiful person he’s seen in the past months.

“If you worry about your espionage being revealed, don’t. I used Shinso’s brainwashing quirk to get one of those Commission heads to confess.” Your eyes widened at his honesty.

“Shouta! You can get yourself prosecuted for that!” His eyes glared straight into your own as he scowled further.

“And the same goes for you. How many years do you think you’ll get for faking death and joining Japan’s most notorious villains.” As taken aback you were, you chose to defend yourself.

“It’s my job. You know well if I didn’t obey the Commission’s wishes then I would face even more serious consequences.” You paused your speech, abruptly realising how much anger you had concurred in such a short time with the League, something that should’ve never happened in the first place. You took a deep inhale of air.

“I had to do it for us. I did it for those kids. At the very most, I did it for the citizens of this country.”

His heart and mind were at their final battle. He thought about this reunion nearly everyday and how he would approach you. One route depicted his lashing out at you, the anger bursting through the mask of hurt. On the other route, he pulled you in a tight embrace, hands roaming all over your body to ensure you were in fact real. Now that his manifestations became reality, he couldn’t choose. The concealed pain in your eyes held up a black window like the one on the other side of the room. Only thing was that he was the only one able to see you, the real you.

What did the Commission drag you into? What have you seen?

His heart softened, sending him back to those free late nights, laying on each other watching stand up comedy with a bottle of liquor. You were just bubbly, cracking jokes that rivaled those of the comedian.

His hardened shell finally broke. He let out an airy laugh.

“To think that saving humanity would let us lose the ones we feel human around.” You hummed in dreadful agreement, stripping down a little of your wall as well.

“Indeed, I miss being able to walk outside fearless of any attack from the police or other villains.”

Your words made you sound like a true villain, but he knows you, your way of talking, your body language, your love language.

He leaned back in the chair, letting his back lay against the cold metal as you did the same, making yourselves comfortable as much as you can.

“Tell me. What have you been doing in the last three months?”

You began retelling your life as a spy in the League, how Shirigaki didn’t introduce himself to you until after the first month and the personalities of each villain. You made sure to redact certain information for the fear of roping Aizawa into the same situation they have forced you into, until you blurted out your recent command.

“The last drop off I’ve had they told me I wasn’t close to unfolding the master plans despite leaking various missions that could’ve led to disaster. I had to get close to the members, bond through hobbies, be their entertainer— shit those bastards said to use my womanhood to—“ Aizawa’s eye widened at your slip up, after noticing how careful you were selecting your words. You cleared your throat, heart beating at the speed of light.

“—basically just get buddy buddy with someone.”

“No, that was not what you were going to say. Finish your sentence.”

Your throat was suddenly dry as you tried to swallow down your fear. You took a second in attempting to gather yourself before responding.

“Shouta, I just said they want me to make a friend with one of them—“

“That was not what you were going to say—“

“Well that’s confidential Shouta—“

“I believe I should know when my girlfriend is forced to seduce one of the League’s members.”

You kept your mouth shut, allowing the vents, attempting to blow the tension out of the air, make up for your silence. Shouta stayed still, only moving he exhaled with shaking, tense shoulders, like a volcano ready to erupt.

“Which one is it?” His words came out with a sense of danger, a warning of eruption. You chose to stay silent.

“Shigarki Tomura?” You were silent.

“Dabi?” You were silent.

“Mr. Compress?” Your eyes darted to the side, in an attempt to avoid him from looking into your eyes. But he knew the answer already.

“Fucking shit!” He stood from his seat, a screech emitting through the air before he placed his hands on the table, calming himself down. His anger begged to throw the chair, break the table, punch the walls however he knew the outcome of that route. Many officers would rush in after the commotion before arresting you on sight.

So he breathed, he breathed until the thick humidity of anger evaporated off of his body.

Meanwhile you sat down, guilt gnawing at your heart without hesitation. Your eyes darted to the cameras, one at the corner of the room behind your back and the other on the table, turned off from seeing the look of despair in your eyes.

Your mind went back to the scene before the police raid. Atsuhiro’s hand gently holding your neck as the other laid on your hip. His body firmly pressed against yours, letting you feel the hard bulge on your lower back. He skimmed your ear, calling you a “pretty flower” before zipping down the dress from your back. The dress they bought for you. Just as he was about to kiss you, the police broke down the door of the hideout you were stationed in. Astuhiro escaped and you, along with the little lowlife villains, were the sacrifice.

Your head hung low, shame clouded your thoughts. You couldn’t even look him within the eyes and Shouta saw that. His heart hurt for you like how yours were hurting for him. He slumped his shoulders and let out a sigh. There may be another route he had to choose in order for a better reunion.

“I would’ve never fathom a situation like this. I don’t want you to do this and just the thought of another man touching you makes my blood boil.” You flinched at the harshness in his tone.

“But for the sake of our lives. Do what you need to do.” You snapped your head up to his face, confusion set on your features as he continued.

“It hurts me, like how it hurts you. And judging by your reaction, I know you don’t want to do this also. But if it is my feeling you are trying to protect, don’t, because I know you’ll come back to me at the end of this.”

Within this safe space Aizawa made, you cried. You cried for the first time in the last two months before being a part of the elite League members. The feeling of being human was brought to the forefront of your mind, showing the (Y/n) has known from before. His own eyes stinging from the tears on his waterline.

“Hey.” He lifted your chin to look at your face.

“Promise me you’ll come back to me.” Your cheeks dewy from your tears and your lips red from the blood rushing to your face.

“I will come back to you. I promise.” The corner of his lips lifted up in a bittersweet smile. He let go of your chin to walk towards the door.

“I’ll try to delete that tape from the camera, when I walk down the hall to the right, take the fire escape down the left. Okay?”

“Okay.” Your eyes looked at the camera’s peripheral vision, noticing it didn’t have a view on the front of the door.

In a haste you turned around and ran towards the pro-hero. As soon as he turned around, your fingers entangled in the strands of his hair, pulling down his head to mold your lips with his. A passionate tango of tongues danced within your maw, recollecting the feeling of old times. It wasn’t a goodbye; it was a promise. You both know it.

As your lips parted from his, you wrapped your arms around him, spanning the broadness of his back, and laying your chin on his shoulder. He embraced you with the same tightness. You whispered in his ear.

“For the sake of the mission?”

“For the sake of the mission.”

You released him and stepped back into the door frame, remaking the space you’ve left from three months ago. This time, a sense of hope will pull you through as you complete your mission. And an anchor will keep you grounded to the ones you loved, and not to the villains reaping your empathy.

As he turned to the down the right hall, his eyes met yours before disappearing past the corner. Your training kicked in, both physical and mental, and you ran down the hall to the left.

[yetanotherhoeforpedro]

Sinfully Armored

Chapter 2 - Pride and Prejudice

Chapter 1

When you walked down to the training rooms the next afternoon, you wondered how you ever let Luke talk you into doing this. It’s not like his mind tricks would have worked on you, although that seemed like the only logical explanation. But when he brought you your favorite breakfast this morning and asked to take the mysterious tinman and fake Yoda with you on your mission with his puppy eyes, you couldn’t disagree. Plus, you couldn’t deny that you might need some back-up, a Mandalorian bounty hunter at your side would be a great advantage. If, of course, he didn’t kill you first, given how much he hated your guts.

As you arrived at the door, you paused and sighed. There was no turning back anymore. With a quick swipe of the Force, you opened it and stepped inside. The Mandalorian was sitting cross-legged on the floor with the child laying across his lap. It was playing with a small silver ball, letting it hover in front of the warrior’s face. It was weirdly domestic, hardly what you would’ve expected of a Mandalorian. You had to admit that how deeply he cared for the little one proved of a somewhat decent character. And Luke hoped you could get along. He had asked you to try and smoothen things out with the stranger this morning, for everyone’s sake. Nonetheless, the idea of spending a good amount of time in space with him wasn’t too appealing.

He looked up at you, the frown almost visible despite his helmet. “Oh, don’t you give me that look, I know you despise me, but we’ll have to put up with each other for a while if you want your kid to become a Jedi,” you said as a way of greeting. He didn’t respond, so the conversation was up to you. “I assume they didn’t teach you much about humor back on Mandalore, huh?” you attempted to break the silence again. “Don’t you dare mention my home,” he growled. “Or what?”, you challenged him, not able to resist the provocation.

He put the foundling down, rose and took a few deliberate steps towards you until he was right in front of you. Maker, he was huge, towering you by maybe one foot. Then he slowly bent his visor down to you. “It – wouldn’t be wise”, he replied.  “You know what’s unwise? Threatening a Jedi. If you believe your shiny armor could protect you from me, you’re terribly mistaken,” you retort with a snort, holding his stare. He moved his helmet up and down and you felt his eyes taking you in. Your heart began to beat a bit faster, but not out of fear. You were too horny for your own good as well.

“We’ll see about that”, he said after a while, slowly turned and went back to your new – Padawan? You had no idea what the child was to you. The obvious disrespect conveyed through him turning his back on you made you blaze up with rage. He sat back down and picked the green creature up again. Looking up at you, he added: “Why do you look so furious? I thought Jedi weren’t allowed to feel anger”. That comment didn’t help your aggression. “Why are you suddenly so big with words?” You knew your come-back was weak before you it even fully passed your lips, but he had hit your weak spot. And he seemed to know it. You bet he was looking pretty smug underneath his stupid helmet right now.

Before the situation could escalate any further, Luke entered. “I see you two have become friends already. How nice!” Luke joked, but he shot you a warning glance at the almost tangible animosity in the room. You shrugged, but felt a little ashamed. You should have been above these provocations.

“Are you ready to chase down some Imperial criminals?” Luke went on. “Always.” You grinned at him and the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly in response. The Mandalorian also got up once more. “Let’s go,” he said dryly and pushed past you to get out of the room. “See why I don’t get along with him?” you whispered to Luke. He just shook his head with a smile. You grinned back at him and the two of you followed the rude stranger to the ships.

---------------------

“C’mon Luke, another shitty ship? You’d think we couldn’t afford any new ones!” you exclaim upon the sight of the wreckage in front of you. The ancient ship looked like it had seen far better days. Luke rolled his eyes, beyond dealing with your constant sarcasm. You were well aware that remaining inconspicuous was important for your missions, but you wouldn’t mind a little more luxury for once.

As you were still taking in the ship, R2-D2 rolled up to you. You turned to Luke with a confused expression. “You’ll need a droid on this mission, and I’d trust no one to be more competent than Artoo,” Luke said to you while patting R2. You furrowed your brows. “Luke–,” you began. “A droid won’t be necessary,” the Mandalorian interrupted. “We can handle this.” At that, you turned back to the man. “Are you scared of R2?” you mocked him. “And you’re wrong, we do need a droid to navigate and assist us on this mission.” The intruder sighed. “Fine.” To your surprise, he didn’t seem to be up for another fight with you.

You spun back to face Luke. “We cannot take Artoo with us, any other droid will do. I know what he means to you,” you uttered softly. Luke gave you a fond look. “And that’s why I trust you to take good care of him.” He put a hand on your shoulder. “You’re my best fighter and I want you take him with you. You might think it’ll be a burden to protect him, but he might just turn out to be the one to protect you. You know how often he saved my ass.” He smiled tentatively at the memories.

“All right, Luke. It’ll be an honor to have him accompany me – us.” You smiled at him and put your hand on his shoulder as well. Without a warning, he pulled you in for a hug. “Be careful,” he whispered into your ear. You were astonished at the sudden show of affection, he wasn’t usually that cordial before sending you off to missions. He let you go and you blushed slightly. In your peripheral you noticed a helmet facing you. “I always am,” you replied, but this time the sarcasm didn’t reach your voice. Luke didn’t say anything else; he only pressed a small device in your hand – most likely the map – and brushed your cheek with the back of his hand softly while shooting one last look at the Mandalorian behind you before departing. You looked after him in wonder, the blush probably visible on your face now. Keeping your head down, you walked past the Mandalorian and entered the ship without another word.

------------------------

You welcomed the quiet of the cockpit, staring out into space for hours without hearing any sounds, completely lost in your thoughts. Why did Luke act so weirdly? Why did you have to crush on him of all people? It was not like you had developed any serious feelings for him, at least not yet. He was more of a friend you wanted to fuck sometimes, but you feared that if you gave into those desires, serious feelings would follow, which would jeopardize both your friendship to him and your moral code. You let out a long sigh and wondered if it was time to change your morals. Luke was right, why should it be illegal to love? But your past held you back, as it always did. It would have been downright treacherous to give in to your desires at this point.

Heavy footsteps pulled you out of your identity crisis as the Mandalorian entered the cockpit and sank down into the seat next to you. “What do you want?” you inquired sharply. You were so not in the mood to be taunted by him. He slowly turned his helmet towards you. “What’s with the foul attitude? Missing your boyfriend already?” he replied, his voice tinted with venom. Maker, he knew how to push your buttons. “Fuck you,” you answered, way beyond coming up with witty retorts. “Oh, I don’t think it’s me you want to fuck,” he said, and you could hear a grin in his voice. “Cut the crap. We’ll be here for a while, so why don’t we at least try to get along?” You swallowed your anger down and tried to reason with him. He stared at you for some time before he got up again and left. You wondered why you even made the effort; he was clearly a lost cause.

--------------------------

After enjoying a bit more solitude, you decided it was time to fulfill your duty. You promised Luke you’d try to train the green child and it’s not like there was anything else to do to pass the seemingly endless periods in space. You got up and stretched a little, the muscles in your back and shoulders being sore from sitting for too long. As you opened the door to leave the cockpit, your destination was already standing at your feet. “Hey, little guy,” you said, once more a little disheveled by his appearance and allowed him to waddle past you into the cockpit. After a few steps, he turned around and looked at you expectantly. You raised an eyebrow. “You sensed my intentions, huh?” you murmured quietly. Apparently, the Force was quite strong with him.

“I guess you coming to me means you are willing to let me instruct you?” You sensed his approval through the Force. Interesting, why would he have agreed to let you train him, but not Luke? Especially considering the fact that his dad hated you openly and most ardently.

“Great. Now, I don’t want to bore you, but let’s start with the basics,” you began. Grogu cocked his head to the side. “First of all, you need to be sure that you are willing to follow the Jedi Codex. It’s what allows us to use the Force without losing ourselves in it like those who turn to the Dark Side.” Through the Force, the little one showed you images of you and the Mandalorian fighting, a sneer on your face. “Grogu!” you exclaimed offendedly. “I see Luke has already told you all about our principles and all I can say in my defense is that nobody’s perfect and I’m working on it.”

His humor reached you and you couldn’t help smiling at him. His looks really were the only thing he had in common with your late Jedi Master. “You know what, I like you.” You thought you caught a wave of him returning your sentiments, but it was gone quickly. “But between us,” you gave him a conspiratorial grin, “your dad’s a total prick.” He didn’t seem to take any offense in this statement and rather appeared utterly amused.

-------------------

You spent the following couple of hours connecting with Grogu through the Force and going over the basics of wielding such a power. You only stopped as hunger overcame you and your apprentice seemed to lose focus as well. “You did well today, Grogu,” you praised him. The little guy had somehow managed to waddle his way into your heart in the last few hours. “You deserve some rest.” You opened the door once more and spotted the Mandalorian standing next to it. Without a word, he picked Grogu up and left, probably to retire him to bed.

You yawned, feeling exhausted despite not having done much today and groggily searched for your food reserves. You came upon some toast and dried fruits, that’d have to do for now. You took your dinner back to your cot and settled in for a relaxed night, when a shadow suddenly blocked your vision.

Maker, how did he sneak up to you without you noticing? You must have been even more exhausted than you believed. “What?” you snapped at him, simply wanting to eat and sleep. “You wore him down way too much. You can’t wear him out like that, what were you thinking?” he snarked accusingly. The annoyance at his audacity filled you with energy again. “What are you thinking, questioning my methods of teaching like that. Do I need to remind you which one of us is the Jedi again?” You tried to stare at him with as much hate as you could muster. “Do I need to remind you that he is my child?” His modulated voice came out in huffs. “That attitude is exactly why it’s been so hard for Luke to train him.” You sunk back into your cot and laid down. You closed your eyes for a moment and when you reopened them, the shadow was gone.

Chapter 3

Masterlist

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Untamed TAZ Balance AU? Don't have to write anything, just consider that (is Wen Ning Lucretia in this or is he too nice for that)

NHS IS LUCRETIA, NHS IS ABSOLUTELY LUCRETIA, I HAVE THOUGHTS, my girlfriend yelled at me for these thoughts.  Hell this got long, I’ve literally been saving it in my drafts until Tumblr fixed the Read More issue.

WWX is Taako, JC is Magnus, WQ is Merle, JYL is in the umbrella (became a lich to keep her brother from doing it), WN is the Red Robe (became a lich because he thought it seemed reasonable), NHS is Lucretia, XXC is Davenport, LWJ and LXC are mutually Kravitz (LXC sets his bro up with the death criminal wizard), Wen Zhuliu is John Vore, LSZ is Angus but also a baby Reaper

ONE

So Wei Wuxian isn’t really a wizard, is the thing.  Like, he does the wizard magic, and apparently he has strong Wizard Vibes because wherever he travels, people ask him if he can solve their magical bullshit problems, but he’s, like, barely a wizard.  He’s an inventor, technically, except that a few years back some stuff went explosively awry while he worked with this traveling show and–yeah.  So he’s working as a wizard because, hey, he can cast Magic Missile and he needs to eat and he’s an Evocation specialist, anyway, so it’s not like he’s out here making food from rocks.  He’s hired on with a couple other random jackasses, a fighter who took a dislike to Wei Wuxian right off the bat and a cleric with a bad temper and an itchy Sacred Flame finger, and they’re doing a job for some dwarf, or whatever.  The dwarf has a guy hired on as muscle, but he doesn’t look like much, all wide eyes and baby face.  He calls himself Qionglin, no last name, and stares at Wen Qing like he’s never seen a cleric before, and Jiang Cheng spends the entire trip to Phandolin messing with his whip, which is the stupidest weapon Wei Wuxian has ever seen.

Well, then everything immediately goes horribly wrong, though, and turns out that Jiang Cheng is pretty okay with that whip.  Qionglin (Wei Wuxian spoke to the man all of one time, but he was sweet, if a little awkward) gets himself kidnapped by a bunch of goblins, and their employer is gods-know-where with whatever a Black Spider is, and suddenly this very boring escort mission is a very not boring rescue mission.

There’s a skeleton in the cave.  Wei Wuxian takes an umbrella from it, and it crumbles into dust beneath its red robe.  There’s a very annoyed man with a sword who calls himself Song Lan and speaks in static, and he’s somehow not the weirdest part of this whole day.

Phandolin doesn’t survive its brush with the Zidian Gauntlet, and neither does Qionglin.  Wen Qing screams when he dies, and Wei Wuxian grabs her under the arms with Jiang Cheng and books it for the empty well in Song Lan’s wake, and they just hide.  

And then they go to the goddamn moon, apparently.

TWO

The goddamn moon is run by an older man with hair still a glossy black, toying with a beautifully painted white fan in his hand.  He calls himself the Director and–after some testing–hires them more or less on the spot.  Something flickers over his face when Wen Qing, bemused by her own upset, makes an offhand mention of a man named Qionglin who died when the Gauntlet brought down so much lightning that it turned Phandolin into black glass.  But it’s not Wei Wuxian’s problem, so he doesn’t worry himself over it too much.  He takes the payment offered to him by the Director’s aide, a blindfolded, stunningly handsome man in Bureau blue and white who rests his hand on his own chest and says “Xiao Xingchen” and not another word.

The Bureau is–weird.  They’ve got a giant jellyfish and a store run by–something Wei Wuxian Does Not Trust and a dorm.  Wei Wuxian laughs and kicks Jiang Cheng cheerfully in the ankle and says “Just like college, huh?” and Jiang Cheng gives him a dark look and snaps “I never went to college.”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says, blinking.  “Me neither.”

Whatever.  They go on a train adventure and there’s a kid, a kid who blinks and stares at Wei Wuxian like he’s seen a goddamn ghost and immediately walks up to introduce himself as Lan Sizhui, boy detective.

Wei Wuxian fucking loves this kid.  He’s not sure why this wide-eyed fifteen-year-old latched onto him so hard, but he’s smart, funny, loyal, and extremely easy to pick on.  13/10 child rating, in Wei Wuxian’s book.

(Sizhui, for his part, more or less kicks down the door to his father’s offices in the Astral Plane the second the Reclaimers are gone and shouts “I HAVE A LEAD ON WHAT HAPPENED TO THE WORLD.”)

(His father, Lan Wangji, the Grim Reaper, is very interested to hear all about it–especially when his son casually name-drops three of the biggest bounties that the Raven King, his adoptive elder brother, has ever sent him after, with the exception of that absolutely insufferably sweet-tempered lich Wen Ning.)

THREE

So…the Crystal Kingdom.

Is it Wei Wuxian’s finest hour, shouting obscure tentacle-related threats at the second crystal construct they’ve seen in the past twenty minutes?  No, probably not.  But it’s been a stressful day, they’re already down one Regulator and Song Lan is fuck-knows-where with Mianmian and, again, this is the second menacing crystal construct they’ve seen in twenty minutes.  Or maybe it’s the same one? 

Whatever, doesn’t matter.  They’re here to hunt down Meng Yao, a scientist who’s been dicking around with some seriously ill-advised necromancy and also the Philosopher’s Stone, and a crystal construct or two isn’t going to stop them.

Wei Wuxian actually physically cannot help himself, though, when the Reapers appear in the mirror, a matched set of beautiful men, and he grins broadly at the one glaring at him most viciously.  They get let go on a technicality, along with a conduit still containing Meng Shi’s memory of a vision beyond the cosmos, and Meng Yao leaves with his life and not much more.

Later, Lan Wangji is absolutely betrayed by the realization that his brother willfully set him up to be the primary go-between for the completely breathtaking deeply irritating wizard-by-way-of-death-criminal.  And that’s before the whole lich revelation.  (He does get a kiss, though, after he watches his brother pulled under by the Hunger.  That’s nice.  He hopes Wei Wuxian will mitigate the death crimes now that they’re dating.)

FOUR

The seven Relics are as follows:

The Zidian Gauntlet, which can generate a lightning blast so powerful that it can obliterate an entire city.  (Jiang Cheng–he watched the others try to lay in protections, try to make their Relics harmless, and he knew it wouldn’t work.  All the Gauntlet does is damage.  It can melt a city down to black glass, but it can’t be twisted, it can’t be made into any more of a nightmare than it already is.  He’s a fighter.  He knows all about damage, knew all about what he was making.  That doesn’t mean it didn’t kill him by inches to watch it leave a path of destruction–so much that his beloved jiejie tried to seal it away.)

The Oculus, which can make any construct real.  (Xiao Xingchen–Nie Huaisang didn’t take everything.  He doesn’t remember the mission, or his own past.  Something strange got confused in the process, and he lost most of his speech.  But he remembers how to fight, handles his sword as cleanly and effectively as ever, and he remembers that he doesn’t think much of Nie Huaisang’s combat skills.  Or maybe it’s just really obvious that Nie Huaisang isn’t much of a fighter.  Regardless, Xiao Xingchen insisted on accompanying him, before–before.  Then they went into the Felicity Wilds, and…Xue Yang is honestly delighted.  He’s never managed to ruin someone so badly on the way into Wonderland before.  It’s just a shame that Nie Huaisang sent Xiao Xingchen away before they reached the doors.)

The Healer’s Sash, which can manipulate natural forces like the wind, the tides, and tectonic plates just as easily as it can manipulate a heartbeat or a pair of lungs.  (Wen Qing–she prays to Pelor, the Dawnfather, the healer and Lord of Light, but she’s long since lost her faith in him as anything but a contracted boss.  It’s a shock to everyone including her when she’s granted a right arm made of glass and magic after losing it.  She was so determined to make a Relic that could be used for good, but–well.  She supposes she should have known better.)

The Philosopher’s Stone, which can more or less transform anything into anything.  (Jiang Yanli–she’s a Transmutation wizard, she’s been feeding the crew of the Starblaster for a hundred years on whatever she can pull together.  If the right person found the Stone, it would have ended world hunger.  The wrong person found the stone.  Jiang Yanli tried her damnedest to hunt it down, but she found the Gauntlet first, and, well–she already became a lich to stop one younger brother from doing it.  It’s not a struggle to decide that she’s going to take responsibility for saving Jiang Cheng from his own guilt.  Then things go horribly wrong, and she spends the next twelve years in an umbrella.)

The Temporal Chalice, which offers complete control over time.  (Wen Ning–he was a strict scholar until his sister was contacted about the IPRE’s creation, but he always did want to travel, and his theories about bonds were too good for Xiao Xingchen to pass up having on his crew.  Everything he’s done since they lost their home system has been about trying not to leave his family, about trying for second chances, he became a lich for them, he’s done everything to stay with them, of course his Relic is a second chance generator.)

The Animus Flute, which offers control over the spirits of the dead and, in the hands of a sufficiently competent expert, the living.  (Wei Wuxian–he’s watched his brother, his sister, his friends, die so many times.  He’s terrified of immortality, but he’s most terrified of being alone.  He meant to make something that could keep the dead present, so that they would never have to fear being left behind again.  Watching it rip Jiang Cheng’s soul clean out of his body in Xue Yang’s hands is the worst thing Wei Wuxian can remember, even after everything is over.)

The Bulwark, which Nie Huaisang never did explain to anyone, but took the shape of a hand-painted fan.  (Nie Huaisang lost the only person who mattered to him when the Hunger ate their home, and then as he slowly, painstakingly, rebuilt something like a family, he had to watch them suffer and die for a hundred years.  And then he watched them win, and grieve like dying all over again for the winning.  He’s sorry they suffered for his actions.  He’s not sorry for what he did.)

FIVE

Wen Zhuliu didn’t mean to make his whole plane give up.  But he had spent his whole life being used, and it all just seemed so pointless.  It all just seemed so pointless.  There was always someone stronger, always something bigger, always a rule he couldn’t break, always something, and he started talking, started telling people as much, and--

Wen Qing is about the farthest thing in the fucking world from a peacemaker by nature, if you ask her, but she’s a healer first, last, and most of all.  And, she thinks as she watches the sun sink with a very tired man crumbling away at her side, she might be the only person in the worlds who ever noticed that Wen Zhuliu needed a healer.

(They aren’t from the same plane, but--some of the others have found distant family, on their new home.  It’s an unanswerable question, if they might have been family, a few dimensions removed.  Wen Ning still thinks about it.)

[andorerso]

Oh boy, there's so many good ones in that prompt list! I'll limit myself to three: #1 with Jyn and Cassian (trying to) have a lazy weekend; #28 and then Jyn proceeds to beat the crap out of her captor herself; or #127.

Hey! I went with #28 “Take one more step and I snap her pretty little neck.” Prepare for some angst :)

Cassian steps into the seedy motel room cautiously, his eyes trained on the man holding a blaster to Jyn’s face. He’s a human in his forties, his hair short and spiky, his clothes worn and tattered. There’s something unsavory in his eyes that would have set Cassian on edge even if he wasn’t holding his partner hostage. This is not a man to play around with, Cassian decides, because he will shoot.

“There you are,” the man says, his voice delighted as if they were old friends meeting again. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

This is about him, then. A bounty hunter? Someone out for revenge?

Cassian’s eyes sweep the room, looking for opportunities, but he doesn’t make any hasty movements, much too aware of the blaster pressed against Jyn’s temple. Stay calm, stay collected, stay professional. He’s always been good at compartmentalizing, and now all he focuses on is the stranger watching him with a greedy grin. There’s a syringe on the table but Cassian ignores that for now. Could they escape through the window?

“Drop your weapons,” the man tells him, and Cassian obeys, slowly putting down his blaster and removing two vibroblades from his breast pocket and his pants. He kicks them in the man’s direction.

“All of them,” the man says, and Cassian gets rid of another two blades from his boots.

“That’s all of them,” he speaks at last, even though he does have one more vibro-shiv tucked inside his right sleeve.

“Good. Now stand up. Careful. Take one more step and I snap her pretty little neck.”

Cassian keeps himself from grimacing, unwilling to give this man an ounce of leverage. It was only a small step forward, disguised as him straightening up, but the man is clearly not a rookie who wouldn’t pick up on it. He had to be careful here.

“Let her go,” Cassian says, his voice even. It’s a long shot but he has to try.

Jyn hasn’t said a thing yet and he tries not to look at her face. He thinks if he did look, she’d be more pissed than scared. Of course she would be, his fearless Jyn. But he couldn’t look at her – he had to be in control.

“Yeah, sure. As soon as I have you.” A nasty grin lights up his face; Cassian could see his yellowing teeth. “You’re gonna make me rich, rebel scum.”

A bounty hunter then. It isn’t Cassian’s first time dealing with one – but it’s the first time they try to use someone else against him. It’s the first time he cares about anyone enough that it might work.

“There’s a syringe on the table, it’ll knock you out for a few hours,” the man tells him, nodding with his head. “Go and inject yourself with it. No sudden movements,” he emphasizes, pressing the blaster harder against Jyn’s temple. His eyes catch hers for a second, – she looks murderous – and then he’s looking away.

He hesitates. Even if he does what the guy wants, there’s no guarantee he’d keep Jyn alive afterward. In fact, the chances of him not wanting to risk Jyn coming after them – and she would, Cassian knows this as he knows his own name – are rather high. He’s going to shoot her anyway.

He has to get her out of this somehow.

“Let her go first, and I swear I’ll go willingly.”

“Cassian,” Jyn speaks up for the first time, her voice a warning and a plea at the same time. She’s begging him not to do it, but he can’t risk her life.

“Do you think I’m dumb?” the guy asks, and unfortunately no, Cassian doesn’t. It would be easier if he was.

“Do you think I am? You’ll kill her as soon as I’m unconscious.”

“Just fucking do it or I blow out her brains now,” the man growls, his grip on Jyn’s arm tightening. Cassian wants to tear his arm off for even daring to touch her, but instead, he clenches his jaw and steps towards the table.

He eyes the syringe. Injecting yourself with an unknown substance is the most idiotic mistake he could think of. No sane person would even consider it. But the alternative is Jyn dying and that… is not acceptable.

“Cassian, don’t,” Jyn begs him again, her voice holding a hint of desperation now, and he’s sorry, so fucking sorry, but he presses the needle to his arm and pushes it into his vein anyway.

It could be poison, he muses, but he doubts it. An intelligence officer is useless dead. They’d want to question him first. It’s most likely just a sedative that’ll knock him out for a few hours while the bounty hunter hands him over to the authorities.

Briefly, he thinks about the small pill hidden in his breast pocket. Not yet. He isn’t ready to give up yet, not with Jyn watching.

As soon as the syringe is empty, Cassian feels his limbs becoming heavier. Jyn. Force. I’m so sorry. He stumbles a bit, grabbing the edge of the table for support before falling to his knees. His eyes find Jyn’s at last, and she’s watching him in fear, her face filled with sorrow. Please let her go.

“Jyn,” he gasps, voice weak, and it seems to trigger her anger as she turns her head towards her captor, hissing in his face.

“I’ll find you, you hear me? I won’t stop until I find you no matter what you do, no matter where you go – you won’t have a moment of peace! I’ll hunt you down!”

Stop it, he thinks, his brain fuzzy and his vision blurring. Don’t make him kill you.

He can see the man’s eyes clouding with anger, his grip loosening on her arm as he takes a step closer and waves the blaster in her face, and that’s all it takes.

Jyn takes a wild chance by slamming her elbow into his stomach, but it works – he doubles over and she catches his blaster. Her fingers are on the trigger in a millisecond, and she aims for the head. The man falls to the floor with a thud, and Cassian can see blood splatter on Jyn’s face through his blurry vision.

She runs to him without stopping to wipe it off, gathering him up in her arms. He thinks he’s going to pass out soon but he gathers up enough energy to breathe out her name as she checks his pulse and strokes his hair.

“We have to go. There could be others,” she murmurs to him, voice gentle and still so terrified.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, then everything goes black.

Cassian wakes up lying on his cot in hyperspace, long gone from that cursed planet they left behind. He doesn’t question how Jyn managed to get him back to the ship by herself; she was nothing if not determined and resourceful. She would have carried him back herself is she had to.

Cassian stands up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. Whatever was in his system, it leaves him still weak in the legs, his head pounding like a hammer. The mission is a bust – it might have been from the start if his informant is the one who sold him out to that bounty hunter – but he strangely doesn’t care about that right now. There’ll be time to care later when they’re back on base. Now he just wants to find Jyn.

On unsteady legs, he makes his way to the cockpit where Jyn is sitting, idly watching the stars outside. She’s not the greatest pilot in the world but he taught her just enough to be able to get herself back to base, if he was ever not with her or otherwise incapacitated. With their luck, he knew it would come in handy someday, and now it has.

She turns to look at him when she hears his footsteps, clumsier than usual, and he gives her a soft smile. “Hey.”

She stares in silence, then looks away.

“Hey. We’re still four hours away from base. You’ve been out for ten. Are you okay?” She says all this in a monotone tone that almost reminds him of himself. He watches her face before answering, noting the taut line of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders, the straight line of her lips.

“My head is pounding,” he answers honestly. They have a deal about being honest with injuries. “And my legs feel a little shaky. I think I’m fine otherwise.”

She nods once, her voice still very even. “Good.”

He sits down next to her, watching her face as she watches the stars. He can’t get a feel of why she’s angry yet. At him for injecting himself? At the bounty hunter who outplayed them both? At herself for – in her mind – failing him? He decides to prod her a bit.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

He’s silent for a moment, deciding his best approach. “What happened?” he asks in the end, choosing not to push her just yet.

Her eyes close briefly and her mouth twists – a small sign of anger.

“He was waiting in the room. Caught me off-guard. He was lucky, nothing more.”

So she is angry at herself. He could hear it in her voice; the frustration and contempt. She believes it was her mistake, that she shouldn’t have been overpowered like that. But they’re all just human and they all make mistakes.

“Somehow, he knew he could use me against you,” she adds after a second, her voice quieter and… sorrowful. Cassian frowns. “And you let him.”

There it is. Her words are an accusation, and he’s not too surprised. She’s angry at him too. He takes a deep breath, looking out the window for a second. Trying to compose himself and his thoughts.

“We’re fine now,” he says simply. Jyn’s head snaps towards him and he turns back to her. She’s furious, a fire in her eyes as she glares at him. He looks back at her calmly, unintimidated.

“You injected yourself with something we don’t even know and then you weren’t waking up –”

“There was a bigger chance of him letting you go if I complied –”

“So I’m your weakness now?” she cuts in, her voice rising in indignation and disbelief. “I don’t want to be used against you, ever.”

She looks upset but clearly still holding back from feeling her true emotions – which was not anger but fear. Cassian fights the urge to take her into his arms and soothe all her worries with touch alone; he needs to say this, she needs to hear it.

“Jyn,” he begins slowly, his tone serious, “loving you is not a weakness. It never could be.”

“It was today,” she breathes out, her shoulders sagging as a cloudy expression overtakes her face. Cassian can’t help himself anymore. He pulls her into his arms and she goes willingly. She buries her face in his shoulder, her breathing shaky as she finally lets herself go. A few minutes pass in silence, Cassian gently rubbing her back just to let her know that he’s here.

“I was scared,” she admits once she gets her breathing under control, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t want to be the reason you were captured.”

“He had a blaster to your head,” Cassian says, the memory of it seared into his brain. He didn’t want to dwell on it too much then, but now that it’s over, he knows the sight will haunt him for a while to come. “I’m always gonna choose you.”

He pulls away to look at her, carding his fingers through her hair as she stares up at him with sad green eyes.

“Maybe that’s a weakness in a way.” He strokes a finger down her cheek, flicking her chin with a gentle smile. It earns him a tiny quirk of her lips and he’ll take that as a win. “But it’s also my strength.”

She looks at him for a while, contemplating, her big green eyes seeing right through his soul. Eventually, she puts her head back on his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist as she clings to him like a loth-cat. He holds her just as tightly, his chin falling on her shoulder.

“You’ll always be my strength, Jyn.”

[frostsinth]

The Bard’s Bounty - Pt. 8

Hey friends. Graphic warnings here. Hinting at past forced encounters and abuse, and potential rape. You have been warned, please read with caution. This story took a darker turn than I intended.

Apologies for the slow follow-up. Work life got busy and I didn’t have time to finish this part. I’ve already almost finished the next two, so I should be able to update more regularly until the end (which will be Part 10).

Parts 1|2|3|4|5|6|7

Iara’s off to face the Bounty Hunter’s Guild and rescue Balam. But will she get there in time to save him?

It was midday by the time I reached the Guild headquarters, and I pulled my stolen mount up short. The large mansion nestled in the center of the thriving port town seemed very still compared to the bustling streets around it. I gritted my teeth, ducking my head lower into the cowl of my borrowed cloak. There was a time when the sight of the mansion filled me with entirely different emotions. Now I wasn’t sure what to feel.

I didn’t have much time, I knew. I had already wasted so much just getting here. Waking up alone in the forest, drenched in blood. My own blood, at least. There was no sign of a struggle. No sign that they had decided to take Balam’s head after all. But I was still filled with a cold dread. Who knew what had happened in the hours I was knocked out. What if I was already too late?

I prayed that the dumb orc had managed to babble his way into a stay of execution. Just for a little while longer at least. Long enough for me to do what needed to be done.

I left the stolen horse in the stables beside the old blacksmith, patting his big flank gently. He was a big, quiet gelding with a calm temperament. And just one more notch on the long stick of my questionable career. I didn’t even pay it much thought. In fact, I added another as I snuck into the forge and grabbed the nearest pair of serviceable weapons. A rough set of freshly sharpened daggers.

I knew Goda would be in the stables adjacent to the mansion. It wouldn’t be hard to get her out; I doubt anyone in the Guild thought I would be stupid enough to come back for what they thought was just another horse. And no outsider would be brazen enough to steal from the Guild. No, she wouldn’t be guarded or tethered. Likely they had to drag her there by force and were more than eager to pen her for a while. I looked off towards the stables briefly, my heart racing. First though, I had to find Warrick.

On light feet, I made my way swiftly from shadow to shadow. The sun was high overhead, and didn’t leave much room for hiding. But I knew this place like the back of my hand. I knew how to avoid being seen. And a hot, numbing rage spurned me on.

Next, I moved with a small troupe of merchants, who’s carts drifted close to the outer walls of the compound. I stood close to one, unnoticed, until we passed beneath the hickory tree whose long branches hung down over the wall. Quick as a flash, I sprinted out, jumped, and caught the top of the wall with the balls of my fingertips. With a grunt, I pulled myself up and over. All before the cart had passed more than three feet away. Its rattling wares and distracting colors drew any errant eye and covered my ascent.

Ducking behind the tree’s slim trunk, I reached one hand up to my newly dressed side. It stung, but whatever magic Warrick had used on me seemed to have had a strange side effect on it. The wound’s edges were burned through, and it no longer openly bled whenever I twisted or moved. Still hurt like the dickens, but I could work with that.

I heard footsteps and dropped low, watching some green recruits walking past, chattering quietly between themselves. I used the sound of their soft laughter muffled beneath their palms to cover my quick dash over to the side of the mansion itself. Overhead, a window, just a few feet above me. I glanced around, then jumped, catching my foot on the corner of the building and launching myself up.

I managed to hook my forearm, and pulled myself in. My ears rang and I twitched with each little sound. There was a grim, ironic pang in the pit of my stomach as I recognized that the only reason I had gotten as far as I had was because of Warrick’s training. I was the best Bounty Hunter in the damn place, and he made sure of that. My mouth went dry at the thought of the Guildmaster, but I shook off the prickling of my skin and crept down the hall.

Up the stairs, past the bunk rooms. It sounded like the majority of the Guild was downstairs in the basement taproom; at least those who were home. Luckily enough for my purposes, the Hunters rarely stayed at the Guildhouse for long. Just long enough to tally their scores and pick up the next bounty assignment.

The sharp creak of a floorboard had me scrambling backwards haphazardly, shouldering open the nearest door and ducking in. I spun, pressing my eye to the crack just in time to watch Varius stomp down the hallway. The half-elf looked mad; his brow was furrowed and he was muttering to himself under his breath. So caught up in himself, he didn’t seem to sense my eyes watching him.

For a moment, I felt my hand go to my belt. I thumbed the dagger, longing to shove it between the bastard’s shoulder blades. There was a long history between us, and its memory burned me. But I quelled my anger, and let him pass. Next time, I promised myself.

Glancing over to be certain my cover was not blown, I snuck back out into the hall. Down the way that Varius had come. Towards the Guildmaster’s private office.

I didn’t hesitate, aside from a quick glance over my shoulder to be certain we were still alone. Despite the danger. Despite everything inside me screaming for fear of the memory of this place. I pushed open the door, then quickly and quietly closed it behind me.

Warrick’s back was to me, one gloved hand tucked in the small of his spine, the other holding up some papers. There was a desk between myself and him, but not much else. And I felt the hot rage growing in me again. Burning away at the hollow numbness that had filled me just a moment before. How many times had I been in this room? Standing right where I stood now?

None of them were happy memories.

He didn’t flinch at the sound of the door opening, simply sighing and shaking his head.

“Varius, the matter is settled,” He intoned, sounding bored, “Go sulk in the taproom-” I could see a smirk dancing in the corner of his lips- “Perhaps I’ll come find you later-”

He stopped short as the deadbolt thumped into place. Slowly, without turning, he lowered his papers, staring directly ahead out the window before him. I didn’t wait for him to move first; my daggers already drawn, creeping forward on the balls of my feet. Perhaps if I could just manage to catch him off guard. Even the slightest amount. Perhaps then this might not be the suicide mission I knew it was, born of absolute desperation. I watched the hand behind his back slowly clench.

“Honestly, Iara,” He said coldly, finally turning his head slightly to consider me out of the corner of his eye, “I thought you above such foolishness.”

“Where is he?” I hissed, moving ever closer.

A deep sigh was my response, and the Guildmaster shook his head, turning to face me fully. I knew better than to let my guard down. Warrick was at least ten years my senior, and along with being an accomplished mage, he had trained almost all of the Guild members himself. He was not going to be beaten easily. But in that moment, I didn’t care. A wild mirage of emotions swirled around in my chest.

“How disappointing,” He tsked, shaking his head, “You showed such… vigor in your upbringing.”

“Where. Is. He?” I pressed, restlessly spinning the dagger in my hand.

A wicked pointed incisor showed as the Guildmaster’s lip curled back. “You would throw everything you’ve worked for here… for a man? An orc of all things? How unlike you.” 

“Shut up and answer me,” I growled back, clenching my teeth, “Where is he?”

Warrick offered a short, quick laugh, wrinkling his nose as he looked down it at me, now barely an arm’s length away.

“Well, which is it, my dear?” He purred, dark eyes narrowing, “‘Shut up’ or ‘answer me’? I can hardly do both now, can I?”

Hot white rage filled me to the brim, and I launched forward with my right dagger leading. Fast as a snake, his gloved hand shot out, catching my wrist. He twisted, pulling me in close and knocking away my other strike as easily as one might an irksome fly. Sending the dagger spinning across the surface of the desk. Then he yanked my arm back, pulling it behind me and up. I gasped in pain, and he used his knee to deftly spin me, and slam me face first into the desktop. Books and papers scattered everywhere from the force, and I mouthed at the air uselessly for a moment.

I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck as he leaned over me, pressing me painfully into the surface with his weight.

“Tell me, my sweet,” He breathed in my ear, and it sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine, “What made you turn away from me?” I struggled, but he easily subdued my vain attempt to dislodge him. “... Is his cock bigger? Is that what it was?” His lips dragged against my skin as he spoke. “Did he fuck you absolutely senseless?”

I felt him pressing his hips against my ass, and wriggled again, fighting to free one of my trapped hands. To get some semblance of a good angle to attack him again. I found I forgot everything I had ever learned in that moment. He was stronger than me. Older. More experienced. And I couldn’t find any purchase in my mind to begin to think how to fight him. I panted, my heart pounding in my ears. I swore I could hear him smirk, and I rolled my eyes back to look at him as best I could from where my face was still smashed into the desk.

“I always knew you liked it rough… perhaps I just need to step up my game, hmm?”

He kneed my legs apart, and I felt him adjusting himself. At first, I panicked. I felt numb all over. The same weak helplessness. The same shame and terror that had threatened to choke the life out of me every time the bastard had touched me. I felt myself pulling back. Recoiling into myself. Trying desperately to disconnect before it was too late.

“I warned you not to come back. Warned you what would happen…. One more lesson for you then, yes? But don’t worry, my sweet little Iara,” He purred into my ear. He released one of my limp hands, confident I wouldn’t fight back, and moved to slide his hand up the back of my thigh. “Your precious bard is probably already dead. Or wishes he was.”

His words brought up a memory. Just a quick flash of a sweet, lopsided grin. And a soft hum, like the buzzing of honeybees.

I wasn’t fully conscious of the movement. All I felt was cold steel in my palm, and the sudden tightening of my muscles. The painful twist of my arm and the resistance it met as I stabbed the dagger with every last ounce of my strength.

I heard a gargled sound, like water bubbling from a pipe. The Guildmaster’s weight lifted, and I quickly spun. Shoving hard with all my might. Forcing him backward until his shoulders hit the wall and his head snapped back against it from the force of his impact.

Blood dripped from the corners of his mouth, which hung open in dumbfounded confusion. His dark eyes were wide, and he looked between my rage filled face and the dagger protruding from between his fourth and fifth ribs. I took hold of the handle, meeting his gaze as I slowly twisted it deeper. His mouth opened wider, and that same strangled sound came from his throat.

“I’ll ask you one more time;” I hissed, my words squeezed through the narrow slit that was my throat, constricted with anger, “Where. Is. He.”

He opened and closed his mouth, like a suffocating fish. Then sputtered, gasping in one labored breath.

“The Sheriff… Collected-” another gasp- “Ridgepeak Manor-”

I smiled wickedly. “Thank you, Guildmaster,” I pushed the dagger in a little deeper, “You’ve been so helpful.”

I turned, grabbing my other dagger from where it had been left on the desk. His hands flailed at me weakly, but as his blood pooled at his feet, I knew there was nothing he could do. For a moment, I felt wonderful. Powerful beyond all measure. Grateful and free. I turned back to him, considering leaving him to drown in his own blood. The bastard didn’t deserve a quick death, I reasoned.

Then he bared his teeth at me, stained scarlet. His smile was twisted, perverse. And even as he sunk to his knees, his grin sent shivers down my spine.

“I knew you…. were just like me…” He gasped, his voice shaking and thin. His eyes rolled up to look at me. “You…are my most… prized possession… my greatest… legacy...”

I stared at him, grinning like a fool with his own life slipping between his fingers. I knew exactly what he would have done in this moment, had the roles been reversed. Exactly what I had been about to do... I clenched my jaw, squeezing my eyes shut, and shook my head. Making up my mind.

Then I crouched down, drawing the dagger with a quick yank from his side. He gasped, but then I saw the flood of confusion as his blood gushed out faster. As his pain ebbed away. I steeled my nerve and drew in close, bracing his face with one blood soaked hand.

“You don’t own me.” I breathed, then slowly slipped the dagger into the base of his skull.

He shivered once, a sensation that rippled through his entire body. Then the light in his eyes went out, and his body slumped to the floor.

I swallowed hard, walking over to the open window and cleaning the blades on the curtain. There was a knock at the office door, and a muffled voice. I glanced over my shoulder as the knocking became louder and more insistent.

I leapt over the window sill and dropped the few feet to the lip of the roof below. I moved quickly now. It didn’t matter if I was seen. It mattered only that I got out.

I covered the entire length of the mansion in a few minutes, sprinting as fast as I could. I whistled sharply as I approached the stables, and heard the responding whinny from within. Leaping over a very confused street urchin passing by, I tucked into a roll. The sound of smashing wood was quickly overridden by the pounding of hooves against dirt.

As Goda swept out of the stables with a squeal of delight, I straightened and reached out an arm to hook it around her thick neck. Swinging up onto her back and settling myself behind her whithers.

“Come on, girl,” I murmured as she cantered down the street, vendors diving out of the way, “Let’s go get Balam.”

....

UPDATED: Part Nine HERE

[much-obliged-timothy]

Whumptober #1

Borderlands - #1- Waking Up Restrained

*

Axton’s head ached terribly. He tried to open his eyes, but one wouldn’t cooperate, and the other promptly shut in the harsh light.

“He’s up.”

The voice was muffled despite how close it sounded. Someone kicked him roughly, and Axton forced his eye back open to see who it was.

It came back to him slowly as he stared up at the man towering over him. The mission. 

He and Gaige had been exploring a Dahl facility, collecting weapons and supplies for the Crimson Raiders. Then…

“Shit,” Axton said.

The man crouched down, his uniform all too familiar to Axton. He gripped Axton’s hair, sending a surge of pain through Axton’s head.

“That’s right, deserter,” he said. “You’re done running from the firing squad. We’re bringing you back.” 

He was supposed to be out of reach of Dahl here on Pandora. But they’d found him in the facility, and taken him hostage.

“Hey!” Axton said, hating how dry his throat was. “What the hell did you do to Gaige?”

“The girl wasn’t the deserter. We left her behind,” the man said, standing up. “I saw your wanted poster plastered all over the place when we got to Pandora. I want to say it’s just luck that I got my hands on you, but you were the one stupid enough to go snooping around an active Dahl facility.”

They hadn’t realized it was active. If they had, they never would’ve sent Axton on that mission.

And now here he was.

Wherever the hell “here” actually was.

He tried to shift, and realized that his arms were bound behind him. He was shackled to a metal support beam stretching from the floor to the ceiling of the room. With his eye open now, he realized that the lighting wasn’t actually harsh, and he was likely suffering a concussion.

He still couldn’t open his other eye. He was pretty sure it was either swelled shut, or there was so much blood dried on it that it was just stuck. Lovely. 

They’d been ambushed by a small squad of Dahl soldiers, and he looked around to see where the rest were. The one who appeared to be in charge stood nearby, watching him smugly.

The room was small, with only one door in or out. It was guarded by two of the soldiers, and he assumed the rest were on the other side somewhere. Axton tugged at the shackles again, but they were too secure to slip free of. 

One of his ankles was shackled as well, which he thought was excessive. Damn Dahl soldiers, needing to go overboard on everything they did.

“Do I know you?” Axton said at last. “Don’t remember any of you.”

“No. But I’d heard about you. They said you’d fled to Pandora, and that it wasn’t worth chasing you down,” the leader said. “They figured you’d be killed here sooner or later. Guess they were wrong. They’ll be more than pleased to end you themselves. And we’ll be more than pleased to claim the bounty Dahl put on you.”

Axton tried to fight past his foggy memory for the details of how he’d ended up here. Dahl had impressive security technology, and he remembered he and Gaige had accidentally set something off. Yes, that was it. 

They’d been separated. Gaige had gotten locked in the room they’d infiltrated, and Axton had been locked outside, left to face the Dahl squad on his own as they showed up to investigate. He was good, but even he wasn’t good enough to take on a mini squad by himself. 

The last thing he remembered was Gaige yelling his name as she tried to free herself with Deathtrap’s help, and one of the soldiers swinging a heavy chunk of metal at his head. 

So they were likely planning to go back and retrieve Gaige later. Arrest her for trespassing, and let her face the consequences. 

Axton hoped she could get out before then. 

If Axton could find a way out of this situation and escape back to Sanctuary, he’d be safe. It wouldn’t be worth it to Dahl to pursue him here. It’d cost them too much money for one troublemaker. 

But he was alone, injured, and chained up. The odds weren’t exactly in his favor.

He was tugging at the shackles again, trying to find a weakness in them somewhere. If he could get enough movement in his arms to reach his turret, he might stand a chance.

But then the leader came over, and kicked him roughly. “Stop moving. You won’t find a way out of this one.” He grinned, digging his foot against Axton’s chest, pressing Sarah’s ring against it. “Your ex-wife is the one who discharged you, if I remember right. I’m sure she’ll be glad to put you down. We’ll turn you over to her.”

No. No, no, no. Sarah had allowed him to escape. For all the trouble he’d caused her, she didn’t want him dead. If he got dragged back to her, she’d have no choice but to kill him. He didn’t want to put her through that.

“Why don’t you take your boot off and lick it since you love Dahl so much?” Axton snapped, tugging harder at the restraints. 

The man pressed his boot to Axton’s face. “Why don’t you take your own advice? You're at our mercy now, deserter. I can’t stand hero types like you. Why join the military if you were only out to make yourself look good? Waste of everyone’s time.” 

Axton turned his head away and spat on the leader’s other boot. “Better than the fucking prick you are, dude.”

The boot smashed into his face, and this time, Axton spat blood. The leader gave him a dark look and reluctantly backed off.

“Whine all you want. You’ll be dead by tomorrow. We’re just waiting on the transportation for you,” he said. 

He retreated back to the corner of the room, taking out his ECHO and messaging on it. Axton desperately tried to think of a way out of this mess. 

Just as he was starting to lose hope, there was a muffled thump and a yell from outside the door. The two guarding it both jerked in surprise and looked from each other to the leader.

“One of you, go investigate,” the leader ordered. He unholstered his gun and trained it on Axton. “Did you call for backup?”

“Yea, while I was unconscious I actually reached out to my friends in their dreams,” Axton said. “C’mon, man, what kinda stupid question was that? I’ve been conscious for, like, three minutes.”

He heard more screaming from outside, and the sound of a robotic trill. He instantly brightened.

“Oh, you fucked up, dude,” Axton said cheerfully. 

The leader pistol-whipped him in the face, and Axton winced, letting out a hiss of pain. He found the gun trained on his head.

“Be ready,” the leader ordered the remaining soldier guarding the door.

The soldier backed away and aimed his gun at the door. Axton already knew that wasn’t going to help him one bit.

Sure enough, the door flew open a minute later, and the soldier began to fire the instant Deathtrap came in. Deathtrap ignored the bullets bouncing harmlessly off him as he swiped at the guard.

Gaige rolled in behind him and shot the soldier dead since Deathtrap had shattered his shield. The leader snarled out a curse and tightened his hold on his gun.

“Stand down, or I kill him,” he said loudly.

Gaige looked over and let out a despaired noise. “Aw, man, what’d you do to his face? It was his best asset.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that since you came for me,” Axton said.

“How are you here?” the leader demanded.

“Uh, because I’ve been hacking Dahl security for years, duh. Super simple stuff if you know what you’re doing,” Gaige said. 

“Drop your weapon, and kick it to me,” the leader ordered. When Gaige didn’t comply, he fired a shot dangerously close to Axton’s foot. “Do it.”

Gaige dropped her gun and kicked it over to him, raising her hands. She flickered an uneasy glance to Axton, as if asking what she should do now.

She’d come to save him, but Axton was guessing she’d hoped to take his captors out quickly. The fact that one had him hostage at gunpoint put a dent in her plans. 

He just had to buy her a few seconds. She could grab one of her other weapons and take this guy out with Deathtrap’s help. But how?

Aw, fuck it. Bones would heal, but death was permanent. 

He swiped out his free leg, catching the leader by the ankles and sending him stumbling off balance. He then stuck his chained leg out, using his ankle to send the leader stumbling to the ground, and crying out as the force of it and the awkward angle thanks to the restraints broke his ankle.

Gaige didn’t hesitate; she had a shotgun out and firing in seconds. “Cover Axton, DT!”

Deathtrap surged in front of Axton protectively as the leader scrambled for his gun. Gaige’s shots were weakening his shield rapidly, and by the time he could fire on her, she had the advantage.

His shield shattered, and he tried to reach for a grenade. Gaige shot him in the shoulder, then the leg. The leader cried out, and Gaige slammed her shotgun against his temple, silencing him.

“Axton!” she cried, dropping to his side. “Are you okay?”

“Concussed, and my ankle is broken,” he said, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Why didn’t you kill him?”

“So we can question him and see who else he told about your whereabouts. I called the others for help. They’re on their way,” Gaige said.

“How did you find me?” Axton asked as Gaige began to fire on his restraints with a corrosive weapon.

“We’re still in that facility, just in the basement. I hacked their security system and found the footage of them knocking you out and dragging you along. Let me get you free and then I’ll give you health kits. You have a bad gash just above your eye,” she said. She hesitated, then threw her arms around his neck. “Fuck, Axton, I thought they were going to take you off-planet immediately.”

“Nah, I’ve got this badass friend who would never let them,” he said, using his now free arms to hug her back. “Thanks for saving my ass, Gaige. I owe you a drink. I owe you a lot of drinks.” 

Gaige stuck a health kit in him and let him lean against her. “I’ve got your back. We’ll fix up that face of yours, don’t worry.” She slung an arm around his shoulders. “The others will be here soon. Rest for now. When we get back to Sanctuary, you can buy me those drinks.”

He’d been alone for a long time, just hunting bounties and trying to find a purpose in life. But he wasn’t alone anymore. He had friends who came for him when he was in trouble. He had friends who would do anything to save him.

“Thanks, Gaige,” he said, gently wrapping his hand around the wedding band. “You saved more than just me.”

“Don’t get sappy on me!” she said, but she was grinning in relief. 

They sat together, arguing back and forth about who was sappier. Axton was tired and in pain, but as Gaige’s laughter echoed around the room, he knew he wouldn’t have his life any other way.

[spectraspecs-writes]

Leviathan - Chapter 101

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 100. Chapter 102.

Tw - swearing, torture

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

———–

I don’t get to see Mission being carried off. All I hear is a cry for reinforcements. The troopers move me, Carth, and Bastila off pretty quickly. Rather than simply search us, they have us strip down to our underclothes and force us into individual energy cells. At least the heating is decent.

We wait. For what feels like hours. There’s barely enough room to sit in the cell but I manage. Bastila is meditating. Carth is pacing in his cell. As much as he can anyway. It’s hard to feel him through the cell, but I don’t need the Force to know what’s going through his head. He’s calculating. This was never the scenario he imagined he’d face Saul in. At the very least, I imagine he planned to be wearing pants. He has every confidence in Mission to get us out, of course. He’s working ahead of that. What happens next. What happens after that, what happens after that. All the way up to Saul’s death. But he keeps getting stuck there. How do we get out. How do we get everyone on the Hawk and away from the Leviathan. And what is, from my perspective, the most important question - does he survive this? How?

When our interrogator comes, I know by the way he carries himself, it’s Saul. We all stand and face him, readying ourselves. He speaks to Carth first, with the words of a father but the tone of a scoundrel. “Carth, it has been far too long since we last spoke,” he says, “I see the recent months have not been kind in your case. I barely recognized you.”

Carth is cold. I haven’t seen him like this in a while. “But I recognized you, Saul. I see your face every night even as I promise myself I will kill you for what you did to my home world.”

Saul shakes his head. “Did you learn nothing in your time under me? As a soldier you should understand that casualties were unavoidable. This was an act of war.”

“It was a cowardly act of betrayal!” he exclaims, “Your fleet bombed a civilian target into oblivion without warning or provocation. And the blood of those innocent people is on your hands!”

“In war even the innocent must die.” Always a justification. “The Sith would not accept me until I proved I had truly turned my back on the Republic by bombing the planet.”

“My wife died in that attack, Saul,” Carth says softly, “And for that, I swear I'll kill you.”

Saul sighs. “You used to be a man of action, not of empty words,” he says, “Cling to your lust for revenge if you must, but spare me your tired threats. I've heard them all before.” He turns. Starts to pace a little. “You are an insignificant part of these events, anyway. Lord Malak is far more interested in your Jedi companions.” He crosses in front of me and Bastila and stops. “He has great plans for them.”

“We will never serve Malak or the Dark Side!” Bastila says firmly, “The Sith will be destroyed, Admiral Karath… as will you if you don't turn away from this path.”

Saul smiles. “Your words are brave, Bastila, but the lure of the Dark Side is hard to resist - or so I've been told.” He looks at me. “I wonder if your companion is as devoted to the light as you are?”

I scoff. “Seriously? You guys have sent Dark Jedi, a bounty hunter, and a Sith apprentice after me, and I’ve killed every single one of them, you think after that the Dark Side has any allure? I’m not exactly fond of working with people who’ve tried to kill me.”

“Your wit is as sharp as ever,” he says with a smirk. Which is a weird as hell remark to make given we’ve never met. “I’m certain Malak will find your loyalty to the Jedi amusing.” He runs his fingers along a control panel, while the Sith trooper who mans it watches him closely. Waiting for a command that hasn’t yet come. “The Dark Lord would probably reward me if I just killed you once and for all. But he may want to question you given the trouble you've caused him… and the history between you.”

History? “Unless Malak was a scout, you’ve got the wrong girl.”

Saul cocks his head. “You mean…” he says slowly. Calculating the same way Carth does. “… oh, this can't be true, can it? You really don't know what's going on here, do you?”

“Being questioned by a dickhead? I think I’ve got an idea what’s going on here.”

He laughs a bit. “Well, I won't be the one to deprive Malak of the pleasure of telling you himself.” I glance at Bastila and Carth, but neither of them show a flicker of awareness, either. Saul moves to the center of the room, facing us all. “The Dark Lord will no doubt torture you for information and for his own twisted pleasure. Eventually you will tell him everything. The Sith can be very persuasive. However,” he says, “Lord Malak is in another sector. It may be some time before he arrives, so I suppose I will have to fill in for him until then.” He turns to the trooper at the control panel. “Activate the torture fields.”

Oh fuck.

It starts with a small shock that intensifies over and over. It’s almost like my mind goes away, just to survive. I hear myself scream, but I don’t feel it. It’s surreal. Until the field turns off and I feel it all at once. My muscles collapse from under me. Worse than Force Lightning. But I have to stay strong. I can take it. He won’t kill me. Whatever the reason he’s far too interested in me. I can take the torture. I can take it. “I don't want them to pass out before I question them,” Saul says to the trooper, “Malak will appreciate any information I can give him when he arrives.”

“Don’t waste your breath, Saul!” Carth says, breathing heavily, “We won’t answer any of your questions!”

“I'm sure you won't,” Saul says with a grin, then he looks at me, “However, we both know your friend's loyalties have proven in the past to be somewhat… flexible.”

I manage to stand up, which is hard because I have nothing to push up against. “What are you talking about?”

Saul rolls his eyes. “I am interrogating you, not the other way around. You will answer questions, not ask them.” No need to be snippy. “It is time to put your loyalty to the test. I doubt torturing you will gain me your true cooperation. Your will is too strong to be broken that way.” So what? That torture earlier was just for fun? Definitely a dickhead. “However, even the strongest of heroes has trouble watching those they care about suffering.” I don’t like where this is going. “The interrogation will begin now. Each time you refuse to answer or give me a false answer, Carth will suffer.”

Oh God. It’s happening. Over and over again, I’ve thought, “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to Carth.” And it was always a worst case, “this will probably never happen” scenario. But now it’s real. This is happening. I… I don’t know what to do. I can take it. But I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt him. What do I do? Carth sees me. Sees my frozen reaction. He knows my face like I know his. “My pain is meaningless!” he says, “Tell him nothing!” Okay. Okay. I’ll do my best. I’ll try.

“I tire of these games,” Saul says, “Now I want answers! On what planet is the Jedi Academy at which you were trained?” No. Don’t answer. I won’t answer. Don’t say a word, Rena. “Very well,” he says when I don’t answer, “This is the price of your resistance.” He nods at the trooper.

Carth screams, and my head screams with him. My heart, my chest, my whole body. I couldn’t feel it when he tortured me before, but it’s like… I feel what Carth feels. In this moment, every sensation that ripples across his nerves sends a signal to mine. And that… watching him in agony! I can’t do it! I can’t do it, I’m so sorry!

“Enough!” Saul says, and the pain stops. I can’t do it, I can’t bear to do that to him, not again, no matter what he says, I’m so sorry. “You see what happens when you try to defy me?” He shakes his head. “This first question was a test. Obviously Malak knew the Academy was on Dantooine, and it has since been destroyed by our fleet! Dantooine is an empty graveyard now. Nothing remains but a smoking ruin and the charred remains of your former Masters!”

“No!” Bastila exclaims, “You’re lying! It isn’t true!”

“It doesn't matter whether you believe me or not,” he says, “The fact remains that the Jedi on Dantooine have been eradicated, along with any hope of someone coming to rescue you!” He turns back to me. “Now… tell me your mission. How were the Jedi planning on using you to stop Lord Malak and our Sith armada?”

I look at Carth. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t do this. I can’t, I’m so sorry… “We were looking for the Star Forge.”

Bastila looks furious. I don’t give a shit. I don’t give a damn what she thinks. But Carth looks… a little disappointed. “Fascinating,” Saul says with a smug grin. I hate him. I hate him! “Tell me, how did you find out about the Star Forge?”

“Rena, for the sake of the Republic don't tell him anything!” Bastila shouts.

“Don't listen to her!” Saul snaps, “Tell me what I want to know or watch Carth suffer!”

I can’t. I can’t do it, I’m so sorry. “Bastila and I, we saw Revan and Malak searching for it in our dreams.”

“No!” Bastila exclaims, “How could you betray the Jedi like this?”

Saul grins his smug grin again. “I find your willingness to cooperate pleasing, though it seems your answers are quite upsetting to Bastila.” I hate you, I hate you so much. “Not to worry - we are almost finished here.” Then a communicator in his pocket beeps. He doesn’t look at it, but it changes his direction nevertheless. “The information you have given me has been most useful, but I fear our session is over,” he says, “Lord Malak will want to continue with this line of questioning himself.” He glances at the trooper. “I will leave you here in your cell with a small taste of the horrors you will suffer when Lord Malak arrives.” The trooper presses the control panel once again.

This is almost undoubtedly the worst day of my life.

---

I must have passed out at some point. When I come to, everything hurts. I almost feel like I’ve been burned, but worse than any burn I’ve had before.

Bastila stops me before I can sit up. “Don’t try to move too quickly, you might not be fully recovered yet.”

“I think I can handle sitting up,” I say, but I still go slowly. I feel a little dizzy. “What happened?”

“Admiral Karath had his guards continue to torture you even after you passed out,” she says.

“They tortured all of us,” Carth says, “though you got the worst of it by far. Saul wanted them to make us suffer. He's become some sort of sadistic monster.”

“The Dark Side has perverted him, Carth,” Bastila says, “Once you start down the tainted path it leads you ever further into the depths of evil. I fear he is forever lost.”

“Once a dickhead, always a dickhead,” I grunt, trying to stand up, “Dark Side, hell. I’ve never met anyone who stopped being a dickhead.”

“And Dantooine…” she says, clearly mourning, “To hear that it’s been destroyed…  First Taris, now the Academy... is there no end to the killing?” She sighs. “I'd like to believe that Saul was lying to us, but even as he said the words I knew they were true. The Academy is gone. We should have felt a disturbance in the Force when the attack came. The fact that we did not is a bad sign. I fear the Dark Side is growing stronger, casting shadows our vision cannot pierce. I can only hope that some of the Jedi escaped. Vrook, Vandar, Zhar… I cannot imagine all of them being gone.” She takes a deep breath. “In any case, we have lost our one place of refuge in the galaxy.”

“None of this will matter if we don't get out of this prison before Saul gets back!” Carth says.

On my feet now. Still a bit dizzy, but on my feet. “Where is he now? Do we know?” I ask.

“He mentioned that Lord Malak was on his way,” Carth says, “I think the Admiral left to prepare for his arrival… and to report the results of our interrogation.”

Bastila sighs at me. I hate it. “I only wish you had been able to resist the Admiral's questioning,” she says, “I hope the information you revealed does not bring the entire galaxy under the dominion of the Sith.”

I scoff. I can’t believe her. “So what? I just should have let him be tortured? That’s what you think I should have done?”

“I appreciate your… feelings… for Carth. But you can't let your feelings override your judgment. Remember the Jedi code: There is no emotion, there is peace.” 

Peace? Peace? I am so goddamn sick of her peace.  “How dare you judge me? How dare you? You have no idea what it’s like to be put in that kind of position! What if it was Canderous being tortured?”

“I know if I had been in that position I would not have betrayed the Order and the Republic!”

“So you would have left him screaming in agony, is that right? You have no idea! I felt it! That first question? I tried to stay strong, but when he tortured Carth I felt it! I decided I could never put another person through that again, and you’re telling me that your vaunted Jedi Order means more than an actual person? How can you ever presume to have the moral high ground if you would let even one person suffer and die for an idea?!”

“Stop it, both of you!” Carth shouts at us. For him. Only for him will I let this drop. “Bastila, you-you can't honestly say how you would have reacted in that situation - nobody can! Besides, Saul already had all the information. I could tell. The interrogation was a sham. Saul was toying with us. He didn't care what we told him. I think it was just an excuse to torture us before Malak arrived.”

Suddenly Bastila picks her head up. “Did you feel that?” she says, “A disturbance in the Force.” You’re a disturbance in the Force. “The Admiral has sent his message, the Dark Lord knows we are here now. Malak is coming.”

“Well, then we better hope Mission busts us out of here before he arrives.”

[rekkingcrew]

Campaign Debrief

So for nearly 2 years I ran an Edge of the Empire campaign with 3-4 players, mostly weekly. These last couple of months we’ve been using discord, which has gone great. I want to get down some of my thoughts about what worked and what didn’t. 

This is gonna be a big wall of text and all but two bits are gonna be under the cut: system and play style. 

Fantasy Flight Star Wars game system is legit my favorite system EVER. (Not to dick wave or anything, but that’s including D&Ds 2-5, Gurps, White Wolf, Blades in the Dark, Dungeon World, Deadlands, and a few miscellaneous other short form ones). The system of advantages and disadvantages, and especially triumphs and despairs rather than just straight successes and failures really opens up complex narrative opportunities and gives a chance for wild story beats that just would not have happened otherwise. The fights go fast but feel meaty and there’s a lot of room to pitch advantages to your friends so you’re not just waiting your turn. Character creation is granular enough that your choices always feel meaningful, and points can be spent anywhere, so you can really specialize and shape your character. 

We played very collaboratively and it made things AMAZING. Part of this is that we were all good friends and have played together for a while now. Our taste in what kind of story we want is similar- nuggets of drama scattered throughout, but mostly cutting up. A lot of the best NPCs and story suggestions came from my players rather than from me- our season one boss villain, Imperial spymaster “Uncle” Karston Severax, a pantoran ex-special forces black operative whose current public face was a Mr. Rogers-esque children’s TV presenter, for example, was someone my players started out and all of us collective “yes and” added to around the table, and he was JUST THE BEST. These kind of exchanges also gave us moments like the time our tech tried to blackmail the head of a security corporation with the fact that he was having an affair and he’d written just LOADS of incredibly cringey fanfiction; but the roll was such that the attempt ended with him finally getting the push he needed to quit a job he hated, get out of a marriage that just wasn’t working, and follow his dream of self-publishing. He even dedicated his first book to our slicer. Because it wasn’t a DM vs Players atmosphere, because we were all on the same page, I could ask my players “hey, what do you want for your triumph?” and “all right, so who is the NPC you know?” as well as just “that’s enough to finish this guy, what does this look like?” This campaign was 1000% better for sharing that world building load, and the players were all, I think, more invested. 

more below the cut. 

What Worked

One of the most useful things I ever did was start giving players morality pet NPCs that were their special hench people, and I’m embarrassed that I waited so long to assign one to our droid. 

The zero session was absolutely invaluable in setting the tone of the game and the relationship between characters, and I will bang this drum until I’m fucking blue in the face. Don’t meet in the first session. Sit the players down and say “how do you know each other, why do you stay together, what are some of your past adventures?” It’s just so much better. 

Cameos and ties to our other games, in what we’ve been calling “The Drax Kreiger Expanded Universe” have continued to be welcome pretty much every time. People were delighted to have a moment or two to slip back into old characters. 

I was able to identify what each player wanted and give them that. Brick’s player wanted quiet scenes with big character emotion, like his one on one pit fight the character didn’t want to have, or the letter from his mother telling him how proud she was of him, or the time in training where he tapped into how angry he really was and it spooked the character and everyone on the ship. Nyla’s player wanted a big epic, but also difficult space journey of good vs. evil, and so Nyla got a padawan whose parents she had possibly killed when she fought for the empire, she dug up the grave of her clone teacher’s order 66′d jedi for the crystal for her lightsaber, she got to cleanse a temple that was trapped in a fruitless struggle between light and dark, and a climactic lightsaber battle that was about possibly sacrificing herself for the good of others. TK’s player was deep into star wars trivia and space stuff, so he practically squealed when Verpine shatter weapons showed up, and he seemed to get a kick out of the Evocii, and also that time they put on wing suits and dove the atmosphere of a gas giant. It’s worth noting nobody was actually all that interested in the thing that turns my gears: complex mysteries with a lot of clues and investigation, and once I let that shit drop, things ran a lot smoother. 

Some of our best stuff was non-combat challenges, like climbing the cliffs of Naboo or navigating the deep undercity of Nar Shadaa. The guys reliably failed anything social, but environmental challenges were always appreciated. 

I always tried to make sure there was more than one way to do things. For any given mission, especially early on, I’d try to brainstorm at least three ways something could be accomplished. 

My party split up a LOT, but we found a sort of cinematic cutting back and forth to be really useful. When there was a big crit, or a goal accomplished, or something like that, we’d jump to the other party even if the fight wasn’t over. Sometimes that was only just, like, Brick and the guys doing drunk karaoke and saying to no one in particular “MAN, I hope Nyla’s having as fun a time as we are!” but it kept everyone involved and it wasn’t just people waiting their turn for 20 minutes at a time. Also people chimed in with fun advantages and disadvantages. 

I had everybody write backstories and whenever I could, I incorporated in things from what they’d written. Our second season was basically TK tracking down the guy who’d made him, a Thackwash alien with the same sort of shifting personalities he had. TK’s player hadn’t written much about the guy except that he’d been a salvage mechanic who constructed TK for protection when he got in trouble with the local mafia. Giving that guy complementary personalities for each of TK’s really helped stick the landing on that one, and the player really enjoyed having actually completed his character’s goal. 

It’s worth saying, we took some time at several points during the campaign, either individually or as a group, to talk about what we liked and didn’t, what we wanted more of, where we wanted things to go, possible directions for characters, mechanical issues, how to have a better game, group dynamics, all sorts of stuff. In a way it’s like sex: people have this fucked up expectation that you’ll just be good at it without communicating, and man, fuck that. Talking to my players was ALWAYS worthwhile.

I was always adamant, because it was a thing that bugged me when I was a player, that if a character had spent the points to be good at something, they got to be good at it. That made some things difficult, but I think it was the right decision. It took me a while to tailor fights right, and honestly a lot of times, splitting up the party was the best way to balance fights, but I never said to anyone hey that thing you spent all those points on, could you please not do that?

My players were excellent about encouraging each other to have serious dramatic moments. TK was completely ready to die in a fight, and when he lost a significant chunk of his programming, the way he chose to play it was really heartbreaking. Everyone came inside and had tea with Brick’s mom. No one stepped on anyone else’s fun when it was time to be serious, and everybody was great about cheering each other on, whether they were being funny or being dead serious. 

I FUCKING FINISHED A CAMPAIGN. IT HAD AN END. So much stuff petered out over the years, I was adamant I wasn’t going to do that. 

What Didn’t Work

Boy, my players had pretty much all the trouble trying to remember to use “they/them” pronouns for NPCs with neutral or alien genders. 

No one is interested in falling damage. Sigh. 

I did not keep good track of money or ship fuel or anything. The campaign didn’t end up relying on it too heavily (I was honestly expecting a much more Cowboy Bebop setup than where we drifted), but that was an area I kind of fell down. 

We never really got obligation working correctly and in the end we just ended up abandoning it. We kept doing the force morality because the lone force player was very into it and it was a huge part of that character’s journey, but for the rest having people show up to collect on obligation was sometimes not possible in the story- or if it was possible it was pretty cumbersome. Campaign did obligation by arc, and I think that’s a pretty useful way to do it- roll at the end of the arc for what’s coming next. 

Early on, I made way too many assumptions about what was an adventure hook for my players and what was an annoyance. Honestly, bits of this lasted pretty late. At one point I gave my players a spy for the larger rebellion they could totally talk to- he was even working with their resident bothan spy- but they looked at the senatorial assassination he was doing and literally said at the table “I think it’s best if we just walk away from all this.” And so they did. Which was frustrating, but, you know, it is what it is. They also never much cared about the hutt gang war. 

I let a lot of things drop that I would have liked to bring back before the end, but in all honesty, I think we were all running a bit out of steam. I would have liked to put in Brick’s old mentor, or follow up with the imperial governor that was a falleen in a human skin suit, or see more of the bounty hunter’s guild, or have a nice end thing with our bothan spy, or any of that. But I do think it was time to end it. And we followed the threads people liked. 

I had way too many NPCS.

What sort of worked

I had like 200 npcs and they were not all bangers. In particular, I let the party design their own ship, which I wish had played a bigger role (though it did really set the tone), and I let them design 2 npc crew who would fill in any party roles they didn’t want to play and guard the ship so they could go on adventures without worrying about it. The devaronian scoundrel was with the party to the end though I never really got him to be more than a joke, but the bothan spy kind of fell off, and while she made some appearances, she didn’t really have as big an impact as I would have hoped. She kind of got replaced by Nyla’s padawan, a hench mon calamari called Nezrene, who was a better fit with the party. But, you know, players will do what they like.

Factions. In the first bit of the campaign, my factions were a fucking life saver, because I could design scenarios with a sort of “what is each faction doing/ which faction hurts from this, which benefits?” By the second season we’d kind of abandoned them to go to the core, and by the third my group was solidly rebel, so the hutts and bounty hunters fell a lot by the wayside. I still think having a couple of broad poles of power, and having the players know them and their leaders, is a good call. But they do seem to kind of organically pare down on their own, and it’s easy to get caught up too much in them. Useful sorta?

There was definitely a point where my players just were not challenged by conventional challenges. We ended up doing most of the later fights that involved a lot of minions in montage. I’d have them roll their fight skills unopposed, just to see if they got any interesting advantage/triumph set ups. I still had boss fights that were mostly challenging, but there just was no point in throwing storm troopers or low level gangsters at them. Not when they have soak 8 and autofire, and that one talent that lets you kill every minion in a combat. Designings fight got a bit tricky, and in those big high level combats, despairs and triumphs come up a lot more and really sway the fight, which I like, but also it’s very hard to plan for. 

Mass combat was tricky. I did a lot of it toward the end because my players were generals in a rebellion. I always had them do the rolls and some of the narration, but that wasn’t always enough to make them feel like things weren’t very arbitrary. 

I personally love the rule that if you roll a despair shooting into an engaged combat you shoot your friend. Nyla, who got shot twice this way, does not. 

We started the game with a tech character who dropped out. Toward the end, we picked up another tech character whose player couldn’t do their regular stuff because of covid lock down. Neither of these characters could fight at all, and both were very differently oriented than the rest of the party, and that was tricky to manage. Additionally, the dude coming in at the end had like a year and a half of in jokes he did not get and there were 200 goddamn npcs. I tried to give him the lowdown on what he might have heard about the party, but it was a combination of too much information and not that much player interest. He did get to break a star destroyer though, and I think he liked that. 

I offered players XP to write backstory stuff, and later goodbye notes others could find if they kicked it. Not all of them did. In the end it made a negligible difference, and I still think offering the bounties on this is basically a good idea. 

What I would do different next time.

Three ring binder that opens and closes so I could move fucking NPC stats around. I filled two goddamn school notebooks with notes for this campaign and there were so many goddamn times I was like “I KNOW I wrote this down, but where?!”

Players felt a bit aimless when they didn’t have a specific villain. I’d planted a few in, but they took finding, or they were too easy to avoid. Next time I would have a few more people who were actively on my player’s tails. 

I would keep better campaign notes and/or ask one of the players to do so. I used to do recaps for the games when I played Rek. There’s stuff I KNOW I’ve forgotten, and more I’ll forget as time goes on, which is a shame. It’s a weird, ephemeral medium, but possibly I’m just spoiled by living in an age of easy reproduction and enormous storage where data is concerned. 

Better book keeping in general, really. 

When I did a mystery short, I wrote up a list of all the clues people could find but not where specifically they were, so that I could just jam them anywhere they seemed like they’d make sense whenever a roll called for a player to find something. I think I’d try to do that with player’s personal stories so they could be woven in a little better. I did a lot of flying by the seat of my pants. 

All in all, I’m pretty happy with how it went, and I’m ready to get back to playing for a bit. I loved DMing, and I more or less DMed the game I would have liked to play, but man, doing this all the time, or being the only person who does it? After a while, that’d be a lot, and I’m looking forward to the break. 

[ratonnhhaketon]

See The Fire In Your Eyes (Chapter 2)

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Summary: Catherine Hays grew up in a picture-perfect, high society family in Virginia. She had her whole life planned out for her and was about to get married to a man she could not stand. When her brother uncovers a murder plot and has to pay with his own life, Catherine decides she can’t continue playing along. She takes control of her own destiny and goes south to a pretty little town called Blackwater.

Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical violence, mentions of death (briefly) 

Chapter 2 - Three Of A Kind 

Blackwater was vastly different than any city Catherine had ever visited. It was dry, most of the streets were dirt, and it always smelled a little bit like horse shit. But, it was her new home and she learned to get used to it quickly

Her first mission upon arriving in the new city was to find temporary housing. Ultimately, she would like to find an apartment to solidify her new life, but for now she chose to rent a hotel room. After walking through the streets she found a hotel across the street from the saloon and decided to spend the night there. She booked a room for the next week and headed straight up.

The room was small but would satisfy her needs. It had a bed with nightstands on either side, a dresser, and a fireplace that seemed to have been snuffed out recently. She put her luggage down by the dresser and sat down on the bed. The mattress wasn’t the softest thing she’d ever slept on, but it would have to do.

Catherine rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. This was the first time she was truly able to think about the past few days, seeing as she was asleep for most of the train ride the previous night, and all of the emotions she refused to let surface finally broke through.

She cried, not caring how loud she was or who would hear her. Reid, her baby brother and the closest friend she ever had, was gone. He was gone and she didn’t even stay for the burial. On the one hand, she hated herself for not giving him the final goodbye he deserved, but she also knew that she would not have lasted being in Calvin’s presence one more time.

Calvin. That absolute bastard was the reason all of this had to happen. She was disgusted at not only the fact that he killed her brother and was planning to kill his own father, but the fact that he so perfectly hid that side of himself. Who knows how long he was sitting on the decision to take another person’s life?

Her thoughts then drifted to her parents. She felt guilty for not telling them anything that was going on. About Calvin mistreating her, the true reason behind her brother’s death, or even explaining why she needed to leave her old life behind. Catherine hoped, only for a moment, that they would track her down and write to them. But then she realized that if they found her, it was almost impossible for him not to  track her down as well. And she did not even want to think about what he would do to her for running from their marriage.

After calming herself down enough, Catherine wiped her eyes on her sleeves and stood up. She would not dwell on the past any longer. This was the start of her new life and she was going to begin it now.

She picked up her suitcase and put it on the bed, throwing the top open in the process. Inside were various dresses, chemises, boots, and jewelry. She shuffled some clothes around before finding the one pair of pants she owned: simple, black pants that she bought so she didn’t have to ride sidesaddle on her stallion back home. Seeing as she would need to buy a horse from the local stables to get around, she was very thankful that she remembered to grab the garment before leaving.

Catherine undid the buttons on her skirt and let it fall to the floor before wiggling into her pants. After fastening the button and making sure everything was smooth, she grabbed her pair of black riding boots and slipped them on as well.

Her first order of business was to head to the saloon and ask around for some work.

She made her way down to the street outside and crossed the road to her destination. It was just around noon so not too many people would be drinking just yet.

Catherine walked up to the bar and greeted the man behind the counter. He gave her a polite smile and greeting while drying shot glasses. “Do you happen to know where I could pick up some extra money? Like odd jobs and such?”

He placed the glass he was cleaning down on the counter. “The sheriff is always looking for help on bounty missions and if you’re skilled with a bow the butcher always appreciates a good deer or elk.”

Catherine tapped her fingers on the counter as she thought. Neither of those sounded particularly fun, but she would need a way to live if she was going to stay down here. She looked around the bar for a moment and spotted a poker table near the window. Perfect. She knew the ins and outs of the game like the back of her hand, learning early on in life how to play from her father. This was her ticket to success.

After ordering a whiskey and thanking the bartender for his help, she walked over to the men at the table and smiled. “Afternoon, gentlemen. Mind if I join?”

The men around the table gladly accepted and dealt her into the game as she sat down. Everyone introduced themselves as they placed their bets. She learned that the two men sitting on either sides of her were Thomas and Alvin, and the man across from her dealing was Jackson.

“So,” Thomas, the tall, buff man sitting to her right, spoke up. “What’s a pretty little woman like yourself doing out here all alone?” Catherine’s stomach turned at the term he used for her.

“Just trying to enjoy my afternoon and make some money in the process.” She picked up her cards and resisted the urge to smile. A pair of aces. This was gonna be easy.

The group played a few games, Catherine winning all but one of them, before the men were visibly disgruntled over not having won anything. Knowing that being $30 richer was a very good start, she decided it was time to leave. She bid the gentlemen goodnight before getting up and walking out of the tavern.

As she walked back to her hotel she felt someone following her. She ignored it at first, but when she noticed the sound of footsteps behind her she cautiously turned over her shoulder.

She saw Thomas about ten feet away and he did not look happy. She kept walking, faster this time, until he caught up to her and grabbed her arm. He yanked her arm back, causing her to spin around and almost fall into him. “GET OFF OF ME!” She yelled, hoping a lawman would be near to help her.

His grip became tighter as she struggled  in his grasp. “I don’t know what game you thought you was playing, but we don’t ’preciate cheatin’ in this town.” His voice was low in almost a growl, and his eyes were hidden from the shadow of his hat.

She winced at the pain in her wrist. “I-I can give you back your money! Just fucking let go of me!”

He released her and she fell backwards onto the stone sidewalk. “Keep the damn money. But if I see you playin’ my game again, it won’t end pretty.”

Catherine watched as he walked back off in the direction of the saloon. She sat on the ground for a minute, shaken up and trying to steady her breathing, before getting up and practically running back to the hotel.  ~~~~~

The next morning Catherine headed down to the tailor with one of the expensive dresses she had in her suitcase. The man working was ecstatic to see the garment, immediately knowing it was from a well-regarded dressmaker in Virginia, and offered her $150 for it. The actual garment was worth over $250, but she couldn’t complain.

She decided it would be a good idea to buy a horse and some weapons just to be safe. After the incident last night she knew she would need a way to defend herself.

The gunsmith recommended a simple pistol and hunting knife, as well as the appropriate belt and holsters. At first she was contemplating not buying ammunition for the gun, seeing as taking another person’s life was the last thing she wanted to do, but she decided it was a good decision to get at least one box.

Admittedly, she did feel safer knowing she had a way of self defense, especially after the man working showed her how to use it when she sheepishly admitted she had never owned one. But there was also a part of her that was terrified of the possibility of having to use it. She could never see herself as a killer, especially after knowing Calvin did it so casually and treated it almost as if he enjoyed it.

She tried to shake the thoughts from her mind as she walked into the general store in search of supplies for her horse. Her mind was still racing as she entered the shop, and she almost didn’t notice the man walking out and directly towards her.

She stopped when she was about a foot away from him, looking up to meet his blue shirt and black neckerchief. The man, standing about half a foot taller than her, looked down at her and smiled behind his worn leather hat. “S’cuse me, miss,” his gruff voice said as he moved past her and out the door.

Catherine stood in place for a moment, shocked by the man that just passed her. She hoped, just a little, that he would turn back around into the store so she could see him again. Continuing up to the counter, she pushed the thought out of her mind and focused on buying what she was here for.

~~~~~

After her shopping trip Catherine decided she needed to find another way to make money besides poker until the situation with Thomas calmed down a bit. She thought over her options and decided that bounties were off the table. The possibility of dying or having to kill another person definitely did not seem appealing, so she decided to try her hand at hunting.

Killing an animal was something people outside of cities did all the time to live, so how hard could it be?

It was much, much harder than she expected, both physically and emotionally. Seeing as she didn’t have a bow, she had to try to kill with her hunting knife. This meant small game was the only logical choice and their tiny bodies moved a lot faster than expected.

But she did happen to get lucky with two rabbits that she managed to catch off guard. After turning around a tree trunk as fast as possible, Catherine seized the small animal by the feet and held it to the ground. With a shaky hand she lined up the knife with the animal’s neck. Her head immediately turned to the side and her eyes clamped shut as the blade went straight through skin and muscle. A small, final squeak escaped the animal as it’s life was stripped from it in one swift motion.

Catherine lifted the blade out of the animal and opened her eyes, regret and sorrow bubbling up inside her as she looked at the tiny carcass beneath her hand.

“I.. am so sorry,” she said in a whisper. She knew that the kill was not in vain and that the butcher would use every part of its body, but it still felt wrong to take the life of another being, even if it was just a small animal.

After taking a second to breathe and collect herself, Catherine stood up and took the animal back to her horse. She secured it tightly to the side of the saddle and tried for another.

The next hour was slow and aggravating, but the second kill came easier. Granted, killing was still not something she wanted to do, but she was more okay with it.

Having secured the second rabbit and mounting her Tennessee Walker, Catherine rode back into town and straight to butcher. The $7 she got as payment was certainly not bad, but she wished she was able to go after bigger animals to get more money back.

Nightfall was starting to approach while she left her horse at the stables for the night. As she started heading back towards the hotel, she spotted a group of three men walking into the saloon. Normally she wouldn’t care about men going to get drunk, but the man she saw from the general store earlier that day was one of them.

Catherine waited until they entered the building to cross the street and follow them in. Upon entering, she made a beeline straight for the bar to order a drink. The bartender slid her a bottle of whiskey and she popped the cork before doing a scan over the crowd. The room was more packed than the previous night, but she found her target with ease.

The man in the blue shirt was sitting at the poker table with two other men, one of them looking dirty and greasy. The other, however, was a stark contrast. He looked groomed and held himself at a very high self esteem, no doubt the leader of their group. And those rings. Bright gold stood out on almost all of his fingers, shimmering in the dim light of the saloon. This had to be her big break. If she did it last night with a bunch of drunks, it couldn’t be too difficult to do it again.

She fixed her hair, running her hands through the auburn locks to get rid of any tangles, before sauntering over to the group. The three men were engaged in conversation, the ringleader letting out a hearty chuckle at something one of the others said. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said with a smile. “Can I interest all of you in a game?” She gestured down to the deck of cards sitting on the table.

The man in the blue shirt sat up and looked to the man sitting to his right. The dark-haired man shared a glance with him before turning back to Catherine. “Alright, why not?” He smiled and passed the deck to the man sitting on his right. “John, you deal first.”

She sat down in the chair between the man in the blue shirt and who she now knew as John and gathered her chips to buy-in.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” the man sitting across from her spoke up as he looked at his cards. He tried to hide a sly smirk as she looked at them, but Catherine was able to notice it.

“Cathrine Hays,” she said with a smile, throwing in a few chips for her bet.

“Well, Miss Hays, it is a pleasure.” He gestured to himself, “I’m Dutch van der Linde and this is Arthur and John.” The two men sitting to her sides nodded when their names were announced.

Despite going easy on them for a couple games, Arthur was the first to drop out. He decided he’d rather “sit back and watch” rather than play, so Dutch slid him some money to get the table a round of drinks. When he returned he handed Catherine another bottle of whiskey. Their hands brushed for just a moment as she accepted the beverage, her face immediately heating up at the contact.

As they played, Catherine played to her strong suits. She was able to go three games without losing, and John had finally swallowed his pride and given up. Dutch, however, was not giving up so easily. He was determined to win no matter what.

“Tell you what, Mr. Van der Linde,” Catherine smiled. “We play one more game. If you win, I’ll give you my silver pocket watch. If I win, I get one of those rings.”

She heard Arthur chuckle and John let out a low whistle beside her. Dutch’s eyes narrowed and he passed the deck to her. “That sounds like a deal.”

Before they even had time to place their first bets down, the door to the saloon swung open. Thomas, the man from the night before, stomped in and made a beeline to Catherine. She felt her heart speed up with every step he took towards her.

He stopped inches from her and pulled her up by the collar to his face. “What did I tell ya ‘bout playin’ MY GAME?!” His voice roared. He reeked of alcohol and sweat. Her hands immediately went to his wrist and tried to pry it off of her shirt.

The men sitting at the table instantly stood up to defend her. “Okay, sir, why don’tcha  jus’ put the lady down and we talk this over like civilized folk?” Arthur’s voice was calm as his hand slowly reached for his pistol.

Before Thomas had a chance to reply, Catherine swung her right hand as far back as possible and punched him straight in the throat. He immediately dropped her before stumbling back and struggling to breathe. She fell to the floor behind her and John bent down to help her back to her feet.

Before the assailant was able to regain his composure, Catherine grabbed his hand and bent the wrist backwards as far back as it would go without breaking. “Don’t you EVER think about laying another finger on me,” she said through gritted teeth. “If I ever see you anywhere near this establishment, I will not hesitate to break every bone in your body. Got it?”

He nodded rapidly and gripped the hand she had pinned until she let go. Without missing a beat, he immediately ran out the door and down the street, vanishing into the night.

At this point everyone in the saloon was watching, some backing away from Catherine in fear. She turned back to the poker table, seeing Dutch, Arthur and John visibly shocked and impressed at her display. After looking between the men for a split second, she dug around in her pocket before slamming a dollar on the table. “Here, for the drinks,” she said quickly and walked out the door.

The group of men looked at each other for a few seconds before Dutch headed out of the building, the two others following closely behind. They found Catherine a few buildings down the street leaning against the wall with her head in her hands.

“Miss Hays,” a voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Her head shot up, breaths coming in and out quickly and her eyes wide with fear. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. And what was all that about?” Dutch’s voice was soft and calming.

She swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking up. “I-I’m fine. That.. His name is Thomas and he’s a bastard. I joined him and his friends last night for a game because I needed the money and he wasn’t all that happy that I was winning. He followed me back to the hotel I’ve been staying at and threatened me.” She felt her eyes glaze over as she remembered the previous night.

“Did he hurt you?” Arthur spoke up with a sympathetic tone.

She shook her head. “No.. no, not any worse than he did just now.”

Dutch spoke up again. “You said you’re stayin’ in a hotel, can I ask why?”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “I had to leave my previous home. It's not safe for me to stay there, so I went as far south as I could and it led me here.”

He put a soft hand on her shoulder and she met his gaze. “If you’re in need of a home, we can help you. We’ve got our own family of people that need help and protection.” He could sense hesitation without her even speaking up. “We’ll keep you safe. Nothing bad will happen to you again.”

Catherine looked into his eyes and saw nothing but genuine kindness, something she hadn’t seen a lot of since leaving home. She smiled weakly. “Thank you, Mr. Van der Linde.”

“Call me Dutch.”