#i also have posted anything for him since march so i should be hunted for sport

[ushiwhacka]

Rika is keeping my smutty Ushi ask hostage :(

-🔭

u have until 8pm tonight (or else)

[cherubchoirs]

IGNORE THE FACT IVE LIKED LIKE HALF OF YO STUFF BUT;

I know you've talked about what would happen if v1 died but what would happen if Gabe died?

waaaa no worries fr it makes me so happy to see someone enjoying all of my silly posts!!!!

but ooughh...gabe dying is interesting to me, since like. first it seems that's the direction canon will ultimately take but also because v1's reaction to it would be its only encounter with grief. it is a machine made to kill, a machine made to be surrounded by death and to actively the thrive the more life is destroyed around it, but it found a unique connection in gabriel...yet it cannot understand how to save him, it does not have the options he does. nothing in its computer is remotely prepared to experience this or to help, to do anything as gabriel dies. it only knows how to kill, it only knows how to achieve what's already happening in front of it, gabriel's death likely something that would be quick and violent. the ways v1 was taught. it could scramble again to give blood, but what happens if v1 has none to give itself? what happens when gabriel stays its hands, telling it that it can't die for him. everything in its mind screams at it to do something, to save him, but it's entirely still as no files are found. it is empty. it has nothing for him. it failed to protect him, that's the only way it ever could have prevented this. gabriel is gone, he won't speak or move anymore, and v1 knows this so well. this is everything it is. so why does it feel new?

like i've mentioned before, v1 is endlessly adaptable, it is meant to improve and forever move forward, but this scenario sees that endless march half stalled. a processor deep in its mind stops, it loops on gabriel, it wants to see him, to hear him, to spend time with him. and v1 can't fix that, gabriel woven so deeply into itself that that he's forever with it even as v1 logically understands his death. still, that processor asks for him, it's time to see him, it's time to talk to him, it's time to fight him. v1 cannot meet its demands. this is its grief, a processor that stays with gabriel even in his absence. and i think v1 deals with it by setting up its base beside him, creating a permanent residence for itself nearby his body. it's not truly sated by this, by sitting beside what's left of him, by checking on him and being sure that nothing has disturbed him. it doesn't want to move him, it doesn't want to add anything of his to its collection, it just wants to stay there. it continues going out, it hunts for blood and to create its limitless war, but it comes "home" far more than it once did. and it's shutting down more, soon realizing it's because it's working harder - its computer is running at a higher output now, it has been ever since gabriel died and it's getting worse.

because grief makes no sense in a war machine. grief is a fatal error. it should excise him, it should remove everything gabriel was to it to save itself from sure failure....but it can't. he is too important, a part of too many memories to be taken away and besides, v1 has no interest in forgetting him. the grief spreads, hopping to new processors because v1 has no way of stopping this either, no protocols to handle this just as with gabriel's death. and i essentially have two ways i think this could go - v1 eventually does create a program that can quarantine that grief, treating it essentially as a system virus it can't actually clear but instead disconnecting the processors that have been infected by it. it numbs it, basically cutting off the emotion related to gabriel's memory and losing the love that it had (or at least shutting it off from itself). this causes instability in its programming and a slow down since it's lost vital processing power, but it could move forward in this instance with adjustments (likely testing its new state extensively in the cybergrind). or, in a much more romantic option, v1 does nothing to stop the slow spread of grief through its system and its computer is eventually corrupted by it. v1 is confined to a smaller and smaller radius around gabriel's grave until it really is only guarding it, thoughts cycling endlessly on protecting him in a way it once failed to do. like a ghost for a machine, unable to execute any other script. as that corruption reaches a critical point, v1's mind tries to believe that it doesn't know what happens to an angel when it dies. maybe gabriel is somewhere. maybe he can come back one day. so it ultimately decides to enter a powersave mode, to go into stasis in its little nest right beside him, in hopes that if he ever returns, he will find v1 too. it goes to sleep hoping one day to be woken up by him.

[nutklcker]

HI (I LOVE THE PARAGRAPHS EACH OFYOU LEAVE IN MY TAGS SO FUCKIMG MUCH) do any of your ocs have ref sheets. or even just full-body drawings . totally not asking for any specific purpose ....

WE'RE SO GLAD YOU LOVE OUR RAMBLING you have such pretty art and reblog some of the best posts and you're so good at writing so we just have to explode in the tags sometimes hehe

Also we saw this ask like four? Five? Hours ago and went Oh Shit No We Don't and have spent the whole time drawing and we were like Oh we should throw our LC alters in there too since this is their blog and their mutuals should know who they're talking to! And then we got distracted and ONLY drew the alters and host's self insert and none of our OC's so :> we'll do that eventually though but we'll also do like another post with more info ANYWAYS here's the art we made of the self insert and the Lethal alters :3

Info for each of us under the cut (also Rend and Anno are heavily derived from a fever dream March had after we got surgery and had complications, as such they have a story and are pretty attached to it so we'll go into that too)

The "Story"/Fever Dream:

There were two crews who led a revolution against The Company about fifty years before the game takes place, and of them were eight people named Experimentation, Assurance, Vow, Offense, March, Rend, Dine, and Titan, and they weren't named after the planets, the planets were named after them. (Rend, March, Assurance, and Vow were on a team with Rend being the captain, and the other team was led by Titan and had Dine, Offense, and Experimentation.) Eventually, the revolution got pretty popular and widespread so The Company gave in and agreed to meet with the two teams to discuss their requests, and at the end of the discussion they promised the requests would take place within the next few weeks. The eight members of the revolution were satisfied and went back to work, but the next day they were given news that due to their conjoined efforts they would have to all split up and join different teams to ensure that they didn't again backstab the company once their requests were fulfilled. They, unfortunately, did not put up a fight against this and within the next quota cycle each of them were abandoned and killed on different, new moons none of them had ever seen before. The company never enforced the things they agreed upon but because the leaders of the revolution were killed before word of the promises got far, and because they mysteriously went missing and had new moons named after them, nobody said anything and nobody acted out against The Company.

Pace:

- Pace is Geno's self-insert OC and he uses He/Him pronouns and is transmasc <3

- He was an employee for The Company AFTER the time of the revolution and worked not as a scrap collector but as a biologist. His team was tasked with finding specific monsters and collecting some bio matter from them to then bring back to The Company. Pace had a rivalry with one of his teammates who was tired of Pace always succeeding, so, he pushed for Pace to receive a Bracken as his quarry and succeeded. However upon arriving Pace was easily able to find the Bracken of Vow (who was actually Vow from the revolution) and collect bio matter from it by befriending it, which enraged his competitor and led to both Pace and Vow being shot. Vow tried to protect Pace after realizing the shot that hit him was not meant for him, but both were too wounded to survive. Vow disintegrated atop of Pace, leaving him and his open wounds covered in Bracken spores, and his competitor left to eventually be killed by a coilhead. Their other two teammates made it out.

- The spores found the decomposing body of a human to be the perfect place to reform and create a new Bracken; that being Pace. Pace spent about twenty years hunting loot bugs and hiding from scrap collectors before a woman named Kite and her captain Calamity found him at the fire exit of Vow. The two found that he was friendly and took him upon their ship, but one of their teammates was appalled at having a "friendly" Bracken and, as they were leaving, pushed Calamity out of the ship in anger, landing her between a dog and a baboon hawk. Pace jumped to rescue her and while he was successfully able to lure the dog away enough for Calamity to safely jump back on the ship, he was grabbed by the Dog and torn to shreds. The ship's autopilot took off while he was fighting the dog and the crew (excluding the asshole) started to panic.

- The next day Vow was eclipsed and, much to Calamity and Kite's disdain, the crew decided to wait for the eclipse to pass before landing back down on Vow and looking for Pace. Meanwhile, Pace had managed to crawl his way back to the fire exit, tumbling down the ravine, and set himself up on a pallet just inside the door. There, sleeping through the whole day, he was able to slowly heal.

- The third and last day of the quota cycle, Calamity's crew got into another argument with Asshole over going to save Pace, and landed at Vow without realizing another team (March's team, as he had already been rescued by a crew by this time) had already landed there. Calamity and Kite rushed in to find Pace while Sail, the crew's navigator and Kite's twin brother, argued with the asshole. The captain of the other crew, who's ship was nearby, overheard an argument about saving a "friendly bracken" and connected the dots that another crew must have found someone like March, their friendly coil-head, and walked out to confront the two. Sail left to help Calamity and Kite find Pace, and the captain (name yet unknown) spoke with the asshole, found out he wanted to kill Pace and attempted to kill his own captain, and promptly hit him over the head with a shovel in order to protect not just his crew, but March as well. The asshole was left there as the captain rushed in to inform his crew of another friendly monster and tell the other crew bus was happy to help, and the asshole was left there to be picked up and carried away by a Giant.

- Pace was eventually found , missing most of his arm, leg, and leaves on his left side, and the two crews met up and became friends. Pace was placed in a large pot covered up to his shoulders in dirt and for the next few quota cycles his crew would place him outside to soak up the sun and look around. Because his arm and leg were fully submerged in the soil and water, they regrew, but his eye never did. He doesn't mind too much though, he can tell when things are looking at him and, in his opinion, that's all he really needs his eyes for. He helps scavenge for scrap and is able to carry two heavy items at a time, however, he can only carry one light item when doing so as it's uncomfortable to hold in his big hands

March:

- March was our first LC alter and has been around since about late October? He's not too conncected to his source and is actually the version of March from our fever dream BEFORE the revolution ended. So though the March in our dream was a coil head by the end of it, our March still thinks of himself as human. Being compared to a coil doesn't bother him though, they're his favorite enemy in the game :) also he's mute and considers himself cis and demiro-ace.

Rend:

- Rend is also one of our alters but is a lot more attached to both the game and the "story" so he has some funky false memories and is a little delulu about it, but he's happy and healthy and aware of reality and not hurting anyone or our system or himself so we don't mind hehe also, Rend is transmasc just like host and his pronouns are he/him but he's trying out they/it

- Rend is of course based on Captain Rend from the "story" but, unlike March, is from AFTER he died and he much prefers being seen as a nutcracker than a human. Our assumption over why is because Rend had actually been a fragment for most of our life who managed family interactions, and since that was all our brain found him fit for he never really gained a personality or sense of self and as such thinks he looks exactly like our host and would probably share the same name and everything. We think subconsciously our brain makes him like being a nutcracker more than a human in order to make it easier to distinguish him and host

- Rend, being much more intrigued by the fever dream likes daydreaming about it a lot, like he's roleplaying in his head in his own, and as such he likes talking about it and thinking about it a lot more than March does. So, here's some things he daydreams about a lot and thinks would be "canon" continuations of the "story"/fever dream:

- Before March's team found Pace and his team, they got to a pretty high quota and started visiting Rend and Dine. One of their first times visiting Rend, Melody, an employee on March's team, found a seemingly deactivated nutcracker deep in the facility. The team had split up so Melody knew she would have to be careful, but she wanted the shotgun so she crept close and clumsily grabbed it, setting it off. This startled here and she backed off, watching in silent horror as the Nutcracker slowly started to move and stand and, eventually, open up and look around. In panic, Melody ran despite being looked at and, for a moment, Rene stood there confuse before he realized he had finally found someone. Forgetting his voice, he chased after her for a bit but she would frequently stop and hold still so he had trouble. Eventually he shouted to her to wait and she paused, turning to look at the apparently able to speak nutcracker just as March had sped up beside her to block the path between her and Rend. Staring down at an employee with his shotgun and a coilhead that was looking at him and not said employee, Rend ran. In instinct, as she had gotten used to March by now, Melody turned and March gave chase. He was scared and angry that the nutcracker had presumably tried to shoot his friend and, upon trying to push the nutcracker to get it to stop running, he sent a surge through its body and caused it to bleed (like how we headcannon them to work, building up pressure in the body's blood). Melody followed a few rooms behind, having trouble keeping up with the two big monsters but, when Rend was hurt he screamed, and Melody knew that wasn't any of her teammates so she picked up the pace. Rend had been cornered but Melody caught sight of March which forced him to stop moving, and tried to rush to the nutcracker when she saw him bleeding, but, turning her back to March Rend panicked and stepped between the two, telling Melody that he wanted to talk to her but couldn't protect her with the state he was in, so she needed to look at the coil head. He was seemingly trying to protect her. For his comfort she did look at March, but tried to assure him to calm down, sit for a little so she could try and tend to whatever part of him was bleeding, and that she would be more than willing to talk. They spoke for a while, Rend having trouble believing that the coil was friendly given how it seemingly tried to explode him, but he let bygones be bygones. Melody and March both started to wonder if this was one of his old friends but they had decided beforehand not to bring it up to any possible teammates without getting a gauge for their mental state, and Rend was very frazzled so they decided to wait to ask his name or story until he calmed down. They gave him back his shotgun, he turned the safety on, and Melody convinced him to open up so she could tend to his bleeding eye, and eventually the three started to make their way back to main in order to meet up with the rest of the team and get Rend out to their ship

- On the way there they met up with the teammate March had been with before he came running after he heard the gunshot, but this teammate was actively running from a thumper. Rend tried to shoot it but missed due to his eye injury and urged the rest of them to run as he'd hold it back as long as possible. The three left and Rend dragged the Thumper around for a bit before it got loose and rocketed down the hallway after the three. Rend, knowing the layout like the back of his hand, took an alternate route to get to main in order to hopefully outpace the thumper. He made it in time to tackle the thumper and send it and him over the balcony railing where they landed near Melody, March, and their other teammate who were actively trying to scare off a Bracken. Rend urged them to head outside and leave for their safety and they did. It took them a while to get back enough money to go back for Rend, and in this time they met Pace and his team. Rend is still actively daydreaming about this all the time so I'm sure he'll infodump about it more another time.

Anno:

- Anno has been around for the least amount of time, we had a major allergic reaction while Rend was fronting and so he spent time curled in a ball daydreaming as he always loves to. For comfort he daydreamed about cuddling a friendly masked, but eventually got so fed up he told our partner, aloud "I really hate this body" and our little asshole of a brain (/lh) essentially went "oh really? New alter be upon ye" and turned that cute little Masked Rend was daydreaming about into a new fragment. Anno has since become more concrete, he's transmasc and uses it/its pronouns, and it's not very interested in Lethal Company but LOVES Rend a lot. It's just kinda gay and likes Minecraft, like those are its things so far. Rend has decided that if Anno was in the "story" it would've been from far before the revolution and was left behind by mistake. That's about it for Anno, it's just kinda a thingy that's very gay

Wow so that's the end of that, I'm incapable of making long stories short apparently tee hee. I've been talking for way too long and I doubt anyone got this far, but this was mostly for us since we're soupy right now and it made us feel grounded. If you got this far Anno gives you a cookie.

[lampmanliveblogs]

Holy shit! Forget getting an army, just point King in Belos’ general direction and let him have it! This kind of power should be more than enough to blow Belos’ portal away. And they can totally destroy the portal if they want since they can just build another one later. After all, they have a new supply of Titan’s blood.

King hugging Luz’ leg, tearing up and saying he wants to go home (to his real home)…

And then him sitting on the ship, looking at the symbol from the tower… and then looking out at the Titan. A long lost relative of his. Perhaps the only remains of his family left. All others… are gone. Hunted to extinction. In trying to find answers about who he is and where he comes from, he is left with more questions.

This is a really nice shot of Ymir, I don’t think we’ve seen it from this angle before?

Oh, that’s right, Hooty did mention marching around the Owl House. Just throw that plot point in my face just as the episode is about to end.

Thus comes to and end episode 17.

I was considering using the image of King using his voice powers and Eda in her harpy form as the last image, but I think this one fits better. It’s overlooking the Titan and King is there with his family, his true family. It also represents the Day of Unity approaching fast and that our heroes will soon have to face that challenge.

I’m pretty tired and it’s getting late. And to be honest, I feel like I wasn’t at the top of my game there towards the end. So I’ll do what I usually do, rewatch the episode and do a follow-up post tomorrow. See you then and as always; take care of the planet Earth and remember that anything can happen in space!

[donutloverxo]

A Royal Scandal 2

Modern royalty au

(Image from Pinterest)

Cowritten with @lizzygal

I'm so sorry! I made a mistake while posting this yesterday so I'm reposting it now. Hope y'all enjoy💖

Note - Since y'all liked it so much we've decided to post this fic on both ao3 and my tumblr! There will be no taglists for this however💖 You can subscribe to the ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, Mentions of previous domestic abuse.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 8k

To be fair, Steven could understand why his mother was so upset after watching the entire footage from the royal steam rooms. He had a far better understanding after having seen the footage in question. The one that had led to his mother’s reaction that very morning.

Seated beside Carol on the ride back, he slipped in his wireless earbuds and pulled up the first video he found online on his phone.

A separate car had been sent for you for whenever your meeting completed. However, he had a whole series of his own back at the palace before his day could be considered over in the administrative offices. Days were never really over for him. Should anything happen somewhere in his nation, he would be informed. As was expected for a ruler.

Until then, he had fifteen or so minutes to kill till he arrived back at the royal palace, depending on city traffic.

Which was how he found himself watching what was obviously some sort of hidden camera. As the royal banya did not have CCTV cameras. Steve found himself making a mental note to himself to ask Carol about it.

After he watched the video.

He had the feeling that this would not be going away anytime soon. Therefore, he needed to know what was on there if he was going to have to defend his actions, or even speak about it.

It was somewhat surreal watching himself walk into view wearing nothing. Not even a towel. Talking with someone who was obviously you.

Based on where the camera was located, Steve could tell it was somewhere in the hallway that led from the steam rooms into either the showers or locker room. Thank all the saints above your back was to the camera. Half of it anyway. You were standing at a turn in the hallway, leaning against the wall. Half of you hidden. A towel wrapped around your body.

Thanking those saints above still that there was no sound, Steve watched on as a voice narrated the video, some celebrity blogger dissecting the footage as if it were a pivotal moment in some sporting event.

Steve watched himself turn to face you, facing the camera too and exposing his entire self to the world.

Not that he was ashamed. He had nothing to be ashamed about. Steve was built tall and powerful like his father and mother’s father. He kept himself in shape and as for the manhood that hung heavy between his thighs, he refused to be embarrassed by that either. The blogger however did have several opinions about what she referred to as, the royal sword.

She also seemed to be very opinionated when Steve watched himself kneel down in front of you. He’d never watched himself go down on you before and found himself transfixed, easily able to ignore the blogger’s excited rambling.

For once, Steve watched your hands sink into his hair as he sank between your legs. He watched your pleasure grow and grow, he watched you sag back into the wall and reach up, grabbing at it like a cat stretching out in the hot sun.

Seeing it happen like this? Steve felt like a voyeur. He felt like he was doing something wrong. And then, he watched you climax on his face. He watched your hands tighten up against the corner of the walls meeting. He watched himself stand and no longer noticed the commentary as he sheathed himself between your legs and proceeded to pound you into the wall without mercy.

His attention caught on one little inconsequential thing. Watching one of your legs that wound over his thigh bounce wildly each time.

Quickly he exited out of the video and blog. Unwilling to watch more. Pulling a bud from his ear, he glanced over at Carol who was watching the city fly by her window.

“Have you inquired as to if the palace guard has looked into how the video was taken in the royal banya?”

Blonde hair dusted her shoulders as she looked at her king. Carol answered without a second of hesitation. “Already done Your Majesty. The camera was found this morning. A webcam of some type. It’s been sent away for fingerprints and I have the best IT professional I know looking into it, to determine if we can track down who it belongs to. The royal guard has also launched an investigation into all palace employees.”

“Thank you,” he answered her with complete sincerity.

Captain Danvers had been at his side since he assumed the throne and had proven herself hundreds of times over. She was his confidant. She was his bodyguard. She was his closest thing to a friend, if Steve could say he had such a thing. He could tell Carol anything. He had told Carol about you. Carol had told him about her sick mother and in return, Steve have given her a cottage on palace grounds while providing a nurse. So that Carol would be able to spend as much time as possible with her mother in her final days. Carol still lived on the palace grounds in that cottage down by the gardens.

“I’ll let you know when I know something,” she assured him.

***

Your return to the palace felt like it took forever. Mostly because your panties were very obviously damp from leakage and you were greatly concerned about a wet stain. The modern equivalent of a scarlet letter. Letting everyone know what you’d done.

Twice you’d checked in a bathroom along with every mirrored surface you came across.

Alas, it seemed you were in luck.

No one would know that you’d had inappropriate contact on a workday, or think you’d had an accident. Granted if someone would have noticed you planned on blaming your monthlies.

By the grace of the many women who came before you, you managed to get back to the palace without being caught and were about to go change your panties when a familiar face popped into your office.

“Hey! You’re coming! I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Wanda.

Bright red hair and a brighter red dress that was far from office appropriate appeared in your office, leaping in like an acrobat leaping onto a stage. Making you look up from where you stood behind your desk, digging through your handbag.

A bunch of different thoughts buzzed through your head.

What was Wanda talking about? Where did she want you to go? Did Wanda wear that mini-dress to work? Cause it was about five inches too short and did downright sinful things to the girls. Wanda could always pull off anything. She looked amazing in clubwear, sweats and those tea-party dresses that Jackie O was always wearing.

“Coming?” Fell from your lips in a valiant attempt to stall till you could make sense of what was happening. “What are you not taking no for an answer for this time?”

In your roommate swept like a hurricane.

“It’s practically six!” She declared, as if that was supposed to mean something to you. It had you staring at her and waiting for more information. Hands paused in their hunt for clean panties and a pantyliner in your bag’o’stuff. “No more talk of this fake boyfriend. You and me are going to go have dinner. We’re going to hit the bars to pre-game and then to the clubs! Everyone is going so you are too!”

Such news had you freezing in your patent leather pumps.

Pre-gaming? Dinner? Clubs? Everyone?

How?

It was only Thursday and then you remembered.

It was a long weekend. The winning of some great victory over the Germans from the big war that you only kinda remembered hearing about. Mostly because you’d been busy with the border issue and the education overhaul. You’d known that it was coming up and the entire four-day weekend would be spent celebrating.

Wanda saw your face. She saw what you were thinking. She was practically a mind reader. Which led her to pointing at you scoldingly. “No! No no no! No checking emails or messages. No more work. No! We’re going out tonight and we are going to have fun! You remember what fun is? Right?”

But…you really did have emails and messages to check. You actually did have a ton of work to do. Granted you always had emails and messages to check, plus work piling up. It was the nature of your job. Helping in the running of a country was a 24/7 gig.

“Wanda…”

“Nope!” She declared, marching on into your office and behind your desk to chase you out. Shooing you. Literally making you hop away and grab your handbag because you just knew Wanda wasn’t letting you back near your desk. That much was for sure.

Like a sheepdog, she herded you around your messy desk as you attempted to protest, to get her to listen, to inform her that you really really did have a good bit of work to do.

“Wait…hold on…wait, Wanda…just one second…gah!”

“No more protests! I’m not going to hear it anymore! I refuse to let you hide behind work or the fake boyfriend.”

More protests came from you. You tried. You really really did. But Wanda was shoving and pushing and hip bumping you out into a hallway that did not look like an office building, instead, it was very obviously a palace.

Your heels clicked on polished white marble that shone. Walls were cream and had priceless art hung around, gold gilded borders ran up along where the ceiling met the walls. Light fixtures were old, bronze and cut glass. Furniture that belonged in Sotheby’s was sparsely decorated around the halls.

Door were old and creaky up and down the halls, wooden with locks that required big iron keys.

It was unlike any other place you’d ever worked.

You could feel and see and even smell the smokey history oozing from the walls.

A few people were hurrying out of their offices and locking the doors behind them, which Wanda didn’t even let you do as she went on indignantly. “No! Nope! Clint from Tinder will not wait forever! He digs foreigners and he has a job and he loves to dance!”

At mention of Tinder, your gut lurched.

Dear god not this again.

Why had you ever agreed to let Wanda make you a Tinder profile? At the time it seemed so reasonable. Let her make the profile and she’d get off your ass about your alleged imaginary boyfriend. Problem solved! How on earth were you to know she’d be on the damn app making matches for you?

“Why don’t you go out with Clint from Tinder,” you wanted to know, earning yourself a roll of Wanda’s eyes as you were dragged down along the hallway to the massive marble stairs. Looking as if they’d been carved from one piece, smoothly curling down a floor to the ground floor. Large chandeliers hung with cut glass that threw light everywhere. A massive painting hung up on the large wall of a long dead large royal family in the palace of past.

“He’s not my type. But he is absolutely your type.”

Somehow you doubted that.

Sighing deeply and focusing on not snapping your ankle on the stairs and in your heels, you followed Wanda down, mixing in with the few stragglers who were leaving work and making mental notes to text Steve and let him know you’d be late coming back to the palace that night. You were then planning when you could check your work emails and work-phone messages. That had to be done in a quiet place where no one could overhear. Maybe you could go out to the club and feign a tummy ache? Then sneak away from Clint? It’d probably be much easily to sneak away from Clint than Wanda.

Click. Click. Click.

With every step you maneuvered down your heels were noisy. You’d managed to fling your sizable bag over your shoulder and just knew Steve was going to be annoyed with you. But he was an adult. Being adults meant the two of you would have to do things that you didn’t want.

“So help me, if it kills the both of us, you and I will be going out tonight and having a fun time! This is a celebratory weekend! There are festivities going on all over the city!” Wanda went on, yanking you along behind her upon reaching the bottom step and heading in the general direction of the ground floor exits.

Hurrying along behind her, you followed but you weren’t happy about it.

God did you have so much work to do and you really really wanted to spend the night with Steve. And maybe if you gave in to Wanda, she’d get off your ass about your fake boyfriend? Wait, no, your secret boyfriend, because Steve was very real, you just didn’t want to be eviscerated all over the internet and tabloids for dating a king.

You’d seen what happened when a pretty actress had dated then married a prince who didn’t rule his country. The only thing you had going for you was Steve’s country was still looked at with some serious side-eye from the world, due to past events and rulers. Plus, he wasn’t a young prince that had grown up before the eyes of the world. He was a son of a tyrant, a citizen of a sizable nation the world still viewed suspiciously with a questionable human rights record.

“You’re going to love the club! It’s totally new and they open at ten. Meaning we can have plenty of time with the girls!”

Girls?

As in plural?

Because of course this would be a group event. Wanda never half-assed anything.

“Wanda…” you began.

Before Wanda could turn her attention on you, loud shrill lady screams came and you were greeted to the sight of Maria, Okoye and Pepper. All three threw up their arms and grabbed Wanda in a big hug, yanking her away from you and freeing you from her grip.

Loud girl screeches followed.

There was group hopping and hugs and laughter.

It should have made you realize that it’d been so long since you had a fun girls night. It should have reminded you that you were young and your life shouldn’t be all about work and sneaking off with your boyfriend whenever the two of you were able to.

Your heart should have been warmed by the sight of your palace coworkers who were clearly part of the aforementioned Girls.

How long had it been since you had fun?

How long had it been since you’d had a night out on the town?

What were you doing?

Were you jumping and screeching and hugging too?

No.

You were digging into your handbag so you could text Steve real quick. To let him know about your change in plans before he began to think you’d bailed because you were a coward and got cold feet.

Just as your fingers touched the smooth surface of your iPhone…

A noise caught your attention.

Movement.

Peering up to the side at the wall, or what you’d assumed was a hallway wall since you were in another hallway nearly identical to the one upstairs. All while the hugfest continued. You noticed that the wall was at a weird angle. As if it were opening up on a hinge and by the time you realized that the wall was actually an opening to a hidden passageway, a hand grabbed your elbow and yanked you in.

No more than a soft squeak came from you.

In you tumbled.

Into a dimly lit hallway that was actually a passageway you found yourself. With a metal sounding click the wall slid back into place and a big hand fell over your mouth. Making you immediately panic, immediately reach up to grab the hand that was silencing you. Making an arm band around your chest and pull you flush back against a broad muscular body.

“Did you honestly think for one moment that I would allow you to go get drunk with Wanda? Or go to a club with a man that she met for you on Tinder?”

Steve.

It was Steve.

His faint aftershave still burnt your nose but paired with the masculine scent that was him, you relaxed only a little bit, just a smidge.

How the hell did he know all of that? Had he bugged your office? Was he following you?

Deep in your chest your heart pounded wildly. Your skin was on fire. Even though it was dimly lit, you swore you could see each nail and groove in the wooden walls of the hidden passage.

Steve’s shoes were soft on the carpeted floor. Yours however never reached. Your legs dangled. Desperately you stretched out to try and reach your toes down, but alas, Steve was holding you up and was simply that much taller than you. Easily holding you up as he carried you.

His voice an angry snarl, a seething whisp against your ear. “That is so disappointing my love. A failure on both our parts,” came his angry voice. Walking with sure footing and a quick pace through the only barely lit halls.

Turning here and there, quickly and suddenly, until you were very much lost.

A protest came from behind his palm that was crushed against your mouth. Your blood heating with every passing second till it felt as if it were boiling. All that sudden fear was turning into anger at this treatment.

“I’ve clearly failed you if you’re unable to announce with nothing but the utmost certainty that you’re both in a relationship and have no desire to go out clubbing with whomever Clint from Tinder is.” The word clubbing was spat out, as if Steve found it vile on his tongue. “As for you? Yesterday we were discussing where to go for your birthday and today, you refused to answer one of my calls! You have work to do tonight to make up to me your behavior today!”

Further down the hidden passageway you were unceremoniously carried pulled to his front. Your brain racing at warp speed.

You had work to do? You had to make up for your behavior?

Had he lost his damn mind?

Had he not seen the video of his naked nether-regions all over the internet? Or the sex that made the footage a sex tape? The two of you were now amateur porn stars and he was mad that you? Because you were trying to be lowkey until the entire situation blew over? Steve was mad because you were being reasonable?

A most valiant attempt was made to free yourself.

You struggled. You kicked. You flailed and shrilled behind the hand over your mouth. No longer taken by surprise or frightened. Now you were growing angry.

On top of being terrified of being found out in that footage and ridiculed by the world, or worse, chased out of this country by a horde of angry people who didn’t agree with you being the kings choice as not only a foreigner, but one from pretty humble roots. You were upset that the world saw such an intimate moment between the two of you and even if Steve didn’t care that his junk was all over the internet, you cared. You cared a great deal. The royal junk was your junk. It was bad enough you had to know he’d dated women before you who’d seen him nude and were intimate with him, but now the world? It was simply too much for you to comprehend.

Steve slowed and turned, using his elbow he made something pop and a slight crack of light where there was obviously another hidden door in the wall appeared.

Using his broad shoulder, Steve pushed the door open and stepped out into a hallway that led down to the royal chambers and split off.

With his knee, he shoved the hidden panel shut and tightening his grip on you, Steve hurried down that hallway.

A completely different one from where the administrative offices were located.

Rich wooden paneling covered the walls. Making everything appear warmer, lusher. An amber haze hung in the air.

Thick carpet was underfoot. Furniture spoke to its age but had been made with a quality that endured. Like this palace. Built when his land was called something else but had stood through time in proof of his claim to the throne.

Generations before him had ruled, claimed spouses and lovers in these halls, grown old and made history and now it was his turn.

Merely that knowledge had him growing excited in his slacks for a second time that day. All of your thrashing and struggling didn’t help. If anything, it sparked a part of his brain that insisted he ravish and conquer you in his royal bed.

Mouth pressed to your ear, till he felt amber and diamonds press against his lips. “I swear, I will spend the rest of tonight inside of you until things are as they were yesterday. Until you remember that when I speak to you in any manner, you answer. Considering how thoroughly you’ve consumed every last part of me, it is only fair.”

And then, in his slowed pace down the hall ever closer to the door that would lead into Steve’s Royal Apartment, he saw a portrait up on the wall that made him pause.

It was him.

Or his portrait from when he’d turned thirty.

There he stood looking down at you both. Dressed ceremonially in his crown, holding the traditional ruling scepter and wearing the robes from kings of past. Fur, jeweled toned fabric that he’d easily filled out with gold adornments, amber buttons and pipping on his shoulders.

What was most striking about this portrait compared to all the others of Steven throughout the palace, was he was alone in it and unlike all the others, at the time, he’d not been single.

Further making that internal fire burn hotter.

Making him stop and force you to look up at it with him. Framed in a gilded bronze heirloom. Up where he had to look at it to be reminded of what could have been.

“Look! Look!”

You stopped struggling and looked, were well aware of his mouth against your hair.

“See? See it? You could have been there with me. At my side. Wearing my crown. Wearing the robes and jewels of my grandmothers. My queen.”

And indeed you saw.

When you’d seen the finished portrait, you had been blown away at how your body reacted to the sight of your lover in his traditional uniform he only pulled out for big special events. How powerful he looked. How sexy he was wearing a crown, holding a golden scepter with an eagle on the end clutching a piece of amber the size of an egg.

The arm around your chest fell so he could point at the empty space in the picture beside him. “Look. Right there. That is where you would have been. Right there. At my side.”

His hand over your mouth still held you flush against him. Pulled tight against him.

That thought, that entire notion of you painted on a portrait, up there with Steve at his side. It was so surreal to you.

When it was just you and Steve it was fire and gold and everything was amazing. When it was King Steve and his Chief of Staff it was stimulating and exciting. You still weren’t sure about being queen. A queen! That wasn’t like being a princess or a duchess. A queen was different. Even the word felt different.

It made your heart start to pound wildly in your chest again. It made you breathe hard against the back of his hand. It made you have a physiological reaction.

***

This was not how Carol intended to spend her night.

It was not how she wished to start her off-time. Having given Val the update on all things that had transpired for the day as she handed off command of the Royal Guard to her fellow captain.

No sooner had she told Val everything, did one of the messengers from communications come hurrying in. A slip of paper in her hand. A note that changed everything for that night, that week and even that month.

It had left Carol walking through the royal apartments towards the Queen Mother’s rooms.

As she knew exactly what King Steven was doing and quite frankly, she wanted no part in disturbing that unless she absolutely had to.

Besides. The message that had been sent to the palace via royal envoy was meant for Her Majesty. It was best Her Majesty the Queen Mother figured out how best to deal with this coming…situation.

Compared to His Majesty’s Private Rooms, Sarah’s were all light and brightness. White marble and ornate touches. Colorful priceless paintings and large bouquets of fresh flowers in crystal vases. Soft plush furniture held little personal touches. A white chenille throw draped over her couch by a fireplace. Pink slippers sat on the floor. Books both new and ancient with various markers holding her place were scattered about. Fresh flowers. She loved fresh flowers. They were everywhere.

As expected, the door to the Queen Mother’s apartments were open.

Carol still paused outside of it to knock gently.

“Your Majesty?” She called out, looking at her watch to see that it was nearing seven. Around seven was when the queen took her dinner meal privately. Of course she’d leave the door open for kitchen staff to bring up food as usual. It wasn’t one of the nights that was reserved for Steve and his mother to have their dinners together.

After the death of her husband the former king, Sarah had effectively thrown open all the doors that he had imprisoned her with.

Her soft voice drifted out.

Delicate and gentle.

The Queen Mother sat in a large chair by a big window overlooking the city. Her pale hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. A string of pearls tightened and loosened around her fingers as she lowered the book she’d been reading. A pleasant smile came over her soft features.

Upon seeing the stone of Carol’s face, the queen frowned. “What is it? What is wrong?”

Only confirming that something was wrong, Carol shut the door and locked it.

Dinner had been brought up. Smells emanated from the queens private dining room off to the left. It reminded Carol that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning. It had been that kind of a day.

Clasping her hands before her, she rocked back on her heels. “A message was sent by Her Highness Janet Van Dyne. She and her daughter will be at the palace tomorrow…”

Janet and Hope Van Dyne?

Steven’s former fiancée and her mother?

Two golden eyebrows rose, making Carol press on. “Her Highness is under the impression that they’ll be staying here? In the palace?”

All of this was new to Sarah.

She had not heard from Janet since Steve’s coronation. When she and her husband had been in attendance. Earlier that particular year, Hope had broken her engagement with Steven to run away with a Maharaja.

It’d been all over the tabloids.

A young princess of the Netherlands had broken her engagement to the crown prince of an incredibly traditional nation to follow her heart. Hope had spent many years splashed across tabloids and blogs with a handsome charismatic Asian Prince. She’d lost her royal title and gave tell-all interviews about how her family had forbade her from running away and how she’d never marry a man from infamous Rogers Royal Line. And then, oddly, she was back home with her family this year.

Sarah had found it unusual. Alas, she was a busy woman with a life of her own to keep her busy.

“Was anything else in the message,” Sarah wanted to know.

Carol shook her head.

It had been a simple message that was very to the point.

Sighing in a most un-Sarah-like sort of way. She set her book down on the arm of her chair and rose. Tall. Willowy. Pursing her lips. Her dress fell around her in a gauzy cloud.

“Do you want me to tell His Majesty?”

Pausing, the older women considered the question. Dare she tell her son? He deserved to know. Nothing good would come from this visit.

If it were Janet alone? Sarah would not be so suspicious. But Janet and Hope? And that they would come so last minute? After the release of this video footage from the royal sauna?

“Is my son with her?”

Silence.

Carol was quiet.

A noise came from the Queen Mother. A clicking of her tongue. Stepping into her slippers, she pulled the hem of her dress up. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you would keep this from me.”

More quiet came.

“I won’t ask. I’ll find out my own way and leave him be for now. Janet and Hope won’t be here tonight. This can be a problem for tomorrow, today has been difficult enough for us all. Let tomorrow be tomorrow.”

Let tomorrow be tomorrow.

On her other hand was her wedding band. A treasure itself. Now on the widow’s finger. It was so symbolic of the cage she’d lived in for the duration of her marriage.

Absentmindedly, she twisted the rings. “Have you eaten yet?” Pulling them up and down her hand. “I had hoped you would come. I had the kitchen bring up extra.” Off slipped the rings that she had to wear in public. In her hand they jingled until she set them down on a smoothly polished table.

With two heavy clicks, they bounced on the wood by a vase full of peonies. Freeing her for the time being.

“I missed you while you were away.”

A blush bloomed over her porcelain complexion at Carol’s words.

As she watched Carol lock the door to her chambers, a warmth bloomed within her chest. Such words were so simple. So honest. They were words she had not heard before in her life. In this new chapter however, in this new time in her life, she had become accustomed to kind words and compassion.

“I missed you as well.” She confessed, stepping closer and still keeping space between them. As some habits died hard. “Stay with me? Tonight?”

“There is nothing I want more, Sarah.”

***

As it turned out, now you were ready to talk.

However.

Unfortunately.

Steve was now past that point and was on a whole other page.

You found yourself protesting when he carried you into his bedroom like some manner of caveman would carry a slab of meat. Shrilling out when he yanked and ripped and tore at your dress, forcing it over your head after ripping fabric and popping buttons, till it was an unsalvageable heap of material and threads.

Which was an absolute tragedy.

You loved that dress.

You even pointed out that fact to him somewhere between the threshold of his bedroom and his massive bed that really was fit for a king.

It was so big!

A headboard wider than Wanda’s itty-bitty car was long. An elaborate collection of regal flourishes and shapes. Dark sheets so soft they were slippery awaited you as you screeched and hollered, letting out an outraged sound when your bra was popped then yanked roughly from you.

“Steven!” You admonished your king, toes digging deep into the thick carpet as you’d lost your shoes back in the hallway leading to his quarters.

This whole evening was going off the rails for you. There was no other way to put it.

Dim sconces on the wall lit the way. Highly effective mood lighting if you ever saw it. Allowing you to see the set in Steve’s face, the firm line of his mouth.

His fingers wrapped around the back of your neck so he could hold you close, ground out for your benefit. “All day long I tried. Calls. Messages. Texts. Did you want to talk? No. You ignored me. Now I do not wish to talk either.”

Pushing you forward, you found yourself stumbling but knew if you didn’t walk on your own, Steve would merely toss you up on his bed. Up on the sea of pillows. Framed by gilded silver and dark curtains that came down from above to allow for privacy.

“All day long you denied me. I’ll remind you what is mine until you’re thinking clearly again. Until we’re back where we were yesterday!”

“I’m ready to talk now! I’m in a place where I can discuss this with you! I am thinking clearly!”

Words were not needed.

Oh no.

Not when the king grabbed your hand, pulled your arm back and pressed your palm against his straining erection. Hot to the touch. Shockingly hard. Painfully so even you were willing to bet.

Your knees hit the bed and you were pushed forward till you fell over, till you wound up on the expanse of bedding in a tangle of hands and knees and that silky smooth material.

A big explosion came from Steve. Feeling like and you were flailing on your stomach, trapped beneath his oppressive weight and the bed. Fighting. Wiggling. Trying to get free from beneath him but bigger stronger arms had your wrists.

Something was being wrapped around your wrists that you couldn’t see, as your vision was impeded by the broad chest in your face. Right there. Blocking your line of sight. Pinning you down to the sea of grey until finally, finally, he was up and you were once more struggling, wiggling, jerking and finding that you were tied to the headboard.

You were tied to the headboard. You were naked and bound to his bed.

Silky fabric that was Steve’s tie bound your wrists snugly together and wove into the headboard, securing you there most soundly.

It was outrageous! It was absurd!

You were tied to his headboard!

It was a first for you.

When your gaze returned to your boyfriend and even that was now a bit questionable, you were greeted to the sight of Steve shedding his suit. Yanking off each garment without pause or care. A few tears were heard and he was far rougher than need be. A button or two may have flown off.

“You cannot be serious! That’s your plan? You’re going to take what’s yours? Are you serious? This is not the dark ages!”

Ignoring you, Steve shoved his slacks down his long legs. Allowing his rigid cock to bob obscenely. Causing an eyeroll to immediately come from you. A hint of something dark on his hip caught your eye. But it was only a flash and as he was moving, yanking off his suit jacket and fiercely ripping open buttons on his shirt, you couldn’t get a good look.

Was it a bruise? A tattoo?

Somehow you doubted kings were even allowed to have tattoos. Or that Steve even had the time to get himself permanently inked. When the hell did he get that bruise?

Momentarily distracted by him climbing up on the bed, you looked up to give your bindings a good hard yank.

No luck.

Steve’s weight was pushing you down. Shoving you into the bed. Pinning you down as you protested, implored and began to plea. Which was exactly what he wanted. After everything you had put him through today? You would beg. You would plead. You would forget all about that video.

“Open your mouth.”

It was an order.

It could be nothing less.

An absolute command that had your lips slowly parting as your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden treatment, this roughness. Steve held his painful erection in hand and pushed his tip to your lips. Pushed the red end of his cock sticky with precum past your lips. Till you were forced to open your mouth wider and wider for him. To take him deeper and deeper into your mouth.

Steve held your gaze and pushed his member in further. Straddling your chest and gripping his headboard in one hand, till it dug into his fingers. While his other hand grabbed your face to hold it tight.

You’d never be able to take all of him. He knew this. You’d never been able to no matter how much you’d tried. But he wanted to see how much he could fit in your mouth tonight.

“Don’t swallow. Don’t let me down again.”

Your mouth was so warm closing around him. Wet. Sacred. It made him want to close his eyes to sink in deep but Steve would not. He would do that soon enough. He would lose himself in your cunt soon enough.

A few small movements from his hips sank his cock deeper into your mouth. Filling your cheeks as you struggled. Until you found a motion of moving up and down his length, running your tongue along his sides. Wetting up his shaft till sloppy noises started to fill his ears and a small little dribble began to moisten the corners of your mouth.

Those blue eyes remained set on your own. Never once showing you mercy.

“Tomorrow. In the future. If I call or text, you will answer.”

There was no follow-up. Nor was it a question.

Long fingers that belonged on an artist or musician sank into your hair tightly.

All you could do was nod as drool rolled down your chin and you suckled his cock like you would a popsicle, without swallowing, sucking on his sensitive flesh as he liked and without the aid of your own hands to steady his member.

It was glorious and Steve could only slightly appreciate it. As the words that fell from his mouth were more important, more vital.

Feeling how wet your mouth was getting was fantastic. Absolutely. Your nimble tongue was a gift. No one had ever sucked his cock like you.

However…he was still frustrated, still angry, still hurt even.

He’d not worked his way through those feelings as of yet.

Perhaps? In your body?

Those feelings teased and taunted him with his unworthiness. Of how you hadn’t been firmer with your roommate. How you had allowed her to drag you down the stairs for a night out with possibly another man? It infuriated him. It sent his hips rocking into your mouth. It had his cock rubbing up along the back of your throat and made your eyes water.

No.

Steve would not lose you. He loved you too much to even entertain such a notion. No. Infact, he would make sure that he ruined you. By the end of the night, he would make certain that you’d never even amused the notion of being set up. He would be completely sure that when you left his chambers come morning, you would never be doubted when you told Wanda or anyone that you had a partner.

“I want to start publicly courting you. I want to be engaged this year. I do not want to hide any longer. When people look at you, I want them to know that you belong to me.”

Noises came around his cock that Steve knew were words and he did not care.

“Look at yourself.” Steve stilled, his words harsh, bitter even. “You have my cock in your mouth and I am completely at your mercy. Tied to the bed of kings because I cannot go one night without dreaming of you, fantasizing about your tight cunt and smooth skin. I would give you the world and all you want is nothing. You are the worst type of infuriating.”

As if to prove his point, he steadily pumped his pelvis up into your mouth. Each slide in pushed saliva and pre-ejaculate out, making it ooze from the seal of your lips around his erection. Against your throat his wet balls bounced. His ass rested on your chest and he could not get enough. More. He wanted more. He needed more. Craved more.

The urge to go harder was strong.

Steve wanted so badly to fuck you. To make you feel how much you drove him mad. How you caused him physical pain from longing alone.

With drool smeared down your chin and neck, never looking more beautiful in his opinion, Steve pulled his dick out. Done with your mouth for now. Needing more. Needing to grab your tits and to be closer to your face, looking closer into your eyes.

In a familiar sort of way, your throat bobbed.

“Did you just swallow when I specifically told you not to?”

A moment of hesitation followed from you that had Steve gripping your face, easing his body down yours but holding your slippery chin tight in his grip. Your eyes were wide. Again, probably without even realizing, you swallowed in nervousness.

“I’m…I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry what,” he demanded, leaning down closer, licking the wetness from your chin and earning from you a most satisfying shiver that wracked your body.

“S-s-sorry, Your Majesty.”

His tongue was hot and wet on your chin. His body was heavy and hot on your own. Skin on skin contact made your brain short circuit. It was a miracle you could string those syllables together. With your hands bound so snugly to the bed. All you could do was take it. Take what he gave you.

Feeling him push your thighs open and position himself between your hips made you gasp. Words failed you.

And then words didn’t even matter because he was pushing into you. Claiming you. Taking what was his because you did belong to him. You belonged to him in every possible way.

A scream exploded out of you when he dove right in. Sank in till his crown was pressed up against the wall of your cervix. Deeper than anyone had ever been before. Hands were grabbing your ankles and spreading you wide. Spearing you on his cock. Stretching your body taut.

“So wet. You were made to take me. Made to take your king.” He whispered more to himself even though you heard. You would have heard a pin drop. You could hear your heart pound and blood rush through your ears, each gasp your lungs took. You could feel every last inch of him deep inside your core. Painfully stretching you open like this. Burning. Tingling. Twisting.

Hands tightened on your ankles till you looked up at Steve. Hovering over you like a pillaging warlord about to ravish his prize.

“You have till Monday to decide how you wish us to become public. I will not wait a day longer.”

Seeing you like this before him. Splayed out. Your pussy curled around his member, plump from being filled with your breasts round puddles up on your chest. It set his hips into a frenzy. Powerful thrusts were sent into your tight walls that made Steve grunt every time from the power behind his motions, from the sight of his cock vanishing up into you. Watching your pussy take him so hungrily as you cried out beneath him each time. Breasts swaying. Skin slapping on skin with the contact. Your hips jiggled, his headboard creaked, his balls slapped soundly against you both.

“Say it. Say the words to me. Say them!” Steve commanded you. Pieces of his hair falling and sticking to his sweaty forehead as he sank in to the very depths of you then pulled out, revealing a glistening shaft before slamming his member right back in where it belonged.

“Yes…yes…yes…yes…” you chanted, over and over, again and again with every thrust in, every withdraw that was like heaven and hell, your body needing him to complete this circuit only the two of you could create. “…yes…yes…my king…yes my king…”

Those words. They were a song to his ears and had your ankles slapped together. Those words had the backs of your thighs slapped wetly against his chest, your feet touching his shoulder as Steve continued to pound into you.

Pumping into your now closed thighs, into your tighter walls at this angle.

“Look!”

Dimly your eyes fluttered, you looked into his burning blue eyes.

“Look. Here.”

You followed his gaze to where he pointed, looking down at his pelvis, where his hip met his abdomen in that hard cut of muscle that was visible above his beltline. The one you loved to lick.

He did have a tattoo.

It took you a second to realize what you were looking at and focus, as his thrusts continued without mercy, pounding away, slamming into you without mercy. Shaking and pushing you into his bed.

Your writing was inked into his skin. Your very own signature.

Your name was forever scrawled into Steve’s skin and then, it hit you. Your climax took you by complete surprise. Your entire body went stiff. A pained noise came from you and you shattered all around his cock. Fingernails dug into your palm and you stared at your name in cruel ecstasy.

Steve fell too. You could tell from his thrusts getting wild, falling out of sync. You could tell because he swore out, clenched his face and held your thighs tight to his chest.

Pumping deeply into you while your body milked him for everything he had to give.

Making him merely a man in that moment with you.

Up on his headboard, you were tightly secured and would soon have bruises from arching up against the silk tie restraining you. Unable to do anything but feel and accept what your king was giving you. On your back. In a bed that past kings had slept in.

None of which was lost on you.

Not as your body felt leaden, filled with molten hot lava. Limp. Your secret garden continued to suck him in, clench around him and spasm, making your eyes roll up in your head, your body dig into his bed and words fall from your mouth.

In a most dignified sort of manner, your king humped into your body like a jack rabbit, chasing the last vestiges of his climax with coral wet lips and dark honey hair now damp with sweat.

A sight for your satiated eyes.

“Let me call my mother in the morning.” You breathed out slowly, as if figuring out how your lungs worked once more after a marathon. Your words making Steve still above you. Though your cunt did not. It twitched around his royal girth and you met his gaze from on his pillows. “Tomorrow you can have Maria release a statement saying whatever you want. Just let me tell my parents myself. They should hear from me that I’m not coming home.”

Whatever wind that may have held up his sails had clearly been withdrawn.

Almost tenderly now, Steve leaned forward to quickly loosen the silk around your wrists and free your hands from his headboard. Stretching out his long powerful body above you. Flushed red now. Glistening. Though he left his tie there. He remained inside of you too. Filling you and stretching you full.

Gently, he pushed your legs down until they wrapped around him and he was able to rest his weight most carefully on top of you. Pressing wet kisses to your nose, your cheeks and chin. Worshipping your face with delicate touches and caresses.

“I’ll fly them out here whenever you want. When we get back from Switzerland, I’ll have them waiting for you.”

Softly you answered, reveling in his softness now that your body had been given her reward, her treat, her pleasure from his roughness. Smelling the musk of his sweat and feeling the wet glide between your bodies.

Leisurely, your hands found their way up his muscular arms to his shoulders. “You know what I mean. I won’t ever be their daughter again. I won’t ever be Wanda’s roommate. I’ll have to quit my job. Nothing will ever be the same.”

Those words, well, they settled uncomfortably in him.

All of them were true.

You would be giving up so much. He would have to make sure to take care of you even more so, keep a closer eye on you. He would need to have a talk with his mother come morning.

“That’s true,” Steve softly conceded, rubbing his nose along your own. Barely grazing his lips over yours. A hint of a tongue touched you before his breath danced over your mouth. “We would be together though. Finally together. You. Me. Not hiding anymore.”

Speaking of hiding.

That word alone had you pulling away from his mouth to lean to the side, to get a look down at his Adonis belt. At the alluring groove that led down to his pubes where your name was now in black.

Nay, your signature.

As if sensing what you were after, your boyfriend tilted up a smidge. Enough for you to see but not enough for him to leave your body. Pray tell that couldn’t happen.

“When did you do this?”

“Do you like it,” Steve asked, as if your opinion mattered. Which was laughable considering how permanent it was.

He’d literally took your signature and had it tattooed on his body.

“Of course I love it. Now you have a part of me on you all the time.” An incredibly modern take on Steve’s royal jewel gift thing, but in reverse you thought. Then grinned as it sank in. “I can’t believe you did it though.”

Why wouldn’t he have done it?

Steve hadn’t thought twice when Maria had gone on about getting her late mother’s writing tattooed on her side, in a lasting forever tribute. Having your writing on him at all times had been an idea that hadn’t left him. Not until he’d had a tattoo artist praised for their work brought to the palace late the other night.

He wasn’t even going to lie, king or not, there was something downright satisfying about having something like this hidden on his body from all. Known only by you and him. A secret only for you two.

Bringing him right back to the thought that the biggest secret the two of you shared would soon be out.

Soon it would be public knowledge and that had Steve brushing his fingertips over your cheeks, kissing the swell of your cheekbone and moving ever just so to make a small moan come from you. “You’ll never regret this. I’ll love you for the rest of my life. I’ll devote myself to making you happy. You’ll never regret becoming my queen.”

[zyettemoon1800]

Yandere Pillar men x reader who doesn't want their baby

A/N: What would happen if the pillar men made their mate have a baby that they didn't want and their mate didn't want anything to do with the baby. Like they won't breastfeed, look, talk, or hold the baby.

WARNING!!!! :Forced pregnancy, slight child neglect , abuse(On wamuu's part), Suicide attempt (santana's part) This is kinda sad and depressing, so I'm sorry in advance. My next few posts will be wholesome

Kars

He will not tolerate any disrespect to his newborn even if you are the mother. During your pregnancy, he tolerated you not wanting to touch your stomach or look at it, but he thought that after the little one was born, you would have changed. oh boy was he wrong.

When he held up the baby for you to look at them and for the new baby to feed on your milk, you closed your eyes and turned your head and body away from the two of them. "You dare turn your body away from me and our child? The life we made together." "You wanted the baby, I didn't." You said as tears stream down your face.

If he was actually kind to you and didn't force you to have a baby, then maybe, just maybe, you would be a little happier about the situation.

As you wish, you could just slip into a deep sleep, he grabbed you with his free hand and turned you to face him. You kept your eyes closed as you didn't want to look at both of them. It was silent and you didn't hear him say or do anything as he put his hand on your head and then everything went black.

He didn't kill, you made you pass out for a little bit while he could let his little one have their milk in peace. He was very disappointed in you, but he knows you will come around sooner or later. Even if he has to make you pass out every time until you understand.

Esidisi

He was in tears when you refuse to hold the life you two created. He tried to put the baby into your arms only for you to move away from him. " Darling... the baby needs their mother." He said as the baby started to cry. "I will not hold that thing. I didn't want it." You said moving further away from him.

This only sent him into a silent rage. He put the wailing infant on the bed and started to walk slowly towards you. He understands maybe you weren't prepared for a baby, but this was the ultimate gift for both of your love. You should be happy that someone like him decided to give you his seed.

As he walked towards you he showed his boiling veins as they leaked a small amount of blood. This was the only way he could get you to do as he said. He wrapped the veins around your arm and raised his temperature, it wasn't hot enough to burn your skin off, but it is going to leave a nasty mark. He told you that you are going to take care and love the baby either you like it or not.

He pulled you back to where the baby laid still crying as he forced you to sit by the baby. He picked up the baby and put them in your arms. You didn't even want to look at the small bundle in your arms. You had a plan to escape from this hell hole, but now there is no way away you are leaving now.

Wamuu

He was heartbroken that you didn't want the baby, but he also understood that you were not totally prepared for one either. However, he expected you to at least warm up to the baby a little bit by now. "Y/n the baby is hungry again." He said holding the whining infant as they made grabby hands at you. "Then I guess YOU should feed them." You said not even glance away from your book. He sighed as he goes to a shelf and grabs a bottle he already had prepared and gave it to the baby.

This can not continue. A baby needs a mother and a father to have a good balance relationship. And he is the only one who is putting his energy into the little. Since they were born, he has done everything, hell, he even named the little one. You haven't touched or held the baby and Wamuu refuses to force you hold the baby because he is scared that you would drop the baby on purpose or something.

He has address his concerns to Kars, who just told him to beat you into submission...but surely he couldn't do that. Not to his beloved mate. Well...he thought he couldn't at least, but that all chanced one day.

He was out training near the house and he left the baby in their crib because he knew even though you didn't want them, you wouldn't harm them in the slightest. That's what he thought anyways...

As he was training, he heard a blood curdling scream from the baby. Thinking the worse had happen, he ran quickly into the house and up the stairs, only to find you sleeping peaceful and the baby on the floor near their crib with a bruise forming on their head. He quickly picked them up and went to Kars so he could give them a check up to make sure nothing was broken or injured.

While Kars was busy while the wailing infant, Wamuu marched back down to the room and roughly woke you up. You could barely understand what he was saying as he yelled and shook you, but what you could understand is that the baby fell from the crib. You rolled your eyes as you tried to stand your ground by telling him that, that had nothing to do with you and if he was really concern for that baby's health, then he would have took them outside with them.

That's when he snapped. He slapped you hard across the face making you fall to the ground, holding your bloody cheek. You tried to get away from him, but he grabbed your foot and dragged you back to him. He then continued to slap and hit you while he degraded you into a bloody mess. After about five minutes, he stopped and lifted you off the ground and onto the bed.

As he was cleaning you off, he told you that if you didn't start caring or at least acting like you far for the life you both have created he would beat you even worse. From that day on, he made you hold and feed the baby while he was around. Kars was proud of him because he was finally acting like an adult, but Wamuu was the least happy about it. He was upset that he went that far on you...but at least he was getting the happy family he wanted right...

Santana

He sighed as he looked at you sitting motionless by a window. That's where you would always be. Every since you both find out that you were going to have a baby. Santana was very excited about because he was going to have something none of the other pillar men had and because he was curious about the baby would look. Would they have his horns or rib bones? Would they be able to understand stuff easily like him? Who's hair or eye color would they have? Some many question filled his mind as he thought about your child.

However you were far from excited. You barely liked him, you weren't ready for a child or anything for that matter. You tried to tell him how you felt about it, but he didn't care. "No...y-you are having a b-baby." He told you as you tried to voice your opinion for the fifth time today.

Your pregnancy was anything but smooth. Santana was trying a please you as much as he could, but you were being very stubborn. Any food that he brought you, you would just put into the trash can as soon as he left. He didn't even catch on to this until he saw how skinny and fragile you were becoming. Not wanting you to be to stressed, he scowled you lightly as he brought you some more food, but this time he fed into you, which was another battle. However as you were getting closer to your due date, it got harder and harder to fight against him...so you didn't. You let him feed you, help you around, and even cuddle you. Santana was very happy. He thought you were finally seeing it his way. Oh but how wrong was he.

As soon as the baby was born you did not want to look or hold them. The only thing you did was put your hands over your ears to try and drown out the cries of the little one. You did this until you passed out. This is when santana let the baby nurse from you. This was the only time the baby could nurse in peace. Many times Santana would have to knock you out so the baby could feed in peace without listening to your high pitch cries.

Even though he could see it, all of this was taken a tole on you mental and physically. One day, as Santana was out hunting you slowly went to the window and sat down by it. It's been so long since you have been outside that you almost for forgot what it look like....what it felt like. You opened the window, feeling the light breeze on your face. You could almost feel the sun on your skin, you wanted to feel it again. You wanted peace and happiness and you were intending to get it. You through your legs over the side of the window along with the rest of your body. As you were falling, you couldn't help but smile as you thought you were finally free. However that thought was short lived as you feel right into the arms of your "mate".

He didn't say anything as he walked you back up stairs as you also stayed silent. If he knew that this was the kind of reaction you were going to have from doing what your body is designed to do, he would have waited til you were fully submissive or at least until you accepted him as he mate.

He didn't hit or yell at you, he just out you in the bed and kissed you on your cheek. You are not the one he fell in love with a year ago. You are only the shell of them, but don't worry. He intends on making things right. He will make sure his family is happy...no matter what.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

I'll Hold You Just The Same

also on ao3

written for the Monster March prompt list prompt: vampire

Everyone knows about Geralt's affliction and has for years - at least the people closest to him do - and it's not a problem anymore. During the warmer months, feeding isn't difficult; there's no shortage of bandits and criminals coming after him and if they happen to wind up with holes in their neck, well, Geralt knows well enough how to dispose of a body. It's become a necessity, one he hated at first but had grown to put up with in the past few years. The only time he has to worry is during the winter, but if things go south, his brothers are always more than willing to let him feed when he needs it. Geralt never takes more than he needs and the other Witchers never offer more than they're willing to give. They know each other well and it works. So taking Jaskier to Kaer Morhen with him hardly seems like it's going to be a problem.

Their first sign that something was bound to go wrong should have been obvious. Things happen in threes, or so they say, and the first of three happens as soon as they hit the last town heading north.

It's a little place, more of a trading post than a town, really, but they have a small bunkhouse for travellers and a shop for supplies. Geralt always stays on his way up the mountain - one last night of rest before trekking up the pass. This year, there are no free rooms.

A hunting expedition gone badly, the man serving as innkeeper says, two injured and one killed, everyone remaining is being sheltered until a sled can be brought up to take the injured into town. And that's... fine. They've slept in worse places and the innkeeper offers whatever he can for supper and comfort.

Geralt leaves Jaskier in town while he heads off to find them somewhere to sleep for the night. He's hoping for a cave or an overhang of rock, something to help keep the heat for Jaskier. He especially needs a good nights' sleep before they head out. But as he's searching, Geralt encounters the second sign.

There's been a light dusting of snow on the ground for days now. This far north, it isn't uncommon, especially so late in the year, but tonight it starts snowing heavily. Geralt finds what he's looking for, sort of. It's a small shelf of rock, enough to shelter them from the oncoming snow, but it won't do much in terms of holding heat. That, he can cope with, so long as they're out of the snow.

He goes back to collect Jaskier once he's lit a fire and cleared a space for them. They sleep under the shelf that night, and it's not as bad as some nights on the road, but Geralt still feels bad. It's the first time he's brought Jaskier home with him and he wasn't expecting to have problems immediately.

In the morning, he's feeling somewhat better. He's no less hesitant about the mountain pass than he has been since asking Jaskier to come, but they've made it through the worst of it and soon enough they'll be up in the keep with his brothers, with Vesemir.

They set out early, just after dawn, and the snow hasn't stopped yet but Geralt tries not to let that bother him. He's made worse treks, including the one year he had to leave Roach at the foot of the mountain and walk up alone. Since that year, he's been much more careful.

The snow doesn't stop, though and while Jaskier is steadfast and determined, Geralt starts to worry about him. It's not until they're halfway through the day, that Geralt realizes he hasn't fed in a couple of days. At the time, he thinks it's the third in a line of problems, and that things should be easier from then on, but he has no idea what's coming.

By early evening, the snow is falling in heavy flakes and the wind has picked up. They push through, but even Geralt is finding it hard to continue with the snow piling up toward their knees. When Jaskier stumbles, Geralt barely catches him in time to keep him out of the snow and he knows they have to stop early for the night.

"If we press on a little longer, there's a cave," Geralt says, "are you okay to keep going?"

Jaskier nods. He's gritting his teeth against the cold, Geralt knows and he hates it. Unclasping his cloak, he winds it around Jaskier's shoulders, tucking it under his chin.

"Not much longer," he promises.

And it's not. Barely ten minutes later, Jaskier is ducking into the mouth of the cave and Geralt is trying to encourage Roach in after them. The roof of the cave is tall enough, but she's hesitant nonetheless and it takes Jaskier bribing her with an apple to get her out of the snow. After that, she's quite calm and happy so lay near the fire once Geralt gets it lit.

But the morning only brings more snow, rising at least six inches up from the ground and Geralt's optimism is wearing thin. He's certain now, that this must be the third in their bad luck streak, that nothing could possibly be worse than this, but he holds out. Hopefully, the snow will stop, maybe some of it will melt and they'll be able to make it up on time.

He continues to keep up hope until the third day when he realizes how long it's been since he's fed, and then the hope he offers Jaskier is no more than platitudes. He sleeps too much and Jaskier notices, fretting over him more than usual. He's always got an eye on him, always checking in, and what can Geralt do but lie. There's nothing here for him and he knows it, his only option is to sit and wait and hope his brothers come looking for him. They know he's coming this year, they know he's bringing Jaskier.

When he falls asleep that night, it's with Jaskier pressed against his chest, facing out into the cave. He's soft and warm, but he smells fucking incredible and Geralt can't help but press his nose into the back of his neck. He wants to push further, to nip at his skin, to sink his teeth in. And fuck, Jaskier would taste so fucking good. Already his scent is practically unbearable when Geralt gets to this stage. But he can't. He won't. He'd never do anything to hurt Jaskier or to harm their friendship in any way. Jaskier has been so understanding since the beginning, Geralt can't do anything to betray his trust.

He wakes, shaking, in the middle of the night and when he opens his eyes, Jaskier is kneeling over him. Geralt thinks it's a dream at first, but Jaskier's palm cups his face and he's so warm. Geralt leans into it and Jaskier sighs.

"Geralt?" he asks, "when was the last time you fed?"

"Mmm," Geralt mumbles, "before we stopped."

"Geralt, that was a week ago. Maybe longer. You need to feed."

Geralt grits his teeth. He knows what he needs, but he also knows there's no way to do it. He won't hurt Jaskier so he has to wait. He says nothing. Jaskier, of course, has a different opinion.

"You know I'd be more than happy to offer."

"Absolutely not."

"Geralt-"

"Jaskier, no. I won't risk it."

Three days pass before Geralt gives in. Three days pass and Jaskier offers every day his pleas becoming more desperate as Geralt finds himself weaker and weaker. On the fourth day, they're sitting by the fire and Geralt sways. It takes too much effort to keep upright properly any longer and the only reason he tries is so Jaskier won't worry about him. But before he knows what's happening, Jaskier is on him, climbing into his lap with his hands on Geralt's face.

"Please," he says again and he's already tugging away to unbutton his shirt. Geralt watches, exhausted, as Jaskier pulls his shirt and doublet off, dropping them into the dirt behind him.

Geralt knows exactly what he's doing, knows he probably should let Jaskier give him this, but the thought of what he might do to him. The fear wars with a budding arousal, sparked by the way Jaskier shifts in his lap, shirtless and willing.

Jaskier leans in close enough that his thighs press in against Geralt's hips and he can practically taste the woodsmoke on Jaskier's skin. He braces his hands on Jaskier's waist and Jaskier leans in closer, tipping his head to bare his neck to Geralt. One soft hand slips up the back of his head, guiding him closer and Geralt groans softly. He wants this, he does, but this is Jaskier and he shouldn't.

"Go on, love," Jaskier whispers, "you need this. I want to give it to you."

Geralt's nose bumps under Jaskier's jaw and he's not sure which one of them is moving, but then his lips are on his skin. He presses a soft kiss to the skin, then another, and he can feel each shudder that runs through Jaskier's body. When he parts his lips, Jaskier shifts in his lap, turning slightly so the angle is better.

Geralt parts his lips, lets his teeth graze Jaskier's skin before pressing forward and biting down. As he breaks the skin, Jaskier lets out a soft sound, more needy than pained and Geralt lets the sound of it echo in his ears as he drinks from him.

He loses himself in the rush of it, only vaguely aware of Jaskier moving in his lap until Geralt draws away. There's a trickle of blood down his neck and Geralt leans in, licking it away without thinking.

His strength returned, to some extent, he turns Jaskier to face him. He didn't smell it before but the air is thick with it now, arousal and anticipation. Jaskier slips back and Geralt can feel the way his cock strains against the being of his trousers. Geralt can't exactly say he's unaffected, either.

For two days they don't talk about it.

Geralt is feeling back to normal again and Jaskier had rations for at least a couple more days, so neither of them needs to think about food. Time has become irrelevant, known only by the light coming on from the mouth of the cave. It's dark though when Jaskier approaches him again.

"I can't see you like that again," he pleads and Geralt is helpless to fight.

This time when Jaskier crawls into his lap, Geralt tugs him forward so they're pressed together, so this time, if Jaskier is aroused, he'll be able to feel it. He wants to, wants to know Jaskier is turned on by this, that's is mutually beneficial.

He presses his lips to Jaskier's neck, placing soft kisses over the mark from the previous bite, then slowly moving toward his collarbone. Jaskier is shirtless again to prevent the staining of his fine clothes and Geralt takes advantage of that, running his hands over all that bare skin.

When he pulls away, Jaskier lets out a little whine, but Geralt lifts his hand, nosing at the veins in Jaskier's wrist. He can hear his pulse, feel the beat of it under his fingers and he longs to feel that skin under his teeth. Less because he's hungry than for the way Jaskier will react to it.

Jaskier's breath catches as Geralt licks the skin before pressing down with his fangs. There's a groan of pleasure and it takes Geralt a moment to realize it's coming from him. Jaskier is stone-still, watching with wide eyes, pupils blown so only a sliver of blue is visible around them. Arousal wafts off of him and Geralt can practically feel how badly he wants this. Which is... something.

If Jaskier wants this, if he feels like this about it, who is Geralt to argue. He bites down, breaking the skin and Jaskier's arm jerks involuntarily, but as the shock passes, he relaxes, a soft moan slipping from his lips. Jaskier brings his free hand up, slipping his fingers through Geralt's hair and it feels good. Geralt presses into the touch with a hum just as Jaskier slips forward and there it is. Jaskier is hard, his cock pressed firmly between them and when Geralt draws back, Jaskier meets his eyes and rocks his hips forward.

When Geralt draws back, Jaskier surges forward and Geralt has to stop him. His lips are stained red, the tang of blood lingering, and he doubts Jaskier wants to taste it.

"But I want to kiss you," Jaskier whines and Geralt huffs a soft laugh as he lets the hand pressed to Jaskier's chest drift downward. When his fingers wrap around the jut of his cock, the kiss is forgotten.

Jaskier's hips jerk forward and Geralt fumbles between them, opening Jaskier's trousers and tugging his cock free. He strokes him slowly, paying special attention to the head, squeezing tight around it then brushing his fingertips along the underside.

Geralt spares only a moment to unbuttoning his own trousers and shifting so his cock fits against Jaskier's, sliding against him with the slightest movement. He gets one hand around them both, stroking slowly as they rock against each other, his hand source of friction more than anything else.

He wants to kiss him, wants to bite his lips and make him whine and if he didn't have Jaskier's blood in his mouth, he would. Instead, he buries his face in his neck, licks and sucks at the skin there as they grind against each other. It’s rough and dirty and uncoordinated and Jaskier would probably be horrified should anyone find out this is how he treats a lover, but Geralt couldn't ask for anything more.

Jaskier wants him at his worst - literally with a mouthful of blood - and Geralt loves him more for that than the rest of his lovers, past or present, combined. He holds Jaskier against him with his free arm, cinched around his waist and Jaskier's fingers dig into his scalp.

"Bite me," Jaskier says, breathless. It's not a question.

Geralt doesn't hesitate, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of Jaskier's throat and the moan he gets in response is low and heady. Jaskier's hips jerk hard, nearly dislodging them both and then he's coming, spilling hot and wet between them and Geralt can't keep his eyes off him.

Jaskier's cock twitches with one final spurt and Geralt drops his own cock, wrapping around him to pull every last drop of pleasure from him. Jaskier's shaking before he's done, mumbling breathlessly into Geralt's skin and then he's pulling away, spreading out on his stomach between Geralt's legs.

He takes his cock without hesitation, wrapping his lips around him and swallowing him down as far as he can manage. The position is awkward, but Jaskier is talented and Geralt finds himself drawing close to the edge almost immediately. He rocks his hips lightly, thrusting shallowly between Jaskier's lips and he pushes a hand into his hair, guiding Jaskier's head as he takes control again.

When Geralt comes, he doubles over, nose nearly pressed into Jaskier's hair, and it feels so fucking good. He doesn't care that he's a mess, doesn't care that Jaskier is. That they're both covered in blood and come and whoever finds them will know exactly what happened. It doesn't matter because when Jaskier pulls off, letting Geralt's softening cock drop between his legs, he kisses him.

It's just a soft peck on the lips and Geralt couldn't fault him for it; he knows what he is and he knows how people usually react to blood. But it's a kiss, nonetheless. And he resolves to spend the entire winter at Kaer Morhen returning that kiss, again and again and again.

[labyrinth-runner]

Become the Beast

Alright! So, No Content November is officially over. To break the spell, I am posting this.

Huge Thank you to @thepanakinanakin​ and @the-mandalorian-clone-lover​ for reading this every day when I wrote more for it. Seriously. This would not be here without your support and spitballing.

Summary: A Suitless!Vader x Reader fan fiction based off the song Become the Beast by Karliene. It takes place after the fall of the Order as Reader struggles to carve out a life without the guidance of the Order. It’s a discussion of fate versus the will of man, and whether we can run from our destiny. It’s got love, it’s got an unlikely friendship, it’s got angst, and a lot of OCs and adventures. It’s essentially like I took one-sided pining to enemies to lovers and dosed it with crack.

Word Count: almost 23k. I’ve literally been working on this the entire month of November.

Main Ship: Suitless! Vader x g/n Reader (truly Gender Neutral). 

Warnings: Um. Violence/fighting. It’s got a lot more action in it than I originally planned. But it’s not like its anything that SWs HASN’T done before. 

With one order, the world was in shambles. The balance was shifting. Where once there was light, there was now an all-consuming darkness like hundreds of candles that once burned brighter than the sun were snuffed out with precision and without mercy. Cries of agony could be felt like a ripple through the force, washing over you with an intensity that sent you to your knees. You held your head with one hand as your heart hammered in your chest. Kenobi and Skywalker must have failed. Your men called out for you, but you knew you couldn’t trust them. Hot tears stung your eyes as you felt that in your bones. The Order was over, your Master was dead, and you would be, too, if you didn’t get out of there. 

Placing a hand on the dusty ground, you slowed your breathing and listened, letting the force tell you all you needed to know. They were coming for you, but there was a city ahead with a spaceport. Rising to your feet, you took your braid in your hand. Your trials were to commence soon, but that didn’t matter now. You were no longer a Jedi, and no longer a Padawan. Taking your lightsaber from your hip, it felt heavy in your hand. Heavy with the knowledge that this war had destroyed everything the Order stood for. How many things had been destroyed with this saber? You mused as you turned it over in your hand. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. It ignited with a flash of light and with one fell swoop, it severed the last tie you had to the Order. To your Master. It barely made a sound as it landed on the scorched earth. Deactivating your weapon for what might be the last time, you replaced it on your hip before running, never looking back.

By the time the clones arrived to your last known position, it was too late. You were gone. The only thing left was the severed Padawan braid lying forgotten in the dirt.

You had ran that day, and in a sense, you never stopped. You were running from the Empire, from your past, afraid it would catch up to you. From world to world, you ran, taking the odd job here or there to afford fuel for your next adventure. If you could call it that. You never stayed in one place too long, too afraid you’d get attached. Attachments were bad, but not in the way the Jedi had taught you. Attachments meant you’d care about what happened when you were gone. You’d hear the boots of the stormtroopers on the ground as they ran their drills in the morning and you’d worry about the locals if you stayed too long. A few rotations here, a sabbatical there... never a full revolution on a planet. Your mind was always ten steps ahead of your feet, trying to stay under the radar. It was a game you played with the Empire, not that they knew you were playing. A wry smile crossed your face as you realized this. After all, wasn't that what the Clone Wars were? A game that the Jedi were pawns in, not even realizing they were playing. Not even the Chosen One had been spared, having fallen on Mustafar. 

You didn’t mind running, after all, you had gotten good at it. However, the ache for a home was apparent every now and then. A glimpse of a family here, or a group of friends there would send you into a deep reverie. You had had that once. Now, it was a luxury you couldn’t afford. It was an isolating life, but it was your life, running like a scared animal separated from its pack. Possibly the last of its kind. No, you weren’t the last. Somehow you could feel that much. There were still flames out there, but like yours they were muted, masking themselves from the Empire the best they could. Although there was strength in numbers, there was also safety in solitude. It was an unspoken law amongst the survivors. Worlds were not big enough for two, not when there was a target on your back. Still, looking at the families you’d seen along the way made you miss your own. Deep down you longed for the safety of the Temple and the support of a Master to guide you. Without both you felt like you were drifting in space, running blindly into the night in the hopes that you’d make it to dawn without being hunted by the predators that thrived in the dark. 

Your latest planet was quiet. Almost too quiet. The air was charged with anticipation, like they knew something you didn’t as you walked around the open air market. The citizens were tense, which put you on edge. Tension settled into your back, pulling taut across your shoulders as you pulled your hood further down your face to obscure you. You quickly placed your credits in the outstretched hand before taking your fruit and placing it in your pack. You were too exposed out here. Something told you that you should hide, like warning bells going off in your head. The hair on the nape of your neck stood up. That was when you heard it.

Footsteps.

They resounded in the distance, steadily drawing closer. Multiple feet in time with each other as they pounded the ground in a march. You could hear the unmistakable whines overhead.

TIE fighters.

Kriff. 

Taking a settling breath, you analyzed your surroundings. Fighting your way out of this was not something you were prepared to do. You’d just make your way towards the spaceport as quickly as you could. It would be fine. Pressing your back against the building, you prepared to blend into your surroundings. 

That was when you felt it. A dark, coldness creeping into your bones. It was a presence larger than life that you had never felt before. It was overwhelming, debilitating almost. Your hand reached out for the stone wall behind you, grabbing it to catch yourself as the force signature of this being almost sent you to your knees. Never had you felt such power. Never had you felt such anger. There was a rage in that presence that threatened to consume. 

Shots rang out. You glanced up to catch blaster fire being traded between the local pocket of rebels and the imperial stormtroopers, their uniforms so tauntingly white, like they weren’t created with the blood of the people. With the blood of the galaxy. Blood that was going to be spilled now. Right here. In front of your eyes as you watched normal citizens getting caught in the crossfire. A father and a child ran from one booth to another, trying to make it back to the arms of the mother in the doorway across the square. You turned to the side as you heard him get gunned down, dropping the child to the dusty ground. 

A familiar sound came next, a sound you hadn’t heard in years, but recognized instantly. The hum of the blade was steady and red, bleeding rage. You could feel it coming off the blade in waves. The blade was drawing closer to the child.

“Give him to me,” the man instructed. Turning your attention back to the child, you noticed the mother had come out of the sanctuary of their home to hold the crying child close to her. A mother’s first instinct was always to protect.

“Never,” she rasped out, staring at him with an unwavering gaze. Her courage was formidable, but you knew what would happen next, what always happened next.

Letting out a shaking breath, you straightened, prepared to run. You were always running. Scrunching your eyes shut, you remembered your teachings. You remembered the younglings at the Temple that you had helped train. Invisible tendrils from the past tugging at you, guiding your motions like a marionette. Feet moved on instinct, arms swung on their own accord until the hiss of a connection could be heard.

Your eyes focused on the feet in front of you as the heat from the interlocked blades warmed your face, casting you in a dangerous red glow. Your eyes trailed up the body of the opponent in front of you until you locked eyes. He was handsome, in a distracting way. His hair whipped around in the breeze as a twisted smirk settled on his face. He was as ferocious as a lion, drawing you in, yet holding you in place as he stared into your soul. Forbidden, yet wanted.

“Padawan,” he purred, “Where’s your braid?”

“I cut it off. I had nothing left to learn,” you ground out through gritted teeth, pushing back with all your might. He had the upper hand without effort.

“Nothing left to learn, or no one left to learn from?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly. He was testing you. The heat in his gaze stirred something within you, like a spark turning into a flame. You couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, or you’d be defenseless. Blinking rapidly to clear your vision, you conceded that match. He was still much too close for comfort. You needed to remedy that.

“Same difference!” You replied before using the force to push him back, knocking him a few feet back. How dare he? You thought indignantly. What right did this Sith have to mock the Order?

“Good,” he grinned, dropping his saber to his side. He looked at you with great interest. You were his prey and he was going to play. It had been so long since he’d had a formidable opponent. The way he stood exuded power, raw and crackling. You could almost feel the charge in the air, but that’s all it was, right? His power, nothing more. The way he stood, to any onlooker it would seem defenseless, but in truth he was setting a trap. “Get angry. It’ll make this more fun.”

He was goading you, and you knew it. You tried to breathe, exhaling all the anger bubbling in you threatening to spill over. A tenuous control over your emotions started to build, forcing your inner anger back into the rickety cage it was struggling against. 

“Give in,” he murmured, watching your turmoil with great interest. “Feel the power.”

“Like you did?” you ground out. You knew exactly who this man was. You’d seen him in the Temple. You had even admired him, having had countless conversations with him at the Temple. He was just as captivating now as he was back then. His presence had always drawn you in, made you want more than you knew you should have. This man was everything you had wanted to be. You’d looked up to him. He had it all, but he had thrown it away. An irrational part of your mind added, threw you away. “You betrayed your own.”

“They were never my own,” he spat. “I was their savior, reluctantly.”

“Some savior you were. You killed them all,” you seethed before attacking. Your control was gone as the lives of your friends flashed before your eyes. His life flashed before your eyes. He could have been so much more than this. You could have been so much more than this, but this was what he had reduced you to: a lonely wanderer who lived hand-to-mouth. Your anger made you sloppy, but you managed to catch him off guard at first.

Trading blows, he was barely breaking a sweat while your chest was heaving from exertion. He was magnificent, and that was not lost on you. It was impressive, watching him move gracefully. His hair flowed like a mane around him. A wry smile crossed your face at the realization, a lion among man. 

“You’re weak,” he taunted, pinning you with the force to a wall. “You have power, but you don’t know how to use it. How to control it. You’re unbalanced.”

“No, you’re wrong!” You called out, straining against his power. Memories flashed in your head to when he’d first pinned you against the wall during training so many years ago, but this was not the same. Your eyes locked with his as you swallowed. It wouldn’t end. Not like this. You lunged at him, swinging wildly with your arms. You weren’t unbalanced. You were one a Jedi. You were one with the force. Your swing missed, but his didn’t. The sting of the blade as it singed your shoulder made you grit your teeth as your knees gave out. You wouldn’t let this man see you cry out. You would not beg for mercy that you knew he would not give. His saber was lifted.

“Pity,” he murmured, reaching down to tip your chin up towards him. Locking eyes, you came to the realization that you were to die at the hands of the most handsome beast you’d ever met. Yet, all he could do was offer you a sad smile, and something else: a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but not at what he was about to do. “You could have been something.”

Blaster fire lit up the square, interrupting your battle. His face contorted into a grimace as he had to move his lightsaber to block the shots. Using the distraction, you scuffled back towards a building. Your hand blindly searched for a hold on the rough stone to push yourself up, staring back at him. Even when he was at a disadvantage, he was captivating. The way he moved as if the world were his to control was breathtaking. A pang of regret hit your heart. The two of you together could have been unstoppable. The brick cut your skin, but you didn’t care. It brought you back to reality. The reality that he was a monster, and most of all, he could never be yours. 

“Come on,” a woman called out, wrapping a hand around your arm. “You can’t stay here.”

You looked up into the face of the mother you had saved. “I have nowhere to go.”

“I know a place,” she murmured, clutching her child to her chest.

You stared at her for a moment, listening to the sound of the skirmish outside. Then, you nodded. Anywhere was better than here. She led you to the spaceport. Rebels provided cover fire as they engaged with stormtroopers outside the hanger bay. You clamored up the ramp into the ship.

A woman with short red hair looked at the mother.

“You’ve brought a friend,” she murmured. “We were told it was just your family we were extracting.”

“I lost my husband,” the mother replied. “The amount of passengers is the same.”

The woman looked at you, studying you. Measuring you. But to what, you didn’t know. Her eyes settled on your lightsaber at your hip, widening slightly.

“Well, come on. We can’t stay on this world anymore,” the woman replied before pressing her comm link. “Pilot, get us out of here.”

“Right away, Senator,” a response came before the woman and the mother walked further down the corridor.

You looked down at the ramp as it closed. Although you couldn’t see the fighting anymore, you could feel it. You could feel his wrath as he lashed out at the rebels like a cornered animal, using his rage as fuel. They would all die. Their blasters were nothing in comparison to his power. He’d snuff out their lives like a shrine of candles in a rainstorm. Leaning against the wall, you slowly slid down to the floor. Your legs could no longer hold you now that the adrenaline had worn off. You were tired, so tired. Your shoulder cried out in pain, but worst of all was the knowledge of what was happening below on the planet as you felt the ship rise from the ground. Tears flowed freely at all that was lost today.

You had run for so long.

You had avoided the Empire for so long.

Now they knew you were out there, and you knew they would come looking for you. Your anonymity was gone. In the back of your mind, you heard his voice over and over again.

Weak.

You were weak. You’d gone soft. You were out of practice. Unbalanced. He was right.

Swiping the tears from your face with the back of your hand, a resolve etched itself on your face. Not for much longer, you thought. Placing your hands on your knees, you pushed yourself back to your feet, a phoenix rising from the ashes.

You ignited your saber, feeling its weight in your hand. The hum of the blade in tune with your soul as you closed your eyes. The next time you faced that beast of a man, you would be ready. There was a fire in your eyes as you deactivated the saber, placing it back on your hip. Your footsteps resounded, sure and deliberate as you followed the path the rebels had taken.

Rounding the corner towards where the mother and her child were seated with the senator before, you felt a watchful set of eyes on your entrance.

“I haven’t seen a Jedi in some time,” the woman said, as much to the mother as to you.

“They protected us after my husband was...” the mother trailed off as her eyes rimmed red, the words getting caught in the emotion in her throat.

“There was nothing you could have done,” the Senator told her, placing a hand on top of hers. “You and your child have had a long day. We’ll be arriving on Chandrila in a few hours. You should rest, Jynna. You’ll need your strength.”

Jynna nodded, sliding out of the booth with her child in her arms. She stopped in front of you, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “I could never thank you enough, Jedi.”

You swallowed the awkward lump in your throat at the praise, especially since you hadn’t planned on stepping in, and especially because you were not a Jedi. Not anymore. “Of course.”

Jynna gave you a sad smile, letting her hand drop to her side before leaving down the corridor.

After a moment of silence, listening to the woman’s retreating steps, the other woman cleared her throat. “Please, have a seat.”

You slipped into the booth across from her. 

“Finding a Jedi in this current climate is like finding a kyber crystal on Tatooine,” the woman remarked.

“The Jedi no longer exist,” you replied, looking at the dirt under your nails from your fight.

“That’s what the Emperor wants us to think,” the woman replied leaning in. “I’m sure there are more of you than you know. You’re all in hiding.”

“What do you want us to do?” you shot back, “Come out into the open to be executed?”

“From what I understand, you were almost executed today due to your recklessness,” she replied.

Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment. 

“Yet you live,” she added. She appraised you for not the first time that day. “We could use someone like you.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” you asked, leaning back.

“The rebellion,” she clarified.

“I already have a target on my back,” you sighed. “Why would I push my luck further?”

“Exactly,” she replied. “You already are a target, might as well give them a run for their credits. What else are you going to do? Go back into hiding on some back water world? The Empire’s presence is growing every day. Nowhere is safe.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” you asked. “Look, Senator, I’m not sure what you want me to be.”

“Just yourself,” she said, patting your hand. “You have so much potential, and you can make a difference.”

“Senator Mothma, we’ll be dropping out of hyperspace to refuel,” a crew member said, coming back from the cockpit.

She nodded to them. “Good.”

Then, she turned back to you, a bright fiery look in her eyes that rivaled her hair. “Think about it. You can no more run from who you are than night can resist the dawn. I’ll leave the ramp unlocked when we dock to fuel. The choice is yours.”

You watched as she slipped from the booth, heading back, presumably to where her chambers were on the ship. You stared at the table in front of you. You’d already decided you weren’t going to run anymore, and here you had an opportunity to help. The way she looked at you... it wasn’t as if you were just a Jedi. It was as if you were more than that. You were hope. Hope that, try as the Empire might, they could not erase every ounce of opposition in the galaxy. Join or perish. That was what you’d felt more than once today. First, with Skywalker on that dust ball, and now with Mon Mothma. The only difference was that the Empire would kill you for not joining, whereas the Rebellion would just leave you to your own devices. You’d learned today that those were not enough. At least, not right now. 

You were being given a choice, a choice to make something of yourself, or the choice to fade away into oblivion. Earlier, your body had acted on its own accord, pulling you into the fray. Fading was no longer an option. To fade was to be complacent with an overlord taking over a galaxy and enslaving the very people you had once fought to protect. No, you were going to fight. You’d lend your hand to this Rebellion, and in doing so, it would make you stronger. It would make the people stronger to know that the Force was no longer wielded by just the dark side. Your destiny and the Rebellion’s would be entwined, feeding each other and making you both strong until the light could burn out the darkness. 

A rumble could be felt through the ship as it landed on the fueling platform. You didn’t even get up from your seat.

“Welcome aboard, Jedi,” Mon Mothma said as she walked by the booth to talk to the pilot. “You, too, should rest. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to do once we land.”

You nodded, stalking back towards the cabins. 

You found the room that Jynna had entered. Her child was asleep, curled into her. Jynna herself seemed to be having a fitful rest. A small sigh passed through your lips as you walked further into the room. Holding a hand out above her forehead, you concentrated on smoothing her furrowed brow. She’d have enough time to deal with the horrors of the day during her waking hours. There was no reason for her to suffer in her sleep as well. As her face settled into a smooth serenity, you let your hand drop back to your side before sitting on the bunk across from them.

Fatigue from the day hit you like a pod racer on Tatooine running into a canyon wall. 

Weak.

A wry smirk settled on your face. Well, sleep will give me strength, you thought in amusement.

Flattening yourself against the mattress, the weight of your body settled into your bones. With each breath you expelled yourself until you were one with the Force. it was something you hadn’t done in a long time, unable to afford this level of vulnerability. It was in this moment that you realized you hadn’t rested in so long. Too long, your body cried out. 

The Force gives strength. The Force restores. All are reborn in the Force if they learn to let go of their corporeal form. Like a bacta tank heals, so too does the Force. You allowed yourself to submerge in its icy depths, awakening in you a sensation that you had almost forgotten. Your eyes were open wide to the world, now, no longer content to just float along. You were prepared to swim. The pain in your shoulder faded the closer you got to the surface. 

When you emerged from the Force, your eyes opened to the dimly lit cabin. Jynna was awake on her cot, cuddling her child as she watched you with great interest.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” you replied.

“When you became one with the Force,” she clarified, “What is it like?”

“It’s different for all,” you sighed, turning on your side to face her. “Just now it was cold.”

“Like a bath that you’ve left for too long?” she asked.

A genuine smile grew on your face, “In a way.”

She looked down at her son like she didn’t know him. “He has a gift. That’s why they want him.”

“The Order is no more,” you replied. 

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t sought after,” she shot back, meeting your eyes.

“They won’t lay a hand on your son,” you stated, but it was more like a promise.

She nodded, brushing a dark brown curl out of her son’s face. “They’ll have to go through me first.”

You didn’t want to tell her that they had already gone through her husband. You didn’t want to point out that going through her would be child’s play. Instead, you made an actual promise. Turning your back to her, you murmured, “It won’t come to that.”

“You don’t like being called a Jedi,” she murmured.

“Because I’m not,” you sighed.

She let your truth hang in the air, but you knew it fell on deaf ears.

You stared at the wall of your bunk, listening as her breathing evened out and she fell back asleep. Closing your eyes, you did something you hadn’t wanted to do before. You began to remember. Not too much, no. That would be like ripping a scab off of a wound that barely healed. No, you remembered just enough, letting the wound breath before bundling it back up in bandages again.

The Temple had been a wonderful place to grow up- not that you remembered any other. You were sure that you had a family somewhere. A mother. A father. After all, how else would you have come to be? But, you didn’t know them. They were shadows in your mind, like they were backlit from the sun. Hazy. No, the people you remembered most from your childhood were the Masters. They were the ones who raised you, taught you everything you knew. Would you have been better off with a family? It was something you had wondered about after the Republic fell, but then you came to the realization that you had had a family, just not in the normal sense. Your lips tilted up slightly as you remembered the day you were chosen to be a Padawan. That had been the happiest day of your life. Your thoughts drifted to what your Master would think if they could see you now. Would they be proud? Or would they be disappointed? You didn’t know, and that bothered you. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you closed your eyes tight, willing the Force to take you over again into that sea of bliss and belonging. When it finally did, it was warmer this time, more familiar as it washed over you, wrapping you in reassurance.

When you woke next, the ship was touching down on Chandrila. The sky was a myriad of colors as the planet awoke from the night. As you walked down the ramp, you looked up at the yellow, pink, and purple that swathed the sky in an inviting glow. Your gaze felt the gravitational pull, taking in your immediate surroundings now. The planet reminded you a bit of Naboo and Alderaan in the sense that it had a significant amount of water and greenery. The architecture was white. A wry smile crossed your face. Pure. Untouched. If only the rest of the galaxy were as lucky.

Footsteps sounded behind you as Senator Mothma disembarked. She walked swiftly towards a nearby building. When the rest of the party followed, so did you. 

Soon, you found yourself crowded into a lift and descending. 

The doors opened onto a bustling operations center. Screens were alight with data points. Everyone had a mission, and idleness was not tolerated. After all, if the Empire never stopped, then why should they? It was like a swimming beast. If it stopped, it could die. 

Jynna and her son were ushered off down a hallway. You moved to follow them, but Senator Mothma placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Not yet,” she murmured.

You turned your head to look at her. “What will happen to them?”

“We’ll keep them safe. The Empire will not get ahold of that child, or it’s mother,” she assured you. “Now, come. There is someone who will be eager to meet you.”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to decipher who she could be talking about as you followed her into a war conference room. The door shut behind you, leaving just you, the Senator, and a man looking down at a hologram projected up from the table.

“You’re late, Senator,” the man said, but there wasn’t a hint of animosity or annoyance in his tone.

“Yes, well, there were complications,” Mothma replied.

“Complications or complication?” the man asked, turning to look at her. His eyes settled on you with express interest.

Senator Mothma looked between you and the man before speaking. “Complications. Of the Sith variety.”

“Vader,” he muttered in disgust.

“They knew of the child,” Mothma informed him.

“How? Only the Jedi had this information,” the man replied.

“You know where they made their headquarters,” Mothma said pointedly. “Who’s to say they haven’t entered the archives and gained access to the information.”

“I was with Kenobi on that Sith planet. Only a Jedi can open one of their holocrons, just as only a Sith can open their devices.”

Kenobi? Your eyes widened. Now there was a name you hadn’t heard in a long, long time, and it was usually accompanied by...

“Skywalker was a Jedi before this. He could have opened it,” Mothma added. 

The man looked down. “No. He’s too far gone.” When he picked his head up again, he looked straight at you. “What’s your story?”

“They’re a Jedi, Bail,” Mothma said, with a glint in her eyes.

“Is this true?” Bail asked, studying you.

You wanted to say no, but you could no longer run from that title anymore than you could run from yourself. “I was, before the fall.”

A wry smirk settled on Bail’s face. “The fall of Skywalker, or the fall of the Order?”

“Are they not the same?” you asked quietly. After all, losing Anakin had led to losing the Order, and to the rise of Vader.

He sighed, “I suppose they are. Are you here to help?”

“I’m here to train,” you replied. “I’ll help in any way I can while I do that. Vader bested me once. That won’t happen again.”

Bail nodded, admiring your determination. “Sometimes the best teacher is experience. Although, I’m not quite sure that hunting the galaxy’s boogeyman is the way to go about this.”

“You have your mission, and I have mine,” you replied. “If they both achieve the same goal, then does it matter how we get there?”

His brow furrowed, “In my experience, it is a thin line between that line of thinking and tyranny.” He looked back at Mothma, “I don’t need another Saw Gerrera.”

You looked at Bail. You couldn’t lose this opportunity. You felt it in your bones. This was the will of the force. You were meant to be here. You were meant to help. “Look, I just want peace in the galaxy. In order to do that, you have to stop Vader and the Emperor. I’ll do whatever else you want me to do. I’ll help in whatever way I can, but I need to stop him.”

Bail locked eyes with you for a charged moment before letting out a breath. “Alright, but our missions come first. If they just happen to coincide with your search for Vader, then so be it. I will not allow you to jeopardize the resistance by leading him to our door. If you poke the beast enough, he’ll attack. This is the only warning you’ll get from me.”

You nodded. “Yes, Senator Organa.”

“So you know who I am,” he said with an amused smirk.

“How could I forget?” you winked. “We never would have been allowed use of Toydaria without you and representative Binks.”

He nodded, “Well, Jedi, I think you better start training. I’m sure you’ll have an assignment soon enough.”

You smiled, turning to leave the two Senators to their plotting. 

The base was bustling. Everywhere you stepped, you felt as though you were in the way. Eventually, you stuck to creeping around the walls until you were in a hall that was deserted. A look of curiosity came over your face as you started to open the doors that lined the hall. An empty bedroom here. A storage closet there. But then... then you found a wide open room, swathed in white. A control panel was set into the wall. 

Your breath caught in your chest. You were familiar with rooms like this. In fact, you’d often trained in rooms like this. If you closed your eyes, you could almost hear your Master coaching you from the sidelines as the room moved around you. There was a glint of mischief in your eyes as you engaged the training program, dropping your bag on the ground and taking off your cloak you grinned as the room awoke around you.

It was like getting back on a speeder bike. You were rusty, but you were slowly reawakening your abilities. The more you moved, the more sure of yourself you became. You deflected the blasts that the training droids shot, trying not to destroy them. You didn’t want the Senators to get mad at you for busting their things. What you hadn’t noticed were the viewports that lined the tall walls at the top.

An audience had gathered as the members in the war room watched you. A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd.

“I thought they were all gone,” said one.

“My mother said they were legends,” whispered another.

“Maybe we have a chance now,” another dared to say.

Your hair stuck to your forehead from exertion as you bounded from moving platform to platform. When you closed your eyes, you could sense where they were going to be next. The force guided you. The prodigal child returning home to be welcomed with open arms. 

Eventually, you reached the top platform, thus beating that simulator as your hand pressed the buzzer. You opened your eyes to find the members of the Rebellion staring at you. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath. Wide eyes looked at you. 

Mon Mothma and Bail Organa exited their room to see the group staring at their new friend.

“Looks like the Lothcat is out of the bag,” Mothma smirked.

“So it seems,” Organa replied. “But, is the loth cat ready?”

“Why don’t you ask?” Mothma asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

Senator Organa wandered over to the intercom system and engaged it into the training arena.

“I have a mission for you,” he informed you. “Think you’re up for it?”

You swiped the sweat off your brow with your sleeve. “When do I leave?”

“Now.”

A grin broke across your face. “Good.”

Bail slapped a data card up against the transparisteel. You gave him a slight salute before jumping down to the ground. Once back on your own two feet, you picked up your bag and went back up to retrieve your mission.

“I’ll need a ship,” you told him after inspecting the data card. 

“You speak as if you’re going alone,” Bail said in amusement.

“I’m not?” you asked in confusion.

“No. You’ll be a part of a team,” he replied.

“I can do this on my own,” you said adamantly. “If it’s a stealth mission, less is more.”

“And if you get captured for being a Jedi? Then who will bring the information home?” he countered.

“That’s not what this is about,” you said, stopping in your tracks. “You don’t trust me.”

“Trust is earned,” he shot back.

“You knew my people. You know what they stood for,” you replied softly.

“Skywalker stood for that, too, once. Now look at us,” he said with his back to you.

Point, Organa.

You let out a sigh, “Fine. I’ll go with a team.”

“They’ll meet you in the hangar bay,” he said as he started to walk away, but then he paused. “And, Jedi, may the force be with you.”

You clenched the data card in your fist before making your way to meet this new team. 

The group that was waiting for you didn’t seem like much. You saw a human man in a flight suit, a blue astromech droid, a blue-skinned Twi’lek, and a Wookie. 

“You’re the Jedi?” the Twi’lek woman commented. 

“Can you be a member of something that’s disbanded?” the man asked.

You shot them a look. 

“Fiesty for a Jedi,” the Twi’lek smirked. “Seems like your type, Gavyn.”

“Knock it off, Oon’sara,” Gavyn sighed. He thumbed towards the Wookie and astromech. “That’s Chitca, and the droid’s on loan from Senator Organa.”

“Droids are not property. He’s doing this because he wants to,” you murmured as you looked at the droid, studying him. Almost as if sensing your judgment, the mech came forward to meet you and tootled. A spark of recognition settled onto your face as you watched the rest of the team head up the ship. You, however, hung back with the astromech.

“Is your new home treating you well, little droid?” you murmured.

Artoo looked up at you before letting out a sad noise.

Resting a hand on his dome, you gave him a sad smile. “I know. I miss the old days, too.”

Artoo looked down and started up the ramp. You followed him before settling into a seat in the cargo hold to go over the data again. If trust was something that had to be earned, then, maker, you were going to earn it.

Once in hyperspace, the crew trickled back to where you were, sitting on their own makeshift seats. You could feel their gaze on you as you rested your arms on your knees.

“Credit for your thoughts,” you eventually ventured.

“You’re injured,” Gavyn murmured, pointing at the burn on your arm. “It looks fresh.”

“It’s a lightsaber, isn’t it,” Oon’sara said, but it wasn’t a question. “He did it.”

“What do you know of him?” You asked as your eyes flicked up to hers.

“We all have our score to settle with the Empire,” Gavyn replied. “The Emperor’s shadow is infamous. Few see him and survive. He’s a harbinger of death.”

“He’s just a man,” you replied, thinking of his face, so close to yours as you had locked sabers.

“Tell that to the people of Ryloth,” Oon’sara sneered. “If you even mention the possibility of him coming, the Imperials crack down on us.”

“Is that your ‘score’ then?” you asked.

“If I free the galaxy, then I can free my people,” she said.

You turned to look at the others. “And you?”

“The Empire killed my parents,” Gavyn replied. “They tried to stop them from roughing up the local civilian market. I was seventeen. Barely a man, but no longer a kid. I ended up on the streets relying on the goodness of strangers. That was how Senator Organa found me.”

“Where’d you learn to fly?” you asked out of curiosity.

“My mom. She was a cargo pilot,” he grinned. “Best at maneuvering out of a sticky situation.”

You turned to the Wookie who blinked in surprise. “You?”

She tilted her head before responding. You were glad you’d grown up in the Temple at that moment, being able to understand other languages always came in handy. “You should know about Kashyyk. When Master Yoda escaped at the end of the war, the rest of us were not so lucky.”

“He’s alive?” you asked softly.

She shrugged. “He was when he left Kashyyk.”

Artoo bumped your leg where it hung over the side of the crate.

“I already know your story, little droid,” you murmured, patting his head. He’d lost just as much as you had that day. Part of you wondered if he knew what his old master was up to. It was odd, having Anakin’s droid here. This might be the only piece of him you’d have left.

“But we don’t know yours,” Gavyn said, folding his arms.

“It’s simple, really. I was a Jedi on the run after the Order fell. I piqued the interest of some undesirable people, and now I’m helping the Rebellion while I look for them,” you shrugged.

“I’ve never heard someone refer to Vader as an ‘undesirable’ person,” Oon’sara smirked.

“He took everything from me,” you replied. Including Anakin, you thought. “I’d call that undesirable.”

“So you’re hunting him,” Gavyn said thoughtfully. “Revenge doesn’t sound like the Jedi way.”

“It isn’t revenge,” you replied. “It’s justice. It’s for freedom and peace. If we get rid of Vader, the Emperor loses his ace. It’ll be over then.”

“The Emperor will still exist,” Oon’sara pointed out.

“The Emperor is an old man,” you spat. The Emperor was nothing compared to the man you’d sparred with. Vader was a formidable match in battle, but the Emperor was weak, having to rely upon someone else to fight his battles for him.

“He’s a Sith Lord,” Gavyn countered.

“Do you know how to defeat darkness?” You asked, looking out a viewport as you reverted back to real space. The Lothal System’s sun came into view, warming your face. You turned back to them with a smirk on your face. “You turn a light on.”

The crew started to disperse, but Gavyn hung back for a moment, looking at you over his shoulder. 

“You know, I always respected the Jedi. When things seemed bleak, they’d show up and save the day like heroes. It seemed inevitable that they would always win,” he admitted.

“Like the sun ending the night,” you murmured.

“Exactly,” he replied. “A spark of hope lights a flame. If you’re going to turn a light on, you’ll need a lot more of it.”

“A lot more of what?” you asked.

“Hope. One spark is a start, but it’s not enough on its own.”

Somehow you didn’t think he was talking about fires anymore. He turned and went back up to the cockpit to land the ship on world. 

You looked down at the droid beside you who shuffled in anticipation. “You ready for some action, friend?”

He tootled an affirmative.

The landing went smoothly. Even sneaking onto the base went well. You and Gavyn stole some armor to maneuver Chitca like a prisoner with Artoo bringing up the rear. Oon’sara stayed with the ship, ready to take off at a moment’s notice. 

Walking in the white armor felt wrong. How many clones had died wearing this flimsy armor? Too many for you to count. Bile rose in your throat as you pushed that thought from your mind. 

“Do you know where we’re going?” you asked Gavyn.

“Vaguely,” he replied.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” you murmured as you entered a control room. “Artoo, plug in and see if you can find where the TIE schematics are.”

Artoo rolled forward, extending his arm until he connected to the interface. You peered down the hall, watching for troopers in order to cover the droid. You had no doubt in his capabilities. After all, you knew who he had once belonged to.

“We need to get going,” Gavyn whispered.

“Don’t rush him,” you murmured absentmindedly. 

Soon enough, Artoo had the information you were looking for. It was located several floors below your current location. You opened the door and started down the hall with Artoo. Halfway down, you realized the others weren’t following. 

“Where are you going?” you asked them.

“Chitca says there’s some Wookies in the detention level. We’re going to free them,” he said with a grin.

“Gavyn, there’s no time. This is our mission!” you replied, having been used to making hard decisions during the clone wars. You knew all too well that you couldn’t save everybody.

“Take Artoo and get the schematics. We’re going to free them. We’ll meet back up in orbit if we get separated,” he said with a reassuring nod, like everything would be fine.

You couldn’t fight the feeling of dread knotting in your stomach, but you knew you couldn’t stop this. You gave him a curt nod before continuing to run down the hall towards the schematics with Artoo rolling beside you to keep up.

Artoo let out a worried whistle.

“They’ll be fine, Artoo,” you told the droid. Silently, you added, I hope.

The base was a maze. You knew you’d be fine with Artoo and the force to guide you, but you were worried for the others. You found yourself down a hallway that looked just like the ones you’d been running through since you arrived. 

“It’s a wonder they can find anything here with how uniform it is,” you muttered as you rounded a corner. You skidded to a stop in front of the door that Artoo said housed the information you needed. 

After shooting a dubious look at Artoo, you reached out your hand towards the door. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on feeling the lock with the force, reaching into the circuitry to flip the switch and open it.

The door slid open, revealing a group of surprised imperial workers. They blinked at you.

“You’re not authorized to be here,” one of the officers said.

You raised a hand to try a mind trick that you hadn’t done in years.

“That’s not an imperial paint job,” another officer pointed out, hand poised over an alarm button. You had to act quickly.

“I am allowed to be here,” you murmured.

“You are allowed to be here,” One of the officers repeated.

“I am taking the TIE schematics,” you said, pushing your luck.

“You are taking the TIE schematics,” they repeated.

You shot a furtive glance at Artoo before going over to take the data pad from the holo-projector displaying the plans. 

Tossing it to Artoo, you instructed him, “Keep it safe.”

He tootled an affirmative before you left. You weren’t going to kill them. It wasn’t necessary since you were able to trick them into helping.

“Come on, Artoo, let’s get going. We have to find the others,” you murmured as you ran towards where you felt they were. A sigh passed through your lips. “They better be okay.”

As you made your way back towards the flight deck, you saw a commotion up ahead. Gavyn’s ship was firing at the ground turrets as the Wookie prisoners were being led out into the open.

“Gavyn, this was supposed to be a stealth mission!” You shouted at the man as you caught sight of him on the platform below.

“Change of plans!” He yelled back.

“Oon’sara isn’t going to be able to land unless we take out the towers, Artoo,” you said to the little droid beside you. 

Artoo rolled over to the port to plug in, giving you a sad whimper.

“Manual controls, huh?” you sighed. “That’s what I was worried about.” 

Jumping down from the platform and onto the flight deck below, you skirted the fray, with your back to the wall, the imperial troopers barely noticed you as you blended into the shadows. Making your way over to the turrets, you listened to Artoo in your commlink telling you how to disable the guns. 

“You’re free and clear to land,” you informed Oon’sara.

“Copy that, Jedi. Coming in hot for a landing!” she shouted back as the ship started to land. 

On the opposite side of the flight deck, you watched the crew and the Wookies load onto the ship with Gavyn providing cover fire. There was a stretch between you and the ship that was rapidly filling with storm troopers as they called for reinforcements.

“Gavyn, there’s too many of them!” Oon’sara called over the comm as she did her best to shoot at them with the ship.

“We’re almost done,” Gavyn said, but they were surrounded by troopers who were picking them off one by one.

In his haste, Gavyn got clipped on the shoulder by blaster fire and doubled over in pain.

“Gavyn!” You called out as he reached up to hold his arm, limping back towards the ramp.

“We’ve got to go now, there are too many of them!” Gavyn told you over the comm, locking eyes with you as he backed up the ramp, barely being missed by the shots as the ramp started to close. “Get to a ship and rendezvous with us in orbit. There’s no time to argue.”

Your mouth was in a grim line as you nodded. Artoo rocketed down to the space next to you.

The troopers turned and spotted you.

“Look, there’s another one!” one called out as they opened fire. You engaged your lightsaber to deflect the bolts anywhere but where you were.

“Come on, Artoo,” you said, racing off towards an open transport ship. It was small, but it would do. The two of you got in and started up the ship. “Disable the tracking, buddy. We can’t risk bringing the Imps back to base.”

Artoo zoomed over to do as he was told as you started flight sequence, picking up from the ground. A voice came over the radio.

“Transport H359, you do not have clearance to leave base. On who’s authority are you flying?” the base command asked.

“Kriff your clearance,” you shot back, pulling back on the throttle to lift the ship off the ground.

“Engage tractor beam,” the radio voice announced.

You didn’t much like their news, so you shut the radio off. “Hold on, Artoo. Time for some evasive maneuvers.”

Leaning your body into it, becoming one with the craft, you rolled the ship through the air, avoiding the beam. They were so focused on you that it made for an easy escape for the team. Soon you were out in the space above the planet.

Artoo tootled something you could have sworn sounded like, ‘Now this is pod racing!’

“Well, so much for stealth,” Oon’sara snorted over the radio.

“At least we got what we came for,” you replied.

“And then some,” Gavyn added. You could hear the smile in his voice at the Wookie chatter behind him.

“Let’s just get back to base,” you said, but you had a smile on your face as well.

Setting the coordinates for the hyperspace jump, you were ready to go when a group of ships reverted out of hyperspace in front of you. A pit formed in your stomach as a familiar feeling of apprehension and darkness washed over you. He’s here, you realized. 

“We’ve got to go, now!” you informed them hurriedly as a group of TIE fighters flew out of the hangar bay of the star destroyer in front of you. 

“They’re blocking the path!” Oon’sara pointed out.

You scanned the field of view around you. “Move to quadrant 6. You’ll be free and clear there.”

Watching as the ship started to evade the TIE fighters, you realized you were powerless. Your transport was unarmed. It was dangerous for you to stay, but you also couldn’t leave without knowing they were okay.

Artoo bumped your chair.

“I can’t just leave them, Artoo,” you said, starting to fly towards their ship to offer them a distraction and a chance to escape. You trusted your flying skills enough, even if you were a little unfamiliar with the current craft.

One of the TIE fighters stopped abruptly and turned to follow you, and so you started flying across the space, zooming out of his firing range and employing evasive maneuvers you hadn’t used in years. It had to be him. Only Anakin Skywalker could keep up with flying like this... because he had been the one who had taught you based off his pod-racing adventures. A thrill rushed through you, at the moment feeling like it was just like old times, two people practicing flying drills between campaigns. You barrel rolled, but your smile faltered when witty banter didn’t come over the comms. It wasn’t like old times.

Artoo let out an alarmed scream as a blast shot past the wing of your ship. Then, he let out a series of beeps, holding the data pad out to you before letting out a sad whimper.

“You’re right,” you sighed. “We have a mission.”

You shot one last look towards their ship, seeing it get hit by one of the TIE fighters who stuck with them. Regretfully, you spun out, flying into clear space and shooting off into hyperspace. “May the force be with them.”

A smile tugged at Lord Vader’s lips as he watched your ship leave real space. His TIE fighter hovered in space as his hands tightened on the controls. The sound of leather being stretched was faintly heard before the sound of a nearby explosion took over. “So the lamb has made some friends.”

As you broke into hyperspace, your let your head fall back against your chair. It was a quiet ride back, neither you nor Artoo wanting to acknowledge what just happened. Not the fact that you had lost your team, and also not the fact that you had almost let yourself get captured in the name of nostalgia. Your memories seeped in from the box you’d so carefully locked them away in.

“No brother gets left behind,” your clone commander said when your Master suggested moving forward.

“We have to continue the mission,” your Master pointed out.

“You go ahead, Master. I’ll stay here until the transport arrives,” you smiled.

The commander nodded thanks as the group moved on. 

You looked down at the trooper who's head laid in your lap. “You’ll be alright. I promise.”

“I know,” the clone smiled weakly. “We clones have a saying. ‘If a Jedi is here, we have no need to fear.’”

“We aren’t always successful,” you murmured, thinking about the siege you’d just lost.

“No, but we know you’ll do your best and take care of your own,” the clone corrected as the transport landed nearby. The medic hopped down with a few other clones to transport the fallen soldier onto a stretcher. You squeezed his hand before they loaded him up on the ship.

“May the force be with you, trooper,” you said.

“And with you, always, General,” he nodded.

You opened your eyes to see Chandrilla coming into sight. It was time to face the music.

The ship touched down in the hangar bay. It was quiet with the realization that this was not the ship you had left on. As you walked down the ramp with Artoo at your side, Senator Organa parted the crowd as he walked to the front. There was a question in his eyes as he looked at you. You shook your head. He looked down at the ground. 

Turning on his heel, he started to exit the hangar. “Debrief me in the conference room.”

You looked down at Artoo before following. The data pad felt heavy in your hands as you ran your thumb along it. All that had just happened was for the sake of this. A snarl of disgust settled on your face as you entered the conference room. Was it really worth it?

Chucking the pad on the table, you looked at Organa. “Here’s your schematics.”

“What the kriff happened out there?” he demanded. “You left with a team.”

“They found another opportunity and took it,” you explained.

“I didn’t ask that. I asked what happened,” he repeated.

You closed your eyes and exhaled before answering. “They found out that the base was holding Wookies hostage. They went to free them. We split up. When we got back together, we were on opposite sides of the flight deck. Artoo and I stole a transport with the plan for us to rendezvous in orbit. When we got there, an Imperial Star Destroyer reverted to real space, unleashing a set of TIE fighters.”

“Was he one of them?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” you whispered, opening your eyes to finally look at him. 

Slowly, Senator Organa picked up the schematics from the table. He looked down at it before looking up at you. “This Empire was built on blood and bone. But the rebellion.... that’s not what we’re built on.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“We may be made mostly of blood and bone, but we are also made of souls. Where they sow fear, we grow hope. We create dreams.”

“Dreams don’t come for free,” you murmured.

“There’s a price for everything these days,” he replied sadly. “I think you’re just learning yours.”

“I was never meant to survive,” you said softly. After all, the life of a survivor is a lonely one. Sometimes you wondered if it would have been easier if you had blinked out of existence when the rest of the Order was snuffed out. 

“I thought everything was the will of the force,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Do you really believe that?” 

“Sometimes, but I think it limits the fact that we have choices. We are not destined to one thing or another. It is the choices we make, and the steps we take that get us from one place to another. They said that Skywalker was the chosen one, meant to bring balance,” he let out a huff, “if he was destined for that and didn’t have the freedom to make his own choices, we may not be having this conversation. I’d like to think that the force wouldn’t condemn the galaxy to servitude under a tyrant. That being said... I think you were meant to be here, and the choices you made brought you here.”

“The force and my own will working in tandem,” you replied.

“Precisely. We can always fight our destiny, but we will always have to live with the choices we make,” he said. 

“I left them,” you said, looking down.

“You finished the mission. They knew the risks. Their loss will be felt, but we will move on. We must,” he said pointedly. “Do you know what I’ve noticed about the Jedi?”

“What’s that, Senator?”

“The good ones have a tendency to survive,” he said.

You knew he was trying to comfort you, but in a way, his comment was a slap to the Order. There were hundreds of Jedi who died during the end of the war. It wasn’t because they weren’t good Jedi. It was the fact that the people they trusted turned on them. In fact, in a way, they were the last good Jedi, you thought. They never had to worry about looking the other way to survive. They lived the ideals to the end. 

You raised your head to look back at him, a fire in your eyes. If you couldn’t protect a team, then you wouldn’t work with one. You’d let down your troopers by letting the Empire take control of them. You’d lost your team today because you’d allowed for distractions that split you up in a way you couldn’t protect them. Never again. You’d been on your own for so long that now you knew the only person you could protect is yourself. Anyone else would just be a liability and another hard choice on your conscience.

“What are you planning to do with those schematics?” you asked.

“Find out who’s supplying the materials,” he admitted. “There’s been a lot of movement of durasteel across the rims, but it doesn’t make sense when compared to the ship manufacturing logs. We learned they were building a new form of TIE. Our analysts are going to look into seeing if that’s the cause. Otherwise, we’re back to square one.”

“When’s my next mission?” 

“Easy, Jedi,” he said with a perplexed smile. “You just got back. Rest a bit. I’ll have something for you soon enough, don’t worry.”

“Alright, Senator,” you nodded. “But... next time, I work alone.”

He sighed, the smile dripping from his face. “Understood.”

Artoo whistled beside you.

You looked down at him and rested a hand on his dome. “Make that, me and Artoo.”

“Commandeering my droid now, are you?” Senator Organa asked in amusement.

“What can I say? He gets me,” you smirked, patting the droid before going off to find a refresher. You needed a shower.

Making your way through the barracks of the underground base, you finally found what you were looking for.

Turning the water on to the highest pressure, and to as hot as your body could handle, you stepped into the column of steam. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a good shower like this. The water beat at the knots in your back as days of grime sloughed off your skin. Placing your splayed hands on the wall opposite the shower head, you let your head hang down. Your hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks as you let the water wash over you, blocking out any sounds other than the water over your ears. You clenched your fist against the cool tile, replaying the mission in your head to see if there was anything you could have done differently. If you had just stuck together? If you had gone to them on the flight deck? If you had taken a different ship? If.

You slammed your fist against the wall, the sharp spike of pain bringing you back to reality.

Master Yoda’s voice played in your head, an old Jedi adage about letting go. Letting people flow in and out of your life like the force. Taking a deep breath, you unclenched your fist.

There was nothing you could have done.

This was not your fault.

Order Sixty-Six was not your fault.

You picked your head back up.

It wasn’t your fault. It was the Empire’s. It was Vader’s. 

Their deaths wouldn’t be in vain. Your Master’s death wouldn’t be in vain. You’d do whatever it takes to be able to match him. To take him down. You were a Jedi. You protected the galaxy, protected it from beautiful monsters like Vader. You’d do what you had to do to bring peace back to the galaxy. 

Shutting the water off, you let the water drip down your body as you reached for a towel. Your skin was an angry tinge of pink-ish red from the heat as you wrapped it around yourself, stepping out of the refresher. Swiping your hand along the mirror, you saw your face in the cleared streak. Your eyes glinted in the light for a moment. 

Using the streak, you got dressed and prepared to face the barracks, free and on a mission of your own devising.

Going on your way, you started towards the barracks. A little droid sped up and fell in line with you.

“Hello, Artoo. Organa letting you explore?” you asked.

The droid let out a series of beeps that you took to mean, I do what I want.

“So I’ve been told,” you winked. 

Artoo rolled with you until you ran into Jynna.

“I see you’ve made a friend,” she teased.

You looked down at Artoo and smiled. “We’re getting reacquainted.”

“I heard about your mission,” she murmured, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged her arm off. Organa’s words flowed freely from your mouth, “They knew what they signed up for.”  

“Knowing the risks doesn’t make the loss any easier,” she pointed out. “I thought you’d know that from the Clone Wars.”

A sad smile appeared on your face. “After a while, you learn to let go.”

“Letting go may make living easier, but we can also use their memories to give us strength,” she murmured. “Moving on without my husband will be hard, but I can look at his sacrifice and remember it whenever I feel lost and want to give up. That way, I wouldn’t want his sacrifice to be in vain and I can keep going. I lost half of my heart, yet the world keeps turning.”

“You’ll be together again,” you reassured her, “And he is with you now.”

“One with the force, right?” she asked with a wry smile.

“Something like that,” you sighed.

“Same thing goes for your friends, then.”

“I don’t know if I’d call them friends. We only just met,” you murmured, looking down.

“Sometimes lost potential is worse, because you’ll never know what could have been.” She paused for a moment as though struggling to ask her next question.

“What is it?” you asked, pressing slightly.

“Was it him?” she asked, chewing her lip. “You know, Lord Vader?”

You nodded, face heating up a bit. 

“You still want to take him down,” she stated.

“And you don’t?” you asked.

“He’s out of our league,” she replied. “He’s too powerful.”

“Right now, yes,” you admitted. “But, someday... maybe not.”

Artoo bumped your leg at that.

“It’s a shame, really,” Jynna murmured.

“What is?” you asked curiously.

“That someone so horrid can be so handsome,” she said with slight disgust.

“Even a beast can be majestic,” you replied, looking through her. You could see his golden hair like a halo around his head, and that smirk. You hated that smirk. It was self-assurance. It was confidence. It made your stomach turn, but gave you butterflies at the same time. Someday... Someday you would wipe that smirk right off his face. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she replied, breaking you from your reverie. “Have you found your room yet?”

“No. I was looking for it when I ran into you,” you admitted.

“It’s right near mine. I’ll show you,” she said, nodding for you to follow her. 

You nodded, falling in line.

The room was sparse, clinical almost. You hadn’t had four walls to call your own in so long, but you still couldn’t help compare it to the home you once had. Your room at the temple had been colorful, with trinkets from all the planets you visited. You had wanted to remember how diverse the galaxy was, and to remind yourself why you wanted to be a Jedi. Now, you had nothing to your name except the few things in your bag and the clothes on your back.

Dropping your bag on the work desk, you ran your hand along the metal desk. It wasn’t the Temple, but it’d do just fine. You’d been drifting for so long, it would be nice to just plant roots somewhere. After all, in order for anything to truly grow, it needed a strong base to stand on. 

You popped up on the desk, sitting on it as you looked around the room with a critical eye. It was plain now, but you’d make it your own. Yes, this would do nicely.

Acclimating to the base took some time, months had passed before you finally decided that it was home. You had gone from being a nameless face in a crowd, fading into the surroundings to being someone that was sought out. When there was a mission that seemed impossible, Organa and Mothma called on you. You quickly raised through the ranks, making a name for yourself.   While you were once a nobody, now you were a somebody. They whispered Vader’s name in fear, but yours in awe.

In the back of your mind, you wondered if this is what it was like to be Anakin Skywalker back during the Clone Wars. A golden child of the resistance. You’d freed entire prison garrisons on your own with Artoo, stolen a myriad of information that had helped the Rebellion grow. The mere mention of you had swaying power. Those who thought the feat impossible, saw you and knew hope.

Then, one day as you were training, finding that your body was getting stronger, faster even, you began to recognize the power you were harnessing. The simulator run you were currently doing felt effortless. Jumps were as simple as willing your body from one point to another. Every fibre of your being was charged with the force, feeling alive. It was intoxicating. 

You let the force take over, giving you strength. You could close your eyes and still see, cover your ears and still hear, stand completely still and still feel. You were one with the force and the force was with you, and you felt whole. 

Now, this... This was where the fun begins, you realized as you landed on the ground when you finished. You were ready to take him on. It was time to track him down.

It was time to hunt Vader.

Tossing a towel over your shoulder, you started back towards your chambers. You were waiting on an informant to transmit you information on Vader’s current location. Working alone had given you the benefit of being able to make friends with locals who saw you as their savior, and a few of them had decided to pay it back by feeding you information that could prove useful for the Rebellion. Most information was passed on to Mothma and Organa, but the information about Vader... that was saved. You kept track of it all, looking at it when you couldn’t sleep to try and piece together what he was up to. You were studying him, trying to find ways to understand him, if only to know how better to best him. After all, that was the only reason you were doing this, wasn’t it?

Your Master’s voice played in your head, “Know your opponent as well as yourself. The best offense is a good understanding of their defense.”

A wry smirk crossed your face as you walked into your room.

“You’ve gotten faster,” Jynna stated from your desk.

“And you’ve learned to pick locks,” you shot back teasingly. “How is the little one today?”

“He’s sleeping. I’ve been trying to teach him the little things you told me about,” she admitted.

“Is he taking to it?” you asked curiously.

“Like a Mon Calamari to water,” she grinned as you moved to sit on your bed.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode?” you asked as you leaned back against the wall.

“You’re going after him, aren’t you?” she murmured.

“I have to,” you replied. 

“You don’t have to,” she replied adamantly. “Look at all the good you’ve done just since you’ve gotten here! You’ve helped people on multiple worlds!”

“But, Jynna, I could help the whole galaxy!” you said emphatically. 

“But who will help you?” she asked softly.

“Jynna, you talk as if I won’t come back,” you chuckled.

She looked at you, appraising you like a mother who could see the truth about the dreams of her child. “You barely made it out alive the last time you fought him.”

“That was months ago!” you said incredulously. “I’m stronger now! I’ve learned and trained so much. I’m ready.”

“If you don’t come back, I won’t have anyone to train him,” she said sadly. “No one to protect him should the Empire come looking.”

“That’s not true,” you said, “You’d have this whole base to protect you.”

“They’re not you!” she cried. “What’s a blaster against a lightsaber if not a weapon of suicide?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’ll come back. I promise. Besides, I don’t know where he is yet. All I know is that he’s been hanging around the banking system lately.”

She looked down at her shaking hands, clasping them in her lap. “Is he worth all this?”

“To rid the galaxy of a beast like that? That’s worth my life,” you said honestly. He was worth all this effort. In a way, he’d always been. You’d been bending over backwards to catch Anakin Skywalker’s attention for years. Only, now it was more important than ever.

She bit her lip and nodded. “I’ll see myself out.”

You watched her leave, a feeling of regret blossoming in your chest. Maybe she was right. Maybe you shouldn’t go after Vader. But, then you remembered all the people you’d lost because of his actions. His hands were as red with blood as the color of his lightsaber. If he wouldn’t wash them himself, then you’d cleanse them for him.

Laying back on your cot, you looked up at the ceiling. You’d tell Organa in the morning about the banking system and see if there was a mission for you there. After all, you were a member of this rebellion. You weren’t about to abandon them while they were in the thick of it. Not when your goals were in line and you could work in tandem. You'd follow Vader across the galaxy in the name of the rebellion. People feared the shadows in case he lurked there, but not you. You knew the truth. You were to be his shadow. If anything, it should be he who feared you. 

And so the predator would become the prey.

Closing your eyes, you exhaled, letting yourself fall into the force and giving yourself over to sleep.

When you woke the next morning, you felt ready to conquer the galaxy. Taking your data pad from your desk, you made your way to the war room to brief Organa on the banking clan. They’d been working with the Empire to bankrupt systems that weren’t submitting to Imperial rule. People were starving and local governments were having to raise taxes just to get through it. It was unacceptable. All the while, the Empire was stockpiling those credits in the bank to build more ships as well as some monstrosity surrounded in mystery. The project was a secret that even your informants couldn’t find out about, and that made you want to know more about it. Surely, the Senator would, too.

“You’ve got that face on,” Senator Organa commented. You’d noticed he’d gotten relaxed around you, lately. He wasn’t as stoic, and he actually smiled at you every once in a while.

“What face?” you asked with an amused smirk.

“That face.”

“That’s just my face, Senator.”

“No, it’s the face of a Jedi who’s about to say they have an idea and want to pursue it,” he sighed.

“And how do you know that face, specifically?” you asked with a raised brow.

“I’ve known my fair share of Jedi,” he said with a nostalgic smile, “And my fair share of people who should have been Jedi.”

“Well, you’re correct on that part, at least,” you admitted. “I do have an idea.”

He gestured for you to continue.

You held up your data pad for him to take. “The Banking Clan is hoarding funds for the Empire at the expense of systems who are resisting. They’re lending at higher percentages that’s leading to the bankruptcy of multiple systems.”

“The people are starving and the Empire isn’t even giving them a dime of the money that’s rightfully theirs,” he commented gravely. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go and investigate the claim. Word on the ground is that the Empire is using those funds to fuel a secret project,” you said pointedly.

“What kind of secret project?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“Senator, if I knew then it wouldn’t be a secret,” you deadpanned.

“Right,” he said sheepishly. “What do you need?”

“Just a ship,” you said, “I’m going alone.”

A droid tootled from nearby before rolling through the crowd towards you.

“Tell that to your friend, here,” Organa said with a smirk. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was your droid.”

You looked down at Artoo with a fond smile. “Nonsense. Artoo doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“He just happens to go on all your missions with you,” Organa pointed out with a raised brow.

“What can I say? We’re friends and he likes me,” you shrugged. “Besides, he saves the day more often than I can count.”

Artoo wobbled back and forth.

“Come on, Artoo. We’ve got a conspiracy to uncover.”

The droid beeped an affirmative and started to follow you.

“May the force be with you,” Organa called after you.

You gave him a slight salute with two fingers, “Always, Senator.”

A human and a droid boarding a ship on their own seems like the start of a good joke, but everyone knew that that human and that droid were who the rebellion sent when no one else would do. That human and that droid could accomplish more than most.

As you slipped into the pilot’s seat, you nodded towards an open interface. “Plug in, little buddy,” you smiled. 

Artoo rolled over and connected with the ship, taking control of the co-pilot controls.

You took a deep breath before pulling off into the atmosphere. In the back of your head, you felt guilty. Sure, the rebellion had a legitimate reason to be interested in the banks, but the fact that you had an ulterior motive wasn’t lost on you. You hadn’t lied. Nor had you actively tried to deceive Senator Organa. Yet, you still felt bad for not disclosing the real reason you wanted to investigate to him.

Once in hyperspace, you pulled out your data pad with your notes on them to look over the intel that had been passed onto you.

“He was last spotted here, Artoo,” you murmured, scrolling through the log of information. “I doubt he’ll still be there. He doesn’t seem to stay in one place for too long. But, we should still be able to get some valuable information from the planet.”

Artoo let out a series of beeps.

“You know why I’m doing this,” you sighed.

He bumped your chair.

“No, there’s no other reason than this. The galaxy needs to be a safer place. There’s no other reason than protecting the galaxy,” you murmured as you looked up at the streaks out your viewport. 

Except, you weren’t seeing the vast expanse of the hyperspace lane. No, in your mind, you were looking into those amber eyes that glinted like the sun. You were seeing a man who’s heart had led him astray as his face glowed from the light of two interlocked lightsabers. That fight you had had was something you replayed so often in your mind. At first, it had been to analyze your own weaknesses in order to train and overcome them. Then, it had been to look for Vader’s weak points in how he fought. But, now... now, you’d replay the fight in your mind just to analyze him. He’d been a brilliant Jedi once. The brightest star of the Order. Some stars were constant, like Master Kenobi or Master Yoda. Some still shone blue at their newness, like most young Padawan learners who had the galaxy at their feet as they grew into their powers. But, Anakin Skywalker had been the brightest star. He was going to be the true north that guided the force into balance. Instead, he had become a supernova, burning brightly before burning out. 

When you looked at Vader, it was hard not to still see Skywalker. Part of you had to wonder if he was still in there, but that part was quickly squelched by the part that saw what atrocities he committed every day. No Jedi could ever condone such violence. No, what you were looking at was a man who made a series of mistakes and owned them as if they were the right thing to do. What you saw was a man who was compensating for his actions by adopting a moral depravity that explained them. Yet... that was the problem. It was easy to look at the man now and see that he was obviously always a terrible person. But it was harder to look at Anakin Skywalker during the Clone Wars and predict that this was what he was to become. He had had everything and he threw it away, and for what? An old man that just put him into another form of slavery not that different from his life on Tatooine. He may walk free, but his life was not his own. Not anymore. Part of that made you feel for him, since he didn’t even notice the cage he was trapped in. You’d free him soon enough.

You looked down at the controls in your hands. Perhaps none of your lives were your own anymore. You hadn’t planned on this path, and you’d even avoided it, yet here you were trudging back down it.

The will of the force.

That’s what this was, wasn’t it?

The inevitable path that would lead to a head-on collision with a handsome beast of a man that at one point could have been your friend. A small voice in the back of your mind made the mistake of suggesting: perhaps more than that. But you knew where this path would take you: to another fight where only one of you would walk away intact.

Your ship pulled out of hyperspace and Mygeeto came into view. From the closet, you pulled out a warm cloak to protect you from the snow on the planet as well as it’s harsh winds. Then, you settled back in your seat and took the ship down for a landing farther away from the settlement than you’d have liked. However, this was a mission for gathering intelligence. You were hoping that a quick getaway wouldn’t be necessary.

“Well, Artoo, let’s go try to blend in,” you said with a hint of a smile. 

The two of you made your way down the ramp and towards the outskirts of the city. The hood of your cloak was pulled down over your forehead, and you kept your head down, surveilling your surroundings out of your peripherals.

It was a cold world, in both climate and architecture. Although, that wasn’t surprising given the relationship that the Banking Clan had had with the Separatists. The snow quickly covered your tracks as you walked further into the city. 

“We’re almost there, Artoo,” you murmured as you maneuvered through buildings that all had the same metallic façade. 

He let out a series of sounds that sounded an awful lot like, ‘Well, how do you know?’

“I’ve been here before,” you replied. “Back in the Clone Wars. That’s how I know my contact. The Republic fought here off and on for three years. Once, my soldiers were wounded, and a local took them in while we were stuck in a snow storm. If it hadn’t been for her, we all would have died.”

Someone walking by bumped your shoulder.

A smirk crossed your face. “Doma.”

You saw the figure go down an alleyway and followed, seeing them disappear around the corner.

Artoo let out a concerned whimper as you noticed a slit of light spilling out onto the snow.

“Don’t worry. We’re safe here,” you murmured, pulling your hood off as you entered through a doorway that had been propped open.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” a woman said. “I’ve been sending you information for months now.”

“I had to get permission first,” you replied, hanging your cloak up on a hook and shutting the door.

“Even without a Master you have a Master,” she teased.

“The force is my Master.”

“I thought the Jedi mastered the force,” she shot back.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s been too long, my friend.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, alright,” she winked, walking further into her small apartment. “Care for a hot drink to warm you up? I’m sure not everyone is used to the Mygeeto Chill.”

“Depends. Will it be that terrible tea you served during the war?” you chuckled as you sat at her table.

“That’s a delicacy here,” she deflected.

“That’s because no one wants it elsewhere,” you teased. “I’ll take a caf if you have it.”

Doma nodded and went to her kitchenette to prepare it. “That droid looks familiar.”

You looked at Artoo sideways. “He’s a friend.”

“You always had weird friends,” she replied.

“You’re my friend.”

“Exactly.” She placed the caf down in front of you. 

You took the mug and held it in your hands to warm you. 

“So, why are you here?” she asked, sliding into the seat across from you.

“Looking into your intel about the banks colluding with the Empire at the expense of planets who are sympathetic to the cause,” you replied as you lightly blew on the caf.

“Is that the only reason?” she asked with a raised brow.

“I’m looking to get information about Vader’s whereabouts,” you added before taking a sip.

“And?” she asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “And I missed you.”

“I knew it!” She grinned.

“Doma, can you get me into the bank?” you asked seriously. “I’ll need actual proof.”

“I can sneak you in. I’ll say you’re an intern. You’ll need a change of clothes, though,” she said thoughtfully. “They don’t trust Non-Muuns since the Clovis situation.”

“I’ll do what I have to,” you nodded.

“Good. Now, get some sleep. You’ve had a long journey, and you need to be wide awake and have no signs of lag if you’re to do this,” she said, poking you in the shoulder.

“Alright, alright,” you chuckled, going to settle on her couch.

“Good night, Jedi,” she smirked, going towards where her room was.

“Good night, Doma.”

You spent a bit of the night looking up at her ceiling as your thoughts drifted to Vader. Absentmindedly, you wondered what he was up to. Deep down, you wondered if he was maybe thinking about you, too. Eventually, you decided that was unlikely and turned over to fall asleep, letting yourself slip into a deep sleep.

While you slept, you did something you hadn’t done in a while. You dreamed. 

The temple surroundings appeared vibrant behind your eyelids. It took a moment, but you recognized that you were back in your room. When you went to get out of bed, you couldn’t. You were being held back. Looking down, you noticed an arm wrapped around your waist. Turning to peek over your shoulder, you saw a mop of golden hair. Now, you could feel the heartbeat of the person behind you. You could feel their breath on the crook of your neck.

“Stay,” a voice murmured. They were pleading in a way that made you want to melt back into them and acquiesce to the simple request, especially since it had been so long since you were held like this. Like you mattered.

You stiffened as you realized who that voice belonged to.

The owner of the voice picked their head up from where it had been buried in your back. You locked eyes with a pair of amber gems that bore into your soul.

“Ready to go so soon?  And here I thought you were coming for me,” he smirked. “You lack conviction.”

You shoved him away. This was only a dream. You backed away from the bed, but he followed, getting up and staring you down as he advanced. Soon, your back was against the wall. His metallic hand reached out to tip your chin up to look into his eyes. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and it wasn’t entirely out of fear as his thumb grazed your chin.

“You’re different, Jedi,” he smirked, making your heart skip a beat. “How interesting.”

You sat up on the couch in a cold sweat. Artoo let out a concerned murmur.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, settling your racing heart. “I’m okay.”

The droid came over next to the couch and you rested a hand on him.

“It was just a bad dream,” you murmured.

Artoo backed away slightly from you. The last time his friend had bad dreams, that didn’t end well.

You let out a sigh and laid back down. “I’ll be fine. Good night, Artoo.”

Turning to face the cushions, your brow furrowed. Why was Vader in your dream, and more importantly, why had he been holding you close like that? Some voice deep within you murmured, and why did I like it? 

Scrunching your eyes shut, you could still feel the phantom warmth at your back. It unnerved you slightly, but you didn’t have time to focus on that. You needed rest so that you would be at your best when you infiltrated the banking clan in the morning. Sleep didn’t come easily, but it came eventually. This time it was dreamless, which was a blessing. 

When you woke in the morning, it was to streaks of light across your face as they slipped in from the transparisteel. Rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hand, you stretched on the couch. It wasn’t the best night of sleep in your life, and you definitely slept on your neck at a weird angle for half the night, but it wasn’t anything a hot shower couldn’t fix. 

Swinging your legs over the side of the couch, you sat up and took in a deep breath. The air in your lungs was cold, sending a shiver down your spine. If you ever had the option of staying on one world when this was all over, it would be a warm planet, because you hated the cold. 

Going towards the refresher, you noticed that Doma had laid out an outfit for you. It was a jumpsuit with an outer skirt and a weird vest. The only good thing about it was that you could hide your weapon with the skirt. Other than that, you weren’t a fan. It clung in places that you hadn’t had clothing cling before. After showering and changing into it, you were already starting to miss your own clothes. With one disapproving glance at yourself in Doma’s bathroom mirror, you went back out towards the kitchen.

“I see you found the outfit I lent you,” Doma commented.

“Thanks, I hate it,” you smirked.

“Careful, Jedi. Hate leads to the dark side,” she teased.

You waved her off and grabbed your cloak off the hook. “Ready when you are.”

She nodded, “Alright. But, the droid stays here.”

Casting a glance at Artoo, you responded, “Where he goes, I go.”

“It’ll be easier to just sneak you in,” Doma pointed out.

That was a reasonable explanation. You sighed. “Sorry, Artoo. Looks like you’ll have to stay here.”

Artoo nudged you towards the door. You started to head out with Doma, casting him a worried glance when the door closed behind the two of you.

“You’re really attached to that droid,” Doma murmured as the two of you started walking towards the main building.

“He’s my friend.”

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments.”

“We’re allowed to have friends. We just have to be able to let go when the time is right,” you replied.

“You’d be able to let go of one of the only ties to your old life that you have?” she asked.

“If I had to,” you replied.

“But you don’t want to.”

“Does anyone ever want to let go of someone?” you countered.

“We’re here,” she murmured, taking her badge out to get into the building. “Don’t draw unnecessary attention.”

You nodded, pulling your hood down as you followed her into the building. People barely spared you a glance as you made your way down the main hall towards her office.

“Where are we going?” you asked. “According to the schematics you sent me, the vault is in the other direction.”

“You can’t just waltz into the vault,” she hissed, closing the door to her office behind the two of you. Then, she gestured to a hatch in the ceiling. “You’re going to have to go through the vent.”

“Great. Crawling through meters of air ducts. Feels just like I’m back in the Order,” you frowned as you reached up to open the duct.

“Do you have the schematics on you?” she asked, settling into her chair.

You tapped your wrist band. “I’ve got the map if I need, but I’m sure if I just follow the sound of thievery and corruption I’ll find my way just fine.”

Doma rolled her eyes at you as you jumped up into the duct. “Be safe, Jedi. May the Force be with you.”

You gave her a wink before shimmying down the vent. Jedi didn’t have claustrophobia, but you did feel like the vents were getting smaller as you went along. Eventually, you were crawling along on your hands and knees instead of being slightly crouched.

Looking down through the grate in front of you, you could see the vault. Carefully, you opened it to peer down into the space. Consulting your schematics, you realized that the data you were looking for was stored a few rows over from where you would drop down. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and steeled yourself for what would happen next.

The drop to the floor was long, and it would put you in a maze of shelves holding data. Instead, you dropped onto a shelving unit to keep a good view of the ground around you as you crept along. The data you sought was a few columns over. The room wasn’t crowded, but there were the occasional workers and droids. You’d have to be fast if you wanted to get out undetected. When you found the column you needed, you rolled off the shelf and landed soundlessly on the floor.

Casting a furtive glance around you, you pulled out a datapad from under your skirt and plugged into the mainframe. The damage was so much worse than you thought as you scanned the information. They were bankrupting more than half the galaxy while the Empire was rolling in credits. It made your stomach sick as you thought of all those people dying from hunger and living in poverty. Poverty that the Empire could have prevented, but people can’t fight back if they’re too weak from hunger. It was despicable, and the banking clan was complacent in making it happen. Footsteps resounded in the room around you, but you kept yourself as cool as a dead star. You watched the screen with interest as it loaded the data you needed. It was almost done when the footsteps got closer. 

95 percent. The footsteps sounded like they were a few rows away. 

97 percent. They were two rows away. 

99 percent. They were around the corner. 

100 percent. You unplugged and jumped up onto the shelf, holding your breath. The Muun on the floor kept walking right past you. Looking up at the ceiling, you thanked the force before starting to head back to the air vent. Jumping up from the shelf wasn’t difficult, and you had the hatch closed and were crawling along the vent again in no time. 

Alone with your thoughts, you began to think of what you would have done if you were still a Jedi in the Order. Your Master would have taken down this entire operation in the name of justice and freedom, wouldn’t they? All you had on you was your saber and one charge, but with the right plan, that was all you’d need. Gravity would take care of the rest. A plan started to form the further from the vault you got. Soon enough, you were jumping back down into Doma’s office.

“Took you long enough,” she smirked.

“Yeah, well, it’s a maze,” you shot back.

“Did you have any trouble?” she asked with a raised brow.

“It was like taking clams from a Gungan,” you smirked, holding up the data pad. 

“Good, now you can go.”

“I can’t just leave,” you said adamantly. 

“You have the information. What else do you need?” she asked in confusion.

“I need to know where he is, and I need the Empire to know they’re being watched,” you replied seriously.

“Do you have a death wish?” she asked incredulously.

“No, but they need to know that people won’t turn a blind eye anymore,” you replied. 

“How are you going to achieve that?” Doma asked skeptically.

“I’m going to get my information. Then I’m going to set charges and destroy the building.”

“You can’t destroy the banking clan. Imagine what that would do to the intergalactic economy!”

“I wouldn’t be destroying the bank. We all know they keep the money elsewhere, if they have it at all. I’d just be destroying the symbol of it,” you said, pulling your cloak back on.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she sighed.

“Just get Artoo and go back to the ship. There won’t be anything left for you here when I’m done,” you replied.

Doma shook her head. “You’re going to get me a new job!”

“I’m sure the resistance can find something,” you shot back before heading back out into the hall. 

The vault was in the middle of the building. if you weakened along the support beams, it would all come crashing down with one charge. After all, you only had one emergency charge. Making your way towards Vice Chairman Anolo’s office, you used your saber to weaken the support beams. His office was on the top floor, overlooking the city below. You didn’t care if someone figured out what you were at this point. Your work was mostly done. Doma was going to be safe. You could take these risks, because you were only risking yourself. Using the force, you opened the door to a startled Anolo at his desk.

“Who are you?” he asked incredulously.

You ignited your saber. You had no intent to harm him, but he didn’t know that.

“Focus less on who I am, and more on telling me what I want to know,” you shot back. “Where’s Vader?”

“He’s not here!” Anolo replied as you walked closer to him.

You swung and cut off a corner of his desk. “That’s not a real answer!”

“H-he’s on Eadu! Left a few rotations ago!” 

You let your saber fall to your side. “Now, was that so hard?”

Anolo cowered behind his desk as you started to leave. You paused at the doorway. 

“Oh, and you may want to evacuate. Rumor has it the economy is about to crash,” you smirked, throwing your charge on the last support beam. 

You cut a hole in the wall before jumping onto a nearby cliff face. With a satisfied grin, you pressed the button on your commlink that detonated the charge. The explosion came first, followed by a lurch to the side. Then, the building started to cave in on itself. 

Pulling your hood over your face, you turned and made your way into the forest behind you. Your work here was done.

The snow crunched under your feet as you made your way back to the ship. You could see your breath in the air and you were quite glad when you saw the outline of your vessel through the trees. Doma was sitting on the ramp wrapped in a blanket. Artoo was next to her. They had been waiting for you. You felt slightly guilty.

“Did you get the answer you were looking for?” she asked.

You looked down. “Eadu.”

She nodded, getting up from the ramp to head back inside. “I assume you’re dropping me off, first.”

“That’s the plan,” you replied.

“Was this the plan?” she asked at the top of the ramp, back towards you.

You didn’t have an answer for her. Originally, you were just collecting information. It wasn’t until you saw how deep the corruption was that you had decided to do this, but your silence was all the answer she needed.

“That’s what I thought,” she sighed before disappearing inside.

Artoo let out an admonishing set of beeps.

“Hey, you’re one to talk! You’re an agent of chaos,” you shot back.

Artoo let out a whistle of outrage.

“You heard me,” you smirked.

He bumped you.

“But, you’re right,” you sighed. “Organa isn’t going to be pleased.”

The droid looked up at you and let out some softer sounds.

“Yeah, Mothma will probably give me a promotion,” you chuckled softly. “Come on, let’s go home.”

The two of you made your way up the ramp and settled in for the trip home. It was a decidedly quiet trip, with Doma questioning leaving all that she had known for the unknown life of the rebellion, and you questioning yourself.

You caught yourself drifting back to the dream you had. Domesticity with Vader. The idea was almost laughable, as if anyone could ever tame that beast. He was wild. Unhinged. Unpredictable. Your mind briefly thought about the events of today, and for the shortest moment thinking about how maybe the same could have been said of you.

But, you were nothing like Vader. You weren’t the beast. You were the hunter protecting the village from him. Yet, just like the hunter, you could see the beauty in your quarry. He was fearless. Powerful. His gaze held a certain hunger that kept you in your place for fear of being eaten. Those amber eyes lit a flame in you, but you didn’t want to admit it. After all, how could someone who lives in the dark ignite a flame? It didn’t make sense. You had the same need to possess him as you had to defeat him. He had taken everything away from you, and continued to rampage across the galaxy, which warranted his defeat, but the way he carried himself entranced you. He was a man with nothing left to lose. You figured it must be lonely, but a part of you envied him, to have that sense of freedom was something you would never have.

Taking a deep breath, you landed the craft back at base, preparing yourself for the inevitable.

No sooner had you disembarked, you were getting yelled at.

“Conference room. Now,” Organa barked.

You looked at Artoo and Doma before following him into the room. 

“You destroyed the banking clan?” Organa asked incredulously after the door closed.

“Free markets are supposed to be a good thing,” you shrugged.

“That is not even close to what this is about. You were supposed to gather intel!”

“And I did!” you said, chucking him the data. “It’s all there.”

“But the bank isn’t.”

“I had to send a message.”

“Do you know what the retaliation for that will be?” he asked, leaning forward on the table.

“Enlighten me, Senator,” you shot back.

“You just put yourself on the radar.”

“Good. He should know I’m coming for him,” you smirked.

“Well, what about the rest of us? You just put the rebellion in danger with that stunt.”

“They don’t know who I’m working for. I could just be a standalone vigilante,” you shrugged.

“You better hope that’s the case,” he said darkly. “Dismissed.”

You sighed, folding your arms across your chest and leaving.

“Well, that went well,” you said to Artoo who had been listening outside the door.

He tootled something akin to: ‘I told you so.’

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe I’ll start listening to you.”

He beeped back, ‘Yeah, maybe you should.’

You playfully toed him. “Come on, little buddy. Let’s get Doma settled in.”

After showing Doma to her new quarters and introducing her to the people she’d be working with to take care of the rebellion’s expenses, you went back to your own room. Flopping on your bed, you pulled out a holomap of Eadu.

“What are you doing here, Ani?” you murmured to yourself as you tried to figure out what could possibly be of use to the Empire on Eadu. The planet was an insurance claim waiting to happen with the amount of storms they had there. Flying there wasn’t easy, but that would make it a decent base, you supposed. Chewing your lip, you thought about what Organa had said. Had you drawn attention to the rebellion? Then again, the Emperor had to know about the rebellion by now. It was always a shock to you that Organa and Mothma could continue to work in the Senate while still doing all this. They covered their tracks nicely, but they weren’t above suspicion. However, the Emperor probably assumed they were afraid of him, and fear was a good enough motivator to keep people in line.

With a sigh, you closed your map. You’d take a day to regroup and dig up more information. Then, you’d go to Eadu.

There was a tentative knock on your door.

“It’s unlocked,” you called out.

Jynna entered.

“I heard about your mission,” she murmured as she sat on the edge of your bed.

“It didn’t go according to plan,” you replied.

“So you didn’t intend to destroy a building when you set out yesterday?” she asked with a raised brow.

“Not particularly. Sometimes things just crop up.”

“Were there people in there?” she asked softly.

“Does it matter?” you replied. “I gave them a warning to leave. I assumed that most people would see a Jedi cutting the support beams and get out of the building.”

She shot you a look. “The day we stop thinking it matters is the day we become more like them.”

“Its a war, Jynna. There’s always a sacrifice to be made,” you sighed, thinking back on the many clones you had lost that way.

“When we sacrifice our values, that’s the day we lose,” she replied, getting up.

“Jynna, wait,” you said, sitting up. “I had to show the Empire that someone’s watching.”

“No, you had to show Vader that someone’s watching.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“One man is not a whole institution, Jedi.”

“Cut off the head of the dragon and the serpent dies.”

“Where there’s a void in power, another will seize it,” she countered. “Look at the Emperor. That’s how he came to power.”

You sighed and looked down. “I didn’t set out to kill anyone. I just wanted to destroy the building.”

“Our actions have consequences that we may not always see at the time,” she replied.

“You sound like Master Yoda.”

“Was Master Yoda a mother?” she asked in amusement.

“Not exactly,” you chuckled.

She caught sight of your map on the table. “You’re leaving again.”

“Anolo told me where Vader was heading.”

“So the hunt resumes,” she said hollowly as she went towards the door. “When will it end?”

“When one of us is gone.”

“That doesn’t sound very Jedi-like,” she paused with her back to you.

“He’s a Sith, and I am a Jedi. This is just how it is.”

“I thought only a Sith dealt in absolutes,” she said.

Your eyes narrowed. “I don’t appreciate that insinuation.”

“He was like you once. Are you sure there’s no hope for him?” she asked seriously, turning to face you.

“After all that he’s done, and the lack of remorse he has for it all, I think he’s too far gone,” you admitted.

She studied you for a moment. “I suppose you’ll do what you must. Wear a jacket. Eadu’s weather is unpredictable.”

You stared after her long after she had disappeared from view. 

She couldn’t have been right. If the Sith could be reasoned with, then the council wouldn’t have been hunting them down. Were they two sides of the same credit? No, that wasn’t right either. After all, the Sith were not the exact opposite of the Jedi. The force was a spectrum of light and dark. That much you knew.

Not even Vader was the exact opposite of Skywalker. You could see that in the way he carried himself. Anakin had always had confidence. Now, he just had arrogance as well. He always walked like he owned the galaxy, but now he almost did. His grin was still mischievous, and he still was trying to prove himself, never content that he was enough. Except, he had been enough. He just never realized it. That’s what made his fall hurt the most. 

Those months after the fall, you spent your time analyzing everything, wondering if you could have done anything different. Yet, as you thought back on what Organa had told you, perhaps this had happened for a reason. Perhaps this was the will of the force. You were meant for this confrontation. You were meant for this growth. He was your catalyst. In a way, you supposed you should be grateful. You never could have become strong like this without the exact set up that brought you to the rebellion. Yet, strength was nothing but a measure of endurance. Looking over at the map of Eadu, you smirked. You had endurance for the long haul.

Swinging your legs over the side of your bed, you got up to train. In truth, part of it was because you wanted to stay sharp for the fight ahead, but part of it was also the fact that you didn’t want to sleep. You were worried that you’d dream of him again.

Your arms moved on their own accord, blocking with your lightsaber. You were on autopilot, letting the force guide you. All the while, you were thinking about Mygeeto. You’d killed those people. Not on purpose, but you’d done it. What did that say about you? It certainly told the Empire that someone was onto them, and it would spark fear in the next person to cheat the galaxy out of their own credits at the expense of the people. It had to be done. You’d given them fair warning. It wasn’t cruel. 

The training droid landed a blast that stung your shoulder. You reached out with the force and shoved it into a wall. Wiping your brow with the back of your hand, you thought back to Vader. He didn’t give warnings when he did things like that. He just did them, consequences be damned. You were nothing like him.

You kept training well into the night, watching as everyone upstairs started to wrap up for the night, leaving a sparse night shift. Eventually, you saw Organa looking down at you training. Mothma came up next to him before pressing a button on the panel. The training room shut down.

“Get some sleep,” Mothma said over the loudspeaker.

“I need to train,” you shot back.

“No, you need to not drive yourself into the ground,” Organa ground out. “That’s an order, Jedi.”

Your chest puffed up in annoyance before you exhaled. “Fine.”

The two of them nodded down at you before moving on. You deactivated your saber and showered before going to bed. Blinking, the map of Eadu burned itself into your brain as you slowly succumbed to sleep.

“You just can’t stay away, can you?” a voice teased.

“You’re not real,” you replied, clenching your jaw.

A feather-light touch grazed up and down your arm. It was cold. Metallic. It sent a shiver down your spine. “But you wish I was.”

“I will destroy you,” you huffed.

“Oh? Will you destroy me, or will you destroy yourself?” Vader purred into your ear.

“You know nothing.”

“I am you. I know everything,” he countered.

You took several deep breaths, willing the dream away. Your mind was playing tricks on you. Eventually, you found yourself in the force and left the dream behind you.

When you woke the next morning, you decided to leave a day early. You told no one where you were going. You didn’t like the fact that Organa felt like he could order you about. With the Order gone, you answered to no man. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you walked towards your small ship. A slight smile toyed at your lips as you heard the familiar sound of a motor following you.

“This isn’t an official mission,” you told the droid.

He tootled back a reply.

“It’s a wonder you’ve lasted as long as you have with your penchant for danger and utter disregard for the rules,” you teased.

He bumped you as if to say, ‘Look who’s talking.’

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmured, smile dripping from your face. You had become reckless, hadn’t you? The two of you made your way into the ship and started the take off sequence. Soon, you were coasting through hyperspace on your way to Eadu. Soon, you found yourself thinking about what could possibly happen when you got there.

Going to Mygeeto, you had known that Vader would probably not have been there. The intel was recent enough, but it had also reported that he had left. There was a very real possibility that you would see him on Eadu, and you didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Have you seen him, Artoo?” you asked quietly as you stared out into space. “Since...” you trailed off, knowing the droid knew the rest.

He shook his head.

“He hasn’t changed much, physically,” you murmured. “Except his eyes... Before they were blue like an ocean threatening to drown you. Now, they’re golden, like an ember in a hearth. At first glance, it seems warm and inviting, but it still has the potential to burn down a home. His clothes are darker. Before he just looked like Obi-Wan’s shadow, but now it’s like he’s embraced the darkness, becoming one with it.”

Artoo let out a murmur.

“I’ll stop talking about him,” you assured the droid. “We have to figure out a safe place to land, anyway.”

The droid projected his own map up before zooming in on an area between a couple of crags.

“Are you sure we’ll be protected from the wind when we go to take off again? We can’t risk getting cut up on those cliffs,” you pointed out.

Artoo let out an indignant set of beeps.

“Okay, okay. I trust you. We’ll land there,” you said, holding up your hands placatingly.

Artoo tootled and closed out the map. If he had a face, you were sure he’d have a smug grin on it. 

“Coming out of hyperspace,” you chuckled as you reverted back to real space.

Eadu loomed in the space in front of you. You didn’t know if it was the landing, or the prospect of what you’d find on the planet, but you felt a rush of nerves flutter through your stomach. Stretching your hand before flourishing your fingers on the controls, you started to bring the ship into the atmosphere.

You clenched the controls in your hands as you struggled against the rough winds of the planet, threatening to careen your ship into the cliffs. This would not be a happy landing. Gritting your teeth, you followed Artoo’s instructions, listing slightly to the side to get to your landing zone. Wind howled on either side of the craft as you battled the wind to land, being pushed forward all the while. You took a centering breath before extending the landing gear, hoping the added drag would help slow you down enough to land. The gambit worked and you roughly touched down on the ground.

Artoo let our a series of beeps, ‘Well, I’ve seen worse.’

“They’re not good flying conditions. As much as I hate it, it makes sense for a secret base. No one’s going to want to come here if they don’t have to,” you muttered as you got out of your seat. You tugged on your jacket and started to head out when you heard your friend follow you.

“No, Artoo. I think you should stay here. The weather is nasty. I wouldn’t want you to get damaged,” you told him softly.

He let out a whine.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised with a soft smile on your face. You gave him a small salute before heading down the side of the cliff towards the secret Imperial base. 

Wind and rain whipped your hair around and stuck your clothes to your body. Halfway down the cliff, a chill set in, but you blocked it out as you saw yourself getting closer and closer to the base. Someday, you’d go some place warm, you promised yourself.

Gently landing on top of the base, you walked carefully so as not to slip on the slick, wet, durasteel. You found the access hatch and quietly opened it before slipping into the building to find yourself in another ventilation system.

You rolled your eyes, grumbling about how you always found yourself in ventilation ducts and how the Imperials are bad at security as you started to crawl along.

Eventually, you came to a deserted hall and decided to drop down. Now you understood.

You understood why the base was hidden so well.

It was because of what the base was.

It was a lab.

Looking around, you saw odd animals you’d never seen before. In cages there were hybrids that were so unnatural that their mere existence pained them, the feeling radiating off them in waves. With horror, the truth hit you like a ton of durasteel. These were experiments. Unethical experiments where the Imperials were so caught up on whether or not they could do it, that they didn’t ask whether or not they should. These were the workings of a being with no moral compass. 

You bit your lip as you continued on your way, sick to your stomach. That was when you heard a small noise.

It sounded like crying.

Following the noise, you found yourself looking into a dark cell. There was a balled shadow figure on the ground cradling something- no, someone- to its chest. The crouched figure looked up at you, a spark of recognition in their eyes.

“J-Jedi?” the figure whimpered.

You knew that voice.

It was a voice you didn’t think you’d hear again.

“Gavyn?” you asked, quickly working at the door to free him. “Gavyn, what have they done to you?”

“O-oon’sara’s dead,” he sobbed, holding her limp body to his chest. “When we fled with the Wookies, they destroyed our hyperdrive so we couldn’t jump. The Empire assumed Chitca was an escaped prisoner and took her back to the base.”

“How did you get here?” you asked, gently extracting his fallen crew mate from his arms.

“Tarkin,” he whispered. “When we were brought aboard, he said that he might as well find a use for the ‘rebel scum.’”

“What use?” you asked, but you were afraid of the answer. “Gavyn, we’ve got to get out of here.

“No,” he said adamantly, pushing you out of the cell and into the light. “I’m too- I’m too damaged.”

“Gavyn, you’re not making sense!” you said as you held his arms.

He finally stepped into the light and you understood. Gavyn wasn’t the same. He had burns all over his body that looked like he had been marred with pocks. Hesitantly, you reached up to touch hardware that had been wired into his head.

“They did this to you?” you asked, eyes welling with tears.

“They wanted to know what we knew,” he replied like it made sense. “To take the information for their own use.”

Your eyes widened in horror, “Did they get it?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head dismissively. “During implantation, they botched it and ended up destroying the memory. I think it was done on purpose. There are some sympathetic to our cause here.”

“Gavyn, anyone who would do this to another being is not sympathetic,” you said in disgust.

“This isn’t the real reason for the base,” he murmured. “They’re building a super weapon. The likes of which haven’t been seen before. They want to destroy whole planets.”

“That’s not possible,” you said, shaking your head in denial.

“That’s what the small scale experiments are for. They’re trying to perfect a smaller version of the ray gun before they start working on a larger one,” he explained. 

“What do they consider a successful test?” you asked in horror.

“One that disintegrates the target. Or at least part of it,” he said, holding up his hand. He was missing a finger.

You heard footsteps marching towards the corridor.

“I’m getting you out of here,” you said as you started towards the door.

“No. I’ll never make it out. I’ll only slow you down,” he said seriously.

“Then we’ll fight,” you said, taking your lightsaber from your side.

“Go and leave me,” he said adamantly.

“If I leave you here, they’ll torture you,” you said, feeling hot tears stream down your face. You knew what he would ask next, but force, did you wish you didn’t. A pit formed in your stomach.

“Kill me,” he said sadly.

“Jedi don’t kill needlessly,” you said adamantly.

“It’s not needless. It’s mercy. Please, Jedi. I’m begging you,” he said, grabbing your hand with your weapon and aiming it towards his chest.

The footsteps got closer. 

You closed your eyes tight, listening to the sound of your saber ignite. 

His body was heavy against yours as his head fell against your shoulder.

“Thank... you,” he murmured into you.

Gently, you lowered him to the ground, closing his eyes. You looked down at the weapon in your hand, and then at your fallen crew. The Empire had done this. They had caused this pain. The pit in your stomach started to boil. Your skin felt hot and started to flush as the footsteps got closer. The troopers rounded the corner and you unleashed a battle cry of hurt and rage before you began to slice your way through them and towards the room where the scientists worked. 

They raised their unarmed hands to the ceiling and begged for mercy, but you didn’t listen. You prepared to cut them down, not paying attention to the body count as you stepped over your fallen foes.

“Mercy? Like the kind of mercy you showed my friends?” you asked in your rage. “You don’t deserve mercy!”

You made quick work of the scientists before going onto the command deck.

Your chest heaved as you stood off against the last crew member alive, some captain or admiral. You didn’t care enough to bother with rank. Dropping your saber to your side, your other hand came up and reach out before clenching into a fist. The man clawed at his throat as his feet dangled inches above the floor.

“Tell me about this weapon,” you demanded. You released just enough for him to answer.

“I-it’s a planet destroyer. The Death Star. Moff Tarkin is in charge of the project.”

“And Vader?” you asked.

“Wants nothing to do with it! He’s only involved because the Emperor makes him be,” they gasped.

“Were you aware of the experiments on living beings?” you asked incredulously.

“It was in the name of progress!”

You tightened your grip.

“Where is he?” you asked through gritted teeth. 

“Moff Tarkin is on the Carrion Spike,” he gasped.

“Try again.”

“V-Vader?” he asked, wide eyed. “He’s on Mustafar. Y-you’re h-hunting the Sith Lord?”

You raised a brow, a slight smirk tugging at your lips. You clenched your fist before turning on your heel. A thud could be heard behind you.

“I’m a Jedi. Sith Lords are our specialty,” you huffed as you put your saber back on its clip. You wouldn’t be needing it anymore right now.

Your footsteps echoed through the building as you made your way out to the landing deck.

“Artoo, can you pick me up?”

The droid beeped emphatically.

“No, it’s safe. Trust me. We won’t have any issues,” you said darkly as you walked out onto the landing platform.

Wind whipped your cloak behind you, exposing your face to the weather. The rain poured harder, chilling you to the bone. There was a wild fire in your eyes as you took in the storm around you. Closing your eyes and exhaling, a slight puff of air formed in front of your lips as the world melted away. The storm didn’t bother you anymore because you were the storm.

Artoo pulled the ship up and landed next to you. Your steps were measured as you made your way to the ship. 

Sliding into the pilot’s seat, you were silent as you pulled up into the updraft, surging towards the upper atmosphere. 

Your little droid cautiously rolled next to you as you started to set the navigational system.

He let out a concerned whimper.

“That’s where they said he is,” you replied with resolve as you punched the ship into hyperspace.

Artoo slowly rolled away from you, but you didn’t notice. You were too lost in your own thoughts.

After all these years, you’d finally have him. You’d have your chance to avenge the Order, to avenge the countless lives that died by his hand, to avenge Anakin. You’d be the one to tame the beast.

A flash of a smile broke through your thoughts. His smile. Anakin’s smile that Vader wore on his face, a mocking mask. The smile that had the power to restore the sun to the sky and warm your heart on the coldest night. Vader didn’t deserve that smile. But, a part of you had to wonder if the beast that was Vader was always inside of Anakin all along, if he had just released what was already his inner truth, or if it were like the old proverb about Loth wolves. There were two in every man, one good, one bad, and the one who is in control is the one you feed. Did that mean that Vader and Anakin were the same?

You were shivering, but you hadn’t noticed. Not until Artoo gave up on distancing himself to place a blanket in your lap. 

“I loved him,” you admitted. You chewed your cheek for a moment, tears unshed. “He was my hero, and now he’s my enemy.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek. 

Artoo emitted soft beeps.

“I know,” you murmured. “You loved him, too. That’s why you understand. Letting Vader live would be a foolish decision based off hope. Hope that he could come back. Hope that Anakin is still in there.” You swiped your face. “We both know he’s not. If we really loved Anakin, then we’d set him free.”

Artoo turned his head away from you.

You were resigned to the fact that this was your fate. Yours and his were always intertwined. The Force had made it so. You knew about all he was, and yet, you still admired him. You still loved him. It was the beast on exhibit that you watched with admiration. It was the natural predator you watched with awe that escaped and was wreaking havoc. It was the inexplicable pull to want what you shouldn’t have. The need to test fate to see if he’d destroy you, too, but the knowledge to know that if you got the chance, you should destroy him first for the good of the galaxy. 

Mustafar came into view, and you let out a slight sigh. Finally, a warm planet. 

Artoo rattled beside you, photoreceptor locked in on the planet as it came further and further into view.

As you got closer, you noticed him staring at you.

“What is it?” you asked, not turning to look at him.

He beeped sadly, ‘I have a bad feeling about this.’

You took the ship in for a landing, finding a landing platform to a fortress left unguarded. “He’s in there. I can feel it.”

Getting up, you peeled off your rain gear and grabbed your saber before heading towards the door.

Reaching up his arm, Artoo grabbed ahold of your shirt.

“Artoo, let go,” you said in slight annoyance.

He started to roll back to pull you into the ship.

“Artoo!” you exclaimed. “Stop!”

The droid stopped and looked down. He let go.

You took a knee in front of him, a glint in your eye. Placing your hand on his dome, you looked at him seriously. “Artoo, I have to do this. It’s the will of the force. If...” you trailed off with a sigh. “If I don’t come back within a standard hour, leave without me.”

Artoo affectionately bumped you. 

“May the force be with you, too, little droid,” you said with a lopsided smile before heading down the ramp.

Artoo rolled out to the top of the ramp to watch you disappear into the fortress. He hated it here. Mustafar. He’d lost too many Masters here.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the heavy doors into the fortress. It was dark, with obsidian walls and floors that echoed your steps down the long hall. The magma through the viewports cast the fortress in an eerie glow. Your hand clenched the hilt of your lightsaber as you made your way down the hall. It was unnerving, hearing only the sounds of yourself amongst the silence. 

Crossing through a threshold, you saw ornate sconces lining the walls of a throne room. There, seated on a throne of stone was Vader.

An amused smile settled onto his face as he took in your presence. His eyes trailed your body as his gaze turned from amusement to appreciation. You knew you had to look like a hot mess, yet he still regarded you as if you were the most attractive being in the galaxy. 

“I was wrong to underestimate you, Padawan,” he smirked, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. “So you’ve come here to kill me?”

You ignited your saber, feeling your face heat up. It’s surely from the heat outside, though, you reassured yourself. It certainly wasn’t from the man who’s presence washed over you even from meters away, threatening to sweep you off your feet.

“Fight me,” you said with your teeth bared, “I won’t strike an unarmed man.”

His grin widened as he got up from his throne, leaving his cloak behind on the seat. He didn’t need it. His broad shoulders casted a shadow longer than the fabric did, anyway. “Oh, won’t you? I’ve been following your trail of destruction with great interest, little lamb.”

“Don’t call me that,” you spat.

“Of course not. You’re not a lamb anymore, are you?” he purred as he reached forward to drag a gloved finger down your cheek to your chin, hooking it under to look in your eyes. His pupils dilated as he took in your gaze. “No, you’ve become the hunter now.”

Vader stepped back and held his arms open towards you. “Do it. Strike me down.”

“I told you,” you repeated. “I won’t strike an unarmed man.”

“But, you already have,” he grinned. “Those platoons? Your missions in the outer rim for that band of rebels you call friends? Your little show of power on Mygeeto?” His voice dropped lower as his gaze turned serious. “Eadu.”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head, but your voice was shaking. “That was for the rebellion. It was justice. I am working towards freedom! Towards peace for all those families that the Empire has destroyed!”

“Did those men not have families? Did some of them even want to be there? Or were they just pawns in the greater scheme of things?” he asked with a raised brow. “I’m sure you of all people know what that feels like.”

His words stung, but the truth cut deep, like shrapnel from a bomb that you weren’t aware you were standing next to. You let your saber fall to your side, aimed at the ground.

Vader walked towards a wall of mirrors across the room that reflected the light from the lava. With the bend of his fingers towards his palm, your feet slid across the smooth stone floor until you stood next to him. His figure towered over you.

“Look in the mirror, little beast. Tell me, what do you see? Is it still you, or is it me?” he purred.

You looked at the reflections of the two of you. He was devoid of color. Devoid of life. A shadow in the night. You looked like a smuggler. A criminal. That was still a far cry from the truth, but it wasn’t hard for you to answer his question. “I’m nothing like you,” you ground out.

“Oh?” he asked softly, pushing you closer to the mirror. His hands rested on your shoulders as he forced you to look into your face. His lips grazed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Look again. Do you see it?”

Your mouth fell open as you noticed it, finally. All those glints over the course of months. The specks of gold that flickered in and out of your reflections had come to stay. Your eyes were no longer your own. They were just like his. A prickle of fear started to turn your blood cold, but not at the knowledge that your actions had done this. No, you felt fear at the fact that you wouldn’t take any of it back even if you could, because they had made you stronger, and you liked being strong.

“You are magnificent,” Vader breathed. “Ruthless. Passionate. Powerful.”

His eyes met yours in the mirror and for once you didn’t see anger or hatred. You saw admiration. Want. And it shook you to your core.

“No,” you said softly, trying to hold onto the teachings of your Master, but you could no longer recall their words of wisdom.

“Embrace the darkness,” he said emphatically, hands tightening on your shoulders. His words grew frantic as his hands slid down your arms to your wrists. “I will help you see that you could be limitless, fearless, if you follow me.” His voice grew softer as his nose dragged up your neck. “You’ve already had a taste of what you could have. You felt it on Eadu, didn’t you? Wasn’t it worth it?”

You shook him off and stepped away, rubbing your wrists where his residual warmth was. Eadu was wrong, but it felt so right. Your blade had decimated, but never had you felt more powerful, more in tune with the force. The force was lightning, and you were its rod, directing its fury onto the deserving who would subvert morality for their own gain.

“Are you still going to kill me?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you said dejectedly as you looked at the saber in your hand. It felt heavier than before. You couldn’t kill him. Not now. Not when you were the same.

“Don’t you see?” he asked, brushing your hair out of your face before cupping your cheek. “We are the lions in a world of lambs. We are the predators-the hunters. We don’t have to hide. You don’t have to hide. Not anymore. Join me.”

You leaned into his touch for a moment before you caught yourself and pushed his hand away. 

Slowly, he started to circle you, but you didn’t feel like his prey. You felt like his equal. You didn’t cower. When he noticed you weren’t afraid, he came to a stop in front of you.

“Do you feel the hunger for more? More than a Jedi should? You could feel everything. You wouldn’t need to restrain yourself to the rules of a fallen order that left you to die alone. With power like yours, we could be unstoppable. We could rule- together,” Vader pleaded as he held his hand out to you.

“I thought the Emperor was your Master. There can only be two,” you murmured.

“Your point?” he asked as his eyes softened. 

You took a step towards him.

His lip pulled up slightly at the corner.

As you locked eyes, you felt your heart slow to a steady rhythm. This was the most peace you’d felt in months. Here you were on equal footing- for now. Here you were no longer a Padawan. Here you were no longer a Jedi. You were just you, and that’s how he saw you. It was just like when you’d first met Anakin Skywalker. While others saw a lowly Padawan, he hadn’t seen rank. He’d seen you. And now... now you truly saw him. You saw a man who was willing to topple everything he knew for you. You saw a man who wasn’t afraid to feel. You saw a man that had taught you to not be ashamed to feel. Most of all, you saw a man you had never stopped loving.

You swallowed a lump in your throat.

Decision made.

You placed your hand on his shoulder. Your other hand came up to cup his face.

His smile turned genuine as he covered your hand with his.

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his lips. He started to kiss back as your eyes fluttered closed.

And then you pushed him down to his knees.

Finally, you were free.

[stanning-reyna]

Her Future - A dark Annabeth fic

Chapter 1: Preface

Thalia POV

“You know this is a bad idea, don’t you?” Thalia asked, staring at Annabeth and hoping she could talk her friend out of this before it was too late.

“The gods are failing at their jobs, and they have been for centuries. Soon they’ll all disappear like Pan did,” responded Annabeth, her voice much too indifferent for such a powerful topic. “I’m just getting ahead of the game. Making the transition easier.”

Her tone was so Annabeth and so foreign at the same time. Thalia heard her speak like this when strategizing for capture the flag or reciting facts from one of her books, careful and analytical. But she had never heard that tone when talking about an idea as crazy as this. Something that could mean life or death for demigods, herself included. She sounded emotionless- like this was a simple fact rather than a tipping point in her life.

In Annabeth’s free time on the Argo II, she had come up with a plan (though Thalia suspected that it had begun approximately 5 months before that). A plan to “create a system that was effective” and “didn’t give people unfair amounts of power” as she had put it. She wanted to overthrow the gods and institute her own way of ruling the universe.

Thalia knew that Annabeth wasn’t doing this out of anger or bitterness- she genuinely thought the world would be better off if the gods weren’t in charge. And she knew that the daughter of Athena would never resort to a dangerous force like Kronos- she didn’t need to. With a powerful child of the big three on her side, she hardly needed to ask for help.

What worried Thalia the most was Annabeth’s pride getting the best of her. Ever since the girl was seven, she had been the most stubborn and confident person Thalia knew. It was the reason she had survived so long. But she also knew that hubris was Annabeth’s fatal flaw, and if anything could take her down it was her own conceit. 

Annabeth POV

When Thalia said nothing in response to her statement, Annabeth began to study her intently. She had assumed that Thalia and the Hunters would side with her- Artemis had never been a fan of the Pantheon and Annabeth had no intention of interfering with her Hunt. Plus, Thalia was one of her closest friends. She knew better than anybody that Annabeth was the right person for the job, and the fact that she didn’t support her stung. 

Annabeth forced herself to brush the feeling aside. After all, none of that would matter once her plans were complete. The Hunters resisting her may cause a slight issue, but nothing she couldn’t fix in time. Thalia was still staring at Annabeth as the blonde let out a curt laugh.

“If you aren’t going to help, you should go. Percy and I are awfully busy,” she spoke, annoyance seeping through her voice. Thalia finally looked away, averting her gaze to the cloudy sky. 

“All the things you’re asking him to do... They’re going to hurt him, you know,” she said in a quiet, but determined voice. Annabeth had been careful to not reveal any emotions during the conversation, but Thalia’s statement nearly made her break.

“I have never put Percy in harm’s way, and I never will. You know nothing about us, so I suggest you leave right now,” she said coldly, her hand coming to the drakon sword at her waist out of instinct. 

Thalia seemed to bite back whatever comment she was about to make and turned away from Annabeth, marching off into the woods. It took everything in her not to scream after the huntress, to tell her just how wrong she was. But soon Thalia was gone, and Annabeth had a feeling they wouldn’t be talking again for a long time.

AN: This is to set up the story so you have an idea what’s going on. I’ll be posting new chapters daily? or every other day? Whatever I manage. Dark Percy will definitely be making an appearance. Each chapter will be under the tag “Her future annabeth”

[iamapuffhuffle]

Arrange Marriage ~ Halfdan x F Reader part 2

Authors Note: Nervous but okay to post this. Set year after Paris attack in the 12 year time frame.

Warnings: Swearing, age gaps, arrange marriage, mentions of sexual themes, angst. If there are any others that I missed please tell me and I will add them. Also Grammar Mistakes.

Part 1 | Part 3

I woke early in the morning just after the sun rise. The second day since arriving in Tamdrup. I want check out the market, the people and the area. What else can I do until I get marriage and sails back to Earl Leif’s home. 

I could just divorce him in due time, but father said I should give our marriage a few years before deciding to end our marriage. But probably by then I would have a child or two with Leif and that would make ending the marriage a bit more difficult.

Why was I the one to be picked. My sister, Sigrlinn was excited to be in the line up to be the second wife of Earl Leif. Her, only being born 6 months before me. She always wanted to be better than me at everything. Which wasn’t that difficult but being married to a Earl. But I was picked, so I guess I win this even if I was very against marrying him. 

I argued with my father telling that I rather marry someone that I felt something for. Love or even attraction to him. He married 6 wives because he felt attraction to them why not me. 

As I glanced at the different stalls in the market and their difficult buys. I headed back to where I left Edda sleeping. Leif said he and Aesa are going hunting, which mostly means they are having sex in the woods for most of the morning. 

I seem a little lost because I ended up at the docks. “How did I get here?”

I was about to turn around before I hear crying. Most noticeably a little girl’s crying. 

Finding the source of the quiet cries behind a barrel. I kneel down in front of the little girl that seemed around 6.

“Hello, my name is y/n. Are you okay?”

The little girl looked up from her arms that hide most of her face. She sniffles before speak in a croaking tone, “My-my mother. I lost her.”

I reached my hand out to her, “Come, let’s go find your mother. What is your name?”

“Maiken.” Small hand places into him.

I pull her out from her hiding space. “Maiken could you tell me what your mother looks like?”

Maiken thinks for a moment. “She is wearing boots and a dress.”

Right that is most woman. “Could you tell me about her hair and color of her dress.”

“Her dress is brown and her hair is short and black.”

We head to the area she said she lost her mother. The little girl says non of them are her mother. We continue though Tamdrup until we get to the market place I just was. I look up into the sky seeing it’s already half morning. I sigh.

“Are you hungry Maiken?”

She nods. We approach a stall that was selling bread and I bought two small loafs. I hand one to Maiken. She happily begins to munch on it.

Deciding to head to the hall. Maybe her mother is there.

 After a short walk. We are at the entrance of the hall. I quickly scan the surrounding area for the woman before entering. None fit the description.

Looking around I see a few people speaking to one another. Looking to the other side, there is a group about 7 speaking and laughing.  One notably being the king’s brother.

Our eyes meet and after a few seconds, Maiken softly yanks on my hand. Pulling my attention back to her. Her eyes begin to water. I place my hand onto her shoulder.

“We will find your mother and I will be with you until we do.”

My eyes glance to the man approaching us. He stops leaving a great distance between us. Halfdan speaks, “I didn’t know you were already a mother?”

I blink surprised. I shake my head. “No I found her by the docks, she got separated from her mother. Been looking for her for most of the morning with no luck.” 

Halfdan leans against the wooden post that held up the hall structure. He fiddles with a small knife as stares at us. 

“Halfdan is there something you would like to say?”

Halfdan clears his throat. “You looked like a good mother.”

“Oh...thank you, Halfdan. But I am not rushing to have children.” I chuckled. I can feel my cheeks getting a bit warm.

Maiken decides to spoke and a bit bluntly. Too bluntly. “ Y/N is the king’s brother, your husband?” 

My eyes widen and I try to speak but my words came out as a clumped stutter. 

Halfdan begun to laugh, before speak to the young girl. “No, she is to be married to Earl Leif.”

“Oh, why.”

“Well my father wanted one of his daughters to married Leif and Leif choose me.”

“But do you love him, like my mom and father do to each other?”

I stare at the young girl taken back from her sudden questions. As she is trying to pick apart me.

I kneel down to the child’s height. Brushing her black hair back away from her eyes. But before I could speak, a woman voice erupted. I stood up. See a woman looking frantic. Maiken turn to see the woman. “Mother!” As Maiken ran to her. Jumping into the woman’s arms.

The woman walked up to me. Before bringing me into a hug. “Thank you, Y/n for keeping my daughter safe.”

“No need to thank me.”

She turns to her daughter, “Come Maiken.”

Maiken nods happier before shouting to me “Bye Y/n” waving as they walk out of the hall.

I turn to Halfdan, “I have to head back to the lodge. Bye Halfdan.”

“I am going the same way. I’ll walk you there.”

I nod to him as we walk out of the hall and down the path, It was short distance the whole was it was quiet but it was not awkward. 

We arrive in front of the wooden door. I shyly smiled at Halfdan, “Thank you...I hope to see you more around Halfdan.”

He nods to me before leaving, I watch as Halfdan walked away, before my attention was pulled away by Edda opens the door stretches her arms upwards, yawning . She smirks but doesn’t say anything. Y/N asks what is she smiling about. 

Edda smirk some how become bigger, “Oh nothing.”

Later on in the evening, after we ate. Leif and Aesa stated they would like to  train. They lunged me along with them. Luckily Edda also wanted to train. 

But I sat on a stump forced to watch Earl Leif and Aesa duel. I looked to see the other men and woman training. Looking further on the training ground. Harald and Halfdan and their men are also training.

Edda comes over to me. Tossing me a sword. I panicky clasp the handle before the sword hit me. “Ready to train?” 

I look up and down the sword, nodded. “I have not trained in weeks. My skills has became rusty.” 

“And that is why I want you to train more. So you are able to defended yourself.”

We begin, starting off slow and causal combat. Before the duel became a little bit more intensely. That is how Edda likes to train. Start off slowly until I has beaten and bruised. I do not mind, it makes me stronger. 

Before I knew it I was lying on my back on the dirt. Having a sword pierced into the ground next to my next. I widened my eyes realizing what happened. I begun to laugh. 

Edda grabs my hand and pulls me up. “You fought a lot longer than the other times y/n. You are getting better.”

“I have a great shieldmaiden to teach me. That is why.” I grin at Edda. Edda walks a short distance to drink. I fiddled with my sword. We both turn to a loud shout. Coming from the Earl himself. He marching up to Edda. Throwing his sword to his right. 

I back a bit up. What in gods name is he doing?

Leif yells at Edda, shouting that I am not a shield woman. That I am his wife soon. That once the time comes, he will train me in fighting. I do not know why he is getting so upset at this. This is truly embarrassing. I glance to see even the Tamdrup warriors are curious of why this Earl is acting like a child.

I watch as Edda just rolls her eyes, putting her cup down, and returning over to where I stood. I watched as Leif returned to Aesa.

“He is an arse.” 

 We decided to watch Harald’s warriors train. My eyes continue to watch Halfdan every move. I try to advert my eyes, to watch any other Viking, but Halfdan keeps gaining my attention. Halfdan easily takes down his opponent. I smile lightly behind my hand, holding back a snicker of happiness. He is a furious fighter. 

I feel Edda’s eyes on me, Edda elbows me. Chuckling at me. 

I elbowed her back. We continue elbowing each other until the man who Edda was speaking to on the first night we got here. 

Edda stood up quickly, greeting the man. I clearly my throat feeling a bit out of place.

The man turns to me before speaking in a rough deep tone, “You must be y/n. Edda speaks highly of you. My name is Thorir.”

“It is good to finally have a name to the face.” I greeted the tall blonde Viking.

Edda and Thorir decided to train together, as I sat glancing at the other men train. Truly only at one man. 

I and Edda headed back to the lodge, I headed into the tub. After I asked Edda to brush my hair. “I want to shove goat shit down his throat and bury Leif in the middle of the forest.”

“I agree you should.” 

We both silently look at each other before bursting into a laugh.

Edda continue to brush, “But I can see your still have eyes for you know who.”

I whisper to Edda, “Shush, if Leif found out. He would whine even more. I do not want to make my marriage awful just because I am attractive to someone else.”

“You can have him as your lover.” Edda abruptly stops brushing due to laughing hard. 

I huffed, “That is not what I want Edda, you know this. I do not even know if he finds me attractive.” 

[liberty-barnes]

Letters To A Stranger

Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: The story of a girl who loved a boy, but couldn't talk, so she wrote.

Warnings: fluff for a bit, but then massive angst, and i mean massive, STOP READING HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT ANY SPOILERS BUT I WOULDN'T FEEL OKAY WITHOUT LISTING ALL THE ANGST FACTORS 

(mentions of ED, mentions of self-harm, implied character death, mentions of social anxiety)

Word Count: 1.3k words

Estimated Reading Time: 5 minutes

A/N: did you miss me?

Masterlist 

February 21st, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

Are you new? Or was I simply too oblivious to your presence until now? I've never seen you before, you're really pretty.

 I don't think I've ever used the word "pretty" to describe a man before. Well, boy, but my point stands.

But you really are. With your caramel eyes, and artistically tousled hair. You're cute. Kind of like a puppy. Not that I'm attracted to dogs, of course, but there's really no better way to describe you. Your face lights up when you talk on the phone, like an excited golden retriever who'd just been told he was going for a walk. I wonder who you're talking to. Is it your partner? Please, say you're single.

You get off after me apparently, so I guess I'll just keep my pining to my letters and hope to see you again tomorrow.

Kinda wishing I was yours,

Your secret admirer.

February 22nd, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You're back! Is this a simple coincidence or are you a regular? 

From the backpack on your shoulder, I'd say maybe you're a student. I don't go to school. You make me wish I did if only to see your face every day for more than the short ten minutes of our joint ride.

I wonder how old you are. You look old enough to be in high school, but which year are you? I know I'm only nineteen, but I'd feel a little bummed about crushing on a fourteen-year-old.

You're smiling again today. I'm glad. I don't see a lot of smiles at the diner. Mostly glares, impatient huffs, and tired, distant expressions. It's a nice change.

I have to go now but thank you for making my day.

Hoping to see you again tomorrow, 

Your secret admirer.

February 23rd, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I'm starting to think that smile is permanent. It's the third day in a row that I've gotten on the train and was immediately greeted with your beaming smile as you watched some video on your phone. It made me smile too.

Your sweatshirt's pretty. It says "Midtown Tech" on it. Is that a school? Is it your school? 

I may have to do some digging later.

Please don't think I'm a stalker.

Your totally not-stalker secret admirer.

March 1st, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I was late this morning so I didn't get to see you. My boss was not happy about it, I felt like I was walking on very thin ice.

And then this guy grabbed my ass while I was taking his order. I acted on instinct, tried to remember everything they taught me at my self-defense class. I ended up accidentally punching him in the face. 

So yeah, I lost my job today. Which is why I'm here so early. I might stay on the subway just to see which stop you get off on. 

Yeah, maybe not, that'd be weird and I should start job hunting as soon as possible.

Thank you for making me smile on a bad day.

Thank you for being you,

Your secret admirer.

March 17th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I got a new job! I'm working at this coffee shop/bookstore and it's honestly the greatest thing in the world. I get to be around books AND get free hot chocolate, how much better can life be?

You looked a little down today, I wonder if you're okay? Is everything well at home? Maybe school's the problem? Maybe you got a bad grade, but you look really smart so I don't know.

I hope you're feeling better tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

March 19th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I wish I knew your name, that way I'd know who to address this to. But I guess Cute Boy On The Subway will have to do. 

You were smiling again today, that's nice. I haven't seen you smile in a while, I was starting to get worried. The sweater you were wearing looked a little too big to be yours, the collar slipped down a little when you moved. It looks like there's a massive bruise on your upper chest. Does it hurt? Are you okay?

I wish I was brave enough to ask you in person.

Get better soon, 

Your secret admirer.

March 25th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You're back to not smiling today. I don't like to see you frown. Not at all. I want you to tell me what's wrong. I want to help you get better, see you smile again.

I want to talk to you.

I'll do it tomorrow, 

Your secret admirer.

March 26th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You were sad again today. But that's okay, cause I said I'd talk to you. 

Except I didn't.

My stomach started doing uncomfortable flips and I had to get off the train earlier than usual so I could throw up. It was not fun. 

Maybe I just have the flu?

Hopefully, I'll be better tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

March 30th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I've tried talking to you for three days, every time I had to get off and empty my stomach's content. I started to see a pattern so after a half week of that vicious cycle, I went to see my doctor.

Turns out I have social anxiety tendencies and you simply trigger them a bit. So, basically, my body won't let me talk to you.

I'm a little sad but also kind of relieved. At least I know I'm not voluntarily letting you slip through my fingers.

Not that I ever plan on doing that, you've become too important.

I hope you smile tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

April 7th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I'm worried about you. Your sleeve rose a little when you held onto the pole. There are scars there, familiar ones, ones that I recognize as scars left by one's own hand. Physical marks of a person's suffering.

Why are you doing that? It hurts to know that you feel down enough to resort to that. I want to help, but I can't bring myself to talk to you.

Please stop this,

Your secret admirer.

April 12th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

Your eyes were red today. You've been crying. There are dark circles under your eyes, how long has it been since you've last slept?

A lady asked you if you were alright. You said you were just a little tired. I've never heard a more obvious lie.

I wish I could talk to you,

Your secret admirer.

April 16th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

The dark circles haven't gone away, if anything they've gotten darker. But now there's a bruise on your cheek. You seem to be getting thinner too.

What's going on?

Your secret admirer.

April 28th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

How much weight have you lost? Your cheekbones are more prominent, and your arms are getting thinner by the second. Why don't you eat? 

The bruises are more frequent now. Cheek, eyebrow, lip... 

Who's hitting you?

Who's making you suffer?

Your secret admirer.

May 6th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I haven't seen you in a few days. I wonder where you are.

Are you okay?

I'm sorry, that's a stupid question, you probably aren't.

I've decided that next time I see you I'm gonna talk to you. Ask you what's wrong. Force you to tell me if that's what it takes.

I hope you're safe.

Your secret admirer.

May 27th, 2024

Dear Peter Parker, 

I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to talk to you when I had the chance.

I hope you're in a better place now.

I'm sorry you were alone when you did it.

I'm sorry you had to do it.

With love,

(Y/n).

yes, i'm one of those authors that post something an then disappears for two months, i'm sorry. i've been super busy with school and i haven't really had the motivation to write lately but i got this idea and i just needed to get it out.

also, i may be getting a new computer in like 1 or 2 weeks, so that's cool! it'll be better to write and stuff cause this one's getting kinda slow and sometimes it's hard to post stuff cause it won't load lmao.

anyway, i hope you liked it and if you did don’t forget to reblog/comment/like

love you all!

-Miah

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────» 

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you) 

PERMA TAG 

@jeezkiddo​ @officiallyunofficialperson​  @beananacake​ @theunderlier @harrysleftchelseaboot​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @onebigolemess​ @samoney69​ @agirlwithpointlessideas​ @ddaawwssoonn​ @inhumanwithpowers​ @imagineshere-forall​ @stiles-banshees​ @orowit​ @spideynut​ @deathofmissjackson​ @parkersbliss​ @ephemeral-limerences​ @write-from-the-heart​ @cardboard-ben​ @my-alignment-is-bisexual @mendes-marvel​ @timotayswriter​ @inthecornerchair​ @lovelynerdytraveler​ @niallssweetheart22​ @incorrect-things​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @harishaanne​ @ellamw04 @bisexual-disappointment​ @onelovesr​ @ellyseveronica​ @sovereignparker​ @notsosmexy​ @theamazingtomholland​ @lozzypoz321​ @peterspideyy​

PETER PARKER TAG 

@dreaming-lia @markleehee​ @juliebean247​ @quechulitaaa​ @bubblegumbarnes​ @sofiaconlaz​ @bellaaa321-blog​ @parkerpetertingle​ @emily-louise-hynes @clara-licht​ @ekelly2015​ @inlovewithmobtom​ @quaksonhehe​ @danicarosaline​ @tutuabby28​ @sovereignparker​ @spn67-sister​ @t-monosapiens-h @kayleypaige2233​ @galaxystern08​ @highlydisfunctional1​ @jillanaholland​ @zeusmyster​ @sirtommyholland​ @a-singleboat​ @allthisfortommy​ @middevil456 @kdotcxz​ @drishtisikarwar 

MARVEL TAG 

@dreaming-lia @emily-louise-hynes @arts-ismything​ @peachyafshawn​ @cathwritestragediesnotsins​ @spn67-sister​ @t-monosapiens-h @galaxystern08​ @highlydisfunctional1​ @jillanaholland​ @hyluas @ravenagrimes @captainbuckyy​ @kaylig02​ @crazyassbitch-things-blog @sharenaloveyouX @tacobacoyeet​ @andycanbeemotional​ @angelicromanoff 

[agwitow]

(Inspired by this prompt, and a quasi sequel to my laundress fic...)

There were vague rumours about the Duke --mostly mutterings from the elderly in town-- though the few times he had visited Fallholt, he had seemed to be a quiet but kind lord. Younger than expected, given the elders mutterings, though most assumed whatever dark rumours were half-remembered had been about the Duke's father or grandfather.

Those who worked at the Duke's castle had little more information about him. He mostly kept to himself, only interacting with a few elderly servants who had to have started working for his grandparents. Rarely did he even entertain other nobles.

Some said he was nursing a broken heart. That the one he'd intended to make his Duchess had left one day, without so much as a farewell. But no one had any recollections of such a person. Perhaps, like the other odd rumours, it was a story about a previous Duke. Perhaps it was just a fanciful tale invented by bored maids wanting to cast the Duke as some sort of tragic prince.

Whatever the truth, the invitations received by each family were met with a mix of excitement, confusion, and more than a little bit of suspicion.

His Grace, Lord Robyn de Nikoi, Duke of Fallholt, requests the presence of one person from each household for an evening of celebration and entertainment.

Those accepting, must be above the age of majority, and should be in good health.

The seal at the bottom of the letter depicted a stag with brambles wreathed around its neck. This, too, added to the confusion since the Duke's flag was a black rose against a field of green and yellow.

Some chose not to attend, even going so far as to offer their invitations to those houses where they couldn't settle on who would go. In the end, almost 150 people attended the Duke's celebration.

Distant though the castle was, lights and faint strains of music lingered long into the night. So long that no one was too surprised that none of the attendees had returned by morning.

By that evening though, with still no sign of their loved ones, the townsfolk began to whisper the old rumours to each other. Those who worked at the castle were questioned as soon as they returned to their homes that night.

Yes, there had been a grand party with much food and drink. No, they hadn't seen any of the missing townsfolk. No, there hadn't been anything strange about the post-party mess they'd had to clean. Yes, they would look around the castle the next day for some sign or clue about what might have happened.

The entire next day was full of worry and tension, as everyone waited for their loved ones to return, or for some answers from the castle servants.

At long last, the servants returned, though they had little enough to report.

There was still no sign of the missing people, but there was also no sign of the Duke. The elderly steward had seemed unconcerned when questioned, though he'd had no answers either.

The townsfolk decided enough was enough. They would march to the castle at first light and demand answers. Were their loved ones still alive? Where were they? Why were they being kept away?

Though it wasn't ever discussed, each person who volunteered to go on that march made sure to find a weapon and ready it for the morning. Just in case the worst had come to pass.

Whether word of the impending mob had reached the Duke, or if it was simply a coincidence, the missing townsfolk slipped back into town in the pre-dawn haze. Screams and shouts of joy, surprise, and fear rang in the new day as the townsfolk found their missing loved ones sleeping in their beds as if nothing had been amiss.

There was much rejoicing, though by midday it had died back into confusion.

The missing men, women, and people had very little memory beyond enjoying rich food and drink. They hadn't even realized that they'd been gone for more than a single evening.

Worse, still, was that not everyone who'd gone had returned. Eight people never came home.

When asked, the returned ones couldn't say what had happened, or where they might be, but each knew that those eight would never return.

This only fed the reinvigorated rumours about the Duke.

Slowly, life settled back into its old routine.

So what if, on occasion, one of those who'd gone would stop and stare off into the distance with a frown? Or be unable to sleep for days at a time? Was it really so strange that they were changed somehow?

Not until the blacksmith pulled a white-hot iron from the forge with her bare hands, did anyone say anything about the changes.

How the baker's son had broken a solid oak table while kneading bread. Or how one of the clerks had eyes which glowed a soft amber I'm the dark. How a cleric's skin had become rough and cold, like stone. Or a tailor's skin glittered like scales whenever wet.

Suddenly, the changes were the only thing everyone could talk about.

Some thought it a sign of evil magic and wanted to drive those affected out of town, before the corruption could spread.

Others worried that their loved ones had never actually returned and these people who looked and sounded and acted like them were little more than constructs.

A few wondered just how far the changes went.

But everyone agreed it was the Duke's fault.

He had done something to them. Something they hadn't asked for, or agreed to. Something beyond their control.

None were more angry than those affected.

They decided the Duke owed them answers, and a few volunteered to go to the castle and get them. One way or another.

The next day, the blacksmith, baker's son, a trapper whose touch could burn, and the stone-skinned cleric returned to the castle.

The elderly steward met them at the gates. "His Grace has been expecting you. Follow me, please."

They exchanged looks, but followed along to a small audience room. An oval table with twelve chairs took up much of the space, and tapestries depicting a variety of forest scenes covered most of the walls.

The Duke was already seated at the head of the table, with a banner on the wall behind his chair displaying the stag-and-brambles. In colour, and with carefully embroidered detail, it became clear that each thorn on the bramble wreath had drawn blood.

"I was beginning to wonder if any of you would ever come back," he said. "It would have been better if you'd come sooner, but we will make do. Ask your questions."

This was certainly not what any of them had expected, and it took a moment before the cleric asked, "What did you do to us?"

"Straight to the complicated ones, I see." He gave them a small smile before gesturing for them to take a seat. "Allow me to tell you a story about a young girl and a magic pond."

The baker's son frowned. "You mean the old fairy tale where she wishes to be a princess and the pond summons a fairy prince who kidnaps her?"

"Is that the version being told now? Fascinating how it changes over the years. Yes. That story. Though my version is... rather different from what you know."

"We didn't come here for bedtime stories," the trapper grumbled.

"Humour me, please. It will all make sense after."

When there were no other objections, the Duke began his tale.

"Once upon a time, there was a young girl. The daughter of a minor lord with no money and no land. She traveled from one place to another with her father, who was forever looking for a way to rise in wealth and status.

"Though there was no money for a dowry, the lord made a deal with a Duke. In exchange for his daughter, he would be given a bit of land to oversee. The Duke was old and cruel, and none of his previous wives had provided him with an heir. Most were rescued by family when his temper left bruises that couldn't be hidden. The others had died.

"A father who cared more for status than his daughter's wellbeing was the type of inlaw who suited the Duke best. So a date was set and the girl --a young woman, by this point-- was sent to the Duke's castle.

"Her life was not pleasant, in the weeks leading up to the wedding, and her only solace was in exploring the untamed woods around the castle. Whether through luck, fate, or mischief, she found a hidden pond deep within the forest.

"Things might have gone very differently if she hadn't seen the Duke before he saw her.

"She hid and watched as he stripped his clothes off and waded into the pool. Red, angry looking sores covered much of his flesh, and they spread further as the water touched them.

"The Duke called out, demanding fair trade.

"'Fair trade?' a fae said with a laugh, appearing at the other end of the pond. 'You have traded virility for strength, the life of one of your wives for money and power, and now think to bargain for your virility back without giving up your strength. That is no fair trade.'

"'I will not be weak. Name another price,' he demanded.

"The fae shook its head. 'You must trade something of equal, or greater value, to receive my gifts.'

"'The life of my next bride,' the Duke offered. 'Or my best hunting hound.'

"'I will not be fooled by you again. You place no value on the lives of your wives, and you are no hunter. Both a wife and a hound are no more than accessories to you. Neither is a fair trade.'

"The Duke raged and screamed, but his anger had no effect.

"When his tirade ended, the fae yawned. 'How many more times do you think you can enter my waters with ill-intent in your heart? Soon you will have little flesh untouched by the mark of your greed.'

"The Duke didn't bother to answer. He simply climbed out and put his clothes back on. Though the sores would have hurt a lot, the young woman had no sympathy for him.

"Once he was gone, the fae called for her. She crept out and stood at the edge of the pool.

"'Hello, young one,' they said. 'There is much you wish for. Would you care to make a deal?'

"She shook her head.

"'Come now. Surely there is something you wouldn't mind giving up in exchange to be free of the Duke? Even if he doesn't spill your blood as payment, he will kill you in some other way.'

"She shook her head again. 'I will not trade away my future or memories simply to be free of my present.'

"The fae nodded. 'Perhaps a different sort of deal would suit you then? And before you shake your head at me, let me show you what the future holds.'

"They swept their hand through the water and as the ripples spread, images formed depicting war, chaos, and death. In many, the Duke laughed as the ground turned dark with the blood of innocents.

"'What trickery is this?' she asked.

"The fae sighed, sounding tired. 'No trickery. This is the most likely future, as things stand right now. While the squabbles of mortals would not normally concern me, the consequences of this... it will drain the magic from the land.'

"'What does that have to do with me?'

"'I need a champion. Someone who can change the course of things.'

"'Why me?'

"The fae sighed again, this time in frustration. 'I am bound to this forest, and this pond. I can not leave, and the Duke has made sure most people avoid the forest. You are the first person, other than the Duke, I have spoke to in more than a decade.'

"'And what would being your champion mean?' she asked, still wary.

"The fae grinned. 'A bit of skill, a dash of luck, and a vow to protect the magic of the forest.'

"'Where is the trick? The part that makes the hero regret such a hasty bargain in all the stories.'

"They shrugged. 'Not much of a trick. If you fail to keep the magic strong, your life is forfeit. Though I suspect if that happens, you will be dead already.'

"Perhaps it was arrogance, or desperation to avoid marrying the Duke, but the young woman agreed. And true to their word, the fae provided skill and luck. Enough to rescue a kidnapped princess. Enough to stop an assassin. Enough to replace the Duke."

As the Duke's words faded into silence, the four townspeople frowned.

The cleric shook his head. "The first Duke of Fallholt was given this land after rescuing the Emperor's daughter and uncovering a plot against him by several of his nobles --one of whom had been the Duke ruling these lands before."

"Yes."

"But you're claiming it was a young woman who did those things."

The Duke scratched his chin. "Shortly after rescuing the princess, I realized that despite being born a 'girl,' I was not actually one. People were more willing to believe it was a young man doing all the heroics anyway."

"Wait. What? No. That doesn't make sense," the blacksmith said. "You can't have done any of those things. They happened over a hundred years ago."

The Duke laughed, sharp teeth flashing for a moment. "Yes, they did. And perhaps ten years after them, I met a peculiar laundress who offered my a unique gift."

The trapper's fists clenched, tiny flames licking across their knuckles. "What does all that have to do with us?"

The Duke sighed. "The war Vyrnaed saw was only delayed by my actions. It is still coming. And this time I cannot prevent it from starting. But, with help, I can keep these lands safe."

"What did you do to us?" the cleric repeated.

"I took you to see Vyrnaed. They showed each of you what the future holds and offered a choice. Be slaughtered as the war rolls over us, or be changed so that we can defend our homes." He grimaced and glanced down. "I had expected them to grant you all skills and luck, like they did for me, but... I suppose they thought it fitting that I should lead non-humans, since I haven't been one in a very long time."

The baker's son shook his head vehemently. "No. We should remember it, if what you're saying is true. We remember nothing. And what of the eight who didn't return home? What did you do to them?"

The Duke shrugged helplessly. "As powerful as Vyrnaed is, there is a limit to how much they can do in a night. In order to have enough power to affect all of you a trade had to be made."

"You traded our memories of the evening." The blacksmith's voice was cold and flat.

"No," the Duke said gently. "Each of you agreed. It was your trade to make."

"And the others?"

"I had specified in good health... they did not survive the change."

The four townsfolk stared. It was too fantastical. But they couldn't deny that none of them were quite human anymore.

The cleric broke the silence. "When is this war supposedly coming?"

"If Vyrnaed is right, we have a fortnight."

[erinxneil]

You know I own a gun, right?

So, I decided I was going to begin this as a prompt challenge because its been a SUPER long time since I’ve written anything, so I’m going to be using the prompts from @criminalmindswriter here and write a story for each if that makes sense? It’ll make more sense the more of them that I write, this is prompt #1 - “You know I own a gun, right?”

masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

>>>Not neccesarily romantic, this post is primarily focused on friendship!

Summary: Spencer seems to forget the advice that Morgan once offered him years ago about messing with a woman who carries a gun, when a prank war goes too far. 

I sat in the rolling chair in front of my desk, legs propped up on the table, smiling as I listened to Prentiss rant about the douche bag at the bar last night who didn’t know when to take a hint. As Emily continued to complain that it seems as if men no longer had any sense of decency, I reached down to adjust the height of the chair, realizing it no longer held the comfort that I remembered. My eyebrows furrowed as I twisted the knob however it refused to budge. Emily’s voice became white noise in my mind as I smiled kindly while roughly forcing the handle into movement, only for my efforts to be in vain.

“Y/N?” Emily questioned, an eyebrow raised in confusion. She was not angry at me for paying little attention to her story, she was more amused at my predicament and obvious frustration.

As I opened my mouth to explain my situation, I noticed a certain doctor smirking into his cup of coffee as he walked past our desks.

“Hey, genius!” I called out. “Do you have something to do with this?”

Spencer feigned surprise. “What are you referring to?” His face could almost be mistaken for innocence, had it not been for the flare of mischief that lit up in his eyes.

“Look, Reid, all I know is that someone moved my chair about ten inches from its comfortable position, and that you happen to be often chipper for someone who was forced to wake up at five in the morning today.” I narrowed my eyes at him as he blinked innocently.

“Again, wish I could help you.” He sipped his mug and began to walk away slowly, before throwing a glance over his shoulder branding a sly grin. “And if someone did happen to move your adjustment lock approximately 2.4 inches from its original position before jamming it into place, it would likely have to do with your inability to remain in your own seat on the jet, and intruding in their own personal space.” With this statement, Spencer smiled cheekily before strutting into the conference room.

“Oh, is that so?” I called out after him. Well, two can play at this game, Reid.

- * - * - * - * - * -

I grinned mischievously as I stared at the masterpiece in front of me. At first glance, it appeared as if there was not a paper out of place. Reid’s desk was as tidy as ever, to reflect the pristine image that he desired to be viewed as.

However, as we know, the surface is never what it seems.

I quickly marched back to my desk, a slight quirk in the corner of my lips to be the only hint of my devious plot. Morgan appeared to be the only one to notice, as his eyes glanced at me, back to Reid’s desk corner, and dragged slowly back to me with furrowed eyebrows.

Morgan was the only agent present this early- of course, aside from Hotch who was on the phone in his office. “Might I ask what you were doing over at Pretty Boy’s desk over there?” I smiled innocently. “I have no clue what you are talking about.”

Before he could question me further, the man himself entered into the building. He walked over to us slowly, eyes raking the scene and not spotting anything unordinary. “Hey, Reid, make sure you tell your mother happy birthday for me, I remembered you mentioned it the other day.”

Reid paused for a moment, a smile crossing his face. “Thanks, I will.”

I grinned softly. “I’ve always loved birthdays. A sign of life and happiness.”

Spencer continued towards his desk, his smile growing as if he had hoped someone would give him an opportunity to spout his useless knowledge. “Actually, did you know that you are 13.8 percent more likely to die on your birthday than any other normal day?” Reid sat in his seat and reached for his pen. “ This is quite interesting, because-” 

He paused, hand hovering over the pen, confusion crossing his features as he leaned forward slightly.

Spencer looked around somewhat panicked, before his eyes passed mine and realization fell upon his face as he noticed my smirk. Glaring, he watched as I placed the bottle of clear, contact-drying glue onto my desk.

“What’s wrong Spence, cat got your tongue?” I grinned.

- * - * - * - * - * -

What began as a harmless prank war quickly escalated into a dangerous battle of wits as tensions rose between the two agents. 

The pranks evolved from small, mildly irritating occurrences into humiliating and mildly life threatening disasters. Both Spencer and Y/N were extremely competitive and often the best at whatever they did, therefore it would be nearly impossible for one to relent without the other admitting defeat.

The rest of the team refused to get involved. Morgan is aware that I could quite literally destroy him, while Emily fears that Spencer will revert into his robot form and unlock his repressed mind-controlling powers to force her to submit to his will should she dare to intervene. Hotch initially didn’t mind the banter, as it caused the two to become more competitive in terms of cases themselves and in turn solving them quicker. However, as the battle escalates, Hotch fears that the childish games will cause someone to get hurt.

Which he couldn’t be more right.

While the pranks initially began as hiding valuables or increasing the frequency of the volume of his headset every time that Spencer said the word “Actually-”, these elevated into becoming trapped in a closet for hours without food or drink, or trapping car keys above a large tub of hydrofluoric acid. (If it was not obvious, this was a prank straight from the mind of the doctor.) 

Spencer had gotten very fed up after the last prank required him to follow a scavenger hunt throughout the office within ten minutes to find his badge before it would be shredded, only to find that it had been taped under his seat the entire time. Because of this, when I walked into the office the following morning to find his elaborate prank, I was not surprised. 

As I walked through the conference room doors, I immedately froze as I felt the ground shift beneath me. I realized I was standing on a pressure plate when lights began flashing around me, sounding a faint alarm that gradually grew louder, and I spotted Doctor Reid sitting before me with a smirk planted gracefully upon his lips.

“Y/N, what a pleasant surprise!” He grinned. I rolled my eyes. “What kind of prank is thi-” A churning sound above me caused me to slowly glance up, noticing a bucket slowly being lowered further towards me.

“You were saying?” He smiled. The once innocent grin had a devilish flame now as he stared at me, anticipating my next move. “How in the hell did you do this?” I questioned, growing nervous as the bucket drew closer.

“Garcia owed me one after she helped you hack into my computer.” He grinned sheepishly, as if ashamed that he could not do this all by himself. But of course- Garcia, the only one who while remaining impartial, had offered to equally aid on both of our sides. I suppose I had known it was only a matter of time that he had cashed in this favor, however with the amount of detail in this prank, it is clear that the brainpower of Garcia only amplified Spencer’s genius thoughts.

I decided to turn the tabled on him. “Aw, Pretty Boy, you really must think about me often if you came up with such an elaborate plan like this. How long did this take you to set up, several hours?” The slightly pink tinge that was hinted across his cheeks suggested that I was underestimating his preparedness for this prank, and that I had struck a nerve. 

Spencer quickly composed himself. “I’m not the one whose about to be drenched in that god-awful smelling liquid. It will drop on you in a matter of two minutes, unless I press this button telling it not to. I could explain to you all of the ingredients that it’s composed of, however-” “I’m good, thanks.” I huffed.

“Alright Reid, what do you want?” He smiled, knowing he had me right where he wanted me.

“I want you to admit that not only did I beat you in this prank war, but that I am also otherwise far superior to you in every aspect.” 

I glared at him. “You know I own a gun, right?”

Spencer chuckled. “So do I hear that you would enjoy smelling like-”

I huffed. “Alright, fine, fine, you, Doctor Spencer Reid, have bested me in this prank war and are far superior to me in every aspect of life or whatever.” I grumbled in annoyance.

Spencer grinned mischeviously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that, could you repeat yourself?” I offered him a deadpan stare to which he simply smiled and pressed the button. The alarms silence and the blaring lights died down. I stepped off of the plate, and all returned to normal.

“Now was that so hard?” He questioned smugly, holding the door open for me.

I walked up to him with a tight smile, before bashing him in the back of the head with the butt of my gun. Not hard enough to do any real damage, but definitely rough enough to make sure he knows to give it up. He yelped loudly as I walked away, arms crossed in annoyance.

Morgan glanced up at a flustered Reid who was rubbing the back of his head with a grimace.

“What did I tell you, kid? Never mess with a woman who carries a gun.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

[arcticdementor]

When the idea that a woman could have a penis was no longer a privileged insight of the academic elite but had gone mainstream, I remarked to my friend, “How long before we have to affirm the furries?” At the time I was joking, but after reading Kathy Rudy’s article “LGBTQ…Z?” in Hypatia in which she claims to “draw the discourses around bestiality/zoophilia into the realm of queer theory” I’m starting to wonder if my joke isn’t that far off. After all, there was a time when the idea of a man becoming a woman was a joke—as in this clip from Monty Python’s comedy The Life of Brian.

What Duke University professor Kathy Rudy seems to realize by arguing we should add “Z” (zoophilia) to the queer alphabet soup is that a great way to have a successful career in academia is to bring postmodern gobbledygook into absurd combinations with anything and everything.

…

I will hand it to Rudy, her article is at least comprehensible, even if it’s just as insane. Rudy begins by noting that humans who “kill animals, force them to breed with each other, eat them, surround them, train them, hunt them, nail them down and cut them open for science” are considered “normal, functioning members of society. Yet having sex with animals remains an almost unspeakable anathema.”

…

While some might conclude that, since we wouldn’t shag a pig, we also shouldn’t confine one to a gestation crate, Rudy’s reasoning seems to be that if we already force terrible things on animals, then why not also screw them? If you’re a cow, having a human copulate with you can’t be as bad as going to the slaughterhouse, right? Besides, Fido already humps my leg so why don’t I hump him?

Technically, Rudy claims “my argument is not for or against humans having sex with animals, but is a meditation on both the elusive nature of sex itself and the subjectivities of human versus nonhuman animals.” She never explicitly promotes sex with animals, but considering that the entire point of the article is to call into question the taboo against having sex with animals, well…

It’s as if I said I’m not advocating for pedophilia but then proceed to undermine all the reasons for being against pedophilia. “Why not?” might not be as strong as “you must” but it leads to the same outcome, namely, radical permission.

As is often the case with academic postmodernism, the claims being made become less clear the more the author writes:

“Put differently, queer theory teaches us that it's not really a question of whether we have ‘sex’ with animals; rather it's about recognizing and honoring the affective bonds many of us share with other creatures. Those intense connections between humans and animals could be seen as revolutionary, in a queer frame. But instead, pet love is sanitized and rendered harmless by the presence of the interdict against bestiality. The discourses of bestiality and zoophilia form the identity boundary that we cannot pass through if we want our love of animals to be seen as acceptable.”

Rudy’s elusive, wishy-washy prose is a common rhetorical tactic. The goal is to avoid clearly committing to an argument so that one can simultaneously promote radical nuttiness while removing oneself from the burden of defending it. After all, if the claim really were as basic as “we love our pets but not in a sexual way” then the article wouldn’t be, as Rudy puts it, “revolutionary.”

The only way the article can be truly “transgressive” is for her to argue that our love for animals is already sexual or should become sexual. After all, Rudy seems uncertain as to whether she is sexually attracted to her own dogs:

“I know I love my dogs with all my heart, but I can’t figure out if that love is sexually motivated.”

For some reason, I’ve never grappled with this problem, but then again, I’m not versed in Queer theory.

…

Indeed, what is the difference between inserting a piece of bread into a toaster and penetrative sex? According to postmodernism, nothing at all! As Rudy explains:

“The widespread social ban on bestiality rests on a solid notion of what sex is, and queer theory persuasively argues we simply don't have such a thing. The interdict against bestiality can only be maintained if we think we always/already know what sex is. And, according to queer theory, we don’t.”

Despite earlier claiming that she is not advocating for sex with animals, Rudy has just provided us with an indirect argument for it. She states that we can only maintain a ban on sex with animals if we know what sex is. She next states that queer theory has proven that we don’t know what sex is. Therefore, we cannot ban sex with animals. She suggests her indirect argument again at the end of the article by masking it in the form of a question:

“But without a coherent and agreed upon definition of sex (which queer theory persuasively argues is impossible), the line between ‘animal lover’ and zoophile is not only thin, it is nonexistent. How do we know beforehand whether loving them constitutes ‘sex,’ and how can such sex be so dangerous if it so nebulous and undefined?”

Not only is it false that we have no idea what sex is, but it is also false to say that we require a taxonomy of every kind of sexual feeling before we can forbid certain acts (such as coitus) with animals (or children and the cognitively disabled, such as Chris Chan’s mother with dementia).

I may not be able to verbally capture the feeling of sexual desire or pleasure any more than I can define pain or joy or sadness. It’s something I know from experience. What I can say for sure is that what I felt kissing my grandma’s cheek is definitely not in the same category as what I felt kissing my boyfriend. Rudy may be unclear as to whether she is turned on by a slurp from her dog, but I personally have never felt confusion on the matter.

…

Yet, the true perversion, according to Rudy, is not to lust after camels, dogs, parakeets or naked mole rats but to set up the sexual boundary between humans and animals in the first place:

“Put differently, both animal rights (3) and psychosocial perspectives [which view desire for animals as mental illness] (4) do not believe that borders can be crossed. Queer theory, on the other hand, tells us that few of us have stable identities anymore, that borders are always crossed. We're all changing, shifting, splitting ourselves up this way and that. It labels these processes ‘hailing,’ ‘suturing,’ and ‘interpolation’; where once we saw ourselves affiliated in one way, a new interpretive community emerges to capture our passions and move us differently. I am asking the reader to entertain the possibility that the same kinds of shifts and disruptions happen with categories like ‘human,’ ‘rabbit,’ ‘ape,’ or ‘dog.’”

And no woke paper would be complete without the accusation of violence:

“Both positions [animal rights activists and bestialists] oppose sex with animals, and in doing so they perform a kind of violence on animals by lumping them all together into one seamless identity.”

That’s right. Physically violating an animal does not constitute violence. Words do. Especially when those words reject postmodern queer theory.

…

Unlike the many women who have been cancelled for claiming that males aren’t women, Rudy’s August 2012 article (republished March 2020) for Hypatia did not result in her being fired, censored, or otherwise deplatformed.

It’s not as if no one came across her article either. According to Altmetric, Rudy’s article is in the “top 5% of all research outputs scored by Altmetric” and is “One of the highest-scoring outputs from this source (#1 of 704)” and has an Altmetrics attention score in the 99th percentile.

When Rebecca Tuvel wrote a paper for Hypatia suggesting that the same assumptions that ground transgenderism could be used to support transracialism, scholars demanded Hypatia retract the article and the journal's Facebook page posted an apology on behalf of the associate editors. Rudy, on the other hand, was invited to deliver the commencement speech for North Carolina Service Dogs in December 2012.

We must remember that the word “transgressive” has relative, not absolute, meaning. What is considered “normal” defines what is considered “transgressive.” If queer theory articles on bestiality result in publication and validation, then is Rudy truly, in her words, “transgressive”? Or is Hypatia, rather, representative of a new establishment norm that is just as desirous of punishing transgressors—now in the form of TERFs and other enemies of the postmodern left—as the old establishment was eager to fire and ostracize homosexuals? As The Who sang, “Meet the new boss / Same as the old boss.”

[aries-writingblog]

Atlas (1)

Summary: After years of being imprisoned on the Raft, Tony negotiates freedom for his sister Tessa. When she’s free- so is her past, and it will never stop hunting her.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC(Stark)

Chapter Word count: 1,666

Warnings: PTSD (subtle ish), trauma, torture (in later parts), suicidal behaviors and thoughts, mentions of death, character death, injury, violence, angst, and a lil bit of fluff in there

Disclaimer: Atlas is my own, original work with characters belonging to Marvel (except Tessa and Dr. Clifton). Plagiarism is not cool kids.

A/N: this is my first work Im posting to this platform and I’m really excited and nervous about it. Hope you enjoy- constructive criticism is always helpful as well!!

The Avengers Tower. Former Stark Tower. 93 floors of office space, labs- people carrying out their business. People going about their day. At the top of all of them is Tony Stark. Waiting. Waiting in silence. Typically, he isn’t one to wait on anything or anyone but today... today is different. Today is special. Finally, the silence is broken by a shrill ring of his phone. Tony snaps it up, immediately accepting the call.

“Mr. Stark? Reid Kerrings.” The man’s voice carried through the phone, introducing himself. “Listen, I hear you’re trying to to negotiate a prisoners freedom?”

“She shouldn’t even be a prisoner,” Tony grumbled before plastering on a thick business tone. “Yes, that’s what I’m trying to do here. Thing is, I have a plan that I ran by Fury and Coulson and they seem to think it’s a great idea. Only thing is- that prisoner of yours is apparently ‘dangerous’ and she’d need stipulations on if she were to be released into my care.”

Tony hated this- speaking about her as if she were a terrorist. He hated that she’d been in maximum security prisons for six years. He hated that she was on the raft now. But, if he wanted to play ball, he had to agree to the terms. And unfortunately, that was one of the terms. He’d tried it his way two years ago and it got shut down. Several times.

“Well... you’re a damn maniac- prisoner 067112 is a psycho-“

“Her name is Tessa and that’s my sister you’re talking about so if you’d like to see your job another day I’d keep quiet.” Tony snapped, clenching his jaw. The phone fell silent before Kerrings cleared his throat.

“She would have to meet with an appointed therapist three days a week. She would also have to have a check in twice a week with a parole officer. If there is any flare up of her enhancement that is not accounted for by a member of your team, she comes back here and is no longer allowed parole. She is to be on a tight leash.” Kerrings read through the conditions of the agreement that Tony and Fury had worked out. “She must agree to these terms before her release. If she does, she will be escorted to your property tomorrow at 10:00 AM. Do you agree to these statements made today?”

“Yes.” Tony felt an excited, nervous bubble form in his stomach. He was doing it. His sister was almost free.

“Excellent. The escort team will run a security check on the building and perimeter.”

“Oh, well, not to brag or anything but- it’s the Avengers Tower. I ’m pretty sure this is the best it gets in terms of security.” Tony scoffed, turning when he heard the door opening. Steve Rogers stepped into the room, intending on speaking with Tony about another comm unit. He broke his. Again. He stopped short, hearing the man on the phone.

“This woman shouldn’t even be out of her cell here- she’s dangerous, I don’t care if shes your sister or not. The power of this woman is something that should be contained. not roaming around New York on a Thursday afternoon.”

“She’s a human being. No telling what you freaks have put her through in the raft- that’s probably why she’s going insane. You don’t even allow sunlight in that dingy of a prison. You treat someone like an animal, that’s what they become. Now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to run my own safety diagnostics on my own tower.” Tony quickly ended the call and lifted his eyes to meet Steve’s. “Can I help you, o wise elder of the yonder village?”

“Just... a new comm piece.” Steve stepped forward and tossed the broken pieces to the desk before meeting Tony’s eyes again. “What was that all about?”

“That is a surprise for the team I’m arranging.” Tony sat down at his desk, pulling up an image of a new weapon system, one that they’d encountered a few weeks ago on a mission. “These thugs were dealing with now... they’re sophisticated. They’re playing on a new ball field. So... I’m leveling it.”

“You can’t just do that without consulting the team first.” Steve scolded, his arms crossing over his chest. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see- tomorrow morning at ten, have the team all meet in the conference room. I’ll bring my surprise to you.” Tony grinned, feeling strangely optimistic for once. Steve only sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Tony.

“Fine- I’ll call a meeting.” Steve spun on his heel and marched out of the office. Tony sank further into his chair, spinning it to look out of the window.

“Friday, make sure floor ninety two is fireproof.” Tony called out, a twinge of doubt forming in his mind. He was quick to shake the thought from his mind, funneling all his belief into his sister. It had to work. For her sake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting at the oval conference table, Bucky felt an impatience he hadn’t felt in months. Steve had let it slip- more like Bucky could tell there was something and kept prying- that Tony was on the phone with someone, talking about a prisoner. A woman prisoner. Bucky wasn’t sure what to expect and that caused a great deal of anxiety to pit in his chest. He didn’t like being kept in the dark.

Beside him, Steve sighed heavily, leaning his head on his fist, resting on the table. Being roommates with the guy, he knew Steve hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep last night, like most nights. He knew this because he himself was also up, roaming the apartment, watching tv and staring off the balcony.

“Anyone know what this surprise it stark mentioned?” Natasha pressed, becoming quite impatient herself. They’d all been sitting at the table for fifteen minutes. Waiting.

“No clue- I hope it’s better than the last surprise- the one that exploded while in use on the field.” Sam commented, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone.

Finally, the door to the room burst open, revealing Tony Stark marching in with purpose. Behind him, a woman in heavy chains, with metal cylinders encasing her hands, was being escorted in by two men in fire retardant kevlar uniforms. Her head was bowed, dark brown hair shifting to cover her face. Bucky sat up, seeing the woman marched in, heavily restrained. Tony clapped his hands, rubbing them together afterward. He gave the crowd a large smile and nodded once.

“Surprise, Avengers! This is my favorite sister, Tessa Stark, Tess, this is everyone. I’m sure you were given the brochure.” He turned to the two men. “You fulfilled your duties, you can go now.”

The men unclipped the chains and then pressed their thumbprints to the pads on the cylinders. They released with a hiss of steam, Tessa rubbing her wrists once they were free.

“I know you.” Sam’s voice broke into the conversation. Tessa’s jaw clenched and her eyes stared into the floor. She swallowed harshly, keeping her back ramrod straight and her hands in front of her. “Stark... oh, shit- where have I seen you...”

“Anyways folks, she is here to help out on our new group of rogues... she has a, ah... particular set of skills. Mostly explosives and fire. And since that’s what we’re dealing with, I’ve brought in the big guns.” Tony explained, settling in his chair and gesturing for Tessa to take a seat as well. She seemed wary of sitting beside Wanda but did it anyways, sitting barely on the edge of the chair. “Now, we’re gonna need a new plan of attack with-“

“Atlas!” Sam snapped his fingers, pointing at her. Tessa stiffened, caught off guard by the level of his voice. “That’s it! Code Name Atlas, Operation Dry Sands! You served in the army- I’m Sam Wilson, I flew with-“

“Riley...” her voice was raspy and low, rusted with disuse. “I remember you.” Bucky watched as she seemingly tried to melt into the chair, trying to hide herself.

“You were baller, man! She cleared missions like it was nothing!” Sam praised her, excited to finally meet her. “There was talk of her all over camps- everywhere!”

“Atlas?” Natasha asked, a brow raising. “That’s a peculiar code name- sounds... specific.” Tessa didn’t respond, keeping her head low. When the room fell silent, Steve took control.

“Right, well, Tony you mentioned a new plan of attack?” He expertly guided the topic over to a new path. Bucky couldn’t help but let his attention drift back to the new mystery in the room. He allowed his eyes to scan over her, stopping on her forearm where there was black ink. A tattoo of the army symbol, numbers below it. Maybe her squad number? Her arm shifted and Bucky looked up, meeting her eyes. He knew he’d fucked up.

Her dark brown eyes smoldered- a red tint glowing under her irises. Her lips were pulled into a scowl. He quickly lowered his gaze, catching a glance of her veins in her arms. glowing lightly orange. Bucky clenched his jaw and leaned back into his chair, a fierce scowl building on his lips. He didn’t like this woman, She seemed... violent. closed off. Hell- maybe she was just too much like him. And maybe he shouldn’t make a snap assumption but for some reason...

“Alright well, that’s all for now, Tessa- welcome to the team, please make yourself comfortable and if there’s anything we can do to help out- let us know.” Steve nodded as he stood up.

Tessa only nodded, stood up and spun on her heel- leaving the room without a word. Everyone glanced to Tony. He only shrugged and stood up.

“I’m gonna go make her feel at home- just got out of prison and all, see you around.” Tony gave a small wave over his shoulder and walked out, trailing out after his explosive sister.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit

Summary: As a rule, Vader did not really do anything with his social media account, but then the rant of some kid from Tatooine about the inefficiency of TIE Fighters began trending, the pilots and engineers on the Devastator started fixing their ships and Vader got invested.

AN: This fanfic is almost 7.000 words long do yourself a favor and go read it on AO3.

X

“Why are all the engineers tearing through the ships?” Vader asked the officer in charge.

Truthfully, they hadn’t been sent on a campaign lately, but the Emperor liked to whimsically assign Vader and his ship to pointless random battles, so they always had to be prepared to head into combat and couldn’t afford all their Fighters to be in repair. Frankly speaking, most of the TIEs never saw any repairs. They were just scrapped and demolished. He supposed he should be glad his mechanics had enough sense not to start working on all ships simultaneously.

“They are fixing the life support and shielding of the TIEs, my Lord.”

The what.

“The TIE-Fighters don’t have deflector shielding,” Vader stated.

The Head Engineer nodded nervously and stood up straight. Vader hadn’t picked them for nothing. Their predecessor had been a weak sucker-up who had seen it fit to either doesn’t inform Vader about crucial decisions and changes or had bothered him about every little detail. This new one knew how to do their job or at least it had seemed like it up until now.

“We are aware, my Lord. But there was this video explaining how to easily make some changes to the TIEs and I saw it fit to ensure we reduce our damages,” they replied.

“What video?”

The Head Engineer fetched a datapad from the nearest table and searched through a couple files until they opened one, revealing a video. It appeared to have been posted on the holonet one and a half weeks ago and already had an impress number of views and comments. The entire video was several hours long, and had gained a few Reaction Videos as well.

The thumbnail showed a blonde boy, roughly fifteen if Vader were to guess, wearing a half undone overall and a tank top, standing next to a slightly older boy and an assassination droid, a severely damaged TIE-Fighter lying in the sands behind them.

Vader hit play.

The video started, showing the blond boy of before sitting in a makeshift workshop, a pair of goggles lying around his neck.

“Welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting,” the teenager in the video said. He took a sip of water from the metallic canteen he was holding, drinking slow and carefully the way only a desert dweller did. “A couple weeks ago some sleemo commented that I’d never be able to improve any Imperial ships since I’m just Outer Rim trash.”

The boy took another sip, then set his canteen aside to reach for some parts that looked like they belonged to a half-finished droid.

“And I suppose you did have a point that the things I fix won’t ever reach the level of an Imperial TIE because I wouldn’t build such trash in the first place.”

The teenager’s face was fairly blank, but laughter could be heard coming from whoever was behind the camera, likely the other boy.

“So, to prove that I can do better, I sold a lot of speeders, ships and droids, repaired more terrible freighters than I can count, won several totally legal races and placed a couple of very fortunate bets in the palace of Jabba.”

The boy paused, then he smiled widely and, together with his cameraman, yelled “Boonta Eve Classic Champions!”

When he was done laughing, the boy continued talking. “Anyway, the point is, I made a lot of money to buy a lot of trash.”

The screen turned black and when it returned, it showed the image depicted in the thumbnail. The blond boy climbed on top of the TIE and smiled victoriously.

“So in today’s episode, I’m not only going to prove all you disbelievers wrong, I’m also going to drag the entire Tie-Fighter Program through the sarlacc pit. I’m Luke, the man recording is Biggs, my helper over there is HK-77 and this is Scrap Hunting.”

The first few notes of a song start playing and the channel’s logo, two suns overlaid by a speeder, showed up. The Head Engineer proceeded to stop the video, the screen frozen on the image of the boy grinning mischievously.

“He proceeds to begin to completely overhaul the damaged TIE he bought with alarmingly low cost and high efficiency within a few hours and, frankly speaking, embarrasses me. Some of the things Luke does never occurred to me and it should have, I went to one of Coruscant’s best universities-“

They sighed and put the datapad down. “Either way, we are now making changes to our TIEs. I apologize for not having informed you before, my Lord, but I assumed you’d approve of our Fighters being the most advanced on the field.”

The Head Engineer didn’t look like they regretted their decision, but they had obviously resigned themselves to whatever Vader decided their fate would be. They were loyal to Vader and his command. Vader needed people like them on his crew, not more of the Emperor’s spies.

“You presumed correctly,” Vader said. “Finish outfitting the TIEs you already began taking apart. I will watch the video of this Luke and see what exactly he has to say about the military.”

The Head Engineer saluted. “Yes, Sir! I won’t disappoint you!” Then they turned around and marched over to where the others had stopped working to watch their exchange and told them to get back to work.

Vader, meanwhile, took the datapad and returned to his own rooms. He had a video to watch.

X

Luke had not planned on becoming famous with a video titled Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit. In fact, he had never expected any of his videos to gain the kind of following and attention they had even before that particular one. In all honesty, it had just started with him making a recording of how he fixed vaporators without taking them apart completely so his friend Biggs could do it as well. He’d just posted that on the net and kept going. First about droids, some more rambles about ships and a while back he’d finally been allowed to go to the shipyards on his own to earn some extra cash.

But then he had found HK-77 in a dumping ground. The droid had been severely damaged, but not so much that Luke couldn’t fix it. Assassin droids were intelligent, much more than any other ones and Luke could honestly use some extra hands around the farm and when he was repairing speeders. Biggs had recorded bits of Luke working on the droid, cut it together and uploaded it and people had loved it. His videos got more clicks, he got more subscriptions and here he was now.

Usually, Luke didn’t let comments get to him, but one obviously core-world spoiled bastard had discredited Luke’s skills without having any idea how terrible the Empire’s priced Fighters actually were.

“C’mon,” Biggs said, throwing an arm around Luke’s shoulders. “One last project before I leave for the Academy.”

Luke had also been trying his best to avoid thinking about how much he was going to miss his best friend. He wanted to leave with him – though not to be a common TIE-Fighter pilot, Luke wasn’t suicidal – but he couldn’t leave his family behind when they needed him.

“Alright,” Luke agreed, blushing. “Where are we going to get a TIE, though?”

Turned out that a TIE had crashed a while back and a junk dealer had picked it up. Unfortunately, despite its terrible damages, it was really expensive and Luke didn’t have that kind of money. It took a lot of work to scrap it all together – and he had been grounded for a month after winning the Boonta Eve Classic, but being the second human to ever win after Anakin Skywalker, his own father, had been worth it – but in the end Biggs and Luke had poured their funds together and bought the TIE.

And then the fun had started.

X

Vader sat down at his desk and pulled up the video again. He skipped to the moment the Head Engineer had stopped the video and hit play.

“Okay, first things first,” Luke said. “TIE’s were not made to be repaired. How do I know?”

Luke crawled into the pilot’s seat and opened the panels beneath it. “Because this is where the Empire would store the hyperdrive navigational systems, theft prevention protocols and life support, if the TIEs had any!”

He disappeared beneath the panels and began taking out the machinery, handing it to the HK-77 droid. Tatooine’s junkyards had always been a treasure chest, but finding C-3PO there had been astonishing. An assassination droid was worth much more than a mere protocol droid. Vader would have to check if the boy talked about how he’d acquired it somewhere.

“What kind of moron designs a ship that doesn’t have that?” Luke spoke up, his voice echoing. “I know who. They’re called Sienar Fleet Systems and go back to the Clone Wars.”

Luke stood up, and placatingly held up his hands. “I know, the Empire also made some pretty cool ships. I won’t lie, I’d kill to get my hands on the schematics on the Devastator, but the security of Kuat Drive Yards is too good.”

Luke paused.

“Not that I’d ever attempt to get a better look on them.”

The video zoomed in on Luke’s face and his frankly speaking terrible poker face in what was supposed be a comedic shot. Not many people would have the guts to admit they’d attempted to slice into KDY’s security and Vader doubted it was idiocy on the boy’s part. The youth was interesting and it became apparent rather quickly that he knew what he was talking about. He would certainly make a good asset to Vader’s crew, should he sign up.

“Point is,” Luke continued. “They cut all these extra measures out to lose weight and mass produce these TIEs with the lowest costs possible. However, even out here on Tatooine we’ve got ships with really small and efficient support systems, so I’ll dig through this mess down here and make some space for life support first.”

Luke then pointed on the rather large box standing next to him. “All I need for that is in this box. I uploaded the schematics to my usual server. It’s free to download, but I’d be very thankful if you could leave me a tip because I am broke until I’ve gotten this project done.”

Vader only skimmed through the next hours as Luke was working on taking the TIE’s insides apart. He explained what he was doing more or less coherently. It was clear he was lacking some of the terminological knowledge needed to describe the precise measures he took, but he was a rather efficient worker.

“Not sure yet if I can get my hands on a hyperdrive that won’t blow up on me, but we’ll see,” Luke said during the last minute of the video. “Theft prevention, however, I can work with.”

The video cut again and by now only the last beams of sunlight were illuminating the sands.

“Check this,” Luke said and pulled back his arm, a hydrospanner in hand, and threw it at full strength at the outer shell of the TIE. Upon impact, the TIE began blaring alarms.

“Nailed it,” Luke declared confidently while the HK-77 next to him gave him a thumbs up and presumably his friend behind the camera, held his thumb up in front of the recording as well.

“And this concludes part one of-“ Luke began to speak, only to be interrupted by a man’s shout.

“LUKE SKY-“

“Oh, shit,” Luke muttered, eyes wide. “Stop recording, Biggs, stop-“

The video ended and a couple of suggestions popped up, all with equally unserious titles such as ‘Killing it with a Murderbot’, ‘Repairing a hyperdrive but your arm is broken and All Stars is playing’ and ‘Garbage Summary of Republic/Imperial Ships’. The most recent upload was titled ‘Status Update: Scrap Hunters vs. Guardians.’

Vader decided to play it.

X

The channel’s introduction started to play against and soon after there was a recording of the black-haired boy playing.

“Hello, fellow Hunters,” the young man said, smiling widely. “I’m Biggs and unfortunately, I have to do today’s video by myself.”

He closed his eyes and in fake serenity added, “I hope you’ll enjoy it despite the lack of our overly bright mechanic and resident murderbot. Don’t worry, I know you’re all not actually watching this for me.”

Biggs sat still as writing appeared in the upper corner. I’m also just here for Luke. Hit me up at @darkestlight if you feel like it.

“Anyway,” Biggs continued and the writing disappeared. “This short video is just an update on our current situation. First of all, we’re super happy to see that so many people enjoyed our newest video. The next parts will be uploaded as soon as we can get our hands on the items we need, which might take a while given that Luke has been grounded from working on the TIE for the foreseeable future. If you have any questions for him though, feel free to drop him a message @skyseekerpilot, he’s still got access to the holonet.”

From out of the camera’s reach, he pulled a piece of flimsi, showing off the account’s name and a small doodle of what Vader assumed was meant to be Luke.

“Written by yours truly,” Biggs said and set the flimsi aside. “We’re thinking of doing a Q&A in the near future to bridge the time between the actual next update. Feel free to send us any kind of question! That being said, don’t miss us too much!”

The video stopped and Vader almost found himself being disappointed. The youth had certainly talked a lot about unimportant things, it was clear that he was a mere aid to Luke. Perhaps contacting the boy about his ideas would be worth it.

X

Luke was bored out of his mind. Honestly, he hated being grounded. Nothing new to tinker with, only work and endless hours of chores and browsing the holonet. He supposed he could work a little more on his schematics, but he didn’t really feel like it. Sitting down and actually sketching what he was thinking was always the most difficult part of the process. Most of the time, Luke just knew and could figure out what he had to fix. He worked by instinct alone, but that didn’t really help others so he had to write things down properly.

Annoyed, Luke flopped down on his bed again. He hoped that Biggs at least would be allowed to come over again soon. It was just so boring without anyone around.

“I could get rid of the problem,” HK-77 offered from where it was sitting in the corner.

“No, thank you, Hagekay,” Luke replied. “I guess I’ll just check the ‘net again.”

He took out his datapad and began skimming his usual sites. He watched the video Biggs had uploaded and looked a little though all the comments they’d already gotten. Their channel had really blown up in the past days and a lot of people seemed quite eager about the possibility of a Q&A, already shooting off questions. Luke switched over to his page and saw a steady amount of questions and comments come in. A lot of them were rather personal, but one caught his attention.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick asked:

You pay a great deal of attention to enhancing the pilot’s safety and protection in the events of a crash, but how do you intend to make up for the lesser maneuverability? The added weight will lower the TIE’s speed to 1,112 KPH and in actual combat, the added speed is necessary. If one considers the lack of deflector shields, the TIE becomes much more vulnerable, to a degree that even your additions will not work. I’d like to hear your suggestions as to how you would solve that problem.

Reading the message, Luke began to smile widely. Fighterfan had obviously sat down to do the proper math. Luke, admittedly, had only done some rough calculations but his result had been almost the same and he’d immediately began searching or results.

Easy, he wrote back, grinning like a madman. I add deflector shields and modify a hyperdrive of the Interio Class. ;)

Luke knew that his holonet connection wasn’t exactly the best. There was a reason Biggs was the one who uploaded their content. Sometimes, especially before, during and after sandstorms, Luke could forget doing anything with his datapad. So when he got a reply barely thirty minutes later, he knew that the other person must have replied immediately.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick replied:

The Interio Class hyperdrives are slow at best and do not work at all at worst. I take it you intend to break it down so far that it cannot actually do a hyperspace jump but still accelerates much faster than any other engine?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot replied:

Exactly!!! :D Should push the speed back up to 1,200 KPH despite the added weight! I’d also suggest changing the wings to bent-wing solar arrays, but I don’t have the materials for that right now :/

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick replied:

While the flight controls were designed to be intuitive and easy to learn, very few people would be skilled enough to fly a ship with the modifications you are proposing.

Luke smirked. It would be dangerous indeed, but he’d be able to make it. He’d stretch out his senses, feel the vast expanses of space around him, the million planets and stars and he’d rush right past them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot replied:

I could. :)

X

Vader hadn’t been sure what to expect of his conversation with Luke. The boy certainly proved that he was bright and clever. Not just intelligent, he knew exactly what his modifications would do to the TIE- Fighter. Despite his excessive need to tag emojis onto his every message and add exclamation marks, actually talking about ships to somebody who couldn’t care less about Imperial regulations was almost enjoyable. The boy’s suggestions were refreshing and unorthodox and a few of them even puzzled Vader for a moment until he was able to follow Luke’s train of thought.

Soon he found himself looking forward to the boy’s messages, even if he couldn’t bring himself to care particularly much about the daily life of a teenage moisture farmer. Unfortunately, he had to admit that he was almost a little annoyed Luke was still a child and therefore couldn’t accept a job offer. Well, Vader would simply have to wait a little longer to get his hands on his next Head Engineer. Until then, messaging him while pretending to listen to some Moffs blab away about the Death Star yet again, would have to suffice.

He had learned nothing but patience in the past years.

X

“Welcome back to Scrap Hunting!” Luke announced excitedly. “As you can see, I have returned to the land of the living!”

“He’s still grounded,” Biggs said next to him. “I’m just allowed to visit now.”

Luke rolled his eyes and lightheartedly punched his friend into his side. “Don’t make fun of me. I was incredibly lonely.”

Biggs smiled and messed up Luke’s hair in return. “Sure, whatever you say. Anyway! We collected a lot of comments in the meanwhile and decided to do the promised Q&A about ourselves. Luke, if you’d do the honors to read the first question.”

“Sure!”

Luke reached for the datapad in front of them and started it up. He spent a few moments scrolling through it, then stopped and began to read out loud. “For Biggs: In the video repairing Hagekay you said that it keeps threatening you. Does it still do that?”

“All the time,” Biggs replied seriously. He raised his hands in a what-can-you-do kind of way and then dropped them again with a sigh. “Literally. I don’t think this droid likes anyone but Luke and the mouse droid keeping the house clean.”

Biggs frowned and looked around as if he were searching for something. “Where is Emmy? It always seems so eager to clean up after me.”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe got lost in Aunt Beru’s closet again, wouldn’t be the first time. Alright, you do the next question.”

Biggs took the datapad from him and moved on to the next inquiry.

“What the kriff is your title song?” Biggs read, then groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Just let it die please.”

Luke on the other hand immediately jumped up in excitement. “Oh! It’s every fifth note of my favorite song so it doesn’t get taken down for copyright reason. I’ll put a link in the description.”

“Question #3: Where do you live?” Luke stared straight ahead into the camera. “Tatooine, Outer Rim desert world. Do not recommend unless you can survive without a lot of water.”

Beside him, Biggs nodded. “Indeed, not the best place to raise your children. Question number four: Could you upload Hagekay’s original programming?”

The two boys looked at each other and finally shook their heads while staring suspiciously at the camera again. “What could you possibly need the programming of an assassin droid for?”

“Next up: How old are you? And how long have you been working on projects like this?”

Luke frowned and turned to Biggs. “Didn’t we say that before once?”

Biggs only shrugged. “No idea, you talk a lot when you’re working.”

“You love to hear me talk,” Luke replied teasingly. “Well, I’m seventeen and Biggs is nineteen. I’ve been doing repairs on droids for as long as I can think. Speeders and ships are new additions.”

“Same for me,” Biggs said. “You can’t grow up in the middle of nowhere running a moisture farm and not be at least a half-decent mechanic. Okay, next question: What was your favorite project so far? Hmm, I think I enjoyed ‘Hagekay vs Emmy with a viroblade’ the most. You?”

Luke chewed on his lip and paused, deeply lost in thought.

“The TIE-Fighter,” he said eventually. “Even if I wasn’t so sure about it at first. That reminds me! I don’t know how many of you have seen the bits of the conversation that aren’t private, but you should seriously check out Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick. The ship modifications he speaks of are the best and a couple of them will definitely end up in the TIE, credit given, of course. When we’re done with this video, I’ll go right back to replying to your thoughts about navigation systems because I totally agree-“

“Alright, alright,” Biggs interrupted, clasping his hand over Luke’s mouth. “Nerd out with your new best friend somewhere I don’t have to see it.”

Luke huffed and, going by the way Biggs quickly pulled his hand away from his mouth and wiped it on his shirt saying “ewww”, had licked it.

“What are you? Five?” Biggs complained.

Luke laughed. “Compared to your mature six? Alright, next question-“

X

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Have you thought about a way to solve the take-off issue yet?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Noooooo (TT^TT). It’s so stupid, why does anyone design a ship that lacks landing gear? I mean, I get it, these were built for space combat but it just seemed unnecessary that you need an extra start up. What do you do when somebody crashed on a planet? Leave them there????

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Yes. TIEs are viewed as expendable, due to their cheap production costs, as are their pilots. The Empire prefers quantity over quality.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

That just seems incredibly short-sighted. What kind of person doesn’t go back to save their friends?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You are wrongly presuming that TIE-Fighter pilots have friends.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

So you don’t have any friends?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Oh gosh I’m SO SORRY! I didn’t mean that, I just wanted to ask whether you were TIE pilot bc you seem to know the ships so well and I didn’t want to be rude

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I’m sorry!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Super sorry!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Honestly, I didn’t mean to insult you. I apologize, I shouldn’t have said that.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Are you still there?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Yes. I was stuck in a briefing and couldn’t reply. You mustn’t worry. I do not have any friends, nor do I want them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Oh, I’m glad I didn’t scare you off and I’m sorry for overreacting. But you really don’t have any friends? Doesn’t that get lonely? Biggs has been gone barely a couple weeks and I’m already going crazy. I miss him a lot.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You are too dependent on him, Luke. You do not need him.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I do! He always had my back, ever since we were small. And even if you don’t want any friends, you can be sure that I will consider you mine. No expectations of course! But I really enjoy talking to you and I have learned so much since we started talking!

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I have also found our talks to be pleasant.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Yay!!!!

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

TIE Advanced x1

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

What?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You wanted to ask me whether I am a TIE-Fighter pilot. I own a TIE Advanced x1

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

WHAT

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

REALLY???? THAT’S SO COOL THEY ONLY STARTED MANUFACTURING THEM LAST YEAR. How fast does it accelerate? Are the stabilizers really that improved? No wait tell me about the hyperdrive which did they go with? Does it use a Class 4.0? I would have built in a Class 7.0 but they’re more expensive and hard to really stop correctly if you’re not like a great pilot ooOOOH WAIT

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU are flying a TIE/AD!!!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU’RE ACTUALLY IN THE IMPERIAL NAVY. Which ship do you serve on??? Please, please, please tell me about the Destroyers I’ve been wanting to compare them to Republic ships since FOREVER but I couldn’t find any good sources pls I’ll pay in an extra special videos

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Give me a few hours.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU ARE THE BEST!

X

Vader could not fathom what was wrong with Luke. Nobody wanted to be friends with Darth Vader, certainly he had never given the boy the impression that he was interested in such a relationship? He had merely strived to see what the boy was capable of. He shouldn’t supply the boy with more in-depth plans to his ships and yet he found himself downloading the corresponding schematics. It had been a while since he had been able to carry on a conversation that was actually on his level and engaging as well. Luke was only improving and Vader wanted to keep him. Good personnel was hard to come by and Luke was something different entirely.

X

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I have sent you the plans we talked about. Have you ever considered signing up for the Imperial Academy?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Yes, but I can’t go this year because my uncle still needs me on the farm :/

 Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I am able to get you a contract as civilian consultant. You’d be able to work from home.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

What? Is that really a thing?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

If you give me your personal data, I’ll send you a contract.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Thank you!! It’s Luke Lars! My ID is T-LL-2187-A23. Also, uploaded a new video for you :D Hope you enjoy my misadventures!

X

Luke was sitting on his bed, HK-77 standing beside him, holding out various tools while the mouse droid Emmy was sitting in his lap.

“Hello, everybody and welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting! Today is a special compilation dedicated too @thatsaneattrick, who basically gave me an early birthday present. So, sit back and enjoy a compilation of the things we usually cut from our videos! I’m Luke, my helper today is HK-77 and shout out to Biggs who is currently studying a couple of planets away from me!”

The video cut away to start showing the first in a series of rather short escapades featuring at least one member of the trio.

-

The first video showed Luke working on the TIE’s wings, singing underneath his breath. “This was not designed to land, this ship was not designed to land, this ship was not designed to be functional, functional at all.”

-

The next video depicted Luke working in the background while Biggs and HK-77 were staring intensely at each other, Emmy stuck between them, driving forwards and backwards like they were trying to keep the two from fighting.

“Where did you hide my hydrospanner.”

“I did no such thing, Biggs.”

The recording blurred as Biggs threw himself on HK-77.

-

It was dark. The camera slowly focused on Emmy attempting to drive up to the TIE fighter but getting stuck because of the sand. Two giggles could be heard.

“We have to help Emmy,” Luke whispered.

“Yes, wait- oh, Em’s gonna fall over-“

The video slowed down as Emmy tragically fell to its side and couldn’t get up again.

“It’s so kriffing clumsy, like a baby,” Biggs laughed.

“It’ll get there someday.”

In white writing, the message Hasn’t Happened Yet showed up.

-

“Luke, what are you?”

Luke sighed and looked downcast. “A good mechanic?”

“Then why is the TIE’s cockpit smoking?”

“I was just taking a look at the repulsorlift antigravity field- oh, kriff it’s burning.”

“What!?”

X

Ever since Biggs had left, Luke’s conversations with Fighter became the most fun part of his days. Sometimes, replies took a little longer depending on how busy and far away Fighter was, but their talks never failed to bring a smile to Luke’s face, no matter how standoffish Fighter acted.

Luke checked his messages again, hoping to catch a new message from Fighter. Sadly, none were in his inbox, only something from a stranger.

Lord Vader @ImperialCommand: Consultant Contract

Luke frowned.

X

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Have you thought about my job offer yet?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Job offer? You were really serious about that? O.o

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Of course, did you not see the attachment I sent you?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I never got a message with a job offer, so I thought you were joking!!! The only thing I got was a message by some guy pretending to be Vader. Didn’t even bother to open that, who knows what kind of virus I could have caught. -.-‘

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Someone pretended to be Lord Vader? Surely nobody would actually be so ignorant.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Idk! I had to go on his holo page and it seemed legit but there’s no way the emperor’s slaver would ever message me I’m not that naive

…

Fighter?

Are you still there?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You would do well not to spread such rebel propaganda anywhere others could find them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Rebel propaganda???

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Do you mean the ‘slaver’ thing?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

That’s not propaganda, that’s what Vader is. I know your serve in the Navy, and probably met him once or so. I can’t judge what kind of superior he might be, but his behavior is that of a slaver.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What do you know of slavery, child?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I live on Tatooine, remember? Hutts control everything. And my father was a slave, that’s why I have to go by my uncle’s last name, least of all somebody thinks I’m a runaway just cause my father’s name was ‘Skywalker’.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What was your father’s name.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

His name was Anakin Skywalker, he died towards the end of the last war. Freed himself as a child and became a navigator on a spice freighter. I don’t know much more about him, my aunt and uncle only met him once for my grandmother’s funeral and that’s it. I’m sure he was a good man, though. I just know it.

X

The boy, Luke, was living Tatooine with his aunt and uncle. Vader had known his last name was Lars, had even seen him mention Owen and Beru multiple times, but he hadn’t made the connection-

Quickly, he pulled up the files he had made on the boy. It said in his documents that he had been adopted by Owen Lars and Beru Whitesun Lars, no mentioning of his biological parents anyway. Vader hadn’t paid any attention to it because it happened often enough on Tatooine. Newborns were smuggled bought out of the slave quarters so they’d get a better life. The boy could be lying, of course, but what would he seek to gain from this ploy?

Anakin Skywalker was dead and everything he had held dear had burned with him, his Master had seen to it.

But hadn’t the boy’s smile reminded him of his dear wife? His excitement for ships, his brilliance- Vader had assumed that some of his stories might have been exaggerated, but maybe he had performed all those death-defying stunts indeed and it was the Force which had saved him.

Luke Skywalker of Tatooine.

It was impossible to think that he had managed to find him through mere interest. The Force must have led him to his son.

His son.

His Master had lied to him, deceived and betrayed him.

Snarling, Vader left his rooms behind and marched towards his personal hanger. He had to go now, reach his son and protect him before the Emperor would diminish his light.  Vader would make them pay, all of them, every single person involved in keeping his child from him would be destroyed.

X

The past weeks had not been particularly interesting or happy for Luke. Ever since his discussion with Fighter, the other man had completely cut their communication. No matter how many messages Luke sent him, he didn’t reply.

He supposed he should have seen it coming. Fighter didn’t say much about his background, but if he was skilled enough to be trusted with a TIE/ad, he had likely grown up on some Imperial Core World, surrounded by the Empire and Vader’s image and didn’t see things the way some Outer Rim kid would. It was too bad that their conversation had stopped. Even if they couldn’t agree on the Empire’s policies, ships were still ships.

He’d miss talking to Fighter.

Luke dragged himself out of his room to go in the kitchen for lunch. He had halfway crossed the homestead when a man in a dark robe hurried down the steps.

“Luke!” He said and threw back his hood, revealing himself as Old Ben Kenobi.

“Oh, hi, Ben! Is everything alright?”

Ben shook his head and a pained expression crossed his face. He looked like he was in a hurry, but Luke could feel the fear lingering in the air.

“We need to go, now,” Ben said hurriedly. “Where are your aunt and uncle?”

“Aunt Beru went into the city and Uncle Owen is out working on the vaporators,” Luke replied slowly.

Ben’s behavior was confusing him. He’d known the older man since he could think. He had never said a thing, but Luke knew he was the one who had made a lot of the model ships now proudly displayed in his room and made sure the Tuskens stayed away from their homestead.

Ben was a nice and kind man, carrying a lot of grief. He was a little strange, but not mad. If he was worried about something, Luke figured he should as well.

“Then there is no time to get them,” Ben said and took Luke’s hand. “We must hurry.”

“Ben, what’s going on?” Luke asked and let himself be pulled along to the homestead’s entrance and out into the sun. “Why are we running?”

“We need to go before he’s here-“ Ben stopped abruptly and stared right ahead.

A black demon stood in some distance from the two of them. He looked like the monsters out of the stories Luke had been told as a child and now knew to be real. Lord Vader.

Ben let go of Luke’s hand and took a step forward, keeping Luke behind him.

“Kenobi.” Vader’s voice was deep, mechanic and artificial. “I have finally found you.”

“So you have, Darth,” Kenobi replied and ignited a lightsaber of a light blue color.

Vader followed suit, his blade an angry red and soon after they were clashing against one another, whirling up the sand. Luke hadn’t known Ben could fight like that, keep every move so fluent despite the ground he was standing on. He met each of Vader’s aggressive strikes with equal strength.

Luke felt like he was suffocating.

He had to stop them, he knew it. He didn’t know why or how, but if he didn’t do anything, the desert would swallow them up.

“What is going on!?” Luke shouted. The two fighters turned to him and it occurred to Luke only then that shouting mid-battle was probably not his smartest move, but what else was he supposed to do.

“You have been deceived all your life, young one,” Vader said. “Kenobi stole you from me, kept you hidden so you wouldn’t inherit your birthright.”

“My birthright,” Luke repeated. “I’m sorry, what are you even talking about.”

“Your father-“

“Was a good man,” Ben interrupted, his words as sharp as a knife. “And you ruined him.”

“You left me to burn!” Vader screamed. “You said you loved me and you left me behind for Sidious to take and remake as he wanted. You took my son from me and let him grow up on the Force-forsaken planet! You stole years from me, months of being unaware of who I was talking to.”

My son, the winds seemed to echo Vader’s words, dancing around Luke’s small frame. The weight behind them almost seemed to push him over.

“Father?” Luke realized. The wind roared in agreement, rushed through Luke’s mind as a barely comprehendible mess acknowledging an impossible truth.

X

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Going on a galactic roadtrip for the foreseeable future! :D

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

(Somebody please get me off this ship they keep glaring at each other it’s so awkward)

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Pros of having parents: You don’t have to pay for lunch Cons of having parents: Lunch is ration bars

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

If not for the laws of this galaxy I’d have a glowing sword to cut through durasteel with

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have adopted 4 more mouse droids to keep our ship clean!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I love discovering I have a godfather who is also a pirate while being held hostage by said godfather. 5/10 experience

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have the power of the Force and Hydrospanners on my side!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Turns out HK-77’s programming was not as thoroughly deleted as I thought. My bad.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

TIE-Fighters still suck. New video tomorrow together with @thatsaneatrick

X

“Hi!” The video showed a young blond man standing in what appeared to be a huge hanger. He was a little older than he had been in the last video uploaded on the channel.

Next to him sat an older man whose skin was as pale as ash. Many scars covered his face, the only part of his body that was actually visible. The rest was covered by dark robes. The third member of the group was another man with snow-white hair and beard. He sat in a safe distance from the ship behind the other two, reading through a datapad while drinking a cup of tea. All three of them carried lightsabers and it was practically impossible to ignore them.

“Welcome back to another episode of Scrap Hunting!” The blond continued. “I know, it’s been a year but I was pretty busy.”

He glanced at the man beside him and leaned slightly into his side, as if he were seeking comfort.

“Today we’re finally concluding our series ‘Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit’. Unfortunately, the original TIE-Fighter was lost, but Father crashes so many that we could easily start from scratch with a new one. The focus of this episode is finally adding the safety that prevents the twin ion engines from moving an energizer out of alignment so that the recharge systems won’t become ticking time bombs. Henceforth, we dedicate this episode to Darth Sidious, alias Emperor Palpatine. My name is Luke Skywalker. The man in the back is my Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi-“ The old man looked up from his datapad to wave at the camera and then continued on reading “-and my helper today is my Father.”

Luke paused and smiled softly while the scarred man put his hand on Luke’s shoulder. The gesture seemed almost a little possessive, would certainly be like it if the man’s touch weren’t as gentle as a feather.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” the man said, his blue eyes shining as brightly as Luke’s, but much colder in nature. “And I’m coming for you, Sidious.”

The video flashed black, then brightened again, depicting a round emblem of two wings settled around a sword.