#how much time has passed since the healing of the planet ????

[that-quiet-student]

OH MY GOODNESS, LOOK AT THAT

TAPAKAH, YOU ARE INCREDIBLE!!!1!

pt. 8 | pt. 10

I missed his face... Also... it was one part... but there were too much for one part *chuckle*

[saylor-twift]

“he loves you, but he would never say that to your face.”

“-but he would never admit that.”

“-but he would never tell you.”

???

Are you sure? I am an avid tumblr stalker, and I’ve read so many things on silly little hat man in my time. I’ve seen things that tore my heart to pieces, that patched it up, that made me want to rip my guts out and throw up, that made me feel on top of the world.

And yet this is the one thing that bothers me so very much. I know, everyone has their own interpretations and opinions on different characters. So let me share my own.

The Wanderer is such a deeply written and intricate character, strung together with deep fears and insecurities, tragic backstories, and a beautiful story of change, healing, and moving forward. (I hate hate hate it when he is forced down to the level of nothing but oversexualization and “uwu sexy anime boy”, but that’s a conversation for another time.)

I’m sure if you’re reading this, you’re probably acquainted with Wanderer’s backstory, so I’m not going to explain. A lot of shit happened that made him who he is, and ever since the events of Irminsul, he has taken on a new path that he cannot go back on. Not like he’d ever want to. He said it himself, he never had any intention of returning to the Fatui. (And also- why choose to go backwards when you’ve got such a nice path set ahead of you?)

Anyways, point is, he’s changing. Notice how I said changing. He’s not changed, he’s just starting to. He’s getting there. Which brings me back to my argument. In the case that Wanderer ends up with a partner, things are certainly not going to be like a normal relationship. (He’s got plenty of red flags, don’t even try to deny it. But he’s a fictional character, so I suppose we can let this one slide.) Is he going to make the first move? That depends on if you make him desperate enough. Otherwise, it’s all on you, babe.

He’s not going to take it well. He’s going to deny it as hard as he can. You don’t love him, how can you? He is the furthest thing from loveable as you can get on this godforsaken planet. (His thoughts, not mine) But he certainly loves you, and, albeit with some likely pressuring assistance from Nahida, he’s come to terms with that terrifying knowledge.

“But he wouldn’t admit that to you.”

STOP. STOP RIGHT THERE.

Here is where my controversial opinion comes in. Most people tend to portray Wanderer as this cold, cut-off, aloof and irritable man, even in a relationship. And before you say anything, no, I absolutely do not think he would be the lovey-dovey, sappy, overly caring and romantic type. He’s not on either end of the spectrum, but I do think he’s somewhere in the middle (but probably leaning towards the former side).

Love is so, so very scary to him. And downright unknown. He’s traversing into uncharted waters here, give him some space to figure things out. That being said, he’s testing these waters. He’s not going to say he loves you at the beginning of a relationship. He has to make sure this thing is going to work. Your relationship is a newly built bridge, and those three words are the heavy cargo passing through. Without a strong foundation, the bridge is going to collapse, no questions asked. The only problem is, it’s going to take a long, long time to build that bridge. It’s going to be more expensive, more time consuming, and cost more materials than you had originally bargained for.

But that cargo can’t sit on one side of the bridge forever, can it? No, it has to get to the other side at some point. So if you have the patience to give your time to this bridge, the cargo will find its way to the other side. The foundation may wobble, the planks may shake, but the bridge isn’t going down.

He loves you, and he would admit it out loud. He would say it to your face. Just maybe not as soon as you want it. It’s going to hurt, and you’re going to wonder if he actually cares for you or not. Fear not, because if you pay attention to those little things he does when you’re not looking, it will feed you those little crumbs you need till you can finally be satiated when the full meal is done cooking. He mends things for you, things you had given up on because you’d never have the time nor energy to do it yourself. He cooks, and surprisingly, it’s always your preferences. He collects things that remind him of you, some he keeps out of embarrassment, and some he leaves on your bedsheets whenever you’re not home.

He’s been hurt, abandoned, and betrayed far too many times to immediately let himself fall into something as complicated as a relationship. He’s going to be distant, you’re going to disagree, probably fight a bit. He’s just seeing how far he can bend the lines, how much you really want him. (red flag maybe!! but he’s working on it, it’s going to be okay. mayyyybe you can look past just this one…) If you won’t leave even if he does this, then he thinks, maybe you’re the one. Maybe fate decides to treat him benevolently for once.

And when you finally, finally get to that point, he’s going to drown you so deep you can never get out. He’ll say he loves you, does everything in his power to make sure you never forget it. (no, he’s not going to read you love poems in the moonlight and call you darling. sorry if that’s your thing, that’s not who he is.)

This relationship will never be perfect, but relationships never are. Just as long as the two of you are willing to be patient with the other and get through your differences and clashing personalities, you are going to mold together perfectly. And even if he doesn’t say it often, (which he probably won’t. he’s certain you know it. why repeat something already ingrained into your mind? he doesn’t use those words lightly), it’s not like he’ll never say it. He won’t leave you in the dark for too long. He loves you, don’t worry. He’ll say it, but he prefers to show it.

[prxciouslullaby]

Creepypasta Headcanons

Masky, Eyeless Jack, and Jeff smoke. Masky smokes the most out of the entire group and Jeff smokes the least

Eyeless Jack and Jeff make a terrifying duo to encounter alone. Jeff’s chaotic and impulsive nature balances EJ’s calculated demeanor, making for a fight that’s brutal and drawn out for the sake of inflicting the most pain in the worst ways possible

If you know them well enough, though, you can definitely find ways to turn them against each other. A strategy that Masky and Hoodie like using when they can't be bothered to fight them (which doesn't happen often to begin with)

Masky and Hoodie communicate with each other via random hand and arm gestures they've come up with. Eyeless Jack has managed to decipher some of the signs but refuses to tell Jeff which ones or their meanings

Masky

His smoking habit is from his younger days and he’s never been able to kick the habit. At this point, he doesn’t really want to since it helps “stabilize” him

Cannot go long periods of time without smoking, so he's constantly asking Hoodie to find him more if he isn't currently stealing them himself

Bro's a menace without his smokes, someone stop him

(That someone is usually Hoodie, but to varying degrees of success)

Speaks in short sentences to avoid himself from coughing too violently (and also because he'd rather not talk)

Definitely coughs in his sleep though. There have definitely been times that Hoodie has tried suffocating him in his sleep just so he can get sleep. Masky doesn’t hold it against him

Reeks of cigarettes and sweat. Guaranteed.

Can't really stand when people around him are noticeably dirty though (looks or smell-wise). No one understands why

Is the only one who's got a car. No one knows how or where he got it or how it's even operating, but no one else is allowed to drive it besides Hoodie (and he's on thin ice)

That doesn't stop Jeff from trying to steal it for a joyride sometimes (which usually fails)

Eyeless Jack

Smokes to “ground himself” and keep his cool when he feels like he’s about to go off the edge

Tied with Masky and Hoodie for being the least expressive emotions-wise. You cannot tell what he’s thinking unless you’ve known him for a very long time and he considers you an ally

Considers very few people friends. Jeff, somehow, is one of them

Loves to get under Jeff’s skin the most

Is also Jeff's impulse control whenever they're around (doesn't work 100% of the time though)

Doesn’t understand why everyone goes to him specifically when they have medical issues but he’s got plenty of people who owe him favors because of it

Also forced himself to learn how to heal a bunch of different injuries and medications because why does everyone go to him for their medical issues???

Is constantly stealing medical supplies if nothing else

He’s not as much of a clean freak as you’d expect, though

His mask does not come off unless he’s sleeping, he feels vulnerable without it on. Also rarely sleeps.

Will attack you if you try to take the mask off

Jeff

Jeff’s a social smoker and won’t smoke alone unless it pisses off the other person he’s with. He’s an ornery little shit that loves pissing people off and pushing their buttons

He knows his limits, though, despite people thinking he’s a dumbass for the sake of being a dumbass. That doesn’t mean his ego doesn’t get in the way sometimes

He's got the biggest ego seen on the planet, next to Slenderman (and a couple others)

Jeff hates feeling pain so much that he’ll inflict more pain on himself to counteract it. It’s a vicious, ironic cycle that he continues until he passes out or until Eyeless Jack helps him out

Absolutely reeks. Usually of blood, always of B.O.

Despite knives being his go-to weapon, he's pretty decent in handling any other weapon you give him (totally not out of necessity from pissing off so many others with different weapons)

[mothiir]

the watcher from the wastes

Mortarion jerks it. That’s it, that’s the fic. @moodymisty and @kit-williams to blame, specially @kit-williams since I basically stole her entire idea.

cw: wanking. self loathing, sort of. mort being a creep and having issues with bodily autonomy. self harm in a weird 40k way. did not mean it to be this gross but ended up that way because morty.

—

—

This process is deeply unpleasant, and Mortarion prefers to go through it as little as possible — and yet you, cursed thing that you are, have forced him to drastic measures.

First of all: the mask must be removed. He unhooks it from his ears, curlicues of oily smoke escaping as the suction gives way. He holds his breath, keeping the toxic fumes nestled in his lungs as long as possible, and sets the mask onto his desk. His work-chair is hewn from the sort of raw pig iron that has Horus despairing. Brother I can have something nicer made — even something with a cushion —

Mortarion does not need such frivolity. It is a chair. He can sit upon it. Thus it serves its purpose.

He can hold his breath for hours, should he need to, but that would defeat the whole purpose of this exercise. With a moment to brace himself, Mortarion exhales the last of the gas, momentarily covering his face in a rank green shadow.

It dissipates, and Mortarion waits for a few heartbeats to pass before inhaling.

He tastes his own flesh: half-cooked, and putrefying.

It is not an unfamiliar taste — it’s almost nostalgic. For a moment, he is a boy once more, nailed to the bowels of an alien planet, eyes fixed on the distant, uncaring sky.

He inhales again. Sharper now. The glutinous phlegm his sinuses produced in a vain attempt to capture the worst of the toxins is starting to thin. He coughs it out into his sleeve, then spits on the floor. Another breath. His throat is always the worst. The gas rots the tissue within, destroying the tender membranes, rendering his voice raspy and ragged.

Without the constant application of the gas, his body has time to heal. And oh how the healing hurts. He hacks up a glob of snot, and then of quivering red tissue. Inside, his cells multiply frantically, like they know that they only have a scant space of time before the mask is reapplied and the perpetual injuring begins once more.

Another burst of coughing; then a frankly revolting sneeze — again, captured into the billowing sleeves of his robe.

He inhales again — and curses, because the healing has moved faster than last time, and his sense of smell has returned with a vengeance. By the Emperor’s ballsack, the stench is overwhelming. What —

He looks down at himself: robes stiffened with effluvia from experiments and battle, fresh gobbets of snot and rancid blood dripping off the end of his sleeves. Hm. Yes, well — that would explain it.

—

By the time he has finished bathing, his body has healed as much as it will ever be able to, and he feels acutely uncomfortable. Even without the influence of the gas, his voice is still a guttural rasp, vocal cords ruined from years of experimentation. His shoulders still hunch instinctively, used to crowding through narrow corridors; his eyes — though brighter — still have sclera of sulphur yellow, polluted with broken blood vessels.

When he inhales the poison of his homeland, at least he has an excuse for how broken his body still is. Without it, his weak flesh stands in testament to the monumental failure of his youth. Not only did he fail to slay the monster who held him captive, he failed to recover from its abuses, remaining a broken-limbed mess of a Primarch.

And yet — and yet a part of him enjoys this feeling. There is no pain in his throat, or behind his eyes; he is not subject to the constant cycle of his lungs rotting into slurry and healing themselves once more. His gums are shiny and pink, not sloughing off his teeth in grey scraps.

Best of all, his senses have returned to their Primarch peak. Even constantly poisoned, and half-crippled, he can smell and taste and hear better than any baseline — pathetic little things the lot of them, no better than scurrying ants.

Apart from…well. You smiled at him You did not cower from the pallour of his flesh, or cringe from the huff and click of his respirator. You looked him full in the face and you beamed.

Lord Primarch, you called him. Lord Mortarion.

And afterwards, to your friend, where you thought he couldn’t hear you: you never said he was handsome.

He pointed you out to Typhus, a little later. Asked his eldest son why they were so desperate for staff that they were now employing defective baselines, like you, who clearly had an incredibly limited range of vision — if you weren’t blind entirely. Typhus had informed him that he didn’t think you were blind — indeed, you had cleaned his armour to perfection just this morning — but if you displeased Mortarion he could have you —

No, Moration cut in. No, that wasn’t necessary.

Not blind. Just — stupid, possibly.

Probably.

Anyway — if you are stupid then he is a fool as well. And worse: he does not have the excuse of being mortal.

Soapy and slick, white hair hanging in a curtain down his back, Mortarion sits in the deserted communal showers and stares at a little plastic sleeve in his left hand. It’s sealed tight — waterproof, preserving the object within as well as can be hoped for. He wonders if you have noticed the theft yet. Probably. Serfs aboard the Endurance do not have many possessions — they do not need them. More than likely he’s caused a little bit of grief, with you either blaming yourself for the loss, or snapping at one of your fellows, blaming them.

He cannot bring himself to care.

His clothes are long gone. The serfs will incinerate them, and bring him new ones when he sends for them. Perhaps this time, he will not go so long without cleaning them. Humans have terrible senses, but he wagers that you would probably prefer —

He amputates that thought abruptly. It does not matter what you prefer. It does not matter what anyone prefers. This is a temporary indulgence to end his madness, and then he will move on.

The plastic crinkles as he opens it, his tongue dashing out to wet his lower lip. The garment is plain cotton, with a little green bow at the front.

Garment. Fabric. So many distancing words to cover up the fact that he has stolen your underwear. He can never let Horus find out. He can never let anyone find out. Even though there is no one here to witness his shame, he feels a flush creep up his back. His cock leaps eagerly as he takes himself in hand, his toes curling on the wet floor. It has been so long since he last touched himself.

It’s pathetic. It’s revolting. And yet —

Mortarion buries his face into the gusset of your underwear, inhaling deeply as he strokes himself. Your scent is faded, but still clings to the fabric, thick and musky and sweet. He can imagine burying his face between your thighs, just inhaling. He’d bite your soft flesh, leaving bruises the exact shape of his teeth — and he would not let them heal. He’d do it every night until they scarred, and you could not change clothes without remembering exactly whose bed you were crawling into.

His breath stutters; his drool seeps into the cotton as he sucks. He’s never taken anyone to bed — there have always been more important things — but he knows what he wants to do. He knows that you would smile at him, and stroke his scars with gentle hands, and welcome him in so deeply that no one would ever be able to pry him out. You’d let him ruin your insides, stretch you so no other man would ever be able to satisfy you again. He’d fill you up to the brim, and then he’d do it again, and again, and again. He’d make you swallow him until you were coughing his seed up, he’d cum in your hair and —

His orgasm rips through him like a tempest, so abrupt that he cries out in shock, cum spurting up over his chest. His flanks heave, and he comes back to his senses in a humiliating rush — he’s chewed through your underwear, shreds of fabric stuck between his teeth. He picks them out, grimacing.

A shameful display. He cannot wait to do it again.

[papil0nglegs]

One small step at a time! 🛸

Tf2 x Juno!reader

A/n: This one’s for all my overwatch babes <33 ik this idea is rlly niche but this was so fun to write I’m so proud of this. Most of these can be interpreted as platonic but read however you’d like, enjoy ✨

Warnings: Scottish people, Drinking, Passing out drunk

Vocab: (p/f) - Parental Figure

Engineer

He has such a father daughter relationship with you

When you first landed on earth he was extremely fascinated by the technology your (p/f) discovered to get to mars, especially your anti-gravity boots

“So these things are just makin’ you float around?”

“Yeah! I’m not really used to earths gravity so my (p/f) sent me off with overboots!.. how do you guys get anything done while stuck on the ground?”

“We just make do with what we can, sugar”

His fav activity with you? Lounging. Doesn’t look like much but his rancho relaxer + you using your jetpack to ‘sit’? Soo cute

You guys would just be chilling in his workshop after doing whatever task it was you were doing <3

“You want a beer, Buttercup?”

“No thank you! I’m not really fond of drinks with alcohol since all we could drink at mars was juice and water”

“shoot, glad I’m not you”

He’s definitely one of the mercs who warmed up to you the fastest, he’s just chill like that.

Medic

Pls don’t tell him your from mars, weird shit is gonna happen

He’s going to treat you like one of his test subjects, at first it starts tame with general check ups but it escalated pretty fast.

When doing his uber surgery on you he decided to explore more things

“..how long was I out, Dr. Ludwig?”

“Oh not long!! Just two.. days”

“What? You said it would only take about 20 minutes!!”

“Vell yes I did say that my Martian friend, however I must say curiosity got the best of me! I simply had to know more about your anatomy”

“Uhm,, ok”

Yeah you’re so scared of him now lol

But of course you two do need to work together to try healing your teammates

He loves it when you heal him, it’s always a pleasant surprise since he never expects to get healed, like ever

“Here! I can help you!!”

“Oo, so vats how it feels..”

Spy

Yeah he doesn’t think your good for the team

Sure it was interesting to meet someone who was born and raised in a completely different planet, however your inexperience with earth was enough for him to neglect you

Once you visited his smoke room to find abundance of books, you being new to earth were excited to see all the knowledge they carried

“Wow! Can I borrow this one? I’d like to learn more about earth and its continents!!”

“Go ahead, I never made use of that thing anyways”

It always catches him off guard how little knowledge you have about earth, especially since your were chosen to go on the mission to earth

Once you randomly found a globe somewhere in the break room and got so fascinated by it

“Earths colors are beautiful, I’d really like to go the that purple one!”

“Y/n, Russia is not purple. And you don’t want to visit there, it is full of trash people.”

“Oh..I see”

He doesn’t guide you to earth like the rest of the mercs, he wants to really straighten your back and push you to your limit

“Would a croissant go well with your meal good sir?”

“Excuse me?”

“You seem like you are from the Western Europeans my (p/f) brought back to mars!! Au revoir madam, please enjoy your tea”

Tbh that moment made his heart melt by just a little bit. Hey, he’s not a monster he can have heartfelt moments.. sometimes

Sniper

You are so fascinated by him, literally just him

For the most part it’s because of his job title ‘assassin’, you’ve never heard of such a job back home.

“Is it true you earn currency to kill specific people?”

“Why of course Sheila, who else would do it?”

“Well, on mars we kinda just let them live even if we don’t like them.. that’s a thing here right??”

You love going on roadtrips with him so he can show you around, just to see get a feel of that New Mexican dirt

You two have a relation where he misses his parents despite always arguing with them, and you miss your (p/f) because you two now live on completely different planets.

On those trips you tend to enjoy chilling in the back of his trailer. You can’t stand spending another second on an uncomfortable leather seat!! So you roam around a lot in what he basically considered his home.

“How was it back there? ‘eard sum ruckus out in the front.”

“Oh right! I am trying to get use to earths gravity so I tried cleaning up here a bit, I hope you don’t mind!!”

He almost cried, you reminded him of his ‘mum’

Whenever you’re curious about any animal you always go to him, we all know Australia a place with weird animals so

“Mr. Mundee, is this spider deadly?”

“I’m not sure, you should probably check in with doc tho. Your face lookin pretty swelled there mate..”

“Oh thank the stars! I was sure this was a lion..”

You passed out from the poison.

It’s good tho, sniper carried you to Medics room like the big brother he is 🧡

Demo-man

YOURE SO SCARED OF HIM

MORE THAN MEDIC

Not only is he obsessed with the drink that you’ve literally never heard of until you arrived in earth, but the way he acts makes it seem like crack

You have so many questions, they almost never get answered because he’s either too drunk or he’ll pass out with medic dragging him out the room

“Is it true that your stomach now declines any normal drinks?”

“Ayouhhh it’s just beerdelicois burp”

“..is he going to be alright?”

“Oh no worries my Martian friend, this happens all the time.. although I can never tell if he’ll live or not”

When on the battlefield he’s always screaming and creaming, sometimes it scares you so much to the point where you ask your fellow teammates to help you

“MR. CONAGHER, I THINK DEMO IS TRYING TO ATTACK ME!!”

“Darlin’, I thinks he’s just tryna get some healing..”

“But why is it yelling.. ☹️”

Now you’re scared of Scottish people, and convinced they probably eat their youth

Soldier

He def plays a father role like engineer, but way less charm and warmth to him

He’s like a dad at a soccer game, he’ll cheer you on but aggressively, to the point where it seems like he’s booing you

In the lobby he’d always do his soldier talk, and it never fails to make you do you best

“NOW, WILL YOU HAND THAT TEAMS ASS AND FEED IT TO HIM, OR AM I GOING TO HAVE TO DRAG YOURS BACK TO MARS TO YOUR MOMMA?”

“No sir!! I’ll feed it to them!”

“THATS RIGHT MAGGOT”

Soldier is always hard on you, sometimes he calls you a ‘space commie’ just for jokes, although his tone definitely sets you off

When you unleashed your orbital ray he started screaming about ‘the commies getting to us’, you had to reassure him several times that it was something you had full control of

Scout

This guy was ecstatic when he found out his new teammate was going to be from space, scout is really into comics (even tho he can’t read) so his imagination went wild when Ms Pauling announced that he’d be fighting alongside what he considered an alien

Once you arrived he was in awe, he thinks you’re the coolest person on the team solely because you’re from another planet.

But he did quickly recognize that you weren’t use to like, anything on earth.

He handed you a cold can of Bonk just for you to look at him confused

“What do I do with this?”

“You drink it?”

“..um I don’t think you’re supposed to drink ‘atomic punch’, that sounds like it hurts 0-0”

He had to teach you how to drink stuff that wasn’t in an aluminum bag, you didn’t take a liking to it but you got used to it

Scout offered you to sleep on the top bunk because he wanted to be nice and all, huge mistake.

The next morning you completely forgot you were on a different planet, so you rolled and fell 9 feet from the bed to the floor.

“Jesus y/n!! what the hell happened?”

“I think I.. fell? Falling feels weird..”

Gets so hype when you two are on the same team, he’s so ready to clock the enemy team with orbital ray

“Scout! My orbital ray is ready!! ^^”

“Whooo! Let’s go then E.T what are we waitin’ for??”

For the most part he’s the one who shows you everything you need to know about earth, baseball is his favorite thing to teach cuz obviously

When you joined him to watch a baseball match you were so excited yet so lost

“What happens if they win? Is this a war?”

“No? Toots it’s just a game”

“Hm, intresting.. then I must try this ‘game’ too!”

[mandos-mind-trick]

00:00 (Zero O'Clock)

Summary: On the run from your family, you meet your soulmate after he's sent to retrieve you. Can he offer you what you've been yearning for since your mark first appeared? Or will he turn out to be just like everyone else in your life?

Loosely based on the BTS song of the same name.

Pairing: Hunter x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, some brief mention of kink related things, brief mention of a knife kink, canon typical violence, some semi-descriptive mentions of abuse and child abuse, some angst, lots of fluff, as usual reader has a backstory for plot.

A/N: I'm trying a bit of a new format with this one, at least as to how the story progresses. I'm not sure about the beginning, but let me know what you think.

MASTERLIST

Five Minutes.

Your legs are aching almost as much as your lungs, but you don’t stop. 

You can’t stop. 

Tree roots and vines threaten to trip you with every step, but you push onwards. Get to town. You just have to get to town and you can stop. 

Three minutes. 

The timer on your wrist is like some twisted countdown. When it appeared over ten years ago, you were confused. Your soulmate couldn’t be that much younger than you. You had thought perhaps they were a different species, one that matures faster than others. 

Ten years, forty-seven days, six hours, and fifteen minutes. 

That had been the number seared onto your skin one day, the numbers slowly counting down as time went on. You tried to mark the exact day on the calendar, but it was difficult. You went off galactic standard time, as your countdown seemed to match how the hours and days passed for you. 

You daydreamed constantly about your soulmate. You researched species after species, trying to find any sort of answer you could as to why your soulmate mark had shown up so late. 

It wasn’t until the war when things began making sense. 

It wasn’t until the war that things began falling apart for you. 

The sudden appearance of the clone army, millions upon millions of beings created over the ten years before the war started, answered many people’s questions. Millions upon millions of beings in the galaxy that had lived for years without a soulmate link suddenly having theirs appear in the last ten years. 

Your soulmate’s a clone. 

Your father was not pleased. 

Your home planet was not part of the Republic. It had always been independent, and once the war started, the governing body decided to side with the Separatists. Your father was a loyal supporter of this decision, funneling your family’s vast wealth and resources to aiding the Confederacy of Independent Systems. 

You thought the entire war was stupid. Why couldn’t people just be happy with being either part of the Republic or not? 

The first time you spoke out against it in front of your father, he dragged you from the room and beat you with his belt. 

The second time you spoke out against it, at a dinner with several important political figures including your grandfather, he beat you right there in the dining hall. 

When he discovered your soulmate timer, it got worse. 

He tried everything he could to remove it. 

You knew it was useless. Even cutting the skin off with a knife, the mark would only appear again as it healed. Burns, scars, even chopping the limb off wouldn’t work. It would simply appear elsewhere. 

Your father thankfully never went that far. 

Your hatred towards him only deepened as time went on. 

News of your grandfather’s death reaches you shortly before the end of the war. You don’t cry. You barely knew him, and what you knew of him was that he was equally as cruel as your father. 

As the war ends, so does the Republic. 

Shortly after, the Empire is on your doorstep demanding allegiance. They get it, and the occupation begins. 

Six months later, you run away. 

You run and keep running. A month later, the bounty hunters begin appearing. You evade them easily enough, and when you can’t evade them, you make sure they can’t follow you.

It’s been almost a year since the war ended. Your timer is still steadily counting down. Your soulmate is still alive somewhere. You debate trying to find them, but you know finding clones means getting close to the Empire. You know nothing good would come from getting caught by the Empire. Even worse, they might return you home. 

Two minutes. 

Your feet hit solid ground, relieved to be free of the damp mud you had been running through for the past ten minutes. You race into town, hoping to lose him. 

He had appeared an hour ago, your little shack that had been offering you reprieve his target. He’s here for you, sent by the Empire or your father, you’re not sure. Either way, you’re not keen to find out. 

You were gone long before he reached your abandoned hut. You had headed towards town, hoping to reach the spaceport and convince someone to take you to their next stop before he even noticed you weren’t in the hut anymore. 

Except it was a long trek to town, and this wasn’t a normal bounty hunter. 

The first shot had narrowly missed you. 

A warning. 

You had taken off running, zig-zagging through trees as fast as you could. The shots had followed right behind you until they had died out, leaving nothing but the sound of the jungle, and your own heavy breathing. 

He’s right behind you. You know he is. You should have run for it from the start. 

You desperately need to stop. You need air, your lungs beginning to spasm painfully. You’re not going to get much farther without a reprieve. You hope you can lose him in the evening crowd, ducking into an alley. 

You press your back against the wall, putting a hand to your wheezing chest. Your eyes screw shut for a moment, urging air back into your lungs. Your legs are trembling like they may give out under you, but you know you don’t have long. He’s probably already in town. You need to stay ahead of him. Pray you can catch someone leaving at the spaceport and escape. 

One minute. 

Your soulmate is about to appear. Maybe they’ll help you get out of this mess. You can’t reach the spaceport in that short amount of time. You glance at both ends of the alley. There’s no one. So who-

A hand wraps around your throat, slamming your back against the wall behind you. Your hand is quick to grab your knife, aiming it for the throat, but his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping it.

“Give up, kid.” He drawls, tightening his grip around your wrist until you’re forced to drop the knife. “You’re not going to win this.”  

You struggle against his hold, even though you know he’s right. 

30 seconds.

Just thirty more seconds. You can fight that long. 

You drive your knee up into his stomach, but he doesn’t release you. His grip tightens around your throat, black dots beginning to form in your vision. You drive your fist into his elbow, his arm bending awkwardly. His fingers slip from your throat and you inhale sharply, your vision swimming for a moment. 

“Let her go.” 

You both look up in shock at the voice. Modulated by a familiar looking helmet, grey with an orange stripe down the middle. He’s standing at the entry to the alley, blaster drawn and pointed at the bounty hunter. 

“She’s my quarry.” The bounty hunter says, hand dropping to his own blaster. “I found her first.” 

You quickly duck, covering your head as the shots ring out. Your gaze is drawn down to your timer, eyes widening a bit. 

00:00:00:00:00

This is your soulmate? 

You push yourself back up, glancing at the body of the bounty hunter for a moment before your gaze falls on the clone. His armor is pieced together, lacking the normal consistency you associated with clones and their armor. Had you been wrong? Is he not a clone after all? 

“It’s you.” You whisper, dropping the knife from your hand. 

“Give up the fight, kid.” He says, voice distorted by his helmet, blaster trained on you now. 

You make a face. “I’m not a kid. I’m older than you.” You press your back against the wall. “When I pictured us meeting, this wasn’t what I had in mind.” 

He tilts his head, and you can picture the confusion on his face. You hold up your arm, revealing your soulmate timer now at zero. He lowers his head slightly, looking at it. He glances down at his own arm for a moment before lowering his blaster. You watch him fiddle with his vambrace, tugging it down with his sleeve enough to reveal tanned skin underneath. He’s quiet, staring down at his skin for a few moments. 

You could run. You could use his distraction to try and escape.

You don’t want to. You had been destined to meet at this moment. Since your creation, maybe even before. 

Maybe he can help you. 

But he was sent after you. 

He wouldn’t really return you to your father, would he? You had heard about clones being forced to reject their soulmates under the Republic. Was the Empire enforcing that too? He wouldn’t...would he? 

Your legs are shaking still, your body exhausted from running for so long. Always on edge, always watching your back. You slip down the wall, sitting on the ground. You stare up at him, finding him watching you. “Are you with the Empire?” You ask. 

“No.” He says, straightening up a bit. “We were sent after you by a third party.” 

“Oh.” You say, nodding. “Are you...going to take me back to my father?” 

He stares at you quietly for a long time. This was going to complicate things for both of you. Would he still return you to your father, even now knowing you’re his soulmate? Did you try to run, leave behind your soulmate to try and save yourself? You know it’s only going to get harder to be apart from here. Now that you’ve met, the longing will start, the need to be close. 

That’s why the Republic wanted clones to reject their soulmates. Not even the best programming can undo the natural need to be close to one’s soulmate. 

“I’ve caught her.” He speaks into his comm. “Get back to the ship and meet us at the spaceport.” 

“You should just reject me now.” You say, and he looks at you again. You wish you could see his face, read his expressions. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? At least, that’s what the Republic wanted.” You shrug. “It’ll hurt less for you later when my father decides to kill me.” 

“Why would he go through all this trouble to get you back if he’s just going to kill you?” He asks, stepping closer. 

You snort. “You don’t know anything about me, do you?” 

“You’re a runaway rich kid, and your father is willing to pay a lot to get you back.” He says, wrapping a hand around your arm. He hauls you to your feet far too easily, spinning you so you’re pressed against the wall. 

“Moving a bit fast, aren’t we?” You quip, his hands gripping your wrists behind you. 

“Can it, kid.” He grunts, cuffing your arms behind your back. 

“I’m not a kid.” You huff, tugging against his hold, but you quickly give in. 

This wasn’t what you were expecting when you pictured meeting your soulmate. Of course, you’d spent most of the war hearing nothing but propaganda against the Republic and the clone army, so you really didn’t know what to expect. They’re not quite the mindless soldiers like you’d been told, at least that’s what you’d discern since this group was apparently working independently of the Empire. 

“You’re making a mistake.” You say as he takes your arm, tugging you towards the end of the alley. 

“I’m sure you see it that way.” He says, leading you onward. 

You plant your feet, trying to get him to look at you. “No, I’m trying to warn you. If you actually bothered to look into who I am, you never would have taken this job in the first place.” 

He finally stops, turning to look at you. “Why do you care?” 

“You’re deserters, aren’t you? I’ve only heard propaganda, and seen clones in passing once, but I do know most of them are loyal to the Empire now. Most of them aren’t out here playing mercenary and bounty hunter. You received coordinates for a place to drop me off, right? Somewhere in the D’Astan sector? You know what that sector looks like right now? It’s crawling with Imperial troops and ships. The war had barely ended and they were already invading. I ran because my father is a cruel man who spent my whole life beating me to submission. He’s a weak man who can’t stand things not being in his control. The Empire has completely taken over and I’m one of the few things he has left he can control. I don’t want that.” 

He stares at you for a while. You know he’s thinking over your words. He won’t trust you, not completely. If you can just get to him a little, though, you may be able to save your own skin, and maybe his as well. 

“You’re my soulmate.” It feels unreal saying those words. You’d pictured it a thousand times, and yet, none of them had come close. “If nothing else, trust me on that basis. I know you’ve been told your whole life to reject me. I don’t want you to.” 

He stares at you for a moment longer before turning, tugging you along as he makes his way towards the starport. Tears prick your vision. You have no idea what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. For all you know, he doesn’t believe you and he’ll take the risk returning you to your father. 

He has no reason to trust you. 

For all you know, he’s going to reject you. 

If that’s the case, though, why hasn’t he done it yet? 

“Can I at least know your name?” You ask softly, looking up at him. 

He stays silent, walking you into the starport. Thankfully it’s late enough that it's not very busy. This looks bad, it looks really bad for you. 

“Hunter!” 

Of all things a child runs towards you two. 

“We were getting worried.” The child says as Hunter leads you towards an Omicron-class ship. 

He leads you up the steps, three more clones inside. Well, at least you think they’re clones. None of them quite look the same, at least size and height-wise. One is lankier and is wearing goggles, the other is a giant of a man, and the third has a cybernetic arm and legs. 

Hunter pushes you down into one of the seats rather roughly, pointing his finger in your face. “Don’t move.” He says threateningly, leaving you sitting there.

It’s not like you have much of a choice. There’s not much room to move anyway, as the large one and the child join you. The ship rumbles as it comes to life, forcing you to press back into the seat as it lifts off the ground. Your arms are pressed uncomfortably behind you, hands going numb as the cuffs cut off circulation. 

Your stomach churns with the familiar jump to hyperspace, Hunter not returning until the ship is well on its way to most likely your drop off point. You’re nervous, not just for yourself. Hunter must not have believed you. You’re sad for them, and yourself. 

The large one pulls off his helmet with a sigh. Though he’s very large, his face is unmistakably that of a clone’s. They really must have been hired by a third party. Your father never would have stooped that low. He’s in for one hell of a surprise when they show up to hand you off. 

Your gaze is pulled away from the big one as Hunter enters the hull, removing his own helmet. He doesn’t look like you expect a clone to. His hair is long, held back by a red bandana. He has the rugged face of a clone, but the left half is covered in a skull tattoo. It’s intimidating, just like his gaze as it burns into you. 

The one with the cybernetics follows him, his helmet removed as well. He’s paler and gaunter than the others, a headset wrapped around his head. He takes a seat at the computer, typing rapidly. 

“If what you said is true, we can’t risk turning you in.” Hunter says. 

“Why would I lie to you?” You ask, though you already know the answer. 

“To save your own skin.” He says. “I believe you, that you were running for a reason. But that could be any reason. Not just the story you told me.” 

“Then by all means.” You say, trying to get comfortable with your hands behind your back. “Research away.” 

It’s quiet for a few moments, part of the screen visible over their heads from where you’re sitting. You are telling the truth to them. You have no reason to lie. Especially not to your soulmate. 

“You’re a Separatist?” Cybernetics asks you. 

You roll your eyes. “You know, just because someone lived on a Separatist planet doesn't mean they were Separatists too. I hated them. I thought the war was stupid. Why couldn’t they just be happy not being part of the Republic and the Republic just leave them alone?” 

“I think it was a bit more complex than that.” Hunter says. 

You roll your eyes again. “Well, it’s not like I was ever getting the truth there. We were fed Separatist propaganda for years, even before the war started.” 

The ship goes quiet again, broken only by the sound of Cybernetics typing at the computer. 

"She's telling the truth." He finally says, breaking the quiet. "Imperial files have that whole sector listed under their control.” 

“We can’t risk revealing ourselves.” Hunter says. “But we need those credits.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes once more. “If you bothered to check my bag, you’d see I have plenty of credits in there.” 

Their eyes fall to where your bag has been placed on the chair behind them. Hunter opens your bag, digging through until he finds the box of credits. He opens it, looking inside. 

“That’s far more than we’ll get from Cid for this job.” Cybernetics says. 

“You can have them.” You say. “It’s my dad’s money anyway. I took what he had on hand before I left.” 

“You’d just let us take this.” Hunter asks speculatively. 

“If it means saving both our skins and keeping me from having to see my father ever again, then yes. You can have my whole bag, if you’d like.” 

Hunter stares down at the credits for a moment before heading into the cockpit once more. 

“Hey, Cybernetics.” You call before he can follow Hunter.  

“My name’s Echo.” He says with a frown, obviously offended by your nickname. 

“Okay, how was I supposed to know that? It’s not like you’ve been very hospitable.” You shrug as he disappears into the cockpit too. You nearly jump out of your skin as you turn, finding the child standing next to you. “Oh my, you’re a sneaky little thing.” 

“Sorry.” She laughs. “My name’s Omega. That’s Wrecker.” The giant clone waves. 

You nod back, your arms still cuffed behind your back. “Hello.” 

Hunter reappears, coming to stand in front of you. “If you’re tricking us in any way, I will not hesitate to shoot you.” 

“If you knew the things my dad did to me growing up, the things he would do to me if he ever got his hands on me again, you wouldn’t hesitate to trust me when I say I want absolutely nothing to do with him or the Empire.” You stare into his eyes as he kneels in front of you. “He’s a horrible man and he can waste all of his money and resources looking for me for all I care.” 

Hunter undoes your cuffs, and you rub your sore wrists. “We’ll drop you off on the next inhabited planet we can find.” 

You frown. “So that’s it? We’re not even going to talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He says, turning his back to you as he sits at the computer. 

“Like hell there isn’t. If you’re that dead set, then just reject me now and get it over with so we can both move on with our lives.” 

“I can’t trust you.” He says over his shoulder. 

“I’m not asking you to trust me.” Your voice wavers a bit. “I’m asking you to talk to me. Either talk to me, or just reject me and get it over with.” 

***

The ship is quiet as it floats aimlessly through space. You gaze out the viewport at the thousands of stars in front of you. Hunter is in the seat across from you, his seat turned to face yours. 

“I have to protect them.” He says. “If anything happens to them...” 

“I know.” You nod, turning to look at him. “They’re lucky to have you. All my life I’ve been wishing for someone to care that much about me. Someone who would protect me. My mother was always too scared he’d turn on her if she said anything. It wasn’t long after the war started that I figured it out, that my soulmate was a clone. My father wasn’t happy about it. He tried everything he could to remove my timer. It never worked.” 

Hunter tenses a bit at your words. It feels good, talking about it finally. Even if he did decide nothing was to come of your link, it still felt good to tell someone about what had happened to you. You’ve never had that chance before. 

“I never thought much about my link.” Hunter says, turning his gaze out the viewport. “I couldn’t. The Kaminoans created the rules about seeking out soulmates and the Republic agreed. I didn’t have time, anyway. We were always moving, always on a mission. I hoped the war would end before the timer reached zero. I’m not sure I could have rejected my soulmate. Most of the clones ignored those rules. They kept their links, secretly keeping contact with their soulmates.” He shakes his head. “I figured it would happen when it happened. I didn’t think it would be like this.” 

“What, that you’d desert the army and wind up bounty hunting your soulmate who was a Separatist?” 

“Something like that.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. 

“Where do we go from here, Hunter?” You ask, turning to look at him. You take in his profile. The skull tattoo, the slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. He’s handsome. Ruggedly handsome. Not totally what you would consider your type, but perhaps the link to him was more than just looks. 

You’d been raised with the idea of becoming someone’s trophy. You’d never hold power in your own family. You’d be someone’s pretty little wife who served drinks and made babies and made her husband look good. You’d marry someone just like your father who would beat you with a belt if you spoke out in opposition against him. 

Then your mark had shown up, and with it came the idea of something else. Something more. Something different. 

Hunter is different. 

So very different. 

He turns to look at you, his eyes studying your face. “What is it you want?” 

You smile, leaning back in the seat. “I want to live on a farm on a small planet with kind people that care about each other. I want to care for animals and to play in the dirt. I want a house that’s just the right size. I want to be happy and safe away from politics and war and my family.” You stare into his eyes, deep into the rich depths of them. “I want to be happy with my soulmate.” 

***

You lay in bed, staring out the open window. The cool morning air is blowing in, rustling the curtains. The sun is just starting to rise, painting the sky in yellows and oranges. It’s quiet, the only noise the occasional bird song as the world begins to wake up. It’ll be warm today, the perfect time for you to finish planting your garden for the season. 

An arm wraps around your waist, warm lips pressing kisses to your exposed neck. You smile, leaning back against the broad chest. 

“Morning.” You murmur, biting your lip as his stubble tickles the sensitive skin. 

He murmurs his greeting against your neck, his hand trailing up your bare side. 

“We have to get Omega up for school soon.” You say, his lips working on sucking a mark onto the skin under your ear. “And we should take that milk into town.” His hand slides higher, cupping one of your breasts. “And we need to get the guest room ready for when Crosshair arrives.” 

Hunter hums in your ear, pulling you tighter against his chest. You can feel him, hard against your lower back. “Worry about that later. Right now, I need to make love to my wife.” 

It’s been nearly two years since that fateful day your soulmate hunted you down during your escape from your father. 

Not long after, you had found this place. It was almost exactly what you had imagined, what you had told Hunter you wanted. It had felt too good to be true, at least until you began to settle in. It took some adjusting for the others as well, but they eventually found their places. 

Echo decided to leave with Rex, feeling it was the right choice. You know it hurt the others to let him go, but you felt if he was happier fighting with the rebellion, then he should. You still see them occasionally when they drop by for a quick rest. 

During one of those rests, they had brought a new figure into the house. They had stumbled across Crosshair being held at a facility and had rescued him. That had been a big adjustment, as he dealt with a lot of trauma from his time being controlled by the Empire. 

Eventually he healed, and he grew bored. Echo and Rex offered him a place with them, helping them, but he decided on a different route. 

He became a bounty hunter. 

He still stopped by every so often, spending a few days on the farm before he’d leave, heading out to catch more quarries and get more credits. 

Wrecker and Tech settled into farm life nicely. You had worried Tech might work himself to a coma as he spent endless hours learning everything he could about the planet, its flora and fauna, its weather patterns and seasons, the native cultures. He’d set up the house to best utilize the weather and natural phenomena, picked the best crops to grow and which animals would be the easiest to keep. Wrecker was more than thrilled to help with the actual farm work, tending to the animals and the more heavy-lifting aspects that came with it. 

Omega settled in best of all, making friends in the nearby town and starting school. Hunter’s happy in this domestic life. You can tell just looking at him. He had shared similar dreams with you, settling down on a remote planet so that Omega can just be a kid while she still can. A place that’s safe, far from the reach of the Empire. 

It’s been quiet since you landed here. You haven’t seen or heard anything from the Empire or even a bounty hunter. You had all been a bit on edge at first, waiting for the inevitable arrival. 

It never came. 

You’ve been safe, you’ve all been safe, for the first time ever. 

Marrying Hunter had been an easy decision. There was no legal benefit in it, since he was a clone and you had left your family and its name and its standing behind you. You had done it mostly because you wanted to. Adopting Omega had been the natural next step, of course. It hadn’t been a legal adoption, again for obvious reasons, but it still felt good to put a name to it all. 

You’ve built a new family, one you actually want. 

One you actually love. 

Hunter turns your body just slightly, his hand trailing up to your jaw. He cups it gently, looking down at your face. 

“What?” You ask, your cheeks flushing just a bit. Two years and you still feel a bit sheepish under his gaze. 

“You’re just so beautiful.” He says, leaning down to kiss you. 

“You say that all the time.” You murmur against his lips. 

“Because it’s true.” He murmurs back, deepening the kiss. 

You press your body back against him, touching as much of him as you can. He’s softened a bit in two years, you’ve noticed. With the constant strain of fighting and continuous missions behind them, they’ve all softened a bit. Farm work is hard, but not nearly as demanding as what they had spent their entire lives doing. He’s still just as strong, but the hard ridges of muscle are gone, leaving soft edges in their wake. 

That, and finally getting some real food in them has helped. 

You like him no matter what, but you prefer his soft body. It means he’s well rested and well fed. Something he deserves after everything. 

His lips trail down your neck and shoulders, his deft fingers sliding from your jaw down your body, pausing just to pluck at one of your nipples playfully. You gasp quietly, reaching back to tangle a hand in his hair. 

You’ve had plenty of time to learn each other’s bodies over the years. Your first time together had been rushed and desperate in the fresher on the Marauder. It had been a result of the yearning, the need deep within your souls, your very beings, to be linked together. To be as close as you possibly can to each other. It had been awkward fumbling in a too-small space. 

Once you’d found your home, you both finally had space and privacy to take your time. Testing, trying, playing. A few times you’d allowed his knives in bed, and once you’d reenacted your first meeting, except that time ended with you being fucked handcuffed against a tree on the edge of your property. 

Most of all, though, you enjoyed the quiet moments like this one. The gentle lovemaking on lazy mornings, the quick moments when you can slip away from your responsibilities. The nights when he gets that look in his eye during dinner and you know you’re going to end up tangled in the sheets, moaning his name. 

Twelve years ago you never would have thought this could be real.

Two years ago you never thought this could be real. 

Fate is hardly ever wrong. 

You gasp quietly as his fingers slip between your thighs, finding your slick folds. He licks and nips at your skin, leaving a trail of marks no doubt. He has said more than once he loves your scent and the taste of your skin. It had taken some adjusting to his enhanced senses knowing he could hear and smell everything, and he has a habit of smelling and tasting everything. 

His hand grips your thigh, draping it over his waist. His fingers slip through your folds again, gathering your slick on his fingers before he presses one into you. You’re already wet, anticipating a rather satisfying morning. He runs his thumb over your clit and you jolt a bit, still sensitive from the night before. 

You moan quietly, tugging lightly on his hair. He groans in response, breath fanning across your ear. His scalp is sensitive. You’re able to reduce him to shivers by just raking your nails across it. 

He slips a second finger into you, his pace lazy and slow as you writhe in his arms. You can cum easily just from his fingers, something he’s rather proud of. To you, it’s a testament of just how perfect you are for each other. 

You know he wants you to cum on his cock this morning, yet you can’t help but whine as he pulls his fingers from you. He shushes you, shifting you ever so slightly before the head of his cock slips along your folds. You moan, walls clamping in anticipation. You’ll never get tired of him, of his body, of how perfectly it fits against yours. How perfectly it fits inside yours. 

He slides in, in one go, pausing for a moment once he’s seated fully inside you. His arms wrap around you, holding you as close to him as he can. You can still feel it like the first time you had sex, the bond between you. The link tying you together. The energy thrumming through you and into him, and then back like a circle. 

It’s something unexplainable. Something precious and unique and it fills you with warmth every time you think about it. 

“Hunter,” You whisper, walls clamping around him. 

He shushes you, lacing your fingers together. “I’ve got you.” 

He begins to move, slow and steady. Your eyes drift closed, savoring the feel of him, the drag of his hips, the stretch of his cock. The softness of him around you. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing can hurt you, nothing can touch you. Nothing can ruin this moment. 

You’re not going to last long, his fingers slipping between your thighs to circle your clit once more. Your legs shake, walls gripping him like your body is trying to hold onto this moment forever. 

You cum quickly with a quiet cry of his name, his own thrusts getting sloppy as he moans quietly in your ear. He stills as he reaches his own release, his groans vibrating through your back.

You lay there for a moment, clinging to each other, basking in the early morning glow. Neither of you have the will to move, wanting to stay like this forever. 

Alas, that’s not possible as a loud crash is heard from downstairs followed by Omegas giggles and Wrecker’s rather loud apologies. 

“The kids are awake.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

“Yes, it seems they are.” You say, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“We should get up before they destroy the kitchen again.” 

“Agreed.” You say, reluctantly pulling away from him. 

You both dress, preparing to start another busy day. Hunter pauses by the door, leaning down to kiss you softly. 

“I love you.” He says, practically beaming down at you. 

You smile, tracing your fingers over his cheek. “I love you too.” 

And you mean it. 

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons,  @ladytano420, @spicy-clones, @kaminocasey

[sqyyadina]

how much sand can a hand hold?

_ Chapter 2, "Oasis"

Pairing: Lady Jessica X Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags: hurt/comfort, lots and lots of tears, mixing the book events with the movie!

Summary: You mend jessica's heart, and in the late night, she discovers a gift that you may share.

Author’s Note: I wrote most of this at about four in the morning, so i do hope it's not a mess. It's been proofread in the light of day, so I do know it's legible! This is also on my AO3!

<3

Here’s the little dictionary of the Chakobsa that i totally just made up… :

hayatii _ "my life"

jamil jdan bial’nisbat li, rouhii _ "so beautiful just for me, my soul."

It’s been just under an hour.

Your bags have finally arrived at your door, and though your excitement to unpack, to run your fingers over your beautiful new garments, is overwhelming, your worry for your lady trumps all enjoyment you may feel. You haven’t heard her voice since the duke came with his complaints. It’s been silence. Silence, and you’re not sure if she’s even still in the room, but if she is, her silence is extremely concerning.

Jessica’s emotional delicateness was a poor match for the Bene Gesserit desire to hide all sentiments the body may feel. She is, to her core, a destroyed woman, a woman you yearned to build back up, to heal of the wounds to her heart. It would take time, and you know she’ll always be that motherless child left out in the rain, but you’d find a way to give your Jessica all the affection she’s owed.

When you can’t take it anymore, can’t house the beating heart or the racing thoughts any longer, you stand to rap against the door that connects your bedrooms. You knock the specific rhythm that Jessica had taught you once, one that she promised would not be easily replicated, so that she would always know of your presence behind a door. She’d devised several plans to ensure your rendezvouses remained in total secrecy, and they’d never once failed.

“My lady?” Your voice is low against the door, and you crack it open a hair once you feel enough time has passed. You’re given no response, but you can feel the heaviness of Jessica’s presence in the room, so you push the door all the way open.

She’s sitting on the floor, curled into herself, wedged into the corner of the room. The corner furthest from the door where the duke had so loudly made himself known. She’s fallen into a state that you’ve seen her in far too many times, her head in her hands, tears still pouring from her eyes, but the uncontrollable shaking of her shoulders has long since ceased.

The sight nearly brings you to tears of your own, and though you can feel the water pricking at your lashes, you force it back down. A skill that will be useful in a coming livelihood on the desert planet, you think. You drop to your knees in front of your lady, forcing her hands away from her face and replacing them with your own. Her eyes are alert, not yet glazed over as they do when she forces control over her body, though you can tell she’s mere moments away from such control.

“Jessica…” You hum, pushing hair out of her face, wiping her ever-flowing tears as they drip down freckled cheeks. She looks impossibly beautiful when she cries, it’s simply unfair that a woman may look so lovely while in such a miserable condition. Her large eyes sparkle with wetness as they look up at you for guidance, like a lost child searching for their mother.

She’s nonverbal, tired hands making their way to hold onto you as you settle beside her, laying gentle kisses to her cheeks as her tears continue to glide down the curves of her face. Her grip is weak against you, but impactful enough that you know how much it means to her that you’ve come to check in on her. You would have come sooner, had you known what was behind the closed door, but you fear the duke just as much as Jessica does, so you kept to yourself for too long.

“I’m so sorry.” You offer her a reassuring smile, though it feels wrong to smile when she’s in such a joyless state. What you’d like to do is march to the house’s west wing yourself and give the duke a piece of your mind. You’d also like to keep your life, so such a thing would have to exist only in your mind. “He’s awful to you. You’ve done nothing to deserve this.”

The universe has been so cruel to your Jessica. Since her birth, she’s known nothing but sorrow. You know it can’t be karma, for the woman in front of you would never do anything deserving of what she’s received. She’s a punching bag for God’s most evil creations to put their anger towards. You long to put a shield around her, to protect her from the cruelty of those around her. You don’t understand how anyone could look upon such a sweet face and feel anger in their heart.

“He’s… awful.” She echoes, lifting her hands to cover your own, her consciousness seemingly returning to her. She sits upright, sniffling back tears that don’t cease. “Why is he so awful?” She begs, looking into your eyes like you may have the answers to all the questions in the universe. But you don’t. The question she’s asked is impossible to answer. Why could a man be so horrid to his bound woman? To a woman so devoid of love in her life, why would he force her into subservience and never reward her with even the smallest bit of softness?  

You’d never understand the male mind. Though it’s not only men who are wicked, you think, brain returning to days when Jessica would befall a similar fate to this one after a visit from her Bene Gesserit sistren.

“That I cannot answer.” You hum in response, sitting so that you can fully accept Jessica’s frail form in your arms, holding her tight against your chest. “I wish I could take you away from him. You should never have to feel the weight of his wrath again.” Your words were only the ramblings of someone with too much imagination. There would never exist a timeline in which Jessica would leave her child, in which Duke Leto would allow her to disappear.

“If only we could return to Caladan.” She hums, her voice thick from built-up moisture in her throat. A sigh escapes her lips, her body’s weight relying entirely on you now. Jessica holds your hand to her chest, and you feel how slowly it’s beating. She’s calming, but the beat in your own chest is doing quite the opposite. “We’d take the castle for ourselves, and have nothing to do but dance in our rain and count the stars while drinking the oldest wine in the cellar.”

A smile raises to your lips, which then press to your lady’s forehead. You swallow a lump that’s formed in your throat, trying to force back the sadness that creeps out of your tear ducts. You want nothing more than the life she’s laid out for you, and though it is sure to fill your dreams for the rest of your life, your rem cycle is the only place such a wish may exist.

“We’d wear our black dresses and let our skin go pale.” You say in return, a small giggle in your voice. You play with Jessica’s lithe fingers, pressing small kisses to her knuckles. “And we’d never see the duke or his precious desert power ever again. Our only worries would ever be rotten fruit and knots in our hair.” You curl into the woman lying in your lap, sharing her slow breath as you press your head into the crook of her neck, eyes closing. You picture your beloved courtyard on Caladan, where you’d once sat similarly to your current position, deep into the night, not a care towards the warmth of the morning’s sun.

“A perfect life.” Jessica sighs, gently lifting your head so that she may press a deep, longing kiss to your lips. Her lips are salty, a sensation you’ve grown quite used to when kissing your lover. It’s become her flavor, and has taken you over so much that when you eat anything with a high salt concentration, you think of Jessica. “Hayat mith’alia” She translates. You’ve grown so impressed by how little effort it takes Jessica to conjure Chakobsa, how wonderfully familiar it sounds on her lips.

You sit on the floor for another quarter hour, continuing to share your little fantasies about a life on another planet, trying to push away all of your sadness into the pit of your stomach, where it can rest until you can no longer feel the pain. You pet Jessica’s hair, and it’s when you her eyes meet you without shining their magnificent green-blue that you realize how late it has gotten. Your lack of movement must have triggered the suspensor light in the room to dim, leaving only the light from the twin moons to shine into your room.

“You should get changed for bed, my love.” You whisper softly to the woman that’s nearly fallen asleep in your lap, still dressed in her hanging yellow fabric. Jessica huffs a bit, begrudgingly removing herself from your arms to stand, and you quickly follow. She stretches, back bending much like that of a feline. You smile towards her, sneaking another chaste kiss to her cheek before unzipping her robe, letting it fall to the floor.

“I miss our bed.” She hums, voice dejected as she stares at the sad excuse for a bed in front of her. You rummage through her bags, seeking anything you can find, and eventually find what you believe to be a nightgown. At least a very soft stretch material that you hope will suit Jessica in slumber.

“As do I.” You smirk softly, teasing as you help the older woman into her dress, wrapping your arms around her. You inhale, taking in her sent, nose greedy for the smells of Caladan that still cling to the clothes. “It’s a nice canopy, at least.” You try your best to sound genuine, though you’ve already found it hard enough to find anything enjoyable in this place. You can, at the very least, appreciate the architecture, but your initial rose-colored glasses have been swiftly removed from your nose.

“I suppose.” Jessica shrugs before crawling into bed, patting the space beside her so that you may join her. You do so immediately, crawling under the soft fabric and up into Jessica’s arms. You appreciate, at least, that whoever has set this room for you spared no expense when it came to importing the bedspread. Though it doesn’t hold a candle to the large, circular bed of Jessica’s room on Caladan, you imagine it will fit your bodies well enough. It’s not like you take up much space anyway, limbs entangled together as you fall asleep for your first night on the desert planet.

♱

“Wake up, my love.”

The voice is hushed, yet carries a lilt of fervor and eagerness that is unlike your Jessica. You startle awake, your hair tussled, and the corner of your lips wet from heavy slumber. You’re impossibly tired, recovering from your time spent consoling Jessica’s wounded heart.

“Wha…” You mumble, sitting straight up in bed, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes. When they finally blink open, you’re met with Jessica’s freckled face wearing the most elated smile that you’ve ever seen on her lips. It’s very refreshing, considering how miserable you’d seen her earlier this night… it’s still night. Or very early morning, judging by the light green tint to the star-covered sky.

“I’ve found something.” She says, voice low, like she hopes to keep this something hidden from the rest of the members of the house. “It’s… You have to see it.”

Jessica takes your hand, a franticness to her actions that makes you a bit wary about what her found thing is, but if it has caused that most perfect smile that so rarely graces the lady’s lips, you’re sure it must be magical. You sleepily follow the woman, yawning a few times, worrying when she leads you out into the corridor.

“Jessica, I—” You begin, looking down at your nightclothes, the thin fabric of the nightgown clinging to your skin. You stumble in your tracks, constantly looking over your shoulder, fearful for what may happen if a guard, or worse, the duke, were to find you like this. But Jessica is full steam ahead, her steps unwavering as she leads you down the hall, until you reach the end, standing at the bottom of a spiral staircase. “Jessica, I really should change. What if—”

Your hypotheticals do not deter her, and your lady only shoots you another wide grin before she pulls you up the stairs, maneuvering her palm against the oval door at its peak before you’re thrust into a small chamber.

“An airlock?” You question quietly, your heartrate rising as you feel the air secure all around you. You don’t fear what Jessica is leading you towards, you know she’ll always keep you safe. What you do fear, however, is that someone has corrupted your lady in your slumber, that the sealed door in front of you is hiding dozens of Harkonnens. No, that’s the most ridiculous thought any brain could conjure. Your lady would never fall victim to such a silly scheme.

All of your suspicions fall apart when Jessica swings the heavy door open, revealing to you a grand room of jungle leaves and blossoming flowers. A breath escapes your lips as you step through the hatch, the sudden moisture thickness of the air making your already frizzy hair gain more curls.

“I…” You mutter, taking in the room that lays before you in all of its glory. “It’s….” You try again, but your words fail you. Jessica snakes her arms around you from behind, and for the first time since your arrival on Arrakis, you feel like you’re back home.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Jessica hums, holding your body tight against her chest. You quickly nod in response, reaching out a hand to caress a pink rose, grinning at the memories it brings to your mind. On Caladan, you developed a habit of always buying flowers for your lady when you went to market. Though the duke always kept a minimalist, masculine theme to his interior design, Jessica managed to keep a few flower vases around the castle. Though no one else in the house knew their meaning, you did, and that was enough.

Now, just as you once did, you and your lady shared a botanic secret, and it filled your sand-withered heart with glee.

“It’s… wonderful.” You whisper back, stepping away from her to lap around the room. You smile down to the flowering sondagi plants, hands collecting moisture from the leaves of hanging akarso. You giggle softly when a light mist paints your cheeks in water droplets, but your delight in the feeling turns to shock when you register what the mist implies.

“How is this possible?” You ask, turning back to return to Jessica’s arms; you adore the feeling of your shared wetness, the clothes clinging to skin like they once did under your beloved rain. “This much water, to keep such a climate sustained… where does the water come from?”

Jessica smiles, places a kiss to your nose. “That I do not know, hayatii.” She purrs, the petname making your legs turn to jelly, her kisses trailing down to your jaw. “All I know is that it is completely safe. A past lady of the house, the Lady Fenring, left a note. She’s left it here for my eyes alone. For us.” You sense the bitterness in her voice when she says the name of another lady, hear the jealousy she holds that one of her sisters was married to the man she was dedicated to.

You sigh into her, hands wrapping around her head, holding her close. The mist continues to wash over you, the yellow sun filter glass casting a warmth across your intwined bodies. Jessica continues her gentle kisses to your throat, her hands bunching up your soaked-through nightgown.

“I wish I could marry you.” You whisper, the words earnest, yet you wish you hadn’t said them. You don’t want to hurt her heart any more, especially after the night she’s had.

You’d never make a good partner for her. You have nothing to give, she has nothing to gain from your hand. She couldn’t secure your bloodline, not that you came from a mighty line of warriors or genius Mentats in the first place. You could only offer her love, and in the Bene Gesserit mindset, love was worth less that death.

Jessica is silent, her kisses pausing, her head falling to lay against your chest. You feel a sob shake her shoulders, her grasp on you growing tighter. You sigh, head dropping to meet her own, your own hands draping over her back, gently caressing her protruding spine.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” You whisper, voice drowned out by the noise of rhythmic running water and the buzz of a few insects kept to pollinate the flowers. “I... I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

Jessica’s still silent, but she eventually lifts her head to gaze up at you. Her earlier excitement has disappeared, and is replaced by tired eyes and the frown of a woman underloved. She’s always told you not to apologize, especially when you were only using the word sorry to make someone feel better. It was an awfully hard habit to rid yourself of.

“I want nothing more than to be your wife.” She whispers softly, voice laced with tears as she lifts her hands to cradle your face. You lift your own to wipe her cheeks, initially worried about the water she’s losing, but then realizing that lost water has no price while standing in a room such as this one.

“Then, as long as we stand in this room, my wife you shall be.” You smile at her, hating to see her in tears for a second time in a day, though she is so breathtaking when she cries, that you feel a bit guilty in wanting her to continue on.

A smile breaks on her lips, and in less than a beat of your heart they are attached to your own, the saltiness of her tears pressing against your thirsty lips. You tug her in by the heavy fabric of her dress, until she’s pressing you against a tree trunk, the rough bark scratching your back, though you’d never be upset by it. The sensation of live flora against your skin is something to be cherished on this planet so devoid of life.

The word wife has always had a profound effect on Jessica, and while it is so typically a negative one, your use of the term has turned the woman into a mess of desire. She’s so longed to be tied to such a word, that now that she is, even if it’s only between the two of you, it’s kickstarted a tickle at the back of her brain that’s running her body into overdrive.

She’s laying into you with such fervor that you can’t help but chuckle softly between her heavy kisses, and as dearly as you accept the feeling of her warm lips against your own, you have to force her off so that you may breathe for a moment.

“I love you.” You whisper softly, pushing your face forward an inch so that you may teasingly nudge Jessica’s nose with your own. “But this hurts!” You giggle gently, gesturing to the tree behind you.

Jessica only nods, her eyes glassy with lust, and takes a miraculously short time to lead you to the secluded bench that sits at the back of the room, near a small pond of water decorated by lilies. You want to take a moment to ogle the sight of such a mass of liquid, but you have no time to, because Jessica has situated herself at your feet. A far more attractive sign to gaze upon. Her hands swiftly push your dress aside, her sloppy kisses covering your thighs in her tingling warmth. You groan softly, hands rushing to tangle in her hair, tugging in her sleep-tousled locks. You pull her closer, begging her kisses to stray higher on your thighs, but she is steadfast against the soft flesh of your legs.

You’ll not persuade a Bene Gesserit into rushing.

You are growing impatient from Jessica’s relentless teasing, her teeth scaping against the skin that hasn’t ever seen the sun. You growl her name a few times until she finally relents, her nose teasing against your clothed cunt before pulling the fabric to the side.

“Jamil jdan bial’nisbat li, rouhii.” She purrs, the low tone of her voice sending a vibration through your body as she offers a few more delicate kisses to your skin. You adore how she reverts to the battle language while her brain is so drunk on your taste.

The feeling of her tongue against your flesh causes a shake in your weak knees, but when you fling your head back and open your eyes, you notice the shake isn’t solely in your desperate body. The leaves above your head are shaking, and when you look down to the small pond below you, you’re met with ripples in the water.

“Jessica…” You mumble, sitting upright, eliciting an annoyed grunt from the woman on her knees below you. “Jessica, really. Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong, my love. Nothing can hurt us.” She hums, but sits up anyway. Jessica licks her glistening lips, and the sight of it makes you want to ignore the signs of ill fate and return to your lovemaking, but you feel something pull at your heart that forces you to cease.

You stand to glance out the window, and a sudden dread fills your being.

Great pillars of fire and smoke fill your limited view, and from what you can see in the night sky, several large ships have begun descending onto Arrakis.

“The shield wall.” You gasp, slapping a hand over your mouth as to not make any louder noises. Jessica runs to your side, sharing in your fright, gripping your hand tightly. “Harkonnens.” You whisper shakily, the horrid name falling from your lips like a curse. You fight back tears for yet another moment in this most hellish night.

Jessica’s begun pacing, moving closer to the door of your sanctuary. You follow after her, panic rising in your heart and causing the tears to begin their flow.

“I must get Paul.” Jessica states grimly, her dedication to the Kwisatz Haderach, to her son, above all others. Above you. “I… I will find him. Bring him back here.”

Your heart stings with the idea of Jessica bringing another human into your secret oasis, but it pains even more at the fact that she’s so determined to leave in the first place, that she’ll surely be killed if she were to step foot out of this room.

“Jessica, no.” You try to carry a conviction in your voice but the hope for strength is far lost. You’re too scared, too desperate to stay by her side, but you know she will not let you. She is headstrong, one of your most favorite traits that Jessica holds, but you know better than to argue with her. All you can muster is a pitiful “Please…”

“I will be back. I promise you this.” Jessica smiles gently, and your brain tries to take a memory of it, knowing too well that this very well may be the last time it sees such a beautiful thing. “You must stay here. You must stay safe.” She shudders, images of Harkonnen torture flooding her brain.

“No. I’ll come with you. Please. Please let me come with you.” You beg, and as Jessica makes her way towards the exit of your most perfect room, you grab her hand, not ever wanting to let go. “Please, my love.”

“Stay here.” Her voice is pitched so that you must do her bidding, so that you’ve done it before your brain will move to disobey her. So that you’ve forcefully forgotten all about wanting to go with her, just long enough for Jessica to plant one last kiss to your lips before she escapes through the door and into the madness of the Governor’s Palace.

You fall to your knees at the door, clinging onto the cool metal. You continue your begging but soon lose your voice, sitting weak and dejected on the moisture-rich mat below you. You pray, pray so hard to whatever God that may be out there to protect your lady in her steps, that she may never face a Harkonnen soldier, and she may return to your side.

When your praying has finished, once you’ve begged for all you can, your force out those words that you so hate to hear.

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer.”

♱

When the sun rises over Arrakis, you rise with it. The white sun, filtered through yellow as though to keep your plants alive, stings through your eyelids and forces you awake. You rush to said window, gazing out at the dunes. Damage done to every building, the sand covered in the bodies of soldiers, though for which side they once fought for, you’re unsure.

You’d been rustled by explosions all night, and the remnants of them remain all around you. Orange fires scattered across yellow rock, the heaviest of them burning the trunks of the imported palms in the palace’s courtyard.

Despite her promise, your lady has not returned. You’ve spent the night alone, and though you heard a few grunting noises beyond your airlocked doors, the palm lock of the exterior door is far too advanced for the Harkonnen mind to comprehend. You can now only hope that they do not have a Bene Gesserit in their employ.

You’re in a terrible state, exhausted and starved, and decide to eat a bright orange fruit from a tree in the center of the room. You’re not sure if it’s safe to eat, but decide that if it is truly poisonous, at least you may join your love in a safer death than at the hands of Harkonnen soldiers.

You sit, drowning in grief and in a premature state of mourning, hugging your knees to your chest. You won’t be able to last long in this room. Though the supply of water will last you for probable decades, there’s no source of food. You also can’t stand the feeling of not knowing Jessica’s fate. You can’t stand the endless possibilities, and while you’ve always been so very optimistic, it’s awfully difficult for your brain not to consider the woman dead.

After a considerable time sent sulking, your brain has convinced you to leave the safety of your small jungle. Even if it’s a cold body that you find, you must find your lady. You stand, pacing around for a moment to shake the dizzy fog of your head, before pushing open the heavy door leading to the airlock. You let the air decompress around you, looking down at the state of your clothing. Your feet are dirty, hair dripping water. It’s not a state you’d like any Arrakeen resident to see you in, lest you be attacked for your wealth of water.

You stand in the hushed air of the airlock, ears fine-tuning so that you may hear any rustle of noise outside on the other side of the door. When you’re sure enough there isn’t a Harkonnen beast awaiting your exit, you step out of the door, closing it as quietly as possible, and scurry down the spiral staircase. The corridor is empty, but you hear commotion throughout the palace. They must have done a thorough sweep of the house and deemed this half useless just as the duke and his charge had done upon your arrival.

You return to your shared room, which lays empty. Though you’re so very pleased that you’ve not found Jessica here in a pile of her own blood, you also don’t find any sign that she’s returned to this room. You drop to the floor to rummage through her bags, finding a tunic and a pair of pants, something nondescript and lightweight enough that you may blend in as a lost Arrakeen civilian. You’d remembered that the women on Arrakis often covered their hair, so you wrapped yourself in a veil that smelled so much of Jessica’s perfume it almost brought another sob though your body.

After slipping on a pair of shoes, you frantically search the room for anything that may be used as a weapon. Nothing has been unpacked yet, not even your toiletries, so there’s nothing to grab, nothing to conceal under your sleeves. You’re forced to leave your room with only your wits about you, and you’ve not even really got those. Your brain is still dripping with sorrow, and as you finally exit the room, you enter a state of high alert to find your lady.

You creep down the long hallway, hugging yourself tightly as you do so. At least you’ve grown used to the sneaking around, the walking in shadow. It’s come easy to both you and your lady, and you hope that she’d taken these very steps, at least made it to Paul. You’re sure she has.

“Hey!” You hear from behind you, a loud, deep voice reverberating and echoing through the hall and into your ears. Before you can turn around to see the monster that’s yelled at you, a hand the size of your own head is wrapped around your arm, squeezing so hard you fear the bone may snap.

You don’t speak to the beast, for you can’t decide which character would better aid your escape. Would a bald, black-toothed soldier have more sympathy for a lady’s maid, or a wandering Fremen citizen? It was not like you could portray the latter well, you hadn’t studied the language, nor interacted with the public enough to adopt their mannerisms or accent. So, you walk in silence, stumbling over your feet trying to keep up with the soldier’s long strides.

The man stops for a moment at the tall exterior doors of the palace, speaking to another gross, fat soldier. They speak in that horribly guttural language, and you’re wise enough to know they’re discussing your fate. You take the opportunity to look around, seek your love, but all of the doors in the palace are sealed shut.

You’re suddenly thrust through the doors and out onto sand, and the creature pulls you towards an ornithopter. You force your crying to cease, understanding your coming desert fate, and stumble up the walkway and into the seat you’re thrown into. The Harkonnen doesn’t bother tying you up; he must not see your small frame and fancy clothes as too much of a threat to his life.

The ‘thopter is illuminated by only a few flickering, neon lights, but you can sense the presence of other bodies around you. They must be packing ship after ship with bodies and taking them out to the desert to die under the Arrakeen sun.

“Jessica?” you call out weakly, and though your mind knows that there’s not a single chance that your lady would be on this craft, you take the chance anyway. “Does anyone know what’s become of the royal family?” You beg, sure that the other maids and housekeepers of the palace surely haven’t given a single thought to the rich ones who previously ruled their lives.

“Quiet!” The Harkonnen yells towards you from the front of the ‘thopter, which now flickers to life as its bug wings lift you into the sky. You swallow hard, throat impossibly dry as you lift over what was once the shield wall, and move over the open desert. It’s a terrifying thing, sand upon sand upon sand. The yellow that you had been once so fond of, so mystified by, now brought nothing but fear through your heart. You mumble the litany once again, now finding comfort in its words yet not feeling the full-body calm that it’s supposed to bring. You hold the fabric of your veil close to your nose, the rich vanilla and crinum lily tricking your brain into calm, into believing that you’re back with your lady in the sanctity of your bed.

But you’re not. You’re in the middle of the open desert, ornithopter lowering down once the soldier figures you’re far south enough that you’ll never make it back to the capital city. You land on the sand with a thunk, a graceless landing that’s so very characteristic of the Harkonnen hand.

The ‘thopter’s cargo hold swings open, a sudden heat throwing sand against your skin, instantaneously evaporating all of the moisture that lays on your skin. The sun is impossibly bright when it beats off the sand and into your eyes, pupils dilating as you squint hard to protect yourself from floating grains of the dune.

Your captor forces you, along with five-or-so others who you vaguely recognize as Fremen house workers, into the sand. You fall to your knees in the shifting terrain below you, falling dejected to your fate. While the others around you scream and sob, you keep yourself grounded, preserving your energy as best you can.

The ‘thopter quickly makes its retreat, its pilot not wishing to spend any time under a sun that isn’t black. When the beating of wings disappears from your ears, you climb to your feet, addressing your surroundings. There only exists sand, white mounds waving from the heat of the mid-day. Once you turn, however, you find a tall hunk of rock to your left, perhaps a half-hour’s walk or so away. You can make it, if you start now.

You feel greedy in not alerting the rest of the group of your plan, but you just can’t worry over the survival of people that have lived on this planet their whole lives. They’ve grown with stories of shai-hulud, they’ll know it’s coming. So, you leave them, untrained rhythmless movements heading towards the black jetting of rock, praying that it’s not a mirage that your brain has concocted in a daze of lost love and impending heatstroke.

[nokk0]

🥘 (Stew) - Do they have any favourite foods or comfort foods? What are their eating habits like? If absorbed by the Cook ability, what healing item would they summon?

Fal and Snow!

Second question by: @turquoisetuber

[Ask Game]

Alright!!!! THE MOMENT HAS COME!!!!

REALLY long post

⚔️ (Crossed Swords) - What weapon(s) do they wield or specialize in, if any in particular? Any special properties? Do their weapons have names or epithets? [e.g. MK’s Galaxia, Morpho’s Doomblade]

★ Fal has a broken heart-shaped holographic shields to defend himself, (nameless because he never thought about a name for those shields-) which are shields reminiscent of Star Dream force field. The reason for this is because i designed that with the idea to show the connection between Fal and Star Dream, as both are ancient artifacts, although they are the complete opposite of the other

Literally, Star Dream is a cat the size of a planet

And Fal a fish that is a few centimeters smaller than Magolor…

★ Snow White has a magical weapon similar to a halberd, it's a weapon completely unbreakable and indestructible. This weapon was property of someone else until it was eventually passed on to Snow White, who would use it during battles against Rogue Star Warriors and criminals. Because of Snow White's fame as the White Hunter, Ruler would in turn also become a very famous weapon... In the past

💫 (Shooting Star) - If they were to wish on a clockwork star, like Galactic Nova or Star Dream, what would they wish for?

★ Snow wouldn't wish for anything. Maybe she wants to remedy her past mistakes or prevent someone's death, but the Ancients are gone, the GSA is dissolved and the cosmos is at peace... She feels that changing the past now isn't necessary. Maybe her only wish would be that nothing bad happened to Fal and her new home (Dreamland)

★ Fal, for his part, has friends, a home, a job and Snow by his side, that is more than enough... Maybe he'd ask to be organic to know what it's like to have real skin (?)

🧋 (Boba Tea) - Come up with a Kirby Café item themed around your OC! It can be a savoury dish, a drink, a dessert, or something else entirely.

★ i'm not the best with these kinds of questions... My knowledge about food is... Super limited, not to mention just the basics... Ahem! i guess Fal would have a Kamaboko with rainbow swirls and Snow would have mochis, perhaps decorated with edible flowers... There would also be sodas... It's not much use but believe me, if there was a menu based on Fal, it would be a sin not to include sodas

🍒 (Cherry) - Out of all of the Dream Friends [Kirby included], which ones would they get along with the most? The least?

★ Susie and Magolor are evidently the closest to Fal. In addition to repaired him and given him a body, they taught him several things and updated him on various topics in which he lacked knowledge. Maybe he doesn't like to be the target for Magolor pranks time to time, but a little chatter about the decades of wondrous intergalactic travel of Magolor worth it. That cat is always eager to share stuff with his friends! At the same time Fal rambles 24/7 when he's talkin’ with Magolor or Taranza. Susie also enjoys the info dump of Fal, but she tends to cut him often since Fal can distracts really easily from his job. Although their relationship is not perfect, they are very good friends!! (i would include Lor but she is not a playable character-)

★ Taranza is another close one; both of them loves to rambles about plants! They are really good friends, especially for the emotional support that the arachnid provided to Fal in depressive and melancholic moments, especially when the topic of Snow White's death depressed the fish. Taranza taught him breathing exercises and also about gardening, although not much because Fal tried to bury himself in the ground just because he liked how it feels, so they just go to drink tea and eat desserts while rambling about plants and vent when needed

★ Marx and Meta Knight are two that Fal hates. Marx is really rude, a hedonist who plays jokes left and right. He even takes advantage of Fal's fear and usually has Gooey as an accomplice in his pranks. With Meta Knight it is more extensive:

1- With his goggles he discovered MK's attempt to take over Popstar and for Fal that is something that, coming from a Star Warrior, is expected but at the same time outrageous. He and Snow made an effort to take care of those kinds of individuals and even when the GSA dissolved, there is a Star Warrior who received no punishment or consequences for his actions. He can't understand why Dedede is datin' with this bat

2- Meta thought that Fal was some of Susie's weapons and with memories of Vietnam, he tried to get rid of Fal, which only made things worse between the two- i know it's a bit over the top of MK to try to silence Fal... But seeing as how everything between MK and Susie is something... Tense and seeing the disasters that ancient artifacts bring, i don't think he takes Fal lightly...

Snow doesn't know any of them yet, but from what shehear from Fal, she doesn't have a good opinion of MK

🥀 (Wilted Rose) - Do they have a Soul form? What would it look and act like? How much control over themselves do they have? Is it still possible to save them, or are they too far gone?

Ok, at first i questioned whether it was necessary or even possible because Fal is an AI, he lacks a soul, but Star Dream came to shut me up and remind me that even machines have something reminiscent of the soul

My idea for a Soul Form would be: The physical body inert/broken but looking calm or as if it were asleep, the core of the chest broken and a giant holographic sphere that came out of the core

What “hatched” from the husk would be a mass of warping, twisting and pulsating veins that look like colorful stars, their light alternating between too dim and far too bright all of them trapped in an gigant sphere that shifts in hue and drips along the bottom with a ghostly aura that roils and shimmers. It hasn't an ethereal nature, as it flickers and warps in shape like a projection of light rather than a real solid entity. Unfortunately for everyone, too far gone...

Snow... She's already dead, so her "soul form" would be more like a... Completely lack of sanity

It would be like... *grimaces*... Gretchen... Urg-

Pretty much like Madoka, Snow dreams of saving everyone and everything. "Soul Fal" despite being just the shadow of his former self will follow Snow dreams. Master and Waiter work together with a common goal... They will kept dreaming. They are both chasing their dreams

🥘 (Stew) - Do they have any favorite foods or comfort foods? What are their eating habits like? If absorbed by the Cook ability, what healing item would they summon?

★ Snow is a Puffball, don't forget she's a Puffball

In life she had an appetite comparable to Kirby's, but she managed to control herself from time to time... But not always. Despite knowing how to cook good meals, when she came home tired, she didn't bother cooking and often ate canned food due to her tiredness. Snow has a great fascination for apples, anything with an apple included will be devoured without a doubt. Even apple-scented soaps.....

★ Unconsciously Fal picks up Snow's habit, but... It goes to the extreme. If something fits in his mouth, then he will eat it. Ham, salads, chicken, burgers, unpeeled bananas, polystyrene pellets, cans… He is similar to a toddler in that habit. Young children often put things in their mouths (such as grass or toys) out of curiosity about the world around them

★ He's happy to eat anything, edible or not. Fal has a list of foods that are his favorite; but he's still trying a lot of things and choosing one of THOUSANDS OF OPTIONS as his favorite is a torture for him. Fal can eat metal too, but he prefers actual food though, and he's a REALLY big fan of meats and fish. And sodas

If he could, he would drink absolutely all flavors of sodas he can find out there. And eat all the soda cans after that as well!

★ i think for the cook ability Fal would give a fish cake (Kamaboko) and Snow a Mochi or an apple

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Crossing A Line

Clan of Three: One-Shot

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers and a heavy role to bear. High stakes can be the reason the innocence begins to crack.

Word Count: 4.8K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, heavy angst, heavy details of gore and murder (including children) slight ptsd, sad-but-sweet father-daughter moments

A/N: This takes place between the end of Season 2 and before the Book of Boba Fett- CONTAINS CLAN OF THREE SPOILERS. Read all of the Clan of Three Series here

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"Me and the devil walkin' side by side"

The chill of the planet's atmosphere despite how close you were to the center of the galaxy. You’ve never been so close to the Core your entire life was the Outer Rim that was all you ever knew. Scars are still fresh and healing haunted memories branded onto your skin forever with you unable to escape them or have them escape you. Your eyes were glued onto the flowy cape that trailed off the bounty hunter, your protector, your savior. Things were tense given how much has occurred in little over a year. The empire, your adventures, you and the kid, Gi-

But the kid was safe. Grogu was with the Jedi getting the proper training but you didn’t though. It wasn’t safe, you needed to be with Din you couldn’t abandon him. Your gaze flickers to the new weapon resting on his hip that he’s used a bit on some quarries. It was yours by right. You fought and won it, the blood and sins of that weapon were passed onto you.

You would never touch that thing if it killed you.

The streets crawl with rodents and the pure scum of life. You thought being towards the Core on Corellia that it would be the height of luxury. How wrong you were, crime and death still clung to every planet no matter how much that planet lies claiming it’s peaceful and innocent. Din stops short in his path you coming to a halt almost running into him.

“We’ll rest for the night and continue at dawn,” His modulated voice speaks looking at the quickly setting daylight and you nod silently. You weren’t tired at all and if you weren’t in the picture he probably would have continued, but he didn’t want a young girl walking through this place so late into the night. It was an abandoned building Din had to help you crawl through an open window to move the barricaded items before the door. You wondered what the history of the building was with broken light fixtures, broken windows, destroyed furniture and anything of value already ransacked. Following up the long flights of stairs since the turbolift was out of commission reaching a floor that Din decided was adequate entered a room at the end of the hall. The room was barren with the windows cracked but luckily not broken a small balcony that showed an overview of the crime-ridden part of the capital, Coronet City.

“Get away from the window.” Din calls out and you sigh parting your gaze from the view and seeing him sprinkling broken glass on the floor in front of the door leading towards the main area then he passes you doing the same by the balcony. Taking in the inventory of the room finding some destroyed cushions taking them a beginning to dust them off before making makeshift beds on the ground. “Kid,” Din gets your attention before tossing a small ration in your direction which you catch.

“Thanks.” You respond quietly and you can sense his slight disappointment from the lack of conversation between you two since everything. It had only been a few months since…all that. While it was your choice to stay with the Mandalorian it had been a lot, wounds still fresh and time was slowly but barely healing. Without the Crest it was hard for Din to collect bounties to support the two of you if that meant rations or stolen food or sleeping in abandoned places instead of inns then so be it.

The stars and planets of faraway systems and galaxies look down being your source of light as you finish your meal and you hadn’t realize how tired you were until you were resting. Your back rested against the wall your head dipping every so often before you jerked awake. Din having situated his sleeping arrangement with a good view of both entry points notices you nodding off, “Get some rest,” He speaks and you nod sluggishly fixing yourself to be laying your bag resting beside your head your saber right beside it within your reach.

“You better wake me up to take the next shift.” You murmur and you see him nod slightly. You had a feeling he wasn’t going to, no matter how many times you assured him you could take the first watch or to wake you but then it would be morning and he would tell you it was alright. You needed the rest more than him, ‘You’re a growing kid,’ He would say, and he could still function even on a few hours of sleep or even none. Your lashes felt heavier and grew more in weight before darkness consumed you and you were quickly dragged under the peace of slumber.

The small moment of peace that were far between was interrupted by a frantic shaking jolting you awake. Your hand reaches for your weapon but you stop when you see Din hovering above you. You got to speak when he covers your mouth and you look at him with wide eyes. The sound of crushed glass alerts you and the multiple sounds of voices, “They’re on this floor check every room.” A voice comes through the walls and Din pulls you up to your feet throwing your bag over your shoulder and your saber is placed into your hands.

“What are you doing?” You whisper as he pushes you towards the balcony, “I’ll hold them off.” He responds and you shake your head, “No we do this together.” You say and you don’t get another word in as the footsteps grow closer and you’re outside. The windows don’t fully show the balcony as your back presses against the wall right beside the window listening in. It’s silent before you hear the entrance door enters and the slow crunch of glass, you hold your breath when the sudden blaster fire makes you jump and the sound of struggle grunts and groans before you hear a loud noise followed by Din making a sound of pain. Your hands shake clenching your saber wishing you could be there helping him.

Din struggles in the grasp of the bounty hunters and there was a multitude, he was able to take out a few before he was overwhelmed and forced to his knees restrained. Who he assumes was the leader steps forward a buffy man with scars visible on his body that wasn’t covered by his clothes or tattoos. “This was the Mandalorian we were supposed to be worried about?” He smirks and Din felt his blood boil but he needed to remain calm a single wall separating them from finding you.

“The Empire’s got a high bounty on your head but I’m more interested in a higher one,” He says looking over the beskar-covered man, “Where’s the girl?” Din didn’t even budge if looks could kill no one in this room would be standing right now. A sharp hit to him makes him groan though he stifles it.

“Just tell us where the girl is and we’ll let you go.” The man says leaning forward trying to offer up a deal Din slams forward the beskar cracking the bone of his nose and the leader pulls back clutching his bleeding nose as Din is taken down fully to the ground. The leader growls blood pours down his chin his teeth staining red, “Search the room, you find her…kill her.” Din’s heart lurches as he’s restrained as the others tear apart the room making sure no corner is left unchecked until all is left is the balcony. The man gives a sly bloody grin at the Mandalorian at the only hiding spot left before instructing a Rodian to check. Equipped with their weapon they head towards the balcony the crunch of glass under their boots as they open the door ready to deliver the killing blow to the young jedi. Din holds his breath waiting for the inevitable gunfire and the cry you would produce, you were going to die because of him, your blood would be on his hands. Why didn’t you go with the jedi you would be safe-

“She’s not here sir.” The Rodian announces the news and Din almost sags in relief while the leader curses, “She couldn’t have gone far, Hit the streets and start looking.” Most leave respecting their orders as the two restrainings Din bring up the Mandalorian.

“What do we do with him?” One of them asks and the leader sneers at Din, “Take him back to base…she’ll come after him.” Before Din could get any word in a needle injects through the fabric of his flightsuit and darkness quickly takes over.

The sound of the door slamming shut behind you as you release the air you were holding in. Hanging off the side of a balcony so high up in the air that the people on the streets looked like little bugs. Pulling yourself up and getting on solid ground you peek inside finding the room empty beside the dead bounty hunters that were after you. A tightness filled your chest Din was gone, you were on your own….they took him. They hurt him….they were going to kill him-you weren’t going to let them. You would make them feel the same pain if they laid another finger on him.

The streets were dark a storm brewing settling over the planet reflecting your emotions, you didn’t even know where to start who, or what you were looking for. You had some voices but that gave you nothing. Neon signs light your way through the rainy streets and alleys, despite how late into the night it was probably early morning the nightlife was active whether it would be to enjoy a night out or for more nefarious acts held so late. Gliding through busy streets crowds none paying attention to a young girl or empty alleys where creatures scamper to find their meal in the trash. It felt like hours trying to find where to even look for, who to go after, who could they even be on this planet. You weren’t a bounty hunter, you didn’t even know the first step in finding someone. It was sudden hands that wrapped around your waist the other covering your mouth muffling your screams as you’re dragged into an alley. Kicking your feet out your teeth dug into the flesh until metallic blood filled your mouth producing a cry from your assailant as another appears revealing a crude rusty blade. He looked around your age you could see the slight tremor in his grasp of the weapon.

“Just kill her already!” The man behind you yells as the other flinches before stalking closer. Kicking your leg out the blade flies into the air as your momentum slams the two of you back into a wall. The arms loosen around you and you slam his head into the wall he quickly knocks him unconscious the other scrambles to grab their blaster when they're flung into the wall opposite pinned there. The young boy quivers from his restrained position as the streetlights illuminate the young girl her hand held out. This was the power they had to be worried about, the reason a bounty was on her head. To bring the Jedi in alive or dead. Thrusting your hand forward and he too is shrouded in darkness.

When Din regained consciousness he was revealed to still have his armor on, despite his creed already broken he didn’t wish to break it twice. He was stripped of his weapons and his vambraces, leaving just the beskar armor to be his protection. Tugging at his restraints the heavy chain shakes around his wrists behind his back and from their place in the solid floor. The darkness that fills the room beside the dingy light above him allows him to see the true emptiness of the room. He curses lightly leaning his hand back against the wall, he wasn’t nervous for himself he could handle whatever torture or attempts at harm towards him. It was you he was fearful for, there was never a time where you needed to be looking for him. He felt foolish not at least preparing you for the event if the two of you were separated or if he was trouble. If the Crest still existed he would have least known you were safe but you were out on this planet alone trying to find him.

The door slides open revealing the scarred man as he stalks into the room the confidence that radiates off him. Like the deadly bounty hunter chained before him is something he shouldn’t be worried about. If he could wrap these chains around his throat and listen to the crack of his bones Din would be delighted.

“They are going to find her,” He speaks to Din as he remains silent his emotions masked by the beskar helmet, “You could have made it easy, she could have remained alive. But when my men find her they are going to rip her apart.” His grin was full of joy and malice trying to get on the bounty hunter’s nerves, “Maybe they have their way with her first? See how loud she screams before they slit her throat.” The chains were the only thing holding him back from throttling him. On his feet, his arms pulled behind him creating a strain, a growl ripped from his throat.

“You touch a single hair on her-” Din threatens just itching to tear him apart, “You’ll what kill me?” The scarred man laughs his head leaning back, “I’ll be sure you’ll get to see her corpse before we kill you too.” He pulls as curses in Basic and Mando’a are thrown at him before the door closes locking him in there. He couldn’t even feel like he was breathing, oh maker he felt sick he fell back to his knees. You were going to be okay, he would get out of here and kill anyone that dare to even look at you.

The sound of groans and fist meeting skin draws the young boy awake his vision adjusting he tries to move but he’s restrained his arms tied behind his back attached to some piping on the floor. No matter how hard he tugged and the pain in his wrist flared he couldn’t break free. Drawing his attention away from his restraint he focuses in on his superior restrained but in a chair, a wave of nauseous fills him at the amount of blood that was around the chair some speckled on the floor or in large puddles. A feminine grunt as he watches her fist make contact with his superior’s face the crack of bone and the sound of anguish emitting from who he thought was a hardened criminal.

The red liquid drips from your knuckles but it wasn’t yours as you swing your fist against another sharp cry admitting from the man and you pull back. The mess of the man the injuries all over him as he starts to slump over when you fist his hand yanking his head to look at you. “Where is the Mandalorian.” You hiss as blood dribbles from his face coughing globs his body quakes in pain.

He spits harshly it landing on your face with flecks of blood and you step back wiping it off your face and staring back at the heavy glare directed towards you. The echo of the blaster bolt and his scream fill the empty building and you see the boy behind jolt from the loud noise. Smoke emits from the man’s kneecap as he hunches over trying to calm himself from the immense pain he’s experiencing, “Where’s the Mandalorian!” You shout and he flinches shaking his head before he gasps for air. You can feel the young boy watching in horror as the man begins thrashing in his seat trying to breathe but no air entering his body. Anger and hatred fuel you as your hand clenches more into a fist watching him turn blue from lack of air.

“Stop! I know where he is!” The young boy proclaims and you drop your hand as the older man sucks in the air he was praying for loud coughs rack through his body. “F-foolish…boy…shut..up.” The man croaks his voice strained as you pull away approaching the young man. He couldn’t have been old maybe fifteen or sixteen. Crouching down and he leans back to keep a distance as he feels your gaze take him in.

“It’s at the junkyard where they are disassembling imperial cruisers,” He says as the other man curses at him, “You’ll find him there, Rel he’s covered in scars he’ll have him.” You look over him and despite the clear fear you didn’t sense any distrust.

The older man thrashes in his seat curses hurled, “You traitorous bastard. They will skin you when they find out you ratte-” It was a blur one second you were in front of him and suddenly the howl of a saber as he’s cut apart his torso hits the ground blood pooling around the body. Terror in the boy's eyes as he looks at the orange saber and he can see in the lighting the person now over the destroyed body, smeared blood from the profile of her face, the hands coated in red as she now stands over him.

“Wait please, my family is there under their protection, just let me warn them so they won’t be in harm's way.” He pleads, darkness shields your eyes, and he can’t see what you’re thinking, “Would you tell the empire about where I am?” Your voice is cold and heaviness to it as he frantically shakes his head.

“I swear on the Maker, I won’t tell a soul.” Liar. Your hand tightens on the weapon and you turn from the dead criminal slowly prowling towards him and he shakes in his restraints tears in his eyes as pleads fall from his lips.

“We could trade with you guys. We could be friends. I didn’t know. I’m Jash. What’s your name?” He’s frantic pleading for mercy as the view light sources crack the fuse blowing out as darkness grows closer but also the orange saber. Your hands tighten on the weapon. You were doing this for Din, to keep the both of you safe, leave no loose ends. The heat of the blade is so close as you raise the weapon, “No, no, no, no! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please! You don’t have to! Please! No, no, no! We can just talk! Mom! Mom! Mom!”

It’s quick and painless. Silence fills the room beside the crackle of the orange plasma. You turn from the massacre heading back into the night the blade returning to the hilt the growing storm cleaning the blood of you and cleansing your sins. No one would hurt him. You wouldn’t allow it.

Din wallows in the darkness before the sound of footsteps returns and the door opens revealing the leader followed by another man a staff in hand. Neither of them speak until the man gestures to his subordinate and the staff crackles with electricity and it’s jammed between the plates of his armor. Din seizes groaning out in pain as it rushes through his body thousands of knives embed into his skin while also being on fire. The staff is pulled away and Din slumps over slightly trying to catch his breath, “You’re making this harder Mando. Just tell us where she is.” He says leaning against the doorframe and looking down at the bounty hunter. Silence fills the room and the leader nods once more and the staff returns to Din’s body. A harsher groan of pain is the intensity and duration that increases his limbs locking up but also twitching from the pain. A rapid stream of knocks at the door pauses the ministrations of torture.

“What?!” The man yells while gesturing to stop and Din wheezes trying to calm his rapid heart. The door opens revealing the same Rodian from earlier a frightened expression on his face twists his hands together, “What is it?!” He demands and the Rodian flinches.

“One of the groups hadn’t returned from their findings so we sent out a group to find them,” He reveals but there seems to be more, “They were massacred…” A tense chill fills the room with this news. A faint rumble that could be mistaken for their fidgeting until it returns a deeper one that shakes the walls, the lights flickering, one that felt in their bones.

“si-s-sir!” A bad connection through the comms as the leader raises his commlink attached to his wrist a hologram projector appears, the signal is bad breaking in and out and what looks like a battle occurring, “The mai-ain gates have been breached-ched! We-we’re taking h-heavy los-sses! We nee- concentrated for-” A loud crack fills the air as the hologram shows their neck contorting in an unnatural angle before the line goes dead. The sound of battle was far away from them but still they could hear it, whatever was going on was big. Another call comes in though it only lasts a few moments.

“It’s h-her! We can’t sto-” A bloodcurdling scream as it ends and the three enemies of the Mandalorian felt a moment of fear, that feeling you get knowing you were close to death. Even Din knew whatever you were doing was enough to strike fear in all of them. “Get every blaster, knife, and weapon out there now!” He yells and the Rodian scampers out as the man with the staff stays beside him, “What do we do with him?” He questions and Din glares at the two if looks could kill they would ash.

“Kill him.”

The metallic smell of blood and blaster fire residue fills the air, and a sheen of sweat, and different species’ ichor taints you for battle. Like a warrior with ceremonial paints, this coated you. A steady patter fills the hall, the drip from either the leaky pipes or gaping wounds as the life slow drains. You understood death, it surrounded you frequently, people you cared for, those you tried to save and failed, even yourself. It hovered over you waiting to take you as its latest target.

Now you were death.

Clean cuts ripped through the men the heat of blaster fire flying past you or blocked reflected. Their weapons were the cause of their demise. No mercy ripping the final breaths from your victims. Making your way through the massacre of corpses the lights flickering as lone criminals try to hold their ground the last thing witness is the plasma blade the color of the sunset. The only time they would get a glimpse of daylight again. Screams of mothers hovering over children with lifeless eyes and cold skin before they too join them. It muffled in your ears a hum and quietness settling over you. Your way of blocking out your trauma is by creating more, the blood wasn’t on your hands if you didn’t acknowledge it. A steady pump of your blood through your body lets you know you were fighting and living. Faint cuts of shrapnel or blast fire that nicked you but were irrelevant.

Huddled in a corner you catch round fearful eyes staring back at you. The fear only seemed to grow when they realized they were spotted, standing mere feet from the littered bodies surrounding them. The orange light highlights the tears welling up as they stare back at death. You gaze back your grip tightening as the young eyes just stare. A standstill waiting to see who would act first. A new presence enters one you were familiar with and unlike death, you spare those young eyes. They watch unmoving as you turn away from them continuing their path the others not spared, your face branded in their mind.

Those young eyes will always remember those cold eyes.

Din pants a wave of nauseous as he almost fails at controlling his stomach. There was so much blood. Turning corners with his blaster in hand with his regained weapons only to find a bloodbath. The lifeless eyes stare at him as he made his way through the halls, the mutilated bodies of men and women…his heart growing cold and fear at the children. He followed the path of destruction if he had been smarter, and gotten out faster, you wouldn’t have done this. When the order had been given to execute him and the scarred man had left he had been quick to defend himself killing his adversary before making his escape. A sharp squeal fills the air as if an animal was put to slaughter. Following the noises the sound of the raging storm outside competes with the one created inside. Roaring pelting rain and the darkness outside make it hard for the Mandalorian to see but it’s a crack of lightning and the flash of orange draws his attention to you. The blade pulls out from the body of Din’s captor it hit the ground with a horrendous squelch, red quickly mixing with the rain.

Your body jerks whether from the crashing adrenaline or the frigid rain that soaks you, the caked and drying blood growing wet once more. The orange saber should be red from the amount of blood that soaked it. The hilt was slippery from bodily fluids and the lives that were drained. Turning away from the man a flash of lightning paints the sky and you catch the gleam of beskar armor standing in the rain. You couldn’t read his emotions as he moves closer to you until mere feet separate the two of you. He was uncertain what to do with you, comfort you, scold or yell, but he just remained silent.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is raspy and hoarse which shocks you for a moment. You didn’t think you would lose your voice, you don’t even remember screaming—you don’t remember much, just feelings and flashes of moments. He nods stiffly taking in your appearance, you would need new clothes soaked from the rain and… other things. You looked tired a sort of lifelessness in your eyes that could compare to the others inside. He couldn’t help but ignore the twinge of fear he felt, he’s never seen this side of you. Maybe with Gideon but this was brutal this was heartless lacking any form of mercy. It was like someone took over your body and committed these acts.

“Are you…?” He speaks up filling the silence that consists of rain and thunder. He truly needed to know if you were going to be. It all seemed too soon with Gideon and losing Grogu and going through everything you went through. He didn’t want to blame you.

“I thought I lost you…” Your voice cracks and the rain conceals the tears that pour down your face but he could tell, “We were supposed to be in this together and then you were gone. I didn’t know where to look or what to do.” His heart aches to hear what you felt during their time apart. He knew your connection was strong and the idea of losing another person close to you would destroy you and time you over the edge.

“Then I felt it…they were going to kill you if I didn’t find you. I couldn’t let them,” You shake your head and he can see the tremor in your hands. Flashes of what you did, the man and the boy in the warehouse, those criminals, but the innocent people, fathers, and mothers with their children. They were under their protection but you didn’t care. They were all guilty.

“I killed them.” A coldness covers the two of you with your confession, “I killed them all…they're dead, every single one of them. And not just the men, but the women and the children, too.” There’s a wild look in your eyes as the realization of your actions begins to register. Din grabs you by the arms holding you to his chest as you cry in agony. “They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals. I hate them!” You shout into his chest before dissolving in tears and sobs as he consoles you in the rain a tension of comfort and death that lingers in the air.

His arm stays wrapped around you as he leads you away from the massacre that was committed by you. He knew they couldn’t stay here long, who knew what other forces may have been alerted or the empire could be arriving soon for their supposed bounty. Din wasn’t sure where to go next after this but he needed to keep you protected, keep you safe, and you would never go through this again. You would get better at this low point, too much horrors and pain for such a young life. Watching your innocence chip away from those stained with evil, even himself chipping some away by involving you in this type of life. How long could it continue until nothing was left, what would be left of you then?

[lilibrownlabonita]

The Sun and the Moon- Namor x reader

Summary: The day the Sun asked the Moon to marry him.

Warning: Angst?

Rating: Free

Work count: 3k?

A/n: The lower case words are the lyrics of the song, my inspiration was "O sol e a Lua" by Pequeno Cidadão. *Do not copy or repost.

And 24 hours later the sun rose the moon set and.

The sun asked the moon to marry him.

Said he had loved her for a long time.

Since the time of the dinosaurs, pterodactyls, tyrannosaurs.

The first time I asked her to marry me was after Queen Ramonda's death, she was beautiful as always, but angry and resentful for the death I caused, deep down I knew she would never accept to leave Wakanda for me, but still, I asked, I begged for a chance. I was in love with her from the first time I saw her, in fact, I was destined to fall in love with her, to love her, from the day I was born.

"I cannot marry a man like you, Wakanda would see me as a traitor"

"If you would accept, you would not have to stay here, you would be Queen of Talokan, please my love think again."

"I can't, go away and don't come back, Namor"

The sun asked the moon to marry him.

And the moon said.

I don't know, I don't know.

Give me a break.

It was the first time I heard my name used by enemies being used by my dear y/n, bitter and hurt I went back to Talokan. A few days passed and the confrontation between Wakanda and Talokan was approaching, I didn't want it to end like this, I needed to see her again, to try again.

With the help of Attuma and Namora I managed to enter Wakanda, my destination was my little girl's room, but when I entered I was met by her angry and with a knife pointed at my neck.

"No, I don't want to marry you Namor, I can't."

But the king star.

With all its planets.

Comets, asteroids.

Earth, Mars, Venus, Neptunus and Uranus.

Was to fall in love just for her.

Who despises him and lets him wait.

She denied me again, I had expected it, but I was desperate, I went back to Talokan with a pain in my chest, the war was coming and I didn't want to fight my love.

I promised myself never to love again, I don't want to feel that tightness in my chest, the anxiety and nervousness of loving. If she didn't want me, if she didn't want to be my queen, then I wouldn't try anymore.

And 24 hours passed and again the sun went down, the moon rose.

And again and again and again.

The day I fought Shuri was marked by much more than a defeat, but also by a union, Wakanda and Talokan will now fight for each other, as a King I am happy, but as a lover I feel dissatisfied, how can it be that after all that has happened, y/n, doesn't want me?

"My love, think about it, we can be together now, Wakanda and Talokan are no longer enemies, we are allies, marry me."

"I don't know, I need some time to think."

There was no more time, I couldn't wait anymore, she didn't want me, she didn't love me. Again I left for Talokan, this time with the idea of never returning to the surface, there was no reason.

Namora told me that I was being hasty, that I should wait for a proper answer, but I couldn't find the strength to hold out hope, she had denied my request three times, in theory twice, but the "I don't know, I need time" was like a no to me.

In those unanswered days, I walked a little more closed off, hardly left my quarters or ate properly, kept my time busy so as not to think about y/n.

Attuma convinced me to try to get over what happened and move on, "you are King of Talokan, you can have as many wives as you want", but I didn't want multiple wives, I wanted one, I wanted y/n. My people started murmuring that I was in a state of unlove, that I had been hurt, it was true, I was in pain, and no one could heal me but y/n.

Maybe those who have dubbed me the loveless boy are right, maybe I will never find love, that in fact I will never find someone who can love me.

The sun not knowing what else to do.

So much love to give.

And began to cry.

And melting.

It began to rain, and to wet.

And to darken.

It has been a month since it happened, I found out that y/n tried to contact me, she went to the beach where we usually met, and waited for hours, at first I thought of leaving when I saw her, but then a spark of hope warmed my heart, the smile I was trying to contain overcame me, I surrendered and swam to her.

And 24 hours later the sun rose and the moon set and.

the sun asked the moon to marry him.

And the moon said.

I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.

Give me a break.

"It's been a long time since the proposal my love"

"It's only been a month k'uk'ulkan"

Bingo, she stopped using "Namor", did I have a chance?

"It seemed like an eternity"

"Don't be dramatic, I want to talk to you"

"Funny, last time it seemed like you wanted me as far away as possible"

"I'm going to marry you"

Direct and sincere, that was my girl, never asking but demanding what she wanted, without fear or cowardice. I confess that hearing what she told me made my heart race, my hands tremble, my eyes fill with tears, and the smile on my lips grow, it seems she finally accepted.

[thewriterowl]

So, I'm exhausted and stressed and can't focus fully on writing fan fiction but seems ready to unleash creative spew on the SW-series we have gotten and how it could've been SO much better. I wanted to start with one, the one that seemed to have been the trigger of this weird ripple of poorly written series and see if I can unleash more for others (Not you Andor, you are perfection)

Book of Boba Fett

Scrap Din. Completely. Remove him. He doesn't even touch the show. Mentioned is acceptable, maybe even a sort of cameo where Fennec comes in to see Boba talking to him but hears nothing as they disconnect. Boba makes some note on what Djarin is doing as a way to express how much time has passed since the end of Season 2 of the Mandalorian. Maybe. But that's it.

Instead, there will be more memories opening up the episodes, even after Boba heals and is back to true form. For one, I think it would be beneficial to show a bit more young-Boba and show how angry and hateful and scared he was after Jango's death (let's get some re-makes of Clone War scenes) and how it shows his anger is consuming him. Show clips of him connected with Cad Bane and the dent in his helmet. Give little pieces to show how he went from that very angry and feral child to the rather composed man in Empire Strike's Back-Return of the Jedi to where he is now.

The tension of the politics are stretched out more. We will see Boba trying to actually take on a leadership role as Daimo but has the urge to be like he was before. And it's only when he starts allowing more of his self out does the good leader really blossom (ie. his brilliance of having the dinner above the supposed empty cage). He can even have conversations with Fennec of, "I was reckless and stupid with my anger before. And I got a face full of a scars and a head with less hair because of it." With her, ever the snarky wise one, going, "Being angry doesn't mean you be stupid."

Street kids are good, but not with the motorbikes. I feel they should've been more like the one character Kenobi met (his daughter in real life) who was telling him to get high and forget his problems--it's easier that way. They felt too punk and it was out of place for this planet at this time. They steal, maybe Robin Hood things here and there but are mostly out for their own group and themselves; exactly how Boba and Fennec were just a short time ago. Fennec could even connect to that girl and scoff in memory, "You're tough...I met a kid just like you on a job before" and now we have the presences of Omega within this series and how important she is here and not just in a singular location and can give audience the hope Omega and Boba will one day meet (season 3 of Bad Batch sorta helping confirm or deny this). While Boba is able to connect and warn them to not be like him and let their anger and hatred fool them into trusting arrogance. maybe someone makes a point, or maybe Boba realizes it himself, but this sounds very Jedi-esque and that haunts him.

Boba spent so many years hating the Jedi (mainly Mace) so having these moments of maturity would make him pause. It would end, of course, with him denouncing the belief because he is Mandalorian, like his father before him, and not everything is about the Jedi, because he fully believes in revenge and anger just not like how he used to. Now, he controls it. It doesn't control him. And he can let his hate for the Jedi finally go (ghost Mace, who was probably watching him the whole time is so relieved and lets the man go as well; not in the show but just in my heart).

The Tribe is not dead and, instead, at least a few survived (ie the child and the warrior and a few others; we did not get that incredible train scene for them to be all killed off camera) and we see Boba, who is dealing with the trauma of everything in his life, have a moment where he breaks down and apologizes to them (maybe not anything specific; maybe not really to them but to his younger self who never had a chance) seeing this as his fault. They forgive him, cause he needs forgiveness in some way, and offer him a home within their smaller tribe but he isn't ready for that and they accept it. Now, they are the ones who return to him and assist him in the final battle. This will also lead up to where it comes full circle for him. He will offer them a place within the city but they do not accept (they are a colonized people after all; I do not see them wanting to be within that city) and instead are welcomed to his territory as a home-base to return to should they ever wish and they part on good terms and promises of seeing each other again. It would end with Boba watching them leave into the setting suns, feeling longing but also a sensation of peace that they were going where they should go and he was where he was needed. So, he turns from them as they disappear into the melting suns and grunts out, "Just a simple man who made his way in the universe." And FIN.

We can keep a lot of the other craziness--he has his Rancor (i love this part of the story), he deals with corrupt politicians, Peli meets her next boy-toy cause Din (name cameo) suggested her for Boba's use, Black Krrsantan is in the picture, Cad Bane is the big bad who shoots down Vanth (and that final end scene is still there), and so many other ridiculous parts! They could all connect and make sense!

And there can be this theme that is trying to beat Boba over the head about anger. Because we have seen anger so much through the eyes of Jedi--this can really be a new type of accepting and letting things go. More akin to the anger we see constantly simmering and boiling over in Andor but in a more personal way and showing that it doesn't need to be snuffed out but honed (controlled). It can be why Boba seems so mild at times, it's because he is learning about who he is to be, but then is able to show us the (fan) Boba that was so popular is still there--he's just someone who is trying to fill a role he thinks he has to completely change for.

[blackicephantom]

A Divine Taste IV

Almost two weeks passed since that “incident” in his apartment and not even a single word from the one involved. It was as if said male was….. avoiding him, which made something in his chest hurt. HIs actual wound healed nicely, almost completely gone now, and Gepard was FINALLY allowed to start work again. Even if it were just light tasks for now, it was way better than sitting alone in his home and wallowing in missed opportunities and missing a certain blue haired scammer. 

Being back on patrol gave him the time to think about whatever has happened there. Yes, Sampo had been a little forceful, but he had not hurt him, not even once! Neither his hand that pinned his own, nor the one that had been around his thigh had caused him any  pain. So why did he suddenly keep his distance? And it didn’t help that he always saw flashes of blue and green in the shadows of the alleyways or just around the corners of the buildings. The first few times he tried to chase these flashes, only to come up with nothing, no footprints, no traces. Nothing. Just like always when it comes to Sampo.

So he gave up after the fifth  time this happened. It was unusual for him, yes even unheard of, but he just couldn’t keep this up. For once in his young life, he couldn’t take the feeling that welled up inside him: something sharp and yet hollow, something that borrowed deep and refused to let go again. It suspiciously felt like a rejection…..

Lost in his tumultuous thoughts the blond just walked ahead, knowing that his fellow soldiers  were under strict orders from Bronya to keep a close eye on him. Ridiculous in his opinion, but his men took pride in this opportunity and were even more vigilant than usual, so he let them be. It was even quite amusing on some days if he was honest. A spark from the right caught his attention, somewhere right between two buildings of the Administrative District. It was the same as all the other times, the feelings of eyes that followed his every movement only noticeable due to their unique color. Clenching his fists he swallowed the impulse to turn completely and looked straight ahead. If the criminal wanted someone to play with he would have to look for someone else, because Gepard had thought they had left these little games behind after all these years. `Guess I was the only one….´ Ignoring the disappointment he shook his head and just kept marching forward, not even the lively chatter  and jokes of his soldiers able to quell the creeping loneliness and that feeling that he had done something wrong.

Hidden in the shadows the lean figure of Sampo Koski lent against the cold brick wall, his head hitting it with an audible thud. In all of his years he had been many things, yet he never knew himself to be such a coward. He has learned to be almost anything he needed to be, did everything just to blend in, only to falter when it comes to one very pretty Captain of a hopeless and icy planet.

After his absolute loss of control he was afraid of facing the blond again. Too deep sat his shame and too real the chance of it happening again. Not even locking himself away in one of his more secluded hideouts had doused the flame Gepard had lit inside him. And just like the first time, he couldn’t forget what he felt like: solid muscles and soft skin, all so very warm to the touch. The rich and fulfilling taste of his red flowing ambrosia, not to mention all the sounds…. Groaning at the memories, Sampo looked one last time around the corner, guilt eating at his rather dubious consciousness. He may be a vampire and a Masked Fool, but he was neither blind nor stupid, thank you very much. He saw the longing gazes, that brief glimmer of hope when he was spotted, as well as the disappointment and frustration everytime the younger found nothing but a deadend. But no matter how much he loved the attention and their regular cat-and-mouse game, he refused to be the cause of any kind of pain for the captain. `Oh, what hypocrisy. You don’t want to hurt your precious little human, but what about the pain you see in his beautiful eyes everytime you run away?´ Ignoring the annoying little voice in his head, he stepped away from the wall and went in the opposite direction of the guards. There are still deals to be made and people to scam after all.

Walking away he still tried to tell himself that it was for the better, no matter what his instincts and his poor heart were telling him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Another two weeks went by without even a single interaction between them. Sure, Sampo was still very active in his business, still leading them on and fooling them, but even his men had noticed that something was different. While the usual patrol would at least catch a glimpse of the merchant, there was not even a single trace of him when their captain was even remotely close to the area. But no one was brave enough to actually ask about it, not even Dunn or Serval.

It’s not like they haven’t tried, because they did. But Gepard’s reaction had been….. a little far to the negative side of things. To say the least. Dunn refused to talk about what happened, his eyes slightly haunted, scaring the rest of the force. And the older Landau was simply shot down before she could even properly ask. `Everything’s ok Sis.´ or  `Nothing happened Serval.´ It irked her to no end, but if she tried to force an answer her little brother would simply shut down, which would be counterproductive. So the only choice was finding the one responsible, which was no less difficult. So the older blond just kept on watching, mumbling something about stubborn idiots with a wide variety of curses. 

This damned charade kept going and going, slowly driving both parties mad and insane:

Gepard, the ever steadfast and unbreakable shield of Belobog, the esteemed Captain of the Silvermane Guards, grew restless and cold. He was still polite and professional, as was expected of him, but there was less light in his eyes and he was visibly exhausted from days upon days of neverending work.

Sampo, self proclaimed merchant, professional scammer and unofficial member of Wildfire had trouble containing his bloodlust. If a deal went south he drew more blood then a few weeks ago and his thirst could not be quenched, no matter how much water, wine or blood he drank. The blood of the faceless strangers smelled disgusting and tasted even worse, he was not as careful and not nearly as gentle.

But while the Captain was kept in the dark, the vampire knew exactly what was going on, having informants in the fort and in the guards and all that. And that made his guilt and worry grow. The worst days were the one the younger returned from the snowplains and the frontline: obviously exhausted, no surprises there. But ever since returning to duty he got hurt more often than before. And everytime he would look around, as if looking for someone, only to shake his head and march off to the medics. 

You don’t have to be a genius to figure out what’s going on, yet the blue haired male did not reciprocate.

He would watch the wounds bleed, would follow the blood's path greedily with burning eyes, but would not approach. Close, yet ever out of reach.

A whole month after everything, another return from the endless battle that still raged outside of Belobogs safe walls and Gepard had enough. He was tired, frustrated, sad, confused and so much more, slowly drowning in the monotony of his duty and of blaming himself, fed up with all the questions everybody was asking him. Yes, he knew that Bronya, Pela and Serval were merely worried for his well being. But that didn’t mean he had to like their attempt of meddling in his personal affairs. Just after another bout of questioning from said females, Serval still screaming for him to `Wait a second Geppie!´, he just stormed off into the cold waiting outside the fort. No matter how gentle the questions were asked, they were getting rather intrusive, even if the Supreme Guardian herself was the one to ask. And he made that fact known:

“That is a very private thing to ask, Madame Guardian.” He knew that his tone was not really appropriate, but there are still some limits, especially after the whole thing with Cocolia.

Pissed beyond most reason, Gepard just kept on walking without any destination in mind. The crisp and cold air bit into his face and the still falling snow started to obscure his vision, yet he still kept going, wanting to be away from everything, if just for an hour or so. And so his trained legs took him to one of the Silvermane camps just outside of Belobog, not quite on the frontlines but also not quite in the safezone. Another plus was the fact that there was almost no one there and that his presence was nothing unusual either.

Exhausted, the blond sat down on the first space available, not caring that the snow would slowly soak through his uniform pants and even the thermal wear underneath. Leaning forward he put his elbows on his knees and just……breathed. For this short moment he just wanted to exist in the quiet that surrounded him, for once not bothering to put up the facade of the ever perfect Captain. One deep breath, two deep breaths, three, four, five….. In and out, in and out. Again and again and again. He ignored anything around him for the moment, even the light crystals starting to crawl up his boots as well as the white mist he started to breathe out. He was an ice user, his shields the most solid ice one could find on this planet, and he was used to the cold anyway. 

The blond didn’t know for how long he just sat there, did not really care about it either, just that it was long enough for a light sheen of frost to cover his hair and parts of his uniform. Sighing he finally sat up straight, frost flaking off of him, aware that there was another presence in his vicinity. He knew that looking around was unnecessary, for the one hidden in the shadows would not step out of them, so he didn’t even try. Still…… Those eyes bore into him, rekindling the irritation he wanted to leave behind in the first place.

“Not out scamming innocents today, Koski?” was the first thing out of his mouth. Sure, it wasn’t even close to what he truly wanted to say to the other male. But he was just so done with this shit. And, like every other time nothing came back, even after another few minutes. Snorting at his own desperation he looked up into the gloomy sky, ignoring the single wet trail that slid down his cheek. “You were oh so worried for me just weeks ago. And now? Now you wouldn’t even approach me.”  The last part was whispered, yet rang unbearably loud in the stillness around him. Another sigh and  the blond simply deflated. He was angry, he was frustrated, he wanted to see Sampo, banter with him, laugh at his stupid antics. But most obvious: he was just bone deep exhausted. So his brain started to shut down, only leaving him with all of his raw emotions and no filter. “Had I known this would be the outcome, I wouldn’t have asked you to visit me that day. I should have taken Serval's word for your well being, instead of following the selfish urge to see for myself.”  The following chuckle sounded hollow and carried an unhealthy amount of self-loathing.

Unseen in the shadows the vampire clenched his fist and his teeth, trying to keep in control and not to fall on his knees before this beauty of a human and beg for forgiveness. Sampo knew that Gepard rarely wanted for anything, being raised in one of the biggest and well known noble houses of Belobog one reason and being unbelievingly duty bound another. He knew enough about the Landau siblings' circumstances to realize he had said that last part deliberately, which tugged on his heartstrings. But what the other said next pulled the rug out under his feet. “Not even that new little tic you found so amusing comforts me anymore. I’m not the only one after all, am I? Nothing special, just one of many to fall for Sampo Koskis many charms.” Another little laugh, even more bitter than the last and slightly choked. 

“Just one of many-” echoed in his head and left him frozen in place. Was that truly what the blonde thought?  `Of course. You have done nothing to prove him wrong after all.´  Sampo really, really started to dislike his own inner voice…. As well as the sound of Gepard’s soft sobs. And yet he still didn’t move, leaving his beloved soldier alone with his despair. He waited till the sobbing turned into gentle sniffing and turned around to finally leave, again, only to stop at the others final words. “I’m so fucking pathetic. First I fall hopelessly for the bloodsucking scammer, hoping for something more only to get those hopes cruelly crushed. And then I start to talk to myself.”

Wiping the remaining tears from his cheeks Gepard stood, waited just another second, the last glimmer of hope dying in his chest and went on his way home. This night, he would wallow in his misery and embrace the pain of the blatant rejection. He…..didn’t know what he was hoping for. But whatever it was: it had to be something more than this damned silence. It hurts so deep, even worse than the injury that had started all this. Remembering their closeness of that day almost made him cry again. He wanted to claw the skin open again, wanted to see if that would change something. But he was a grown man, he would NOT go down that very dark path and he could take Sampo’s decision with dignity. SO he took one step after another and hoped that his final whisper was not heard at the end.

“How about we just go back to the beginning? Back to just being a criminal and a captain? Would you talk to me then?”

Again, no answer.

Just the clinking of his armor and the rushing winds accompanied him on his way back. Desperately trying to ignore the agonizing pain of his broken heart, Captain Gepard Landau mourned a relationship that was never meant to be.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super manga ch.87

Ruh-roh.

So last time it looked like the good guys had finally defeated Gas.  They didn’t kill him, but everyone seems satisfied that he’s beaten.  Monaito goes to heal Granolah and it turns out he’s gotten much faster about it.  Seems that Goku and Vegeta weren’t the only ones who got stronger in all of this. 

But it turns out Gas won’t go down that easily.  He recovers from Granolah’s finisher, but he looks like a desiccated corpse now, and he doesn’t even seem to notice.  So the fight continues, and even when Goku does serious damage to his arm, it doesn’t even slow him down.  Vegeta likens it to a curse.  Gas must be the strongest in the universe because of the wish.  No matter how much damage he takes, he can’t weaken, no matter what, until he finally dies. 

This horrifies Oil and Macki, who were already concerned about the toll this was taking on Gas’ body.  But Elec still doesn’t care.  At last, Gas sees his reflection and finally realizes he’s dying.  Elec tells him to hurry up and finish the good guys off, because any minute now, he will... wait, who’s he?

It’s Frieza!  And he just got done watching Iron Man movies! 

So yeah, now we finally see what Elec was trying to do here.  When Granolah first came to him asking for Frieza’s location, and he told them how he used the Cerealian Dragon Balls to wish for supreme strength, Elec lured Goku and Vegeta to Cereal to eliminate Granolah.  While the fought, the Heeters found the Cerealian Dragon Balls and wished for Gas to become the strongest in the universe. 

At the time, it just seemed like the Heeters were just looking to bump off Granolah so that they could proceed with their plans to eliminate Frieza on their own terms, but now we see that Elec had contacted Frieza to arrange a meeting on Cereal, so that Gas could assassinate him when he arrived. 

And Elec’s plan could still work.  I mean, Gas hasn’t gotten rid of Goku, Vegeta, or Granolah yet, but he’s still alive, and he can still kill Frieza.  After all, he’s the strongest in the univer--

Oh. 

Oh my.

So yeah, Frieza just one-shotted Gas, and that makes things very awkward for Elec, who wasn’t planning past this moment.  Frieza calmly explains that he’s been aware of Elec’s scheming for decades, and he allowed him to play his intel games for the benefit of his own organization.  He also tells Elec that he’s known all along that the weakest of the four Heeters is Elec.  Then he kills Elec, which is kind of a formality at this point.

So how the hell did Frieza defeat Gas so easily?  The dragon made him the strongest in the universe, right?  Frieza explains that he just recently got out of a Hyperbolic Time Chamber that he found on one of his conquered planets.  While inside of it, he did ten years’ worth of training.  During that time, Frieza became far more powerful, and when Gas’ wish was made, Frieza wasn’t in the universe to be taken into account. 

Okay, one small problem with all of that.  Gas has only been the strongest in the universe for a fairly short time now.  I mean, most of this arc has taken place in a single day on Planet Cereal.  Maybe a few hours at most have passed since Gas got his ultimate strength.  So Frieza must have stepped out of the Time Chamber, then got in his spaceship and hauled ass to planet Cereal in that short span of time. 

I mean, it’s plausible, sure.  Maybe Frieza’s ship is really, really fast, or his Hyperbolic Time Chamber just happens to be on a planet very close to Cereal.  Or maybe he’s got the entrance to the chamber built into his ship.  That’d be pretty cool. Drink some space wine, head down to Deck Seven and step into your own private Hyperbolic Time Chamber for a decade or two.

I’m just wondering if maybe Toriyama and Toyotaro got mixed up somewhere.  It would make a lot more sense if Frieza surpassed Granolah this way, since Granolah made his wish a month or two ago.  But he took out Gas like it was nothing, so the only way that makes sense would be if Frieza was in the Time Chamber on this same day.  Or maybe Elec’s wish was worded differently.  He might have asked the Dragon to make Gas stronger than Granolah, thinking that there was no semantic difference.  Well, it’s not worth quibbling over.

Anyway, Frieza’s motives should be obvious.  He was outclassed in Resurrection F, and then again in the Tournament of Power, and then again in the Broly movie.  Frieza wanted a way to get back on top, so he used the Time Chamber to close the gap, and he developed a new form: Black Frieza.  It’s... just Golden Frieza but with a charcoal color scheme instead of gold. 

So now we’re back to basics, with Goku and Vegeta fighting Frieza again, only with new ultimate forms.  Well, this could lead to--

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

So yeah, Frieza beat Ultra Instinct Goku and Ultra Ego Vegeta, at the same time, with one blow.  He doesn’t even bother to finish them off, which is kind of a nice touch, since he’s already demonstrated that they’re no threat to him.  When they recover, they find Granolah tending to Monaito, who was fatally wounded when Gas came back for that final round.  But then Whis shows up and heals Monaito as a special favor.  He’s come to pick up the boys because Beerus needs technical support for making instant noodles again. 

And... that’s the end of the arc.  I was kind of surprised, because I was pretty sure Granolah died at the end of this thing, but no, he and Monaito are fine.  The surviving Heeters, Oil and Macki, take jobs on Frieza’s spaceship crew.  Goku has a souvenir from his bio-dad.  Granolah and Monaito plan to use the Dragon Balls one last time to repair the damage to Planet Cereal, and then Monaito intends to deactivate the Dragon Balls for good. 

Curiously, Granolah still has his incredible power and shortened lifespan.  I would have expected that to get reversed somehow.  I mean, Vegeta’s offering him a rematch, which is pretty standard for Dragon Ball, except Granolah only has three years left to live.  I assume Toyotaro plans to use him again in a future story, but with all the timeskips we see in DBS, will Granolah still be alive by then?  Well, that’s Toyo’s problem.  I’m sure he’ll come up with something. 

Of course, the big plot dangler from this chapter is the looming threat of Black Frieza.  Sooner or later, Goku and Vegeta will meet him again, and Frieza won’t be so merciful.  None of this is mentioned in the Super Hero film, but presumably the boys were training specifically to deal with the Black Frieza threat.  That’s probably also why they brought Broly’s group to Beerus’ planet.  In the movie, they said it was so Frieza wouldn’t find them, and that makes more sense if you know about Black Frieza, since Golden Frieza was no match for Broly. 

I’m a pretty hardcore Cell fan, so I hate to give Frieza any credit, but I have to admit that this chapter might be the coolest Frieza stuff I’ve seen in a long time.  For years, I’ve maintained that bringing back Frieza in 2015 wasn’t worth it.  Resurrection F wasn’t that good, and the character hasn’t done anything since that justifies bringing him back.  But now, at least we have the promise of something that will actually live up to the hype.  Golden Frieza was basically on the same level as Super Saiyan Blue, but this new Black Frieza is in a league of his own.  Here, we finally see Frieza returned to his original status, far beyond all the other characters. 

And it seems like Frieza has finally learned from his past mistakes.  He’s not blindly charging in for revenge, or leaving things to his subordinates.  It’s the same character, but he’s changed, and not just in terms of color or power.  This isn’t the same Frieza from 2015 or 1990.  And that’s what matters here, because if you’re going to bring back a classic character, you have to do something new with him.  Like how Goku finally got to remember his parents after all this time.  Whatever happens next, he’ll never be quite the same, but you have to give him moments like that, because if he never grows or changes, then there’s no point in telling new stories about him. 

This was a very good arc.  In a way, the Moro and Granolah sagas compliment each other well, because the Granolah arc demonstrates exactly what was wrong with the Moro arc, and the Moro arc shows what the Granolah arc did right.  It’s hard to imagine these were both written by the same creative team, but there it is.  I’m definitely feeling a lot more optimistic for the future of this comic.  Of course, the next several chapters are an adaptation of the Super Hero movie, which is a bold step backwards, but hopefully after that’s over they’ll let Toyotaro cut loose. 

So that wraps up my coverage of the DBS manga.  But I’ve still got some more material for the liveblog, so stay tuned...

[who-is-muses]

Important Canon Divergence Facts About the Lanterns

[ a quick reference of what's different in my portrayals and what other muses might know to help the Lantern mutuals- and anyone else that might be interested in some rainbow bitches <3 ]

Lady Bleez Yennick

First and foremost, fuck you DC I'm giving her a full name. If she's supposed to be the daughter of a powerful lord and lady and a carrier of the former's royal bloodline, she ought to have a family name. It also makes her more of a character than a plot device.

Bleez is a lesbian (and asexual.) Rankorr is very important to her- but not in any romantic fashion. She finds it difficult to put a label on what they are, and thus vehemently refuses to do so. Guy is a similar story- only she's much more willing to use words like "hate" and "bastard" for him.

Even if she wanted to visit her planet of origin, Havania has long since exiled her and writ her from her royal family's records. As far as the history books are concerned, Bleez was a lowly slave that was sold off to the Sinestro Corps by the Yennick family to bargain for their planet’s safety.

After her battle with Fatality, Bleez developed a stronger resistance to her ring’s influence. Though she is no less filled with rage, Yrra's efforts inadvertently helped Bleez gain more control over it, able to focus it and even learning to create simple constructs. (On the flip side, their encounter restored a lot of Yrra's mind from her ring’s control, but that'll wait to be elaborated on when I add her.)

Her unique Red Lantern power is that she can drain energy off other living things to recharge her own ring. It is possible for a source to charge her willingly, but most often is achieved by biting or otherwise injuring a target and ingesting their blood.

Saint Bro'Dee Walker

He didn't succeed in saving his home planet in my canon. He tried to climb Mt. Helios and lost his family in the process, but was forced back down when traffickers invaded Astonia to abduct the people en masse, knowing "limited" species like theirs sell for more. Bro’Dee was among those taken, and did his best to protect his people while they were all held prisoner on board. (To this day, he isn't certain how long he was held captive.) Ultimately the ship was downed by a combination of attacking Red Lanterns and Mogo’s influence as they passed by, Bro'Dee rallying the survivors of the ensuing crash and helping them to overpower their captives and flee into the jungles. After making sure his people were settled enough, Bro'Dee followed Mogo’s urging to climb yet another mountain where he then received his ring.

There are only a few thousand Astonians left alive. They're not a common species, but not utterly unknown either.

Bro'Dee is from a monosexual species with a much more fluid sense of gender than humans. He isn't male or female, and identifies somewhere in the middle of feminine and masculine- but rarely objects to being called a "man" or anything like that.

I abide by the rule that Blue Lanterns need a Green to do things like constructs and advanced healing (including the rejuvenation of stars thing), but their rings shouldn't be nearly as useless on their own. Bro’Dee by himself is still able to fire energy blasts, heal minor injuries and keep people off the brink of death, create force fields and protective bubbles, and manipulate energy to push or pull things (including people.)

Besides the abilities afforded to him by his ring, Bro'Dee being an Astonian means he can lift things several times his own weight, breathe underwater, travel great distances without requiring a break, and has an innate tele-empathic sense. He respectfully keeps this latter ability significantly under control, but still has a sense for how others are feeling beyond simple empathy.

Also the markings on his face + body glow different colors depending on stimulation (but are much fainter than the light given off by his uniform so they're very easy to miss.)

Salaak tel Ouro

Like Bleez, fuck you DC he gets a full name.

Also like Bleez, he was exiled from his planet of origin- only Salaak was erased entirely, no official records of his existence remaining. Regardless of his actions as a Lantern, he's considered a criminal on Slyggia for defying the societal caste structure and thus breaking a large number of laws.

Salaak was born into the lowest social class, and thus had a future with no education and his occupation predetermined. He was nevertheless drawn to more intellectual matters- technology in particular- and repeatedly disobeyed authority figures to teach himself, discovering a seemingly innate talent for robotics and engineering. He was ultimately exiled as a young teenager to a habitable exoplanet in the space sector with nothing to protect himself. Ganthet himself recruited Salaak into the Green Lantern Corps there on that lonely junkyard planet, finding him attempting to construct a ship from the scrap and wreckages strewn about. It's extremely unlikely any muses would know this full story, but may have put some pieces together.

Slyggians and Korugarans were Space Sector neighbors, and frequently interacted resulting in a strong but (usually) civil rivalry between them before Korugar's sector became off limits to outsiders. Because of this, Salaak was imbued with a dislike for Korugarans, leading him to clash often with Sinestro throughout the entire time they were both Green Lanterns. Though Salaak has since unlearned this baseless prejudice, he maintains a hatred for Thaal which outshines much of his fellow senior Lanterns.

He is extremely loyal to John as Corps Leader, and admires him greatly- but still struggles with the after effects of the original Guardians of the Universe's betrayal. Though he has the utmost faith in John- holding him in high regard before there was even a question of a Corps Leader- Salaak worries that his loyalty to a figurehead may someday again blind him from his loyalty to the Corps as a whole.

Thaal Sinestro

I don't care what nu52 says, his eyes were NOT originally like that. Every other Korugaran had whites in their eyes and a range of iris colors. Thaal's were originally teal, but were permanently changed while captured in the Central Battery with Parallax.

Also he has the white streak in his hair permanently after containing Parallax for so long.

The vast majority of Sinestro Corps members that survived the destruction of Ranx/War World are loyal to Soranik now. The only Lanterns Thaal still has as back up are Arkillo, Dez Trevius, Lyssa Drak, Rigen Kale, Slushh, and Smithwick. All others have been killed, and any rings that are dispatched are not Thaal's doing (unless stated otherwise.)

This isn't something any muse not within his circle would know, but Thaal was born and raised in a small rural town. What any muse could notice, however, is that he has a marginally different accent than the other famous Korugarans.

Realizing now it would've been quicker to just preface that other muses wouldn't know a lot of the points for Thaal, and this is another one djdjdjs. He has a number of health problems that he keeps tight under wraps, only his inner circle of Lanterns (and Hal for some if we're being real) are aware of the extent of. That being said, muses may certainly notice the effects of these issues such as him keeping his eyes closed for extended periods, his back and/or left shoulder pop-snap-crackling, putting his weight on his right leg more, etc.

Again, very private information, but he was in a relationship with both Abin Sur as well as marrying Arin. Everyone was aware of it- Abin purposefully introducing Thaal to Arin- though the siblings kept their respective relationships with him independent of each other. Thaal believes to his core that they both djed hating him, and will likely never be convinced otherwise, but is nevertheless very touchy about their memories.

[kore-b]

Beatrice learns to hate numbers.

She learns a lot during the moment Ava goes into the portal. Because she knows exactly how long Ava has been… Missing? Gone? Lost? The only answer she has, the only answer her hands can grasp, are numbers.

Fourteen minutes. Fourteen minutes for every second that passes in this world. That calculates to 2.3 years for every day that passes in this world. Reya not only takes Ava away from her, she takes years away from them .

Time doesn’t move as quickly where Beatrice is. No, it slogs and scrapes its feet on the floor. She replays every mistake, every misstep, and every word left unsaid. The only perspective that grounds her, that reminds her of the mission  and of her duty is one nagging thought: Ava has it worse.

Ava has it worse.

So Beatrice can put aside her hauntings, her regrets, and focus on saving Ava. To protect her. To love her.

She knows she has it good— relatively. Mother Superion’s scars have healed. She’s feeling physically better than she has in years. The pain in Camila’s neck has subsided ever since Adriel was taken by the Tarasks. Yasmine has been throwing herself into her studies, and taking a leadership position. The remaining OCS chapter is still intact.

But what Beatrice doesn’t know is a full night’s sleep. The last time she got any shut eye was back when she was in bed with Ava. What she’d give for one more night next to her. While Ava has been gone for two days…

Years . Years. Years. Years. 4.6 Years.

While Ava has been gone for two days on this planet, Beatrice has been awake for almost three. Any fleeting moments she does get in slumber are filled with nightmares. But her waking hours are no different. It’s just that the nightmare isn’t filled with demons and fighting. It’s filled with silence and an empty portal.

Beatrice doesn’t know what it felt like to not have an aching pain in her back. She wonders if this is how Ava feels with the Halo. Her soreness isn’t as justified, just awkward resting places.

The OCS tried supplying her with a full bed and mattress, but Beatrice refused. She can’t sleep soundly when she knows Ava is somewhere out there. Alone? Battling? Suffering? Camila forces Beatrice to accept the sleeping bag, with its minimal support against the cold hard pavement.

Yes, she hasn’t moved. Neither has the portal. 

For this first time in her life, Beatrice yells at Mother Superion when she suggests they rebuild it at Cat’s Cradle. The numbers ring in her head. Even if the portal was offline for one hour, that would mean fourteen hours in Reya’s realm. That would mean 840 minutes Ava could burst through that portal with 840 attempts to no avail.

Leaving isn’t an option. Not like it was for Ava. But Beatrice tries not to think about that. She only thinks about Ava coming back home.

So Beatrice has made a routine. She has called for shifts monitoring the portal because after 72 hours of being completely awake, the team forced her to plan out a sleep schedule. 

Beatrice hates numbers. They keep her up at night. Everything keeps her up at night. Her thoughts of what Ava might be doing, could be thinking, crying out for help. 

So what’s a couple more late nights? Beatrice can’t think losing sleep is comparable to  Ava losing years. So she sits. Alert, aware, and in position.

The days don’t change much. Whispered questions by her friends, worried nudges, unspoken moments sitting next to her. She misses the life she could’ve had if they won.

There is no winning with a missing Ava.

But everything changes in a stroke of electricity. The room fills with a bright blue. Everyone’s eyes reflect flashes and sparks. The portal rumbles back to life. 

It spits out a small body, flings it to the ground, and shuts off. 

Beatrice is moving before her mind commands her feet to start running. Her shoes collide with the body on the ground. It makes an impact, it makes sound. It makes it real. 

Ava is back.

Ava is in a heap on the floor with blood running down the side of her forehead.

Ava is back.

Ava’s chest rises and falls in stuttered motion, like the journey through the gate knocked the wind out of her. 

Ava is back.

And Beatrice stops counting.

[libbee]

Aftermath of 8th house moon or scorpio moon mother-child relationship

Once upon a time there were two orphan boys in a small town somewhere in Japan. Their belongings were taken by people, house was seized by landlord and they were homeless. On a cold winter night, they had only one quilt or blanket to shield both of them in the snow. They hugged each other tight and put up the blanket. Next morning they were found deceased. A hotel owner picked their blanket and kept it in his hotel for the use of customers. A customer comes, eats dinner, drinks alcohol and goes to his room. Hotel owner gives him the same blanket that he picked up earlier. Customer goes to sleep but wakes up to a conversation: "big brother, are you cold?" "Yes, are you cold too?" Customer is terrified and informs the owner. Owner calls it rubbish and says he must be drunk. But the customer leaves hotel in fear. Same pattern repeats with many customers in coming days. Hotel owner is worried because of loss of business. So he takes the blanket with him and sleeps in it that night. He then wakes up to two voices talking to each other. But who was it? These voices came from the blanket. It was the conversation the two boys had the night they passed away. Their voices and feelings were absorbed in the blanket and kept replaying every night.

Mother is a goddess, the divine earth that gives birth to a new life

All mothers care for their offsprings, be it human or cow or dog or birds

But sometimes, some mothers are themselves so unhealed that despite their best intentions their parenting style terrorizes the child

These are the 8th house moon or scorpio moon mothers

Since the child spends most of his time close to mother, he is attuned to mother's emotional cycles

And since the child knows nobody else in the world, he is dependent on mother for all his needs

Mother is suddenly happy, suddenly irritated, suddenly anger outburst then act like nothing happened

A child who grew up in this environment has emotionally disfigured life even in adulthood

He does not understand why he keeps feeling childhood emotions when he does not live in that environment anymore

But the feelings of childhood are deeply absorbed in his body. Just like the blanket in the story above, child absorbs the energy of his environment that keeps replaying for many many years on its own

Absorbs the feelings in environment, destablizing, perpetually chaotic, repetitive memories, analytical thoughts, age regression, flashbacks of childhood are common

Even after the child has stepped into adulthood, his body has absorbed the eggshells environment of childhood and causes various emotional, mental, physical problems

There is a book called Body Keeps The Score and a whole field of psychology dedicated to how mother or father issues can carry with you your whole life and impact decisions at every point of time

Proof is in the experience

It is not fault of mother either. Imagine the kind of environment she grew up in to turn out like that

The process of healing can be really personal and duration will vary from one person to other. It is also about willingness, luck, how self aware they are, resources to read from. I myself dont know much about healing, I just try to validate what is common for certain natives to feel so they dont think they are lost or hopeless

Though if you are comfortable or habitual to feeling unwholesome emotions, healing is an oppotunity to become enlightened

For eg, there is a famous astrologer P V Narsimha Rao with many planets in 8th house (but not moon) who is efficient in astrology, spiritual practice, meditation, advaita vedanta, topics of karma, tantra and matters of spirit. There is a free pdf on his blog where you can see how he puts his 8th house planets to use by really reading into the unconscious. His blog is called vedicastrologer.org.

In the same breath, I would like to mention Osho for his spiritual talks who also had many planets in 8th house

If natives are capable of adjusting inner expectations to physical reality, realize they did not have a conventional childhood and that they need not conform to socio cultural norms as adults, the darkness they feel can be the source of enlightenment

Even Buddha sought enlightenment because he was disturbed at the sight of a sick man, an old man and a dead body

That is to say one does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious (Carl Jung)