#hair care service .don't consider skin care | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

calehenituse-brainrot · 1 year ago

Text

Disturbed Rest

Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo x Transported!Reader

Something sinister had happened within the island.

You have known John as deeply as you know yourself, and he knows you as deeply as he knows himself. Memories mixed together, his memories became yours and yours became his. Some bits are missing, either because you both can't remember yourself or because of some divine intervention.

You see John in the faces of nearly every kind, older men you see; be it strangers, professors, or even cleaning services back at your college, and John sees you in the faces of every innocent girl he had ever seen in his life, and often in the face of his right-hand woman, Kore. He feared one day he will forget Kore's face with how often yours were replacing hers.

You don't know how long you and John had been stuck in this loop of memories. Has it been days, months, or years? You wondered what happened to your body with John's after the ship had sunken. You can't remember past anything the moment your body had hit the water. Are you declared dead or missing? If dead, did they enact a search for you and the others? Did they manage to bring you home and give you a place to rest?

"What kind of graves do you think we would have?"

John seemed a bit surprised at the question. He glanced at you for a moment, knowing full well that there were no graves for the two of you, and yet he spoke his answer casually, "Considering you're the Duke's proxy, you'd get those fancy granite slab headstones."

You scrunched your nose as you think about it and John gave you a thin smile, "What? Not fancy enough for you?"

"Try too fancy," you muttered, pulling your knees to your chest as you gaze out to the sight of you and the rest of the people you have called your own family the moment you got transported there.

You were walking beside who you knew as Cale. You could recognize him so easily despite how his face was horrifically switching to the faces of your old male friends. The way he carried himself, how he dressed. Your brain reminds you frequently of him and it made you realize you have accepted the fictional character to be another human being too many months ago. It is an odd moment for such an epiphany.

"I've been feeling weird these days," John suddenly says. You turn to the man, a teasing remark about to fall from your lips to question him how he could feel if he's dead when you noticed something.

John stood beside you, appearing like he was some sort of ghost. He was nearly transparent.

"John?"

Cale sat on a meadow of dianthus flowers, the purple flowers with white tips blowing on the wind and spreading across the field like someone had dumped a basket full of flowers there. He sees the sky, red and orange-like flames as the sun began to set. He sees you in the distance, wearing your modest sundress and walking along the meadow, stomping on the flowers without a care in the world. You don't seem to notice him, picking up your sundress a bit like a noblewoman so you wouldn't step on the lovely dress.

Your hair moves with the wind and with every step you take. Under the shine of the setting sun, your skin seemed to glow warmly. This is how he remembers you and it will always be like this forever. He has no memory of pale skin and bloated skin on you. He had never seen your breathing stop, and for once, Cale was glad he never could have found you. He was not sure he could stomach another death.

Cale calls out for your name, his voice quiet. He began to stand up and watch your figure as it began to get smaller in his line of vision, watching you walk away from him and towards the sunset. Cale calls for your name again, louder this time as he began to follow you, his long legs slowly moving faster as his heart began to drum in his ribcage, begging to be freed from its confines to pursue it's object of affection itself.

You're too slow, his heart seemed to plead. Please, I need her.

Cale calls out your name again, beginning to run despite how he knew he wasn't the best at sports in this body. But in this dream, his body is light and yet heavy at the same time. He desperately reached for you, arm extends and he almost jolted at the feeling of your blowing sundress brushing against the tips of his fingers.

His heart soared. More, it begs him.

You turn around and before Cale could see your face, the meadow seemed to grow larger. The flowers and tall grass seemed to move together, elongating and swirling in odd ways before they encased you as if you were a pupa. The last thing he could see was how your [e/c] eyes seemed to stare at him before a branch covered that small opening as well.

Cale woke up with a start, his face feeling wet and breathing slightly labored. He lets go of Raon who he had tucked close to his side as he slept, hand coming up to clutch at his chest as he tried to slow down his heartbeat. He feels the scar there and tries to remind himself that it was just a bad dream. It was an odd, bad dream. Cale turns to the window, seeing that the sun was shining bright, meaning he had overslept again.

'Huh,' he thought, rubbing his face. 'Damn.'

He was supposed to be up earlier to look around the library for anything that could be of use regarding foreign primordial gods.

He slowly got up from the bed, making sure to not wake the kids as he began to freshen up a bit before having Ron help him. He doesn't want the butler to know he had a bad dream, because Ron had been looking at Cale with a certain gaze lately ever since they had begun looking for any primordial foreign gods that could have been the ones to persuade you to leave them all.

You are desperate, the older man's gaze seems to say. Cale doesn't feel like confirming or denying that assumption, so he never probed further.

"Young Master-nim," Ron began slowly as Cale and the kids were enjoying their dessert.

Cale looks up at Ron, swallowing a bite of his blueberry cupcake. "What is it?"

The three kids peered at Ron curiously. They were curious about what Ron wanted to say and that he needed to speak of it during their lunch.

"I think it's about time this humble servant of yours handle the arrangement for Miss [Name]'s room and her remaining belongings," Ron proposed, his words uttered in a soft way that sounded unfamiliar to him.

The keys to her room, his words implied. Give them to me.

Ron had observed the way Cale grieves. He sees what Cale does to cope with this loss, and he decides it's enough. It's time he locks your door and manages the room whenever it needs any cleaning or refurbishing if any of the furniture were to start falling apart. You already have an empty grave at the memorial. There was no need for another one here.

Cale stared at the blueberry cupcake as if it were the most interesting thing in his life as he listened to Ron's words, immediately catching on to the implications. He acknowledge the odd way he was attached to your room and belongings were unhealthy, and he has no room to argue with Ron. "Okay."

Ron nodded, bowing his head a bit. "Thank you, Young Master-nim."

Cale leans back to the couch he was sitting on, finally looking up at Ron. "Any news from the others?"

"None so far, I'm afraid," Ron says as he began cleaning up the table, picking up the dirty dishes to the stainless steel food cart.

"Oh, Human, Human!" Raon began to say, taking out the magic communication device from his spatial inventory. The device glowed and showed Withira's anxious face as Raon placed it on the table.

"Cale-nim," Withira greeted, her expression mixed with something like anxiety and hope. "I have news regarding Miss [Name]."

Cale's eyes widened for a moment before he frowned. Withira wasn't informed of your letter and how a foreign god seemed to be the trigger for you to leave them all. Cale concluded grimly that the reason why Withira could be calling for him now about you is possibly because she finally came across your corpse. "Did you find her... her body?"

Withira shakes her head and she leaned forward to her screen, causing her to appear bigger in Cale's. "Even better. I found her alive and breathing."

Cale's eyes widened and he stared at Withira. The future royal leader of the Whales has no reason to lie to him, and she would be foolish to use you to even make a joke like this. Cale knew Withira well, and she was no fool and loyal to a tee. "What do you mean?"

"She's alive?" Ohn asked while looking up at Withira with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, something Cale realized had been gone ever since you were officially declared dead.

"Are you sure?" Asked Cale with a frown, his heartbeat drumming against his ribcage like it had when he had woken up earlier.

"I held her," Withira says as calmly as she could. "She was warm and breathing. I checked her pulse and even pressed my ear to her chest to make sure, and her heart was beating. It was slow, but it was there."

Cale's brain was a mess, trying to grasp reality. He searched for every hypothesis his brain could come up with on how you could still be alive. The ship had sunk far from land and it was close to dangerous waters. You're human, so devastatingly human. You wouldn't be able to survive. You should have died from drowning, from dehydration, and perhaps you should have died from being feasted on by the predators of the sea.

You shouldn't be alive.

"Show me," Cale says, a tinge of hope beginning to be shown in his voice.

Withira pursed her lips. "I... I cannot."

Cale frowned and so did everyone in the room. Hong looked at Withira's image on Cale's screen and asked, "Why not?"

"She was on an island," Withira says. "There is a floating island that had been going in and out of our territory for hundreds of years, perhaps even thousands. I, along with Paseton and Archie, stumbled upon it during our swim. We inspected the island and found proof of an ancient civilization and no animals living there. When we ventured deeper, we found Miss [Name]. She was in a ruin, on top of a stone altar, and she wasn't conscious."

"Did you manage to get her out of there?" asked Cale, his suspicions and interest piqued at the situation Withira had faced. It was weird and unsettling how you were alive all this time, laying in a ruin within a floating island that he had never heard of.

"We were attacked before we could," Withira says.

"Attacked?" Cale repeated. The gears in his brain worked. Who could attack them? A floating island in the middle of the ocean. Could you have been saved? Or stranded on that island? Perhaps this was the place that foreign god promised you, as you've mentioned in your letter. Perhaps this was proof that your so-called death was perhaps just a tiny scheme within a great one if you needed to be on that island to the point your "rescuers" would be attacked the moment they touched you.

"Cale-nim," Withira says grimly. "The island... could possibly be alive. Sentient."

Cale rubbed his face a bit as he let the information sink in. He's racking his brain, trying to connect your letter and the information Withira had given him. An island that was sentient, but your letter claimed to hear voices. Even if an island was alive and sentient, whatever that meant, it couldn't possibly use telepathic communication with a clear target of who would be the receiver.

"The island floats, you say?" Cale asked.

Withira nodded. "Yes. Some of our whales are tailing the island as we speak. The island is able to grow long barks that attack, even underwater, so we must keep a safe distance away."

Cale looks at Withira's image on his screen, his hand covering his mouth as he thinks. His mind is jumbled and he's trying his best to think logically. Cage, Jack, and Hannah had been sure that whoever it is that had been communicating with you is a God. "Are there any signs of religion or worship that happened on that island before the civilization died out?"

Withira's eyes widened and by the looks of her expression, Cale only needed her to voice out the answer. Withira slowly nodded, "Y-yes... There were many sculptures of flowers propped on a pedestal all around the island. The ruin we have found Miss [Name] in resembled a great hall or even a place of worship."

"Flowers," Cale repeated, interested.

Withira nodded once more. "Yes, flowers. The barks around the island move like your power, Cale-nim. They are able to elongate and grew and shrink in size, and they have flowers all over the island that has the same shape as the flowers that were sculpted to represent their deity."

A deity within a floating island that controls trees and is represented by a flower, Cale made this mental note. "And the flowers. What do they look like?"

"They were..." Withira closed her eyes, recalling the flowers that grew in the island. It was a unique flower that she had never seen before. "They were purple, perhaps even a deep red, with white tips."

Withira's description made Cale straighten his posture. He recognized this flower. That was the flowers he dreamt of earlier when he woke up. Was this some kind of sign? A sign from you? Perhaps, even the world? Or was this to taunt him?

"Thank you, Miss Withira," Cale says, beginning to stand up. "We will come to your location within a few days time and request that your company lead us to this island."

Withira nodded, bowing her head slightly in respect. "We will be waiting for you."

The next few days were a frenzy for everyone.

Cale and his company were intensely researching a foreign god that was represented by a flower and associated with nature. There were plenty of minor gods that were associated with nature, so it was a large margin to work with. Cale had requested Alver to aid in their research as well, ordering a few scholars to work within the Duchy and the Palace library to find answers. They had enlisted several people in the neighboring Kingdoms and Eastern Continent as well to research, hoping for any sliver of solution.

When they eventually stumble upon a list of few possibilities, Cale and his company eventually went to one of the islands within the Whales' territory, seeing Withira already waiting for them along with Archie.

"You're here," Withira breathed out, the weight of anxiety on her shoulder lifting a bit upon seeing Cale and his company, their faces slightly anxious and hopeful.

"Have you gotten back to the island? How is [Name]?" Rosalyn asked almost immediately, anxiety laced within her voice. Withira gave the red-haired mage a solemn shake of her head, blue hair that resembled clear ocean waters swaying lightly. "Our men haven't been able to go near the island within a few meters. I've instructed them to safely tail the floating island from a safe distance."

Cale took note of Withira's words, recalling the information Withira had given them regarding the floating island's capabilities to ward off intruders by growing barks from below the floating sediment that it seemed to grow on. It caused any large underwater creatures unable to go near the island, protecting the soft base of the island to not break apart. He could assume you weren't regarded as a danger according to the island's "instincts" as you were able to enter and stay within the island. Or maybe you were brought by something or someone.

"So we wouldn't be able to reach the island safely," Cale says to Withira, who nodded as she jumped back to the waters and transformed to be her whale form.

"Please be on your guard the whole time we approach the island," Withira says as Cale and the others began to get on top of a ship tied to Archie's whale form. "The island is able to attack within a distance so this boat will most likely be destroyed while out in the middle of the ocean. You will have to fight your way into the island."

"And the island is sentient," Ron seems to remind Cale. "It seems even if we did get onto the island, we wouldn't be safe within it."

"That's right," Withira confirmed. "The island flourished in its flora, which could move and change shapes and sizes to attack and defend. Thankfully, the island lacked any fauna. Not even birds, so we can be sure it doesn't have control over mammals and such. That could be why there were no animals. Too hard to control."

Cale caressed the kittens' fur. "That's a good thing to know."

"I've never heard of a floating sentient island before," Rosalyn chimed in with a thoughtful look. "We've conducted a heavy research for a few days with some of the royal scholars and several from other countries, but found nothing."

"It is a popular folklore within our kingdom," Withira informed. "We all have heard of the stories of a floating island ever since we were mere calves. We've always been told to avoid it if we ever see it, though this is the first time I have seen it in my two hundred years of life."

"What does the folklore entail?" asked Choi Han with interest. Folklore of certain communities has always been an interesting thing to learn about and some always seemed to be mystical and unsettling.

Withira seemed to think for a moment, perhaps thinking back to her childhood. "That within the floating island lived a very sad man. He could not leave the island and had no friends. To avoid the feeling, he decided to sleep. Every time he woke up, he is devastated to know he still felt sad, so he would always go back to sleep every time he woke up. He slept, slept, and slept until he eventually falls into a deep slumber where no one could wake him up."

"It has been a story to scare young calves for sleeping too much and not training themselves," says Paseton. "We've only been told to stay away from the island to not rouse the man from sleeping and also because even our previous kings had been adamant on not approaching the island if not needed."

'Quite the lazy story,' Cale thought to himself, but he did have to admit the story was quite realistic. Sleeping and depression go hand-in-hand.

"Well, did you find a man there?" Cale asked. He wants to know whether or not the folklore had some truth in it.

"We found a corpse of one," Withira answered. "And we also found [Name], alive but not conscious."

"How long do you estimate the man has been dead?" asked Cale, a theory brewing in his mind.

"Long enough," Withira answered. "Maybe around two-three months."

The gears in Cale's brain seemed to click and agree upon a theory. That was around the time the ship you boarded sunk.

'Could it be...?'

Following a floating island meant following an object that's constantly moving. Withira suspects that it was capable to avoid being so close to any shores was due to the bark that was capable of growing on the base of the island, navigating it to tour the ocean non-stop.

It took them nearly five hours when they managed to get a glimpse of the island. A glimpse. The blue morning sky had turned into an orange canvas with splashes of red and purple when Cale and his companions saw the floating island. It was followed by a couple of Whales, the water splitting and rippling from the swish of their tails as they followed the island from a safe distance.

"How magnificent," Rosalyn breathed out in wonder as she lays her eyes upon the island.

The island was quite small, floating quietly on the deep ocean waters. The edges of the island were stones and large boulders, curling up inwards and resembling a roughly made stone bowl. It was green and flourishing, tall trees and long, multiple branches with many leaves. But the one thing that was eye-catching about the island was the tall tree in the middle of the island, looming the other trees so magnificently, to the point it looked like the island was the root of this big tree.

"Look at the bark of the main tree," Withira says to them all.

They all followed her words, inspecting the large tree and with its odd bark. The tree looked like it was made of multiple barks, twirled together and stretched until it was nearly as high as the skies. Multiple dianthus flowers, in color and sizes, grow on the tree along with its bark.

"The root of those twirling barks is where Miss [Name] is," Withira informed. "With the island being sentient, we cannot erase the possibility of the tree immediately closing in on her when your motives became clear."

"Your Highness," Archie suddenly says, pausing on splitting the waters. "It has noticed us."

"What?" Choi Han asked with wide eyes. "Their radar goes this far?"

"Everyone, please hang on!" Archie exclaimed, sounding alarmed, and Cale and the others immediately held onto the railings of the ship.

Archie bends his whale form so impossibly sharp, his jaws open and he bit down into the oncoming bark underwater. The bark seemed to go frantic, trying to thrash out from Archie's jaws. Multiple barks immediately shot out from underneath the floating island, spreading and targeting every Whale on its tail while keeping themselves underwater. The ship swished along with his movements as he's attempting to rip the bark and it took only moments before the ship capsized, upside down in the ocean.

Another killer whale came, trying to protect the ship they were on as Withira joined the defense, trying to ward off the oncoming barks. Cale made the wind gather into his feet and pushed himself further to support the others so they wouldn't drop to the ocean, spurting blood from his mouth.

"Cale-nim!" Choi Han exclaimed in worry. His voice caught the attention of others and they turned to him, all of them equally concerned.

"Human, don't push yourself!" Raon reminds him with glassy eyes while Cale set them all to the wet hull of the capsized ship, a temporary solution to their current problem. Cale was on his knees, coughing out some blood as his body worked to restore his energy.

"Young Master-nim," Ron says, kneeling next to Cale and offering him a handkerchief. Concern crossed his face with the way his eyebrows are slightly creased, the corner of his lips pulled into a displeased frown.

"This is your chance!" Withira exclaimed, smacking an attacking bark with such force that it immediately broke off and became a deadhead in the middle of the ocean. "We will clear the pathways. Get on my back and hang on tight. We will try to avoid the attacking barks."

"We will try to help," Choi Han says with a determined look.

"I'm fine," Cale says to Ron before the butler could help him stand up and help him to Withira's back.

Cale sat in the middle of Withira's back, hand on top of the scar on her form as he prepared himself. Ohn and Hong was tucked close to his chest, Cale holding them with one arm while Ron was beside him. Choi Han and Rosalyn stood in front of them, Rosalyn with her mana ready and with Raon floating by her side. Choi Han withdrew his sword and planted his feet on Withira's back. "Excuse us, Your Highness."

"Are you ready?" Withira asked them, her voice sounding tense.

"Yes," Cale responds.

Withira split the water when she swam, evading the barks and while her men fought off any barks that dared to attack her. Some barks shot out from the water to knock down those standing on her back, but Choi Han immediately sliced them off with his sword and Rosalyn and Raon would protect them by conjuring a shield. Sometimes a killer whale would jump out from the water to stop the barks and lighten the work for them.

'They're trying their hardest to protect the island,' Cale thought as he watched how the barks had begun to focus more on Withira as she's the only one approaching the island right now.

"Shit-!" Rosalyn conjured up a bigger shield when a killer whale was thrown their way, thrashing in the air and then letting out a wail when it hit Rosalyn's shield. Her shield shook and flickered at the impact but Raon's shield immediately covered it.

"Crazy!" Withira exclaimed, watching as the barks began to chase for her Whales, thick barks wrapped around them and then rising from under the water before throwing the killer whales like toys at them. With more protection, the island began to earn more things to throw at her. "Back down!"

The Whales immediately followed her roar, backing down and avoiding the barks. Withira swam further, mustering all her capabilities into this one swim and the water split as if a high-speed ship with a sharp keel had swam through them, approaching the island quickly. Raon and Rosalyn put more effort into their shields as the barks began to attack them straight on above the water and Choi Han took every chance to slice them off.

"Urgh-!" Withira was suddenly set back as two thick barks quickly shot out and pushed her. The inertia caused the group to nearly got thrown into the dangerous waters but Cale immediately gathered all of his powers and gathered wind into their feet, carrying them up into the air and quickly controlling the wind to bring them into the island.

"Thank you, Your Highness!" Cale exclaimed, trying to make them all land safely inside the island, behind the curling boulders. He ended up throwing them to the dirt a bit haphazardly, but the skilled people he was with managed to land on their feet.

Withira and the Whales swam back, watching from afar. The barks immediately backed down as well and gathered back underneath the floating island's foundation underwater. Withira could feel the two spots on her belly where the barks had pushed her, knowing she will have a hard time swimming for a while if not healed properly. She turned to her Whales, "Is everyone okay?"

As Withira checked on her Whales, Cale and the others looked around the island. Cale had known of floating islands, most were artificial for different purposes, and natural floating islands couldn't get too big. But this one? It was magnificent. The earth was solid and the trees that grew on the island stood tall and loomed over them like giants, dense and slightly unsettling.

"To be able to grow this tall and big..." Cale began, his voice fascinated. These trees were able to grow and flourish for nearly more than a millennium, and as he inspected them closer, he saw no damage done to the trees that could be caused by the constant exposure to salt-laden ocean spray. Typically, when trees grow so close to the ocean, the salt in the air can accumulate on leaves and stems, causing salt burn on plant tissues. Salt burns can disrupt the normal functioning of leaves, leading to reduced photosynthesis and overall stress on the tree.

The leaves on the trees don't even have any hint of yellowing or browning. It grows healthily despite growing so close to the ocean. In areas with high salt exposure, the soil can become saline due to the accumulation of salts from the ocean and it should have stunted the trees' growth, but these trees stood tall and strong for so many years.

Cale touched the curling boulders that seemed to be protecting the island from having any stranded people or ships. The way it curled inwards made the island look like a giant bowl, and it could have been the thing that had been protecting the trees from too much ocean spray, as the curling boulders stood taller than Toonka seemed to be.

"I'm surprised the trees on this island aren't attacking us," Rosalyn commented, looking warily around the area.

"I thought the island is sentient?" Ohn questioned, pawing lightly at one of the roots of a tree with Hong beside her. In her mind (along with the rest of theirs), the island should have been more aggressive the moment they stepped into the island's dirt.

"Keep your guard up," Cale says with a frown. "Her Highness told us [Name] is at the center of the island, underneath the roots of the main tree."

They all turned their heads to look up at the looming tall tree that stood in the middle of the island, so tall that Cale was sure if he went up there, he would be cold and have a hard time breathing. Cale turned to look at the dense forest in front of them, seeing how there were cobblestone paths laid within the dirt as steps, mold growing on them and many were cracked. He turned to Raon, "Raon, do you think you can see the path to the main tree if you fly high enough?"

Raon offered Cale a smile. "Of course! I am the mighty Raon Miru!"

"Good," Cale says with a smile, gently patting the dragon's head before Raon flew up high enough until he could map out the area. He turned to them, calling out, "Human, follow me! I can see the root of that big tree!"

"Let us go," Cale says, walking forward and entering the dense forest, his companions following him from behind with their guards up.

As they walked deeper into the forest, more proof of a past civilization began appearing. The cobblestones were spread in the dirt like a path of a no-transport city, several cobblestones, clay, and wood lay on the ground on what they all assumed must be the homes of the people who used to live there, nature taking over the buildings and have broken them down back into their natural states. Some roots of trees were so big and thick that it was hard to not see and trip on one of them. There were several pedestals of boulders that had been carved into the shape of a dianthus flower, which oddly seemed to be the native flower within the island.

An ancient civilization couldn't be wiped out of existence so quickly like this. It would need some kind of draught or perhaps a drop in the humidity, but the trees flourish here and it would certainly provide enough food for them. Perhaps even a tsunami or an erupting volcano wiped them all out, but the ruins within the island showed that there was no eruption and no tsunamis. The floating island wasn't connected to any tectonic plates so it wouldn't be able to even experience an actual earthquake. The curling boulders by the shore would prevent anyone from leaving, so they couldn't have migrated.

"C-Cale-nim," Choi Han stammered, face averted from Cale and looking down at a lowland from where they were.

"What is it, Choi Han?" asked Rosalyn, following his gaze and her face also paled.

Cale approached them both and looked at where they were looking at. It was a graveyard site that stretched over fifty by fifty meters. Typically a graveyard site wouldn't make one freeze in place, but in front of them was a graveyard site that had all of its graves dug out, graveyard dirt tossed to the side and from their place on an elevated spot, Cale could see that there were no bodies within the graves.

"They all look freshly dug," Ron says quietly. If the graves were dug out a long time ago, the piled-up soil nearby wouldn't be looser and less compacted than the surrounding ground.

'Are we going to fight the undead?' Cale thought to himself, bewildered. He then discarded his thoughts the moment he noticed the dug-out soil didn't look like it was removed from inside the grave.

"Let's hurry," Cale says, anxiety crawling up his spine. He bends down a bit, gently pushing the kittens to face away from the graveyard site. "Follow Raon. We need to find [Name] first."

Choi Han forced himself to look away and continued walking. He couldn't imagine having his loved ones' graves disturbed in such a degrading way like that. Rosalyn pats his back, urging him to walk forward and follow Raon who was waving at them, blissfully ignorant of the reason for their sudden stop as he had flown a bit further.

"Human! I found the roots!" Raon announced with a slight grimace. "And it stinks!"

#cale henituse #cale henituse x reader #trash of the count's family #lout of count's family #tcf cale #lcf cale #tcf manhwa

262 notes · View notes

obsolete-stars-if · 9 months ago

Text

I couldn't sleep soooo... More @drinkyourvillainjuice ff. The pairing, as always is simple

M!Wil x Tmasc MC

This one I call "going monkey mode". I would also like to know how everyone else reacts to monkey mode.

You're not sure when you let your guard down enough to do this. But your eyes fly over Wil's face and before you can consider otherwise, you're extending your hand to his, "May I?" Your voice quiet to match the atmosphere.

He gives you a look up and down, but gives you his hand anyway, waiting for whatever you have in store. And today's sale is nothing else but the most instinctual care someone can give and receive.

You take his hand into yours, gently go over the back of his hand, to his fingers and eventually his fingernails. You bring it up closer, feel over the nail bed underneath the chipped nail polish. His cuticles pushed back and cut, well taken care of. You then turn his hand, brushing over and checking each fold. Before you let your thumb glide towards Wil's wrist, feeling and listening to his heartbeat.

Warm and steady. Alive.

Eyes flying over his arms, stopping every now and then to feel over patches of skin, further up until you reach his neck. You reach for his chin, stopping just before, waiting for his approval. When Wil nods, you gently move him by the chin to look away from you. You turn to inspect his neck, his ears, the beginning of his hairline.

"You know..." You whisper, "Many consider a species to be civilized if they take care of their elderly and disabled." Your hands brush over his hair, you're looking for split ends. "Primates do this all the time. This is similar to what their grooming process looks like- It's a medical check up."

You brush over a small mole, not raised, small, symmetrical, and solid color. "And we do this all the time, verbally checking up on friends, parents looking after their children, and coddling when sick." His skin is smooth, no bumps or lumps to look at for more than a moment before moving on.

"It's why the touch of others feels so comforting at times." Your fingers find his lips, "It's a primal desire to be seen and taken care of." He uses chapstick, you note to yourself. "We haven't evolved past that point yet, and I don't think we ever should."

You finish your nonprofessional check up with a last look over his face. He blinks a few times, taking in what you said. Wil whispers back, "So you just went monkey on me?"

You groan and lean back, but you can't hide a small laugh. "Yes, I went monkey on you." Wil's eyes light up with amusement, "So what's your diagnosis, doctor?"

You close your eyes and hum audibly. "That depends on how you feel." You answer. "I could give you another check up if you want more personal attention."

"How could I ever say no to monkey mode?" Wil chuckles.

You nod, all wisely, before reaching out for his hand, "Then I must continue, as you, my patient, are very clearly not satisfied with my services yet."

#drink your villain juice #wil #i love wil so much #i could go monkey on all my friends constantly

26 notes · View notes

zenkor123 · 4 months ago

Text

Peeta Snaps Concept

Fires burn fires burn FIRES BURN the demons, THE DEMONS, they scrape me and rip me apart. I try to be a great mutt in the service of the rebellion, rhis is what I was preparing for right? To harness the fires and aim it at the capital! BUBBLES SHINEY BUBBLES!! all the windows in my mind break, trains derail, fires burn, wires crack. Hold it together Peeta Boggs is Dead, BOGGS IS DEAD Coin murdered a valient warrior, the best Panem had to offer. I attack and kill a demon but I fight it was no Demon that was Holmes! And I almost hurt Katniss! Who appeared like one of ths demons. I run towards the water it looks so peaceful I run towards it so I can know it's peace. Hallucinations of coin and Snow tell me "no, you have to kill Katniss " but I put my middle finger in the air and say "Fuck you Coin!!." I can't hear much but Annie screaming. I see my life play before me it's all hazy and I run towards the peaceful water, I will become one with the water. Everything then turns black am I dead yet? Is there an afterlife and am I there? BUBBLES SHINY BUBBLES!!! But I hear Johanna and Katniss talking and I cry. I am useless, it's bad enough that I have to be part of an execution by Coin but I have to witness myself kill the squad. There will be no salvation. The misery unbearable so I see if I can feed the rats using my handcuffs. But it does not work, then I try to leave the room and jump out the window. I run out of the closet door, Annie is in the other closet. And Katniss screams "Peeeta!" I am restrained by Jackson and Katniss but I try to break free to die. I am thrown to the floor and the Demons come back to hurt me. I shiver and my skin is filled with hives. I can't hear anything anyone is saying, but feel paralyzed Katniss grabs my hands, so hard that it is one of the few physical sensations I can feel until she presses her lips into mine. I remember countless things and feel safe, when the demons that guard the memories poke at me I focus on Katnisses lips and the pain goes away. When we have to grasp her air, I pull her back in so more memories can return to me. She pulls me in the next time. I feel warm all over my body. I pull her in again. She says stay with me, I associated "always" with rape prior but there was no rape, there was no rape. I promised to stay with her and without me she will wither. I renew this promise and feel like crying. She collapses on top of me I accidentally pulled her down and rests her head on my heart she is pressing her chin there very hard and holding my face to the point of pain. "Don't let him take you from me" she says fiercely, I say "He never will as long as I have fight in me" Eventually I begin sensing the world around me which stops being shiny and blurry. That is the worse episode I have ever had. Katniss has Boggs holo. I feel determined to ripp off the skin of the white imp, and keep his head as a trophy. There's no better death then that done in the attempt to melt the toxic snow. Feeding him to the mutts would simply lead to the death of the mutts from all the poisons that are in Snow’s veins. His blood itself could be used as a poison. I'm glad we are dead and see a clearer view of events from the capital, considering that I'm a mutation, I don't lose it over the death of Holmes besides the occasional tear. I suggest when Gale asks the next step I suggest either breaking down holes in walls in residential houses, or going into the sewers. I don't care who I kill as long as I get Snow’s head barbecued on a trident. So I don't mind being unhandcuffed. But then Octavia finds smart cuffs for me and Annie, should we lose it the elastic smart cuffs will tighten, Katniss has the key to it. When Katniss asks how I am and brushes my hair I tell that "only two things are holding me together, you and the image of Snow's unrecognizable mutilated corpse"

I go over the mutts that we will face In the capital give a layout of the mansion and whatever I know about the snowman unit defending the mansion known as the Presidential guard

(The change in Peeta's syntax is due to him finally snapping)

15 notes · View notes

salvatoraes · 5 months ago

Text

CHARACTER SHEET

FULL NAME. stefan antonio salvatore. NICKNAME. stef, steffy, stefano, hero hair, the ripper of monterey, rippah ( klaus only ). PRONOUNS. he + him. SIZE. 5'11. AGE. 520+ ( technically ) 18 ( physically ) ZODIAC. scorpio. SPOKEN LANGUAGES. italian, english, french & spanish.

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

HAIR. light brown, could be considered blonde to some people. wavy, curly when wet or damp. usually a bit fluffy or styled with gel. EYES. forest green, mesmerizing, soft. somewhat expressive when in thought or contemplating. SKIN TONE. tan. cheeks gets flushed when embarrassed, angry, or hot. BODY TYPE. tall, skinnier but fit. VOICE. calm or calming usually, deeper. he speaks slower sometimes to make things clear. however, speaks very quickly if in italian. DOMINANT HAND. both, but right more so. POSTURE. excellent, he slouches on occasion when exhausted but his posture is overall excellent. SCARS. one scar on the lower right side of his abdomen from a bullet wound. curtesy of his father when he shot him & damon & they were left to bleed to death. BIRTHMARKS. no birthmarks. MOST NOTABLE FEATURES. his green eyes, the one stray freckle under one of his eyes thats close to his cheek, his hair & his dimples.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃

PLACE OF BIRTH. florence, italy. HOMETOWN. florence, italy. SIBLINGS. older brother, damon salvatore. ( 8 years older ) PARENTS. giuseppe & lilian salvatore. ( both deceased )

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

OCCUPATION. fake high - school student, mechanic or writer. CURRENT RESIDENCE. mystic falls, virginia. CLOSE FRIENDS. lexi branson ( his best friend of five hundred years, until his brother kills her ) , caroline forbes, elena gilbert ( when not a couple ) , klaus mikaelson ( sometimes, depending on the day, the decade, the century, if you know, you know ) FINANCIAL STATUS. wealthy, though doesn't need money to survive. DRIVER'S LICENSE. yes, his car is his most prized possession. CRIMINAL RECORD. does this apply to vampires ? VICES. bloodlust, self - loathing, guilt, not carrying about his own safety when it comes to others.

𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. bi- sexual & bi - romantic. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. he's a switch, top leaning unless with men. TURN OFFS. not much tbh, just don't fall for his brother after you fall for him lol. & don't pressure him into things or opening up if he's not comfortable. TURN ON'S. compassion, loving, caring, good sense of humor, understands him & will let him open up when he's ready, confidence, kind to others, etc. LOVE LANGUAGE. quality time, acts of service. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. over protective but will let them make their own decisions, often cooks for them or wants to, can be really romantic & sweet, likes to go on dates, puts his all into his relationships but likes to go slow at points. he will definitely put their needs before his own.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒

CHARACTER'S THEME TUNE. hold on by chord overstreet or wanted dead or alive by bon jovi. HOBBIES TO PASS THE TIME. writing, reading, exercising, hunting, driving. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. left. SELF-CONFIDENCE LEVEL. little but doesn't show it, he's very good at hiding his emotions.

tagged ( stole from my pookie ) : @tellsjokes <3 tagging : consider yourself tagged if you see this ! tag me if you steal so i can be nosy hehe.

#queued.#long post /#⋆˙⊰ the guilted ripper ：introspection.#⋆˙⊰ love these things.：dash games.

4 notes · View notes

omniblades-and-stars · 1 year ago

Text

Under the Rays of an Autumn Sun

It pulses, bass beats thrumming so loud they become the shared heartbeat of the dancers under strobing azure lights. The lifeblood of Purgatory's night scene. Sweating bodies press and writhe together in sensual, decadent harmony. An asari undulates and her jewelry glitters like starlight with every pass of the light. There are many beautiful women here tonight, but none are the one I am looking for.

"Amonkira. Lord of Hunters. Grant that my hands be steady, my aim be true, and my feet swift," I whisper from my seat at the bar. No one hears my prayers over the driving music that courses through our veins. "And should the worst come to pass, grant me -"

"Whiskey, straight please," she says with a voice that has the strength of a rushing river. My prayers are answered before I am finished saying them. She smells of jasmine, a fragile and small, white blossom from Earth. I look up and I am greeted by eyes that look like the desert sands glimmering under the rays of an autumn sun, and she is looking at me.

I have always had a weakness for beautiful eyes. Humans have a saying, "The eyes are the windows into the soul." It's a sentiment I wholeheartedly share. Hers are a light brown that I am unused to seeing in humans, but they are heavy. I can see the weight she carries within them, evident in the red lines lightly spidering over the white space around her iris.

Blue tinged glass presses to soft, bare lips, and she coughs as the liquid burns down her throat. A warm chuckle bubbles up after it, and she sits next to me. "I don't know if I'll ever learn," she shakes her head, chestnut waves brush against the sun-kissed and freckled skin exposed on her back. "Eden Shepard," she says and offers me her hand to shake. She is named after the holy garden of one of Earth's many creation myths. It suits her, I think, but the thought passes before I can fully understand why I feel that way.

A warm, calloused hand wraps around mine, rougher than most human women, evidence of a life spent in service to her military. I can imagine how she holds her standard issue assault rifle based on the strength of her hands alone. "Niké Taon," I lie very kindly. The fine hairs on her muscular arms rise above goosebumps in response to my voice. I'm pleased by this.

"What are you drinking, Niké? I'm already regretting my choice. I barely like Earth's whiskey." She swirls the glass around, minute amber waves rise up around the edges, threatening to spill over onto her fingers. The liquor in the glass is pungent, sharp, I would not want to drink it either.

"Serrice Ice Brandy, it is far gentler on the tongue," I say as I raise my own glass to my lips. She watches me as I drink, I can see her eyes move as she considers my actions, my words are a subtle suggestion.

The music changes, it is very different from the usual synthetically generated house music that is always playing here. The beat is slower, and the drums roll out in a cascading pattern over what I believe humans call "funk guitar" that is the accent to the music not the driving force, the movement is all in the drums. Shepard moves quickly, her hand wraps around my wrist, and I fight the instinct to break hers to free myself from her grasp. She smiles at me, she looks like the sun. One of her front teeth is chipped. "I love this song! Dance with me, Niké!" She is pulling me after her, and I oblige.

I watch Eden Shepard every time she comes to the Citadel. In everything, she is meticulous, careful, and guarded. She travels with well-armed companions most of the time, usually a turian with a sniper rifle and the apparent skill required to use it, and a quarian woman armed with a high end omni-tool and a shotgun. Occasionally, she brings a krogan battlemaster with deep scars cut into his crimson head plates. I am skilled, but I am not foolish.

The only time she is not meticulous, careful, and guarded is when she goes to Purgatory. Here, she is not a commander or a marine. Of the three times I have seen her dancing in the club, she has gone to a hotel with a stranger twice.

I will be the third. It is the only way to avoid unnecessary violence.

Her cerulean dress clings to her skin as if it is a part of her, hard planes of muscle, broad shoulders all on display. Long legs disappear into the fabric stretched across muscular thighs. Now that she is standing, I can see her pistol strapped to her leg, below the short hem of her dress. It is a HMWP, the kind of handgun only a Spectre can get. Her status as the Council’s agent may be the reason why she is allowed to wear it so brazenly here. She does not wear synthetic leather or latex like most of the other dancers. I can feel the breathable, light, organic weave of her dress, soft under my fingers as she guides my hand to her waist.

The music moves through her with a shiver and she is overtaken by a spell. Eden presses her back against me, her eyes are closed and she is adrift in an ocean of harmonic waves. Then, almost as soon as she started, she stumbles, loses the rhythm and she can’t quite seem to get it back. I'm surprised by this, I have seen how she moves during a fight, the rhythm of gunfire guides her and she sows violence with the grace of a ballet dancer. It is why I have chosen to isolate her, she has the skills necessary to be a challenge.

This is clumsy. I know she is not inebriated, her glass is still sitting on the bartop, the honey colored liquid vibrates with the pulsating beat.

She throws her head back against my shoulder, and she laughs. The sound is jubilant, it rolls out of her with reckless abandon, and I am infected. I have not felt unadulterated joy in so long, it awakens a fire within me. The curve of her neck, a fragile thing, easily broken with the right twist of my hands, is exposed to me, and my mind is filled instead with thoughts of suckling on the tender skin there. I want to hear what other sounds I can draw from soft, rose-colored lips.

“I’ve never been good at dancing,” she shouts over the oscillations filling the air around us, she is still laughing, still moving off beat. I find myself enraptured, she throws herself so fully into an endeavor that she is mediocre at without embarrassment.

I have forgotten why I am here. No, I remember, I cannot forget. My goal has changed very suddenly, to end a life such as this would be as snuffing out a sun. The galaxy would grow unbearably bleak without the light of her gold-flecked eyes and the pure, sonorous mirth of her laughter.

I pull her flush against me, I feel the way her abdomen tightens under my palms, and a pleased sigh escapes from her, barely audible over the noise. But I am listening for every melodious note that she will bless me with. I lean down, my lips play across the ridge of her ear, “I will lead you, Eden. We will move as one tonight.”

A shiver rolls down her spine, and her cheeks blossom with color. “Yes,” her response flows out on a gentle breath. She wraps her hands over mine, and we are moving in tandem. Her eyes close again and she gives in, she surrenders control. The way she moves against me is full of power and promise, but she wants to be led. I feel a cord being pulled taut within me, I am full of wanting, and I need to feel her writhe like this beneath me.

As we dance, sweat gathers in beads like crystals along the swell of her breasts, and they roll suggestively into the valley between, disappearing where I cannot see them any longer. She guides one of my hands up her body, it ghosts teasingly over her chest, before she brings our hands to a rest against the side of her neck. I apply the faintest hint of pressure, I can feel the strain of tendons and ridges of her throat.

She moans, a sound of pure desire, and her fingers tighten over mine. “I have a room nearby, stay with me tonight?” A panting and plaintive request, it sounds almost like a prayer. It is I who should be praying to her.

I do not want to deny her, I do not believe that I could. “I said we would move as one tonight. Have you slept with a drell before?”

“I’ve never even seen anyone who looks like you before,” she pauses for a moment before continuing, “You’re beautiful.” She does not seem embarrassed by the admission, and I feel my heart swell with pride.

“I have venom, on my skin, on my tongue. You will be exposed to it.”

She is silent for precious heartbeats, I can feel her pulse quicken with my hand still pressed against her neck. “Will it kill me? Make me sick?”

I am at her ear again, and I can feel her squirm to try to move closer. “No. Eden, it will rob you of your senses until all that you know is the pleasure that I will give you. You will soar to the cosmos with my tongue in between your legs.” Her body shudders and I can feel how she is squeezing her thighs together. Her heart is racing, excitement thrums through her veins, just as it is through mine.

“Fuck,” she groans, and I can feel the warmth rising from her cheeks down to her breasts. She has already come undone for me.

Her grip around my hand increases, and suddenly she is pulling me away from the dance floor and quickly out of the club. The sudden silence is shocking, and I have to shake my head to clear the momentary confusion.

“I know a shortcut, I hope you’re not afraid of back alley thugs?”

It is my turn to laugh, it’s a sound I have not heard in too long. “Not at all.”

Eden’s head tilts a little, and she grins. Something cocksure and self-satisfied falls over her features. She enjoys the risk, and invites the danger to meet her. I have now seen the two faces of the same goddess. “Good. I would much rather see a gun in my face than another reporter’s camera.” I understand now why she comes all the way here to escape her duties and the pressure of being the first human Spectre.

I allow her to lead me through the alleys, though I already know where we're going. The last two were not brave enough to go this way, but I remember the twists and turns of this maze. I have been here before. I know it so well, I can easily spend the walk watching the subtle swing of her hips, the robust curve of her ass, and the sinewy muscles working in her legs as she walks ahead of me. She never looks behind at me, she is alert, her right hand lingers next to her hip, ready to draw her gun in a moment.

It is unnecessary. We arrive at the small hotel, well known for hosting Alliance marines on shore leave, without seeing a soul. She unlocks the door and she surprises me by turning to face me and pulling me into the room after her. The omni-tool on her wrist glows amber, and the door locks behind us. She has me by the collar of my synthetic weave armor, and her lips press into mine and they are even softer than they look. She giggles as I pull her flush against me.

“Do you always wear armor to go clubbing?” She asks her question to my mouth, she sounds deeply amused, not suspicious.

“Do you always wear a gun to go dancing?” I respond with a question that does not answer her query. I am so hot and it is taking all of my willpower not to rush. It is taking all of my willpower not to reveal my true name.

I can feel her smile, but I cannot see it, so close she is to me. “Fair enough … You’re going to have to give me some guidance, I don’t know where I should touch you,” she admits, her breath still warm against my lips.

I am an assassin, not a professor, but I will teach her tonight. I take her hand in mine and bring it to the frills at my neck, "Here, gently." I feel as she runs her thumb slowly across the folds there, she is watching her hand move as though she is trying to memorize the experience. Her touch sends electrical pulses through me, and warmth follows her fingers in a trail. Eden does not notice that I have unzipped her dress until the small straps holding it up fall loose on her arms.

She is not shy, however. Her answer is to step back and pull the garment up and over her head, and simultaneously kick off her shoes. She is suddenly a few inches shorter, but I barely notice. Eden Shepard stands before me wearing only underwear and a gun holster, and she is resplendent. The cheap lights illuminate freckled skin and soft breasts, the rise and fall of her chest is hypnotic. The small cloth barely covering the rest of her is soaked with her arousal, and I am overcome by this burning lust that has been building inside of me.

I want to taste her, all of her, starting with her mouth. I take her, my hand finds its way into the soft hair at the back of her head, and her heat is pulled against me, I can feel it even through my armor. Before I can take her mouth for mine, her hand gently falls to my lips. "Wait," she says. Her lids are heavy and she has not moved away, but still I worry that I've offended her. "I want to see all of you first. I want to be able to remember what you look like, clearly."

"Of course," I answer, and soon she is helping me remove the pieces of my armor. I am now as vulnerable as she is, more, in fact. She is still wearing her gun, and I know she's a powerful biotic in her own right. If her plan all along was to put me under a spell and bring me here so that she could end me, it would have worked.

But that is not what she does. Hazel eyes sweep over my form, and she is unabashed in her hunger. "Beautiful," she whispers, and this time she does not stop me from breathing in her praise as I claim her lips. She tastes faintly of the whiskey, but underneath it, something like citrus, she must have eaten before going to Purgatory. I brush my thumb over the roundness of her cheek, it is rougher than I imagined. Chapped by the winds of some barely hospitable planet, I think. As I am contemplating where she must have been last, I reach and undo the buckles holding her gun to her leg. It falls to the floor, and she doesn't care.

Her hands are all over me, her earlier hesitation forgotten as they roam every surface she can touch. She uses feathering touches along my waist and I cannot stop the rumbling chuckle that moves out of me in response, I am ticklish there. Eden hums in delight, and I catalog it as another of her sounds that I will cherish forever after this night. I know I will never see her again after this.

I memorize her on this night. Every sigh, every groan, every pleasured shout. The way she smells, jasmine mixed with the salt of her sweat and the musk of her desire. I know her taste and every place that makes her quiver and shake. The strength of her grasp as she pulls me against her and shouts a name she believes is mine. I will remember her eyes. First, as they were in Purgatory, bright and earthy. Then, as they were as we found release together, pupils so wide, only a thin halo of hazel around depths so dark, I am forever drowning in them.

I am saddened that she cannot remember as I can, but I hope she will think of me fondly. I will always remember how she sleeps on her stomach, an arm and a leg flung over the edge of the bed. I will remember the faintest sound of laughter at something only she can see, her dream bringing her some joke or oddity.

I must leave before she wakes. I am thrice damned and banished from the Garden of Eden of my own accord. I do not deserve to bask in her holy light.

I think I will go to Illium next.

I am crawling through an air ventilation shaft. It is a trite, stereotypical way to conduct an assassination, but effective nonetheless. I am not above convention if it leads me directly to my target. There is a group of soldiers fighting their way up the tower. They are the perfect distraction, this will be far simpler with their unknowing aid.

When I arrive at her office, my target is talking to someone, offering credits in exchange for the opportunity to keep her life. I can't hear the voice of the one she speaks to clearly. Nassana Dantius does not hear me drop from the ceiling.

I land behind a guard. Human male, rear approach, check shoulder to prevent turning, hands to chin and base of skull, neck-snap. Heavy pistol fire to dispatch the remaining guard. Nassana turns, I hold her in my arms as one might while comforting a lover and I shepherd her to the waters so lovingly tended by Kalahira.

There are three soldiers staring at me, but prayers for the wicked must not be forsaken. To my surprise, they wait for me to finish. As I turn to face them, their leader, a woman, puts her hands on her verdant helmet. She is a freelancer, perhaps.

"Well, I'll be damned, what a small galaxy," she says after a surprised chuckle. Even through the gentle warp of her breather helmet, it is a laugh that I treasure in my memories. A gentle hiss as the seal around her bright green helmet is released and chestnut hair falls in a wave, framing a smile like the sun, but her tooth is no longer chipped. Eyes the color of desert sands glimmering under the rays of an autumn sun look back at me. Her cheeks are covered in spidering, but healing scars. There can be no denying it, Eden Shepard stands before me. "It's safe to assume that your name never was Niké, was it?"

She is amused, I can hear her pure, sonorous, mirthful laughter hiding there, just beneath the surface of her question. "I apologize for the deception, Eden. It seemed necessary, at the time." She raises an eyebrow at me, I think perhaps she understands the context, but she is not upset. "I thought you were dead," I remark, everyone knows that she was killed two years ago. And not by me. It seems that fortune favors the bold, and there is no one bolder than her.

"I was dead - spaced with a suit rupture. But apparently it takes more than that to stop me!" She raises her armored fist in the air, a victorious gesture. She is laughing again, soulful eyes twinkle, and I feel the fire awaken in me once more. She is merry in spite of her own mortality. "I'm taking on the Collectors. I need someone with your skills on my team, Thane." I am blessed by my true name on her soft, rose-colored lips.

It is only now that I fully comprehend her two compatriots, a turian with a sniper rifle and the apparent skill required to use it, and a quarian woman armed with a high end omni-tool and a shotgun.

It is a small galaxy, indeed.

#mass effect #fanfic #thane krios #femshep #shrios #reposting my earlier work because i can and it's free #mildly off canon #sexy tho so who cares #daisy screaming into the void #under the rays

25 notes · View notes

worm-wood-dawning · 12 days ago

Text

Sentinel Station: Chapters 1-5 (revised with a few changes but I SWEAR I'll keep things like this and not go back and make a million changes)

Content Advisories - Domestic violence, sexual assault, police violence, sex work (honestly consider that one a standing warning for a while), implied child abuse, mentioned stillbirth, minor self harm, a suicide attempt and a potentially cringe scene of two characters trying to talk through a language barrier.

10,000 words

Chapter 1: Farm Girl

Veniae-di

Colony Outpost 9

2276, 3rd Standard Cycle

Carina, Age 15

Carina adjusted her mask and scarf, turned off her left eye and slid up her dark glasses. They did little against the sunlight streaming down, bouncing fiery off the mix of human and avaki ships docked ahead. She pressed her hands over her ears. They were similarly ineffective against the noise - the murmur of human tongues from the few permitted to speak, the low buzz of waiting vessels, the screeches of takeoff and distant ripping of the sky. Hyperspace. That she’d been able to hear before, and even then she’d never gotten used to the sound of it, to the boom of the opening air and the static hum that emanated from behind it.

Sorry, Rina. A deep, soft voice echoed in her mind. Your implants will settle down soon.

Carina nodded, looking up at the woman beside her. She looked older than her twenty years, narrow black eyes scanning the crowd and her bottom pair of arms crossed, hands on her hips. With the top pair she twisted stray hairs around her fingers and tapped her violet mouth, one claw clicking against a tooth poking out from her bottom lip. Long grey horns curled out under the veil tied over the dark braids trailing down her back, white with purple trim between her pointed ears. Fine, light blue fur covered her azure skin. A smart brown jacket hung on her wide shoulders and a brown skirt fanned out around her ankles, the tip of a long, striped tail peeking out of it.

No paint and ropes yet? Carina asked, also speaking internally. She kept the thought quick, though she doubted anyone could break into their conversation, or that they would care to.

I'm still a civilian. Tovie rolled her eyes. Wouldn't get much anyway.

Right, sorry. Carina replied. Tovie had tried to explain avaki military structures to her before but she had never quite understood, especially where women were concerned. Are… are you sure we-

Relax, Rina. We're blending in just fine.

Right . She swayed on her feet, trying to ignore the weight of her backpack, or the dull pain in her head. It was just the price of speaking this way. Now, you said I'm…. Nevermind, sorry. The line's moving.

They both fell silent, to the extent they could, and waited as the two groups ahead were scanned and cleared to board. Carina had seen whales in old lesson vids before. They were strange marine mammals that had only existed on Earth, with few analogues on other worlds and none on Veniae-di. The avaki ship reminded her of them, all seamless curves of undulating blue and grey, the metal they were made from like a liquid held in place, a miniature ocean shielding a miniature world.

Alright, we're up. Tovie squeezed her hand. Don't worry, Rina.

Carina nodded. Her hand fell at her side.

An avaki man stood by the ship’s door, his arms crossed. White ropes were strung around them, straining against his muscles, and white paint covered his face and torso, thin and flexible but hard and smooth, with a sharp and intricate pattern made by the bits of blue skin left bare. He looked them over.

“Identification?”he asked aloud. Whether it was because he couldn't attune himself to Tovie, or that he thought his harsh voice would keep Carina in line, no one could be sure.

"As you ask, ve'ek-sen." Tovie held out one hand for the man to scan.

“Let's see.”he said, not returning her formal greeting. “Of clan Kallis, Tovrek. Off to service. Com-sec, too. Rather good, for a woman. Then again, I doubt your clan would accept less. And this one…” He pointed at Carina. “...is your…?”

“My servant.”Tovie said. “She's fully registered. For comfort and general assistance, ve'ek-sen."

“I suppose that is your right. Still, a coms officer bringing a human along….” His lips pursed, two long teeth jutting from the top.

“Oh don't worry.” Tovie scoffed. “She's a farm girl. Barely literate. I doubt she even understands what we're saying right now, and I won't be getting her a translator.”

The man nodded. “Your chip, girl.”

As they had practiced, Carina blinked and stared wide eyed just past the man. Tovie grabbed her hand and held it out. She forced her breathing to stay steady and hoped the man couldn't hear her heart race, that he couldn't break into her head. Tovie had rewritten her ID chip with a false identity, part outright falsehoods and part the truth of a girl who had recently died. The override would only last so long, if it worked at all. She bowed her head.

“Lisa.” The name sounded strange in the man's mouth, unused to any human language. “Of clan Hall.” He scrutinized his netpad. “Four year contract.”he said to Tovie. “Says she's old enough. Hardly looks it, though. A good find.”

“Appreciated, ve'ek-sen. May we-”

“Yes, yes, go on ahead through the decon scanner.”

“Thank you, ve'ek-sen. Now.” She switched to the human common tongue. “Come along, girl.” The words flowed naturally, stern and harsh.

Still silent, Carina followed her. A blue glow ran over them, concentrating on their bags. It felt suddenly heavier, the frayed copy of 116 like a boulder inside it. Once the machine was sure they carried no contraband, a second door slid up to let them enter the ship. A wave of cold air washed over her. The light changed from blazing sun to a sickly fluorescence on silver walls. A crowd of avaki, mostly men, milled about. Multiple faces turned to them both. She shivered.

“Come, girl.” Tovie took her hand and pulled her down a corridor. Her hooves clicked on the metal floor. “Yes, here we are.” She let go, unlocked the room and nudged her inside. “Quiet.”

Carina obeyed, shifting on her feet and tapping the straps of her backpack as Tovie inspected the thin room. It was all bare silver metal with two panels stuck out from one wall. She assumed they hid a sink and toilet. A small mattress was folded away opposite to her. She watched the door, her heartbeat quick again. None of the men in the entrance had been familiar. No one was coming. She repeated that in her head, running her thumbs over the canvas pressed against her chest.

“Alright.” Tovie stuck a small, translucent disk to the wall. She turned to Carina, her hands moving through the air before her, fingers spelling out words they had spent so many long nights learning together, the only language they had both grasped beyond each of their races’ common tongues. “That should help.”she signed.

“Are you sure they won’t see us?”Carina asked, the words small and close to her chest.

“Not clearly.”she answered. “And translators don’t pick up sign language. By the time they figured out what we’re saying, we’d already be gone.”

Carina nodded and tried to smile, biting her nails.

“And, sorry.”she continued. “For out there, Rina.” Her words were slow. “I had to be believable.”

“I… understand.”she replied. “I'm just glad we're here now.”

“What did I tell you?” She grinned down at her. “Nothing to worry about. I'm just that amazing.”

“You weren't nervous at all, Tovie?”she asked, her movements clipped, lightly chiding.

“Okay, maybe a little.” She shrugged. “But we're fine now. Takeoff soon. And look, we have a window!” She pulled down the bed, leaving them barely room to stand, and pressed a button on the wall. It parted and light streamed in. “Come here, let's watch.”

Carina dropped her bag and knelt on the mattress. It was as hard as it had looked. Tovie pulled her close, one arm around her shoulder. She didn't know if it was an actual window or even a real time display. It didn't matter. She'd been too anxious in the shipyard to even take a final look. Now, green and red and purple fields stretched before her, under the shadows of towering old brown trees. There was corn and soy and wheat of course, and rice somewhere far away - all of it heavily modified, but far more of the fields were full of avaki crops, the trees heavy and bright with fruit that humans couldn't touch. Between the fields were chaotic columns of stack houses, tiny boxes of thin plastic that had been unfolded on the spots where they stood. They were little more than walls to guard against the elements, with the upper levels only accessible by outside ladders. Somewhere nearby, just out of view, was the Kallis tower, a citadel of metal and glass that loomed over the human community of Outpost 9.

“Is it… gentler out there?”she asked, trembling. “You… you've left a few times.”

Tovie rested a hand on her head, fingers in her hair, claws retracted, before she signed again. “It is.”she lied. She gripped Carina's shoulder. I… will petition the Spirit for you. And I'm… sorry, Rina, that I couldn't-

"It's… okay."she lied in return.

No, it's not, and-

It's not your fault.

It's not yours either.

Carina didn't answer, staring at the fields. She had said goodbye to her mother. The final word had been met with silence.

May I?

She nodded and Tovie took her hand, a warm and strong grip.

“Takeoff in forty five seconds.”a low voice announced over a speaker.

They each sat, holding one side of the bed. The ship lurched.

“The Station isn't so bad.”Tovie whispered. “It's crowded, but… but it's not the worst place. And I promise I'll-”

I know you won't be able to talk much. Military monitoring. Hard to get around even for you. I know I'll be on my own. She swallowed and rubbed her eyes. “It's okay.”she lied.

“I'm sorry.”

She said nothing. The ship lurched and she fell sideways. Barely glancing at her, Tovie lifted her hand, the air shimmering around it, a Vital field that held her up. Her heart raced, the only part of her that could move, and a cry lodged in her throat.

Sorry. Tovie looked down at her with mournful eyes. She laid her hands on Carina's shoulder again. It's still reflex.

"It's fine."she lied, and watched the fields shrink. They disappeared. The window closed.

Want to sing? No one else can hear.

She blinked. Her mouth was dry. Tovie was the first one who'd listened to her, the first one who hadn't tried to beat silence into her.

"The sand in the wind is... is...." Her throat closed and shoulders slumped.

I'm sorry.

Tovie squeezed her hand.

Are you sure you're okay, Rina?

She nodded. “We're…." We're.... Her voice cracked and mind fogged over. She buried her face in her hands. Tears that had built for days now burst forth. A sob tore through her heart. Her throat tightened. She screamed, shaking in Tovie's arms.

Chapter 2: Poison

Arrae

Svala, Northern Seas

2276 3rd Standard Cycle

Vren, Age 18

Vren coughed, curled up against a warm stone wall. Pale blue blood spurted between his teeth and into his shaking hands. It ran through his fingers and tarnished the water around him. He'd stopped shaking, stopped screaming, but his vision was still blurred, his left eye swollen shut. Kero hadn't broken anything. At least, he didn't think she had, though his whole body was heavy. His bleeding arms pulsed in pain, and multiple teeth hung loose in his mouth.

"Get up." Kero's voice stabbed into his aching head. Her inner eyes narrowed to red slits, the two outer pairs glowing with another. She crossed her arms, floating above him in the dimly lit water.

He hurried to right himself. "K-kero, I-"

"Quiet."

He hung his head. Blood dripped down his chin.

“Fix this up."she said. "Then come to my room.”

"But, Kero, it is-"

"Come to my room."she repeated. “I need to speak with you. And be quiet."

He nodded. Kero turned away, silence in her wake. He looked at the first aid kit tied to the nearest wall, shook his head and turned away. The cuts would heal well enough in time, though they would scar. He tied two old rags around his arms. That would do to stem the bleeding. He didn't bother to fix his face, but just gathered up the shattered pieces. Black polished coral scratched against itself as he tied it into the garbage bin.

He had broken the plate. He knew that, but couldn't remember it happening. His body had been useless before, but now it actively fought him, his limbs stiffening and eyes fogging over at least once a day. Kero had forgiven him, the night he had realized he was unworthy of her. She had accepted that he was used, a damaged thing, but even she could not forgive this new sickness. He swallowed back another scream and finished filtering away the blood. The hallway stretched endless and dark before him. Most of the rooms were empty, as he had borne no children for her, not even sons, and Kero did not yet have other men to occupy her.

He stopped outside her room. It had only been five days since the stillbirth, his third in two years with her. She knew he needed at least fourteen cycles to heal, and over twenty until they could try again.

"Verra."he whispered. Her dead, half formed body filled his mind. It was a strong name. They could not try again. He didn't understand.

"Are you going to stay there and stare at the walls all night?"

Kero looked down at him. She was so tall, imposing and stately in dark grey Tava silk woven with silver, a necklace of pointed teeth strung around her neck. Her deep red eyes bored into him. The tendrils above her mouth raised, and the four segments of her jaw pressed against each other, a smile like a knife, her teeth sharp with want.

He nodded. Eyes glued to the floor, he followed to her quarters.

She undressed, then undressed him. Thick tendrils of flesh unfurled from her back and waist, and her eyes shone bright in the darkness. A soft rhythmic chirping emanated from her throat, punctuated with low clicks - all a wordless desire, one that must be met. He did not respond. Tentacles pulled him close and her tail coiled around him, holding him in place. It hurt, and did not seem to end, even when she pushed him away. He floated there, eyes closed, the water cold on his skin and coarse stone warm behind his back.

“That was… good.”she said. “You'll do well at Sanae’s.”

“What… what do you-”

She sighed. “Your results aren't in yet, and your skin hasn't changed, but you're clearly a Feraath-krii.”she said. “I found a woman who can take you. She runs a… bar you can work at.”

His hearts sank, a chasm in his stomach, but he said nothing.

“You're pretty, if nothing else.”she continued. “At least, you are for now. You'll do alright.”

“Thank you.”he whispered.

She righted herself and lifted him into her arms, carrying him across the room.

Dark purple tendrils clung to the nearest wall, ever moving, ever searching. She pushed him into them and turned away.

He laid there, silent, wrapped in the mass. White heat burrowed into his veins, cutting through the numbness. The water turned blue with blood, a concentrated, vile azure from his arms and down his legs. It blossomed out into pale cyan. More coated his mouth again. He stared at the backs of his hands, eyes tracing the raised scars. It had taken weeks for them to heal correctly. He wondered how long the bleeding would last if he cut them off now, if it would ever stop.

Kero had hit him before. Of course she had. Few women were blessed with mates who never had to be kept in line, and he was worse than most men. She had needed to discipline him many times, but she had never made him bleed before.

He righted himself slowly, his limbs heavy, and tied a black sheet of dyed Tava silk around his chest. Sinewy kelp grew from the floor to the ceiling. Kero hung suspended in it, asleep and alone, much of the tower empty. Vren swallowed down a lump in his throat, watching her. She was broad chested, with bulging shoulders and strong arms. All was covered in black, shining scales, and two lines of flexible spines ran down the top and back of her head, connected by translucent blue skin. The long, thick tail that made up her lower half draped out of the undulating leaves, tendrils folded against her body once more. She was still a handsome woman. He knew that, knew that she was ideal in looks, in temperament and intelligence, that it was those like her who built and upheld erathi society, that he was lucky she had ever even looked at him. Yet somehow he felt nothing now.

He sighed. Love was not the goal of any union. Still, he tried to remember if she had ever been happy with him, if she had ever thought him a worthwhile gift.

He couldn't. It didn't matter. He turned away. The door slid closed behind him. He drifted back to the kitchen and stopped, staring at the largest wall. Bulbs of fungi congregated over the whole of it, black and thick and shining in the center, red and thin and dry at the edges. It pulsed, both with its own life and the worms and crabs crawling in it, forever alive and aglow. Grey, dessicated pieces floated before it, held by fine netting. Aren, Aren-tel and Aren-vae. He reached out with open hands. It still knew him even now, still grew out and spread itself over his skin. It held him, then receded, brightly lit anew. Blood coated his arms. He turned away and looked up.

Jars hung from the ceiling in cradles of black rope, radiating soft blue light throughout the room. He pulled one down, running his fingers over the carved, translucent grey surface. Sharp lines intersected without end along its surface. Tava fish swam inside, round and black. One nibbled at the solid layer of blue fungus inside. New spawn burrowed in and out of it. Lacy fins rubbed against the glass. He closed his eyes and let the sound of it flow through him, a low and quiet music that did not end even in death, for it created new life from its own remains. He opened the jar. The fish slowly flowed out. He let the jar go, and one by one opened the rest. Fish bobbed lazily in the water, gnawing at the clock behind him. Little time would pass before it was eaten away, and less before it was replaced.

Slowly, mechanically, he opened three larger jars full of rocks and coral, pouring them into each other. He shook the contents until they fused into a viscous black liquid. It smelled rotten, a sign he had done it right. He took a knife off the wall, dipped it in and closed the jar, letting it simply glide away.

“Vren?”

Her voice shot through him. He froze. The knife hovered over his wrist.

“Why are…? You should be in bed.”she said. “And - oh, by The Mother what is that smell?”

He did not hear her approach, did not know she was behind him until her rippling shadow overtook his own.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was even and toneless.

He opened his mouth but could not speak, his throat tight. She grasped his arm.

“No!”he yelled, pulled and twisted in her grip.

The knife turned.

Kero's eyes widened. She froze. The knife bobbed away from her open hand.

He would never be sure how long he stayed there, frozen and mute in her grip. One cycle. A hundred. Time distorted. Arms straining, he pulled himself from her and leaned against the wall, staring.

“Kero?”

She did not respond.

“K-kero?”

Again she did not speak or move.

“I… I am sorry.”he tried again. “I… I will put the Tava back and… and sleep. I will… will go to Sanae's. I am sorry.”

Silence stretched. The walls warped inward. She did not move or speak. Blood trailed dark blue from her arm, a haze in the water.

He stood. The knife was clean. The poison was gone. He stared at the jar. There was more left. Kero was dead. Kero was dead because of him. He held the knife.

Kero was dead. Kero was dead and he was alone. He was not meant to be alone. His head was full of static. He was alone.

He screamed. It echoed off the walls, ripping apart the water. The knife's jagged bone edge screeched against the wall, claws inside his skull. She still did not move.

He drifted, first to his room and then to hers. Grey skirt, grey tunic and grey footwraps. A grey shawl, grey veil and grey mask. It was the garb of a proper man, with only his hands visible. Not even his eyes showed through. A slight haze hung over all, the world through gossamer webs.

He slid a panel aside on the wall. Kero stored most of her money digitally, but she also visited whores. That much was clear now. He keyed in the combination, as much as he could recall from having watched her leave before.

The safe swung open, a cavern of deep red. The coins were heavy, pure carved Sevaath stone rather than coated disks. He swept them into a bag until he could carry no more. Surely that would be enough to pay a ship to smuggle him to the nearest station. Her door slid shut. The sound seemed far away.

In the kitchen she still floated there. He stared, silent, at her stiff body, searching his heart. Where there should have been sorrow, regret or even a base fear, he only found a horrible, unfathomable lightness.

She was gone. She was gone and he was alone. He opened the door and drifted into the world beyond.

Chapter 3: Freed

Sentinel Station

Sector 9, Ward 31, Inorganic Processing Block 6, Threadhall 17

2276, 3rd Standard Age

Tohru, Age 13

A ten legged insect crawled over the fabric wall, dropping from a black thread onto the floor. Its feet clicked on metal. Then silent on the man sleeping at Tohru’s feet. Silent from his hand to his face and down his naked chest. The thing settled. Hairy legs across the man’s skin. It looked up at him. Fangs rubbed its front feet.

“Bite him.”Tohru whispered. The man twitched. He froze. Jaw clenched and throat closed. Tapped his thigh. Counted down from ten. The man lay still. Silent. His stomach untwisted. A deep breath. Safe still. He held out his hand, let the bug settle and snapped off its head. The legs and torso crunched between his teeth. Sweet, but scratched down his throat. Hunger, still. Always. Claws. But sweet. He wiped his forehead. Sweat. Always.

He checked his pockets. A half tube of nutrel. Worse than the bug. A hand length of plastic rope. Nothing else to take.

He checked his shoes. Plastic soles cracked. Again, and fully in half this time, and they'd run out of tape and string. The damn things hurt anyway.

He tried to reach out, pull back the curtain. Close. Feet locked in place. Close. Eyes held to the floor. Close. He was still asleep.

No one would know. Or no one would care, not if he did it right. The neighbors might not hear, even through the fabric walls, and it took at least a day for a corpse to start to smell, longer for the smell to matter. If he did it wrong, the neighbors would sigh and shake their heads and wonder if they should have done something.

But he’s so….

Think you’d be better, with a dad like that?

Bet he’ll kill someone ‘fore he’s grown.

Bet he’ll get killed, if he don’t die crawlin’ through a chute.

His foot over the man’s head. A long shadow. Outline to color in red.

He can't fit in the chutes no more. Grew too quick.

You think that's why-

Don't matter. Still fucked up.

But he’s like a damn animal.

But maybe, if we-

Nah. I got enough to deal with.

He shook his head. Workday soon. No extra time. His father would die like everyone else here. Shaky, half blind heap, coughing sludge out of its throat onto a dirty floor. He pulled back the curtain.

Seventeen levels up. No railings. Scattered, half broken ladders to get down. They were all told to walk carefully. Or be recycled. He ran, barely staying on the thin, rusted walkway. The ladder cut his hands and bare feet. He paused. Five levels down. Low noise through the fabric. Flakes of strangers’ blood melted into his open skin. Metal scraped and clanged. His left.

“Shut up, or-”

“Oh, shit.”

He glanced over. Two girls tumbled out of a waste chute. Smaller than him, but clearly older. Cuts down their arms and on their faces.

“You… you better fuck off.” One of them stood in front of the other. A jagged scrap of metal shook in her hand, pointed at him. “I mean it.”

He shrugged and continued down the ladder. He could report the girls for trespassing or shirking duty - or more if he was right about why they wanted to hide. A cura or an extra nutrel. Hardly worth it now.

Down. Three more levels. He leapt off, wiped the blood from his hands and searched for a gap in the curtains. A low buzz behind him. He ducked into the nearest room.

“Hey!”a woman yelled, pulling a sheet over her body. He put a finger to his lips, frantically pointing outside.

“Oh, sneakin’ around. Well I'll-”

He pushed her to the ground, a hand over her mouth. She grabbed his arm but couldn't move him. He waited, holding her still. The buzzing faded.

Gone. He stood and ran back to the walkway. Two rooms ahead he finally saw it. Almost hidden. A spiral and five drops of blood. He squeezed between two fabric walls. A gap in the metal. Woven thread poking through. He grabbed it and pulled back, squeezed into the hole revealed. Cold. Dark. Empty. Nothing like the trash chutes.

A spiral and five drops of blood. Follow to be free. It might be a lie. Jagged metal tied to his waist. It didn't matter. Follow to be free. He crawled. Inched forward on his stomach.

The path widened. Branched. A diamond cut in four. All rust. Almost erased. It could be a lie. Jagged metal in his arm. Blood on his finger. Not erased. He followed. The path widened.

Into a pit.

He stopped. The air burned his eyes. A square and a drop of blood. Along a cable onto a sleek black metal sphere far below. He grabbed on and slid down.

It didn't cut. He balanced on the sphere, heels dug in. It tumbled. Air in his hair. Like the overseer's fans but colder, faster. He shivered. Eyes closed, focused on the air. Sweet. He smiled. The sphere fell, then clattered to the ground. He looked up. Slick walls. Nowhere to hold on. He blinked. The dark was clearer, just enough to see the square, now with two lines from the top. He replaced it and pushed.

Light.

Light beyond fire. Light beyond death in the overseer's room. He stared through his fingers. Metal. Smooth and white and pale red beyond in the largest room he'd ever seen. Avaki men in paint and boys in tunics and women and girls in dresses and veils. Silent but endless, a crowd weaving around wide pillars. Flashing blue and purple and blinding white with rows of symbols in red and black.

He scanned the crowd. There should have been humans. Outside, humans could live on their own.

They kept to the walls. Trailed behind avaki men with their heads bowed. A step behind families hand in hand with their children. Like mothers but servants.

He shrank behind the old metal. There was no way back.

“Ah!”

The first voice above a whisper. A human. Low but soft.

The furthest wall. A girl. Small and swallowed by a black dress. Avaki men with covered eyes and black paint and guns and sticks and Vital hands. A drone. Blue sphere floating and committing it all to memory.

The girl clung to the wall. A covered mouth full of words he didn't understand. Wide, dark eyes in a dark face and dark hair all around it like an explosion.

He ran. The crowd parted like curtains. Glares he ignored. The girl yelled again. A man hit her arm.

“Stop!”

The men turned. Faces and guns on him.

“What, human?” Narrow eyes. More words he didn't understand.

He pointed to the girl and then himself. She shook her head, eyes wider.

A man laughed. A clawed hand around her wrist. A shimmer in another.

“Coming with us.”

Aim fast. His fist balled up. Blood. Down purple lips and over long teeth as hard feet clattered back and a hand released. Words he didn't understand. A meaning he knew. He reached for the girl's hand.

A stick expanded. Came down.

Another shimmer. Cold Vital energy from the girl's hand. The men fell. The drone bashed into a pillar. The girl fell. Another drone, and more men. Her eyes were empty. Blood from her nose.

She was weightless on his shoulder. She tried to push him away but her arms were too weak. Weightless through the crowd again and into the strange dark room.

The girl rubbed her eyes and looked up at him. Blood on the back of her hand. “Thank you.” More words he didn't understand.

“Sorry.”he said. “You okay?”

She blinked, then took something from her pocket. A square of light big as both her hands. Like the overseer, tracking and committing it all to memory. She turned it to him. Strange symbols on the screen. He shook his head. She nodded. Dark fingers danced over the light. More strange symbols. But there was the sign to be free. He pointed to it.

“Understand do you?”she asked slowly, staring at the screen.

He nodded. Her words were out of order. No reason to tell her. His hand stung from the punch and paint.

“Help. Thank you much.”

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head.

“Good.”he answered. Her eyes were even darker than he'd thought before. “Who are you?”

“Carina.”she answered. “Hall clan. You? Name?”

“Tohru.”

“Clan?”

He blinked, head tilted in a silent question.

“Clan have no?”

He shrugged.

She nodded. “Clan name need.” A finger slipped under her mask. Bloody when it came away. “Sato. Tohru Sato. Sato Tohru. Accept do you?”

He didn't know what a clan name was. He didn't know why it mattered. But it sounded good when she said it.

“I accept.”

She nodded. “Live where you?”

He shrugged. “Nowhere now.”

“Work have you?”

“No.”

She tapped her covered mouth. Her brow creased. “Want? Easy.” She pointed to his bare feet. “Shoes can have. And….” She looked away. “Cover top.”

He blinked, trying to figure out what cover top was supposed to mean. Shirt, maybe.

“What type of work is it?”he asked slowly.

“Clean.”she answered. “Drinks make. Time many. Make you tired. Pay many.”

He bit his lip, thinking it over. He didn't know where to go here. The girl's eyes. Helpless.

“Agree do you?”she asked. “Tallov us take.”

“Tallov?”

She nodded. “Man. Avaki. Need human work. He let me no question. Today. Take my things. Not care I new. Not care I young. He let you.”

He ran a hand through his hair. He'd wanted to run. As far away as possible. It was hard to push through a crowd. The work didn't sound that hard. Easier than sorting waste. The girl's eyes. Helpless. Deep like the fall that got him here. Helpless.

He nodded.

Fingers danced in the light again. The girl took his hand. Warm. So warm. His skin didn't sting as much.

“He us find.”she said. “Overseers stay away. Wait?”

He nodded. She was strange. But her hand was warm and her eyes were pretty. They waited, silent and alone in the dark.

Chapter 4: Morning at the Callisto

Sentinel Station

Sector 17, Ward 29, Club Callisto

2283, 3rd Standard Cycle

Carina, Age 22

Carina held a length of braided rope taut between her hands, wondering if it was strong enough to choke the man beside her. She pushed away the dream with a deep sigh, dropped the rope into the box at the foot of her bed and rubbed her wrists. There were some friction burns, bits of skin rubbed off and cuts scattered over her arms and chest. They were all shallow, nothing cura couldn't fix. Harken of Tallov was a creep, a thief and a conman, but he wasn't particularly brutal in bed. She pulled the blanket up to her neck.

“My payment?”she asked.

The old avaki man sat up, facing away from her. He yawned, stretched and stood.

She sighed. He always did this. She always hated it. He knew that.

“Your pants are over there.” She pointed to the corner.

Harken dressed, humming under his breath. He stood over her and grinned, all four of his arms crossed. Graying, steel blue fur bristled above his mouth and around one long, chipped tooth.

“Ah, you're always such a treat, Rigel.”

She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists around the blanket, sweat drenched fabric between her fingers. “My payment, Master Tallov?”

Harken laughed, gravelly and low. “I guess you've earned it. Little extra from me, too, like always.” He reached into his pocket and tossed three cred sticks onto the bed. “You did well this week.”

“Thank you.”she said drily. “Master Tallov.”

He nodded. “Get some sleep, Rigel. You got a long night ahead.”

“I know.”she said, as if she'd had anything but long nights for the past seven years.

He left at last. She released the blanket and inspected the sticks, flat blue things with patterns like ancient circuits engraved in them. It was as much as he'd said it would be, with a bit more tacked on since he'd made her fuck him to get it this time. It was less than she had earned. She stowed two of them away, yawned, and opened a door on the wall. A black jumpsuit lay bunched up beside a pile of tubes, three bottles of pills and a flat piece of black plastic. She opened a grey tube and smeared cura over her cuts. It was cold and smelled like vinegar, but it at least dried quickly, smooth and the exact same dark brown as her skin. There were four left. She could probably stretch them through the coming ten day week.

Her stomach twisted. She rolled her eyes, opened one of the clear tubes of nutrel and squeezed the paste into her mouth. The rations on Veniae-di had often been bland, but this was utterly tasteless, and coated her throat in a greasy film when she swallowed. Still, four tubes a day contained enough calories and almost enough nutrients to keep her healthy and active. She could usually afford three. She chewed a gritty vitamin pill, followed by an immune booster and hormone tablet, washing them down with the smallest sip of water. A panel above the sink flashed, indicating she'd used ten percent of what Harken gave each worker for the day. She sighed and turned on the light wand, running it slowly over her skin. It prickled and left a red tinge, but it was better than letting the old man's touch linger. She shivered and pressed her fingers to the side of her left eye. It came out easily. A green light indicated that six days of battery life remained. She rotated it under the light wand, pushed it back in and reached for the jumpsuit. A small grey jar and a pale yellow doll slid out from under it.

She caught them and let them rest in her palm for just a moment, before she focused and lifted them with a small Vital field. Once pain crept into her head she dropped them both, slid them back into the compartment and pulled on her jumpsuit. It was looser than before, and she wondered if the fabric had always been so thin, or when the left elbow had torn. She couldn't afford mending paste but could probably get some thread soon. She shrugged, tied on a mask and pulled her hair into a knitted hat.

Tucked behind the headboard, her netpad flashed. It rested in her hand, a thick grey square before she unfolded it once and pressed a holo button. A pixelated image of a yellow flower filled the screen and quickly faded, deleted. The encrypted channel was active again, the scramblers functional once more and a delivery time to come. She smiled softly and left the room, yawning.

The back hall was quiet as always, the walls and carpet thick to keep any sound from leaking out of the rooms branching off of it. She touched the cold door to the side entrance, thankful when it slid aside, as she wouldn't have to leave through the main rooms of the Callisto. Acid and smoke met her nose, cura and cigarettes.

“Oh, morning, Tohru.” She waved at the tall human man leaning against the opposite wall of the corridor. He hadn't bothered with shoes or a shirt, leaving his broad chest exposed. There was an old, human style waste chute in the yellowed white wall behind him. Refuse spilled from it. A speaker above his head crackled out a news report, something about a recent disappearance and an expedition to the ruins of Earth. He took another drag from the cigarette, snuffed it out on the back of his hand and pocketed it.

She sighed and shook her head. “At least put a little cura on that.”she said in the warm, nameless language of the threadhall he'd come from, able to properly speak it now, not needing a guide of scattered words. "Please."

“Later.”he said, his voice low and scratchy. He pushed away the tube she held out. “Don't want to waste yours.”

“Oh, stop it.” She grabbed his hand and rubbed paste on the burn. It filled the bloody pit and dried as if the skin had never been touched.

Tohru rolled his bloodshot eyes. “Gee, thanks, mom.”

“Oh, please, I'm only two years older than you. At least go for sister instead. Wait, that's… not very funny after last night. To think those guys went home to their stuffy families after that.”

He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Don't remind me.” He shook his head, shoving away the tube of nutrel she held out.

She sighed, one hand over her face. She didn't know where exactly he got cigarettes, or how he used them without Harken knowing or caring, but she could guess just how much of his pay they ate up. “I think you’re getting thinner.”she lightly chided. “You've got a look to keep up.”

“Right.”he said, the word drawn out. “Cygnus Vex, the mountain every insecure sleaze wants to conquer.” He pushed his dark hair back from his face.

"Don't forget the sad military women."

He sighed. "They're not so bad. Wouldn't mind if there were more of them."

"Not sure we'd be here if there were more of them."she said. "And don't get full of yourself. You're a tree at best. Anyway, take it."

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes again but took the tube. She waited until he'd finished and dropped it into the trash heap behind him.

“Thanks.”she said. “Hey, I'm headed to The Tevell for a bit. Want some coffee?"

He yawned. “Maybe. I've got a morning client, and... my dad said he'd visit today.”

“Oh, I… I hope he does.”she lied. “Still, I'll be there for a while, if you want. Put some shoes on. Floor’s dirty. And, hey….”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

He shrugged.

“And… I'm sorry.”

“Harken's fault.” Tohru looked away. “Really, Cari, I'm fine. Should get ready, though.” He drifted past her, returning to the Callisto's back rooms.

She turned and continued up the dark, warm corridor, past closed bars and clubs and walled off dead shops. There were few people about, and all were quiet, but the lights and noise of the nearest circle loomed in the distance. Closer by, an avaki woman approached, dull eyed in a faded brown dress, wearing no veil. She sped up, keeping her head clear and impenetrable, and just before they collided Carina clutched her netpad and cred stick.

“Varthek!”the woman spat. The word roughly translated to ‘brash weakling’. “Whore!”she added for good measure. The human word fell easily from her mouth.

“Sorry!”Carina yelled back in Aerkaath, the avaki common tongue. She took the last tube of nutrel from her pocket and tossed it toward her. The woman snatched it, glared and stormed away.

Carina sighed and slipped on her translator earpiece. Tovie had been right about her implants settling down, but she still appreciated the noise filter she'd added a few years ago. It had taken weeks to build, and the components had been outrageously marked up, but now as she entered the circle it helped to blunt the speech around her and fully muted the advertisements and warnings.

Still, the walls blazed, as did massive columns placed throughout the dark, open space, neon reds and blues and purples, flashing slogans for products and services she couldn't afford, warnings against loitering and reminders of curfew for each species and sex. Security officers stood around them. A hand in front of her face, she pulled out her artificial eye just long enough to turn it off, then slipped on translucent sunglasses to shield herself from the lights as well. A travel pod whizzed along a track near the ceiling, and a hover car eased to a stop by the nearest landing pad. She pushed through the crowd toward it, staring out the window, though window wasn't really an adequate word.

Sentinel Station had, in the second standard cycle, been a simple fuel depot with a rest stop attached, before trade routes changed and traffic around it increased. First more docking bays had been built, then more depots and stops. Even then, ships had gotten backed up, unable to leave. Slowly, they had connected, first to each other and then to the buildings around them, until they were stuck in place, inextricably tangled, and more came just to dock there.

This square had been a small rest stop, gutted and reformed. She didn't know if the screens had always been there, only that every square had them. The display buzzed and towered over her, a violet morning full of drifting granite clouds. It was a perfect reproduction of the Kiershaan sky, a bastardization of twilight on Veniae-di and the closest many avaki would ever see to a sunrise on their own homeworld.

She unfolded her netpad, twice now so it was just a little larger than her hand. With the press of a new holo button a picture filled the screen, a black and red drawing of a woman's face, sunken and wrinkled and half hidden behind thin, prematurely grey hair. She smiled with chipped, crooked teeth. It was far from perfect, far from a photograph, but it was not a complete lie, and it was all she had regardless.

She held it up to the false sky. A mechanical whirring sounded behind her. She lowered her head. Soon the security drone flew away, a pale blue ball propelling itself above the milling crowd. Nearby an officer shifted on his feet. As intricate as his painted armor was, it was indistinguishable from that of any other officer, like a carved toy soldier. The rifle in his upper hands was real though, a black metal thing that glowed crimson with plasma. A baton and blade were fastened to his thighs, his lower hands hovering over them. He watched the crowd, a thin but opaque red visor over his eyes.

She didn't know if he noticed her. This wasn't her destination. Shoulders slumped, she continued on.

Chapter 5: Afternoon at the Tevell

Sentinel Station

Sector 17, Ward 14, Kalthan-k’tak Memorial Hospital

2283, 3rd Standard Cycle

Vren, Age 25

A static screech ripped through Vren's head and he gritted his teeth, fingers pressed against his burning eyes. He tore off his translator and powered it down, blinking rapidly as the pain faded and the pale light of the hospital room returned.

“Ketra!”Movrak yelled beside him. The avaki man narrowed his eyes. “Tell the woman her results. You're the specialist here.”

Vren ransacked his mind for words, the few fragments of human language he had managed to take in through the years. The old human woman stared up at them both from her bed, blinking slowly with eyebrows raised.

"You… your test...."he began, his voice thick and stilted with unfamiliar sounds.

"Yes?"the woman asked, then coughed.

He opened his mouth to try again. His throat went dry. A bitter smell surrounded him.

“Leave.”he whispered, the one word he truly knew. Without waiting for Movrak's approval, he rushed from the room and into the hall. His vision blurred. He grasped a railing by the wall just before it faded completely.

He woke on the floor, legs clustered beneath him, fingers still wrapped around the railing and his head heavy. It was horribly bright. A t'ka'et doctor in a blue envirosuit looked down at him, shook her head and continued walking, wheeling a bed in front of her. There was a body on it. He tried to remember who had died, or even why he was here. A series of clicks and harsh screeches sounded from his left. He looked over. Another t'ka’et came toward him, a white sheet folded and tied intricately over the black clinging to her body. She stopped, shifting on her feet, four thin legs radiating from under her torso. More clicks followed.

K'tet. It was just K'tet. Of course it was just her, and he was just at work. He held out the useless translator and coughed.

K'tet tilted her large, triangular head in response, her antennae bent low.

“Are you alright?”she asked, slowly to be sure he understood. Through a translucent panel her massive inner eyes shone red, the outer pairs blue and white, all like cut gems.

He nodded and she held out her lower, thicker pair of arms. Her hands opened, two huge grasping claws parted.

Vren took them and slowly stood, unable to look at her. She raised her upper arms. With the thin spikes they ended in she pulled down one of his gloves, hiding a patch of pale blue skin. He hadn't noticed it falling.

Silent and always a step behind, never fully used to moving outside of water, he followed her to her office and sat, eyes glued to the floor. She pulled up his sleeve.

“I should-”

“Nonsense.”she said. “Be still.” She drew a vial of blood. It was the same repulsive pale blue as ever. She hooked it up to a small white machine behind her, then gently pushed him forward. A shock ran through him when she tapped the plastic sticking out at the base of his neck. Rapid clicks sounded from her rigid mask. Of course that had amused her. Satisfied his implant was working, she slid his translator back on. It rested heavy on his head.

“A quarter charged.” She still spoke in her own tongue, but faster now. A static voice converted her words into Svani. “And I'll check the sample.”

“I… I can do that. You should-”

“I should let you calm down.”she said. “I’m quite aware of your capabilities, as you are of mine. Also, there's a hole in your glove. No fever this time at least.”

He sighed but relented. “Is… is Harris still here? That… that is, the woman-”

“It's Miss Harris.”she said. “Movrak finished talking with her. He explained her condition. She was… distressed.”

He coughed. “I… I am sorry.”

“She had more than you to worry her.” K'tet switched off the machine. “I forwarded the results to you. There have been no significant changes since your previous test, but…. Vren, you still haven't been taking your medications. I don't understand why… why you would hasten things.”

He hung his head. Neither of them spoke. She should have understood by now, that none of it really mattered.

“Thank you.”he eventually said. “And, K'tet….’

“Yes?”

He opened his mouth to ask, yet again, how she dealt with her own short life, how any of her race accepted it. He knew what she would say. Take hope and care as the winds would bring them, and return them most freely of all during storms, so you may go easily into the night. She would say the wind would destroy all things if it blew forever, that she'd had a good twenty years so far and only wished to give her best during the final five. He still didn't understand. He closed his eyes in silent prayer, that Veru would extend Her peace and protection, that Aren would still, in the end, let him come home.

“Little one? Are you alright?”

“Yes, sorry. It is….” He looked away from her. “Was Movrak angry?”

“He is often angry.”

“K'tet, I….”

“He is, yes, but-”

“Should… should I… stop? Should I leave before they dismiss me?”

There was a long, quiet scratch, mandibles rubbing against the hard plates on the side of her face in a sigh. “I… will do all I can to prevent that.”she said. “And you worked for five years to reach this point. Is this not what you wanted?”

He reached under his coat, feeling the string of sharp teeth around his neck. He still didn't remember taking it, all those years ago. It was an answer that only came in nightmares, stolen away on waking. “It… it was.”he said. “It was for the best.”

Her antennae lowered and raised in a nod. “You know you can stay with me again.”she said. “Your old room is still there. Really, I hate to think of anyone living out of those miniscule sleep pods. I know you earn enough for better accommodations.”

“They aren't that small.”he said. “I like them well enough. They are better than flop rooms.”

“And you really ought to buy a new translator.”she continued. “Logically, you should have the money for it, whatever channels you go through. Vren, you can tell me if you're in some sort of trouble or debt.”

“I don't need help.”he said. “And I ordered a replacement from a refurbisher. But, K'tet….”

“What is it?” Her antennae pointed outward in curiosity.

“It is good to have met you.”he said. “I… trust you.”

“Thank you, Vren.” She made another soft scratch. “I need to return to work. Come by for dinner sometime soon, if nothing else.”

“I will, K'tet.”

She hugged him, sharp limbs pressing into his ribs, and he was alone again. He checked the clock. 1020 Standard Time. At least the fit had come near the end of his shift. He paged Movrak on his netpad. There was no response. He sighed and left the room.

As always, the hospital was loud and crowded. The lights seemed brighter now. He kept his head down, staying close to the wall. He felt the occasional eye turn his way, but no one spoke to him. That was to be expected, but he was thankful all the same.

Outside he surveyed the ward twelve circle, glad his episodes weren't triggered by light or noise. Two security officers stood rigid against a colossal pillar, an advertisement blaring behind them. He raised his hood, lowered his head and wound through the crowd to a waist high pole by a narrow door. He hovered one hand over the top and held it there until the pole flashed white. The door slid up to reveal a black sphere, the side open. He coughed and squeezed into it, knees pulled to his chest, and set a course for ward twenty.

The travel pod shut and shot upward, through a dark channel in the ceiling and out. He kept the walls dark, closed his eyes and tried to forget how far above the station floors he was, until at last the pod descended just across from The Tevell Lounge.

The room was lit in low, muted blue. Couches lined the windows before a projected vermillion sky, grey clouds drifting slowly through a projected night. It was quiet as well, and while there was a long line to order, some of the tables were still empty. He knew it was an underserved indulgence to come here, but it was at least inexpensive. He ordered and waited beside a human in dark glasses.

“Dren root tea with vehl!”a voice called from behind the counter. An avaki woman held out a cup.

“My thank-”

He stopped. The cup was hot, and the black substance inside stung his eyes.

“Is this yours?”a high, slightly muffled voice asked. He looked up to see that human, a woman with a fabric mask over her mouth and a gauzy scarf around her neck. “I don't think breakfast tea is supposed to be blue.”the woman continued. "Or gelatinous."

“Breakfast tea?”

She nodded. “That's what you have. They switched our orders by mistake. Here.”

He took his cup in one hand and held out hers. She grasped it but then yanked back her hand. He coughed and his own hand jerked in surprise. Tea splashed down the woman's jumpsuit and blood smeared over her palm.

He backed away. “I… I did not…. Th-that is, I-”

“It's alright.” She took the tea slowly in her other hand. “Just over half left. It'll do.”

“I… I am sorry.”

She shrugged. “It's alright.”she said again. “Enjoy your drink.”

“I should-”he tried, but she was already gone.

“We're waiting.”an avaki man drawled behind him.

“S-sorry.”he said, but turned back to the counter. “May… may I have another of her drink? And what… what food do humans order most?”

“Flatgrain melt with a double worm patty, I think.”the woman answered, her eyes narrow. “I'll warm one up, if you really want….”

“Please. My thanks.”he said, and again he waited, biting into the dren. It did little for his nerves, even with the usual added liquor, and it did nothing for his shame, but it was at least smooth and sweet. He should have been more careful. After what felt like a long wait the food was ready. It looked revolting and smelled worse, like someone had vomited up a poorly prepared fish. Trying to trust the avaki woman's judgment, he searched the room and spotted the human alone at a corner table. The walk there was longer than it had appeared. She looked down at a netpad, scrolling with one long thin finger. Static music crackled from her earpiece, a harsh and chaotic sound. He stood in front of her, unsure.

She paused the music and lowered her glasses, one eyebrow raised. Her large eyes were bloodshot, dull black sunken into a face dark as the deepest sea. She yawned. “Do you need something else?”

“Are you sick?”

She blinked, her eyebrows raised. “What?”

His face burned hot white under his own mask. He hadn't meant to say that. He knew full well that sleep deprivation and low weight were common among humans, especially women. Perhaps he hadn't fully recovered.

“Do you need something else?”she asked again.

“To… to….” He put the alien food down before her. “To apologize for - Ah!” He ripped out the translator. It died on its own and sat heavy in his palm. His shoulders slumped.

“Are’envetlan.”she said. Early greetings. “If you wished to apologize, there is really no need.”

His head jerked up and he stared, wide eyed, at the human woman.

“The cut was small.”she continued. While there was an odd, unmistakably human accent to them that lengthened every syllable, the Svani words flowed naturally from her mouth, with the tone of a woman talking to a stranger who was her equal. Even the short, low clicks some words required were intelligible.

“It is already fixed.”she continued. “No harm was done, and I know none was meant.”

“That… that is true, however….” He lowered his eyes. “M-may I sit?”

She shrugged. “You… may. And there was really no need to buy me anything.”

He sat across from her. “It… it was an apology, and a replacement for what you lost because of my ineptitude.”he said, speaking as if she weren't a human, with all the defence due. “You were hurt because of-”

“I'm alright .” She sighed and held her hand out across the table. The blood had been wiped away, and while the scent of cura lingered on her, the skin had been fully mended, the wound gone.

“Regardless, I apologize.”

She shrugged again. “Accidents happen.”she said, now in the tone of one among friends. He fought the urge to leave. Maybe she didn't understand. Maybe she didn't care. “Could I take a look at that, though?”

He was silent, unsure of how to respond.

She leaned over the table and snatched the translator from his hand, turning it over. “This is so… old .”she said. “How is it functioning at all? Wait there. Finish your... drink.”

He obeyed, stifling another cough in the crook of his arm. He wished they wouldn't linger so long after a fit. She rummaged through her pockets and pulled out a pile of silver sticks, snapped the thick metal band into three pieces, then pushed each of them apart down the middle.

“These are…. Right, right, I've read about this type. You need to tell me where you bought it.”

“It was a gift.”he said, still speaking as one did to their betters. “My apologies, but I do not know who originally created it.”

“That's unfortunate.”

“My-”

“It's alright.” she said. “There's so much corrosion. You can't forget to clean this model, especially on the sides. No, no. Let me.” Metal scraped against metal. Black flakes fell beside her netpad. She ignored them. “Alright, that's somewhat better. And…. These bits are practically falling off. Frayed wires, too. Wires. What small scale tech has wires now?” She held one piece still. With the silver stick she prodded it, lifting and lowering bits of circuitry with surgical precision. “Even mine isn't as much of a mess. Anyway, here.” She swept the black flakes into her lap and rubbed her eyes. Her cheeks rose under her mask. “I fixed the battery contacts as well as I could. It has a little power now, and it should hold a charge for longer.”

“M-my thanks to you.”

“Is it working?”she asked in her own tongue. The words came through more clearly than usual, the underlying static quieter.

“Y-yes.”he said. “My… my thanks to you, truly. How… how is best to repay-”

“Repay?” Her eyebrows raised. “It was fun, fixing that absolute relic of yours. Wait, sorry, I probably shouldn't call it that. Besides, you already got me another tea. And this expensive sandwich, too. I think that's more than enough.”

“You are certain?”

She nodded. “Thanks for the concern, but I'm fine. And my friend's finally here anyway.”

He followed her gaze to the front, where a large human man stood waiting. The woman waved, though the man did not notice.

“You probably have things to do.”she said to him.

He nodded and stood. He meant to leave but stopped, his mouth half open.

“Are… you leaving?”

“May… may….” It was such a simple question. She probably wouldn't be angry, even if she said no, but still the words wouldn't come together.

“Are you alright?”

“May I see you again?”he asked. Once more his face paled. “M-my apologies. I… I did not mean…. That… that is, you are-”

“Oh.” She laughed and her cheeks rose again, an odd look in her eyes. “Certainly. You can visit me at work tonight.”

“Where-”

“The Club Callisto. It's in ward twenty-nine. Ask for Nova. You can't miss me. They say I'm a good performer, and I'm even better offstage.” Her tone was disconcerting, though he couldn't say why.

“You… perform? What-”

She laughed again, curt and dry. “Don't look like that.”she said. “It's technically illegal here. You know the rules in avaki space. But no one cares if it's just humans.” She rolled her eyes, a uniquely human expression.

“I… I am sorry.”

She shrugged. “By the way, you are…?”

“Ketra Senan.”he said. “W-wait, is Senan Ketra more accurate?”

“Either is fine.”she said. “Anyway, he's almost here. You should go, but…” She met his eyes and he shuddered. “...I really hope you come see me tonight.”

“R-right. I… I will.”he said. Clutching his now warm dren, he left the strange alien woman alone.

#maggot original #original writing #scifi #science fiction #sci fi writing

2 notes · View notes

pretentious-blonde · 6 months ago

Note

I just saw that matchup ask with Steve and it was so great! I loved how you detailed the reasons why you thought they were a good match. If you're still accepting requests, can I have a matchup with the Stranger Things characters (any gender) too? If so, then:

I'm an INFP 9w1 and a Libra (Cancer rising) girl. I'm the eldest of three siblings and I really have that eldest sister energy (responsible but stressed lol).

I'm very introverted and I hate having to interact with people and leave my house, but when I do I can easily pass myself off as an extrovert or at least an ambivert because I really enjoy talking, even though I feel more comfortable chatting to people I'm close to. I'm also very sentimental, a bit of a crybaby and all that. I empathize and get very sensitive to other people's pain, yet I don't like showing everything I feel and think to others. I kind of prefer to keep my things to myself, I guess? Like, I'd kill and die for someone important to me, but it's not like I'm going to keep saying that to them. I think my opinions are my own and other people's opinions are other people's and I respect that and I also expect my privacy to be respected. I've always been at the top of my class, so I guess I could consider myself intelligent (or at least the people around me say), I'm usually quite funny/goofy, sarcastic (when I feel comfortable to be) and organized, but I can also be quite lazy and not even a bit proactive. I always try to be polite and friendly with others, but I won't shy away from a discussion if I have to (btw, I'm very argumentative in discussions lol) And also, as much as I'm an introvert, I don't mind "attracting attention" because I don't really care what people think of me.

About my appearance, I have light brown skin, shoulder-length curly dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. I'm Latina (Brazilian), short, around 5'2 and my body is chubby and curvy. I don't have any tattoos or piercings. My style is very much inspired by the late 90s and early 2000s (if I had to choose some reference icons, it would be Lorelai and Rory from Gilmore Girls). I'm not a big fan of makeup, usually I just wear gloss and blush at most, and I only wear earrings or rings as accessories.

Things I like are basically movies and series, music, some books, and cooking. I'm obsessed with everything that involves history and I just love A LOT the 80s (especially movies) and the regency period. My favorite color is purple, my favorite season is autumn, my favorite drink is tea and my favorite animal is dog. My Letterboxd TOP 3 movies are "Mamma Mia", "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" and "The Breakfast Club". My dream job would be to be a writer (but I know I probably won't be one). I don't like (most of) indie artists, hot days, coffee, movies and TV shows about superheroes and I rarely like the genres of fantasy or dystopia (I'm not the least bit nerdy lol)

I'm not a fan of clingy people; I prefer those who are funny and intelligent (even a bit of an asshole if it's within the bounds of being a decent human being). For me to fall in love with someone, they'd really need to have been my best friend first, because what I prioritize in my relationship is feeling comfortable. My love language is quality time (receiving) and acts of service/gifts (giving).

I think that's it! I'm sorry if there's anything missing (or if it's too long). I've tried to include everything I think is important about me. Thank you for reading it all <33

I feel like you and Eddie would fit together so well!

Your personality types actually complement each other very well, with you being an INFP and Eddie fully embodying ENFP, you are pretty good at evening him out and vice versa. He kind of realised you were more of a homebody a few weeks into seeing you, even if you can display extroverted energy around others. He doesn’t vocally raise it, but instead just suggests more sweet ideas to hang out when it is just the two of you. Renting a movie to watch in his trailer, just driving around with him in his car listening to music (and yes he does let you always pick what you listen to/watch!). He is a sap over the little moments you share together, watching your face light up when you find a film you want to watch, curling up on the couch with you under his arm, the rest of the world forgotten about. He is able to read you like a book after a while, gaining the ability to know when you are overly stressed or overwhelmed. As your relationship progresses his feelings just continue to grow, he sees it as such an achievement as you get more comfortable around him and let your more goofy side show. You match his sarcasm perfectly, bantering with him and playfully pushing his buttons. He has never laughed so hard.

He is a man of many words but is always calm during these moments, knowing that his loud nature wouldn’t be favourable. Gently coaxing you into his lap and shushing you softly as you babble about whatever has been plaguing your thoughts recently is something nobody has really seen from him. It’s special to you. When the time does come for you to meet his friends, he waits until he gets the all-clear from you, not wanting to push you out of your comfort zone. He has given his friends a thorough warning as well, not wanting to make you feel even the least bit uncomfortable. He has nothing to worry about though, the way you are able to weasel your way into their hearts is almost immediate. They immediately see how gentle and kind you are to their friend and able to pull him back when he becomes too boisterous, that is tied with the way his gaze always seeks you first when he cracks a joke tells them everything they need to know.

He won’t admit it but he was slightly intimidated by your intelligence, with him struggling all the way through school he felt he wouldn’t be able to keep you mentally stimulated, thinking you would quickly become bored of him. After a few discussions with you about your academic work he is immediately in the library, checking out a few books in an effort to understand what you are talking about, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes scan the pages. You eventually find a few of these books tucked away under his bed, hastily pushed under to try and hide them. When he realises you have noticed he begins to stumble over his words, trying to distract you from what you have seen but you can’t hear anything over the feeling of your chest tightening. You reassure him that he doesn’t need to stress himself out over trying to match you intellectually. You chose him for reasons completely unrelated, for which he is more relieved than he would care to admit! This doesn’t stop him from asking questions in the future about whatever interesting things you are currently learning about, multiple times. You have all the patience in the world for him and will explain it ten times over if needed.

He tried to explain dungeons and dragons to you once, you asked him about it in passing out of pure curiosity, he began to tell you. However, he soon notices the way your eyes glaze over slightly as you try to follow along with the words coming out of his mouth and he has to hold in a chuckle. It’s adorable how you want to understand what gets him so excited but alas, fantasy is not exactly your favourite genre! He assures you it is no worries and instead just keeps you up to date on what his DnD group is up to, leaving out the world-building and keeping it easily understandable as to not bore you with words you will not know the meaning of! He doesn’t mind you have different interests, you both have your outlets and can focus on different things, even if you are sitting in the very same room. Spending quality time together without needing to be constantly talking.

As soon as you mention any of your favourite things to him, it’s over. You let it slip that your favourite colour is purple and he has run with that ever since! He insists on being a romantic when he can, I don’t think he is really a words of affirmation person, rather he is an acts of service or gift giving. He can’t help but get you small things here and there, absolutely getting you purple flowers when he can or random purple trinkets from vintage markets or thrift stores. Even when you scold him lightly for spending money on you he just shrugs with a small smile gracing his face, telling you the same response every time “It’s purple, your favourite”. Speaking of acts of service, he doesn’t want you to do stuff he can help with. Every morning without fail he wakes you up with a cup of tea, even going as far to have a small cabinet shelf just for the ones you like (far away from the coffee!). He just enjoys you drinking it around him, it might sound ridiculous but just allowing him to see you be pleased with something he has done for you fills him with a sappy feeling he can’t explain.

The song I associate with you two would be "Shine Silently" by Nils Lofgren! A 70s/80s legend (since you said you love the 80s), he is a member of Bruce Springsteen's E Street Band as well!

#matchup #match up #ship request #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things matchup #stranger things ship request

6 notes · View notes

buscemifan · 7 months ago

Text

the entire idea of passing is rooted in that sinister beauty/self-care industry and its even more evil father, capitalism. womanhood is not inherent to anyone, trans or cis, it’s about how much money you can spend on clear skin and trendy clothes and no wrinkles and the correct eyeliner for your face shape and the right lipstick for your color season. it’s about subscription services to hair removal and spray tans and nail appointments. it is a profit-based model of conformity. which is why terfs and transphobes are interested more and more in clocking cis women simply because they don't fit into beauty standards. and it should go without saying that these are white beauty standards, black/brown women are affected by all of this disproportionately (which again makes sense when considering who historically had access to wealth in white societies)

#not rebloggable bc i’m tme but im just. AH #FEMINISM MUST INCLUDE TRANS WOMEN TO PROGRESS ANYTHING BTW!!!!#IF WE START CATEGORIZING WOMEN INTO ‘’REAL’’ AND ‘’FAKE’’ IT HURTS EVERYONE BTW !!!!!

2 notes · View notes

fracturedporcelaindoll · 8 months ago

Text

Dear diary,

I cracked my phone screen it's pretty bad like spiderweb fracture overlay~

Its not the first time something like this has happened cause I am a klutz. But the timing is awful not to mention I checked and service provider no longer carries my particular phone model. I don't want to spend alot on a phone and I have considered totally going rogue and just not having one...~

But it does serve usefulness too, apps with games, reading books online and music etc.~

I'd like an apple phone because they are the ideal of aesthetic cuteness but wayyyy too expensive~

I could go with Samsung brand or maybe Google's phone model?~

The last time my screen was this damaged I picked apart the cracks of glass flecks that were loose and cut myself, somewhat unintentionally but also a little not~

The little bit of blood from scratches wasn't an issue but getting it embedded into skin accidentally and having to remove it like one would a splinter now thats painful. Not a process I want to repeat which means I may or should replace phone sometime this month~

Yay more indecisiveness to deal with!~

I feel fat, maybe am not chubby but I just don't feel skinny/thin or pretty. I want to lose some weight but stupid cravings for carbs and sweets are especially difficult lately~

The hot temperatures keep zapping my energy and slowly sucking the life or motivation to workout away semi effectively leaving the easy prey of napping to occur~

I realized something, it's almost that time of the month for me and while I do have certain longings that want in general in particular during that time of month certain ones get a boosted enhancement of desires for~

Like being taken care of, is it too much to daydream of wanting to wake up to someone picking out outfit to wear, helping style hair, keep me motivated on track with workout, keeping time of schedule while helping me find ways to relax by having me color or draw pictures, basically want to be little sometimes but I am so self conscious, shy and heightened senses of being responsible around others that am not sure could just let go and have fun~

I want to buy a stuffie/plushie or several to have to hug when feeling extra emotional and I've recently considered hand puppets because they look cute and could avoid talking using them to gesture for things but the reality is I doubt I'll ever get them because it's silly for me to want that and they could go to actually children that would benefit from them, ophranges, hospitals for ill patients, secret Santa programs etc.~

2 notes · View notes

theskincarestudioct · 9 months ago

Text

Discover the Magic of Botox Face Treatments for a Youthful Glow! 💫

Are you considering rejuvenating your skin and restoring a youthful appearance? Look no further than Botox face treatments! 🌟 At The Skin Care Studio in CT, we specialize in enhancing your natural beauty through innovative cosmetic solutions. Let's delve into the world of Botox and uncover how this treatment can transform your skin.

What is Botox?

Botox, short for Botulinum Toxin, is a popular cosmetic injectable used to minimize the appearance of wrinkles and fine lines. It works by temporarily paralyzing the underlying muscles responsible for causing wrinkles, resulting in smoother, younger-looking skin. 💉 Botox is FDA-approved and has been trusted by millions worldwide for its remarkable anti-aging effects.

The Botox Procedure

During a Botox treatment at The Skin Care Studio, a skilled practitioner will strategically inject small doses of Botox into targeted areas of your face. Common areas treated include forehead lines, crow's feet around the eyes, and frown lines between the eyebrows. The procedure is quick and relatively painless, with minimal downtime, making it an ideal lunchtime treatment! 🕒

Benefits of Botox Face Treatments

1. Reduces Wrinkles: Botox effectively softens and diminishes the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles, restoring a more youthful complexion.

2. Prevents Future Lines: By relaxing facial muscles, Botox can prevent new wrinkles from forming, especially in areas prone to repetitive movements.

3. Non-Invasive: Unlike surgical procedures, Botox is non-invasive and requires no incisions or extensive recovery time.

4. Boosts Confidence: Achieve smoother, more radiant skin and feel more confident in your appearance.

Is Botox Right for You?

Botox treatments are suitable for individuals looking to address signs of aging without undergoing surgery. It's important to consult with our experienced team at The Skin Care Studio to determine if Botox is the right option for you. We customize each treatment plan to meet your unique goals and preferences.

The Results

Many clients notice visible improvements within days of their Botox treatment, with optimal results appearing within 1-2 weeks. 🌈 Results typically last 3-4 months, after which maintenance treatments can help sustain your youthful glow.

Why Choose The Skin Care Studio?

Our commitment to excellence and client satisfaction sets us apart. At The Skin Care Studio, you'll experience:

Expertise: Our practitioners are highly trained and skilled in administering Botox injections.

Personalized Care: We prioritize your goals and tailor treatments to enhance your natural beauty.

Comfortable Environment: Relax in our inviting studio while we work to rejuvenate your skin.

Schedule Your Consultation Today! 📅

Ready to turn back the clock and reveal smoother, more youthful skin? Contact The Skin Care Studio to schedule a personalized consultation. Our team will assess your needs and create a Botox treatment plan that delivers stunning results.

Don't wait to embrace a more radiant you! Trust The Skin Care Studio for top-tier Botox treatments in CT. Rediscover your confidence and love the skin you're in. Contact us today! ✨

🏢 Business Name: The Skincare Studio

📍 Business Address: 2103 Main Street, 2nd Floor, Stratford, CT 06615

📞 Business Phone: +1 203-377-0166

🌐 Website: https://www.theskincarestudioct.com

💳 Payment Types Accepted: Cash, all major credit cards including Amex, Klarna, Afterpay, Care Credit, Cherry, Paypal

🕒 Hours of Operation:

Monday: 10:00 am - 4:00 pm

Tuesday: Closed

Wednesday-Saturday: 10:00 am - 4:00 pm

🔗 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheSkincareStudioct

🔗 Youtube: https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=638905014480823

💆 Services Offered: Vi Peel, Botox, Kybella, Filler, Glo2 Facial, Dermaplane, Body Peels, Men's Facial, Microneedling, PRP, Laser Hair Removal

🌍 Areas Served: Fairfield County, New Haven County

This should make your information more eye-catching and engaging!

2 notes · View notes

vodika-vibes · 1 year ago

Text

Find Yourself part 1

So. I had an idea, and I decided to write it. I'm not 100% sure how this is going to end, since I don't plan anything in my life, but that's okay. I tried to proof read this since some parts were written in present and some were written in past tense, but I doubt I caught it all, lol.

tagging: @starrrgazingbunny and @kiss-anon

The Clone Wars changed a lot of things in the Galaxy.

There was the obvious one, of course. The genocide of the Jedi, and the overthrow of the Republic into an Empire. Something that affected the life and livelihoods of millions of people across the galaxy.

But there were also smaller changes.

On Naboo, people suddenly realized that they could make it so their ruler had identical decoys. They considered, for a time, cloning potential rulers, but quickly ruled it out as far too expensive.

And then someone mentioned that Genetic modifications existed, and that it was a relatively safe procedure. Not to mention surgical modifications. And with Bacta therapy, the young decoys wouldn’t even have any scars to show that they had been altered in any way.

The theory was bounced around for over a year, and then it was signed into law.

Due to the young age of the Queen, or King, of Naboo, training began young. Which meant the selection process began even earlier. Potential sovereigns were interviewed and selected and sent to diplomatic training. And, at the same time, families across Naboo would be approached by members of the Royal Household.

Families were offered massive monetary compensation if they signed their child over to the Decoy Program. They were also promised that if the potential sovereign wasn’t elected, the child would be returned to them, slightly altered, but still their child.

No one ever denied them.

Handmaiden Ceté had been one such child, once upon a time. Chosen due to the fact that she had the same fair skin-tone as the Queen Elect, as well as the fact that the Queen Elect knew Ceté, she was the first Handmaiden chosen.

The first to go through the genetic manipulation to change her hair and eye colors. The first to undergo the surgeries to make sure that she remained as dainty as the Queen Elect.

The first to lose her name and identity as a Nubian citizen.

The first Fragment of Eté.

And now, almost 20 years later, Ceté had nothing that made her any different from her sisters. She ate what the Queen ate. Spoke like the Queen. Styled her hair and wore her clothes like the Queen.

She had no individual likes or dislikes, as they weren’t allowed. She had no hobbies that weren’t the Queen’s first. She was a fragment of Eté. It was just how it was.

She wasn’t happy. Or content. But neither were her sisters, so her guess was that this was just a way of life.

Oh, but if she had a choice, Ceté would wear shorts and tank-tops and cut her hair to her chin and dye it pink or blue or green or-. She would dance and laugh and sing and explore the stars. She would wear pinks and yellows and both at the same time. She would lay under a tree for hours, lazily whittling the hours away by watching the clouds. She would dance in the rain and jump in mud-puddles.

If she had a choice, she would choose to be happy.

But her right to have a choice was taken when she was four years old.

“What do you think the Queen has decided?” Jordé asked Ceté as they stood at the side of the room, watching as the Queen prepared for her speech.

“Something awful, I’m sure.” Ceté murmured back with an unamused smile, “Like every other decision she’s made.”

“They haven’t all been bad.” Jordé tried to defend, “I mean…she made the child services system-” She trailed off, “The food drive for widows-” She trailed off again, “What about-...hm…”

“Like I said,” Ceté replied dryly.

“We have a strong military now.” Jordé said weakly.

“A military made up of the children who she shunted into the care system,” Ceté countered under her breath, “Not exactly paragons of Nubian Loyalty, sister.”

Her sister hummed her agreement, “Well, maybe this will be a good announcement.” She murmured, straightening as their other sisters and the Queen finished what they were working on and approached them.

Eté seemed to look through Ceté and Jordé, something that she’s been doing for almost 20 years now, “How are things looking outside?” She asked.

Ceté bowed her head respectfully, “The people have gathered for your speech, your majesty. Everything is prepared for you to begin your speech at the top of the hour.”

The Queen nodded, once, “And the weather?”

“Sunny and humid, Majesty.” Jordé answered promptly, “We have made arrangements to ensure that the podium where you will be giving your speech is shaded with an appropriate cover. There is a chance of rain later this afternoon.”

“Nothing that will interrupt my speech?” The Queen asked.

“No, your Majesty.”

“Good.” She brushed past them without so much as a second glance. Jordé and Ceté waited until their sisters slipped past them as well, and then they fell in line at the end of the procession.

Hopefully the speech would be something warm and uplifting.

It wasn’t.

Ceté kept her face carefully placid, something that long years of experience helped her with, as she listened to the people of Theeds cheer over her Queen’s words.

She tried to ignore the disgust coiling in her gut, but that was much harder for her to ignore.

How could they agree to this?

The Gungan people were, are, the native people to Naboo! The Republic named them sentients ages ago. Queen Amidala III did not have the authority to overturn that-

Ceté took a steadying breath and gratefully accepted the cool drink that one of the servants offered her.

Her sisters were acting like all was well, hell, even Jordé had looked pleased with the Queen’s announcement that she was beginning a military campaign to exterminate the Gungan people.

Ceté’s grip around her cup tightened, and then she carefully loosened her grip and took a sip of something cool and sweet. A juice made from a fruit harvested here on Naboo. It was the Queen’s favorite, and so it was Ceté’s favorite.

Ceté had put up with a lot in the name of being one of Queen Amidala’s fragments. Years of training, genetic and physical alterations, not having a past or a family, or even a future that wasn’t tied to the woman her parents bound her to.

But this-

She couldn’t accept this.

Wouldn’t accept this.

If no one on Naboo would help her, and, judging by some of the comments she was hearing, none of them would, then she would find help for the Gungan people elsewhere.

Reaching out to the Gungan people themselves was out of the question. As one of the Queen’s fragments, they would likely just kill her on sight. And Ceté couldn’t blame them.

No. She would have to look elsewhere.

She wasn’t sure where, just yet.

But she had always been adaptable, years of training had ensured that.

Ceté leaned against a wall, and sipped her drink, her face calm, even as she started building an escape plan in the back of her mind.

A ship would be leaving Theeds the following morning, heading towards Outland Station, a space station that acted as a hub for spacers, bounty hunters, and pirates.

Ceté would be on that ship, whether anyone liked it or not.

*****************

Kix looked up from where he was doing inventory in his med-bay when the door slid open, and one of the pirates he worked with bounded in with a wide grin on their face.

He didn’t remember their name, he didn’t care enough to remember.

“Hey Doc!”

It was valid since they didn’t bother to remember his name.

“We’re about to be rich!”

Kix turned back to his inventory, “Is that right.” He didn’t care. Doesn’t care.

Apparently the interloper in his med-bay didn’t get the memo, as they plopped themselves on a medical bed, and leaned in towards him, as if to gossip. “Yup, Boss captured one of the handmaidens of the Queen of Naboo. We’re going to ransom her back to them for a massive amount of credits.”

Kix stilled, a lifetime of memories flashing through his mind. He shook off the melancholy as best as he could, and pinned the pirate with an annoyed look, “Did you hurt her?”

“Eh, she might be a little banged up,” They sounded unconcerned, “Nothing to be worried about.”

Kix stood and grabbed his medical kit, slinging it over his shoulder, “I’ll go and see, just to make sure.” He didn’t trust them to seriously hurt her if it meant that she wouldn’t be able to run.

Plus, there was a little voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like Rex at his Dad-est, telling him that checking on the hostage was the right thing to do.

He wondered if he would ever stop hearing the ghosts of his brothers.

“Come on, doc! I said she’s fine!”

“And I remain unconvinced. Where is she?”

The pirate made a disgusted noise, “She’s in one of the holding rooms.” Kix didn’t wait for him to say anything else, he just brushed past him and left the room.

She was pretty. That was the first thing Kix noticed about her. Long black hair tied in a bun, a slender frame, and a stubborn set to her lips. She had bruises on her cheek and temple, ugly bruises that were already turning red.

“Those look painful.” Kix noted, “Would you let me treat them?”

She gazed at him evenly, “Do I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice,” Kix replied.

“Then let me go.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not one of your choices.” He countered as he folded his arms and regarded her curiously. She was remarkably unafraid for someone who had been captured by pirates. “Your options, from me, are letting me treat your injuries, or not letting me treat your injuries.”

Her lips pursed, and her gaze darted around the cell, likely looking for a possible escape.

“Look, the Captain is already reaching out to Naboo.”

That got a reaction. She jerked as though he just slapped her, and all of the color drained from her face, Kix had never actually seen that happen before, though he knew it was possible.

Kix regarded her through half-lidded eyes. Her face was ashen, and her gaze was suddenly darting left and right, as though looking for an escape. And then her gaze met his, and something deadly calm crossed her features. "Once your Queen pays your ransom," Kix said quietly, (Stars how low has he fallen?) "You'll be returned to Naboo, unharmed."

She lifted her chin, and for a moment, Kix saw a hint of Senator Amidala in her bearing, which made sense, he figured. "My Queen will never pay ransom for one of her shards. And if she did, my life would be forfeit the moment I stepped foot on Nubian soil."

"Shards?"

"I am a decoy. Nothing more than a fragment of Her Majesty. Fleeing as I did is tantamount to treason. If you return me, you return me to my death."

Something cold ran down Kix’s spine.

He was no Jedi. He had no way to determine if someone spoke the truth or not, but he did know people. He knew how people reacted when they were afraid, and she was terrified.

“Why?” Kix asked, he needed to know. Needed to understand. Naboo was a peaceful planet, or it was during the Clone Wars-

“My Queen has ordered the extermination of the Gungan people.” Her voice was quiet, and her hands, clasped over her stomach, were shaking, “I cannot, will not, allow it to happen. So I’m looking for help.”

She wasn’t lying, Kix realized with a sinking heart.

“Let me go, or a lot of people are going to die.”

Kix stared at her, his mind racing. And then he made a split second decision. “Alright. But I’m coming with you?”

Something cold crossed her face, “Why, so you can get your own ransom?”

He scoffed, and unlocked her cell, “Just because the GAR doesn’t exist anymore doesn’t mean that I’m not still a part of it.”

She blinked at him, startled, “You’re a Clone?” She asked, shock crossing her face. Likely doing the math and realizing that he should probably be dead.

“The last one,” Kix replied with a humorless smile.

She stepped out of the cell, she was tiny, the top of her head level with his shoulder, maybe it was a Nubian thing. “My name is Ceté,” She finally said, “Is there a ship or something?”

“Follow me,”

In the lower part of the pirate ship was a small shuttle, big enough for two people, but only just. “Who does this belong to?” Ceté asked as Kix helped her on board and then climbed up after her.

“The Captain stole the ship from Corsec,” Kix explained as he slipped around her and into the pilot’s seat, “There’s no tracking on it, which makes it good for our escape, but it’s not the best on fuel, so we’re going to want to ditch it somewhere and get a different ship.”

Ceté sank into the copilot’s seat, and absently started helping with the preflight checks, “You have a plan?”

“Not yet,” He glanced at her, and then back at his panel, “Let’s get out of here, and then I’m going to need some information.”

“I’m going to have some questions for you too,” Ceté warned.

Kix released a humorless laugh, “Fair. A question for a question.” There’s silence for a long moment, though it isn’t uncomfortable, as the pair work in tandem to get the shuttle on and off the ship without too much trouble.

They remained silent as Kix pushed them into Hyperdrive, and then he turned and focused his gaze on Ceté, “We’re heading to Takodana, Maz will help us. Or, at least, she won’t hurt us.”

“Alright,” Ceté agreed with a slight incline of her head. “You have questions?”

“Yeah.” Kix paused, likely thinking of all the questions he had, “First, you called yourself a shard. What does that even mean?”

Ceté hesitated for a moment, and then she turned in her chair to look at him, “It’s a long story.” She warned.

“Tell me anyway.”

“Alright.” She leaned back in her seat slightly, “You know how the Sovereign of Naboo has their decoys, five or six young people who take the sovereign's place when they need to be elsewhere, or if they might not be safe.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the practice.” Kix replied.

“Right, well. The Clone Wars changed things,” Ceté paused, “To be more specific, the Clones changed things. People suddenly realized that they could have exact doubles of their sovereign, rather than just close enough.”

“...you’re a clone-?”

“No. Not like you, at least.” Ceté’s smile is slightly bitter, “Cloning is expensive, you see. Genetic alterations and plastic surgery are much cheaper.”

Kix stared at her, hard, “What did you originally look like?”

“I don’t remember. I was four when my parents got the offer for me to join the Decoy program. I underwent surgery and genetic alterations before I was five. Then they took my name and gave me a more suitable one. And before you ask, I don’t remember my name either.”

Kix stared at her silently for a moment, “That sounds…really fucking familiar. Do you have anything that makes you distinct from your Queen?”

“No. I don’t even know what things I like or don’t like, because I had to be a perfect reflection of my Queen.”

“...I never thought I would ever think this, but you somehow had it worse than me and my brothers,” Kix said flatly, completely unimpressed with Naboo. “At least I was able to pick my own hairstyle, and my own name, and how to decorate my armor.”

He drummed a rhythm on the armor covering his thigh, and then he stood, “Do you want a haircut?”

Ceté blinked at him in surprise, “I don’t…I never thought about it.” She stood as well and followed him out of the cockpit.

“It’s just hair, it’ll grow back if you don’t like it.” Kix pointed out as he dug through his kit and pulled out a pair of scissors.

Ceté stared at the scissors for a moment, and then she hesitated, “Maybe…” She gestured to her shoulders, “Shoulder length hair?”

Kix grinned, “Excellent. Have a seat and I’ll get you all sorted.”

Ceté sat on an open chair and Kix stood behind her, carefully cutting her hair to the length that she wanted. His mind was racing. A non-clone Clone. Someone who never had any choice in her life, rather like him, only worse since she existed for a single person.

Kix’s gaze focused on the back of her head. He needed to protect her. She deserved to be protected.

She also deserved to have a choice in her life, maybe he could help her find herself while helping her save the Gungan people.

Maybe she would be able to help him become him again.

Long hair fell to the floor around his feet as he cut her hair, and a small grin crossed Kix’s face. For the first time in, what felt like, forever. He no longer felt haunted by the ghosts of his brothers.

Yes. This would lead to good things. He was sure of it.

#star wars #star wars oc #vod'ika writes #kix x oc #Find Yourself

7 notes · View notes

sickdokidoki · 1 year ago

Text

You can't get out... even if you wanted. Part 4

Unisex reader x Harry Potter (both are adults and this is post Hogwarts)

2093 words

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You woke up, drenched in sweat, trying not to scream, Harry sitting at your desk, a bottle of Skelegro next to you on your night stand. He had been so doting, apologising and gently blaming you at the same time, having brought you snacks, flowers, a muggle stuffed animal, more books. He was sweet and gentle, distracting you from your pain, letting you be on top that night, letting you come as well, praising you on how well you were taking it, on how he remembered the pain from the potion, but "look at you, you're not even crying... you're so brave considering how weak and delicate you are..."

That moment you understood that it was hopeless to fight against him, he was too strong, and you had no wand anymore. And you were too tired and it was so nice in there... You hadn't worried about food, about how you'd pay the Ministry for the house services, about how your thesis was being ignored again... you didn't even have to worry about what to wear, Harry took care of literally everything in your life... he only asked for your obedience as a sign of your love for him. And you loved him, didn't you...?

"What did you tell them...?" you dared to ask softly months later after one of those rough tumbles on the bed he so loved; he had his head on your chest and you were playing with his hair... you never knew what to do with your hands and he liked it anyways, so that's what you ended up always doing. "What did they say...?"

"I told them I had made arrangements to send you away on a research trip to Slovenia. They were happy for you, but were sad that you wouldn't be able to send them letters for the first few months as you would be constantly travelling and owls were banned by the Ministry at this stage of the research... a bit strained but they ate it up and those who didn't suck it up anyways for your sake," he had said, caressing your sides, your chest, kissing your skin, being unusually gentle in the afterglow, carefully healing his bites with his wand, your skin scarring anyways he liked the scars... "I need you to write some letters for them now. I think it's the right time... I think it's safe, isn't it...?"

His voice carried an edge, and you shuddered like you hadn't done in quite some weeks. You had learned to please him, to say the right things, and you learned that doing that would inevitably get you what you needed wanted, keeping you safe from his wrath and enveloped in the warmth that was his twisted love for you... So you threw yourself into your new role as Harry Potter's Most Prized Possession, making him happy, doing all the things he wanted you to do, now knowing full well what he expected of you, saying goodbye to your former life, to the you you once knew.

By the by your privileges had grown to the point where you could spend some nights with him upstairs in the warmth of his arms, bathing consistently, being able to choose your clothes, tailored to his taste of course leaving little to his imagination in vaporous tunics, leaving your body accessible at all times for him and his unquenchable lust for it, cooking sometimes for the both of you, always away from the prying eyes of the neighbours always keeping an eye on your calorie intake, you don't wanna be fat for him do you?... Once you looked at yourself in the mirror in his bedroom and you scarcely recognized yourself... but strangely you didn't mind. You liked the new you, protected by The Chosen one, keeping him happy, him keeping you happy keeping you wound free, your arm never did feel the same after that day...

You looked down at him, his green eyes trained on you as you had taken more time than usual in answering his question, suspicion growing inside of him. No, you couldn't have that! That meant back to a bare dungeon, barely eating, cold all the time... besides, even if you really tried to, you couldn't find it in you to betray him, not anymore. That would not only mean he would be disappointed, but he would be hurt by your actions. He had told you so once when he thought you were asleep you slept so little, always at the ready to fulfil his every whim and you didn't want to hurt him, did you??

You gently sat up and smiled at him, cupping his cheek just the way he loved. "Of course, my owner, it's safe! I'll do it if that's what you desire, sir..." you said in those honeyed tones he so adored, in that formal language he had punched in taught you. He loved being called sir, master, lord... Anything that tickled his ego would do, but he especially loved it when you called him "my owner", for he owned you. You were Harry Potter's Most Prized Possession after all, and he liked reminding you that you were his and only his...

He looked deep into your eyes and you knew that he was using Legilimens on you... he would know, he would know that you were truthful and that made you sigh in relief, he wouldn't be hurt now you would be safe from his wrath, his feelings and his heart were safe with you, unlike with her, and he would know it...

A year had passed and you finally were living your best life with The Boy Who Lived as Harry Potter's Most Prized Possession, and you couldn't be happier. You'd gone back forth with your family and friends during those months after your talk, sending owls, receiving owls, telling them how happy you were doing the research, how important it was for the Wizarding World, how your thesis would be published soon, he had promised you that it would if you behaved have you behaved my pet? I will know if you haven't, you know that right...? Yes, sir...

Finally, that very winter he had peered into the chest with a bright smile, magicking the staircase back in place and offering you his hand.

"Come on, my pet. I think it's time..." he had said. You were unsure, time for what? You had just had your Yule dinner with him and now were huddled in your favourite blanket he had shut off the heating because you had taken the wrong fork while eating the salad but you should know better, why had you done that?! sketching out some antique pieces he had brought down for you to write on your thesis about. What on Merlin's beard was he talking about??

But you walked up the staircase, wearing his slippers and one of the vaporous tunics he loved so much on you everything on sight for his viewing pleasure like the beautiful piece of decor you were, the blanket around your shoulders.

"I'm giving you your Yule gift right now... I think it's safe now..." he had said softly. He put his coat on your shoulders, and guided you to the front door. It was snowing outside, you could see it through the glass panes at each side of the wooden oak door, very bright out even though it was the evening you could even see the place where your head had hit the glass the last day of summer when you had mused on why you couldn't go out in the garden at least at night and made a star shape on it he still hadn't fixed.

He opened the door gently and pushed you forward, still smiling.

"Alright then, go on..." he said, looking at you as you looked back at him. "Go on, get outside now..."

You squeaked, what was he doing?! Was he kicking you out?! Why, why now?! Now that you could fulfil every whim and need and you could make him so happy and talk to him just the way he wanted and cook for him just the way he liked and sometimes not always use the right fork for the right dish?! Why was he being this cruel?! This was no Yule gift, this was hell!!

"No!!" you gasped and turned, trying to fight against his hand pushing your back. "No!! Stop, stop!! Noooo!! Please, don't kick me out!!"

Finally after a second that felt like a thousand years he stopped, you were almost all the way out of the house, but he stopped and let you turn and look at him, tears streaming down your cheeks, trembling not from the bitter cold but from the simple notion of his rejection towards you.

"What did I do wrong?? what did I do wrong?!" you sobbed, falling to your knees, your hands grasping his leg, begging, pleading, his face still plastered with that weird smile he had had when he had pulled you from your safe haven.

He looked down at you, caressing your hair, and then knelt before you. "Thank you..." he said softly, cupping your cheeks, letting you snuggle into his arms with a whimper and a sob. "Thank you... you've done so well, my pet, so well..."

He praised you! That made you stop crying, for praising was one of the utmost gifts he could give you. Was this some sort of test? Did you pass? He hadn't tested you in such a long while... Was this your Yule gift, his praise?

If it was, it was the best gift ever, but he could've delivered it some other way that didn't mess his coat, or your tunic, or your overall mood... But no, he wasn't done. He gently brought you inside in his arms and sat with you before the open door, caressing your hair.

"This is your Yule Gift..." he said and gave you the key to the front door and the one to the gate. "I think you've earned them... You didn't do what she did, you begged to stay, you want to be here with me... Thank you for staying with me, I wouldn't know how to feel if I had had to dispose of you as well. You've done so well this past year, it would've been such a shame... but you passed! You did so well! You've earned it. Would you remain with me for the rest of our lives then...?"

You looked at the keys, then looked at him, then back at the keys.... and threw them away from you. You took his wand, startling him a little, and shakily flourished it how did you remember the spell? it had been so long since you had touched a wand, the door closing on you both, leaving little heaps of snow behind.

There was no other answer than yes. Even if you had the keys, why would you want them? You hadn't realised it till that moment probably because you hadn't thought about it in such a long time, but you didn't want to leave. You were loved even when you didn't have any energy or desire to be loved, you were safe when you obeyed and complied and were good, he made sure of that... Why would you leave...? There was nothing for you out there anymore...

So you embraced each other, you clinging to Harry tightly, him kissing your head and saying "thank you" over and over... being Harry's Most Prized Possession was the best thing that happened to you ever… you were sure of that now.

A couple of months after that you opened the door to your elegant house in Godric's Hollow, smiling at your friends and the Prophet interviewer, dressed in casual but well made clothes befitting of The Chief of Auror's Betrothed, a glittering engagement ring on your finger, both of you ready to announce your engagement.

You limped a tiny bit and they asked about it, but then you showed them a small cut and nodded towards your flourishing garden, everyone knowing you changed careers to Herbology after your History thesis was published you could work from home under his vigilant gaze no need to get out to do research anymore, simply saying "the Snare got me, but Harry saved me, didn't you my darling?"

"Of course, my beloved... But you have to remember that spell, I won't always be here to protect you, you know?" he said, coming from the garden, cleaning his hands on his apron, his bright green eyes trained on you.

But the both of you smiled knowing that was a lie... he was always going to be there to protect and love enslave you... Always.

#yandere x reader #tw yandere #yanderecore #yandere #tw physical violence #tw physical abuse #tw kidnapping #tw abuse #tw sex abuse #tw rape #tw sa #tw slaver #mind break #harry potter #fanfiction

13 notes · View notes