#i thought he was fine in dune...not great

[beneath-the-moon-and-me]

sat down to watch Wonka out of morbid curiosity. I know that I am absolutely not the target demographic. it's not usually my kind of movie. but I wasn't prepared for just how souless and fake the entire movie felt. the over-abundance of cgi and bad lip syncing. Timothy Chardonnay's horrendous auto-tuned singing. I had heard some word of mouth that the movie was "surprisingly good!". I failed to see any good tbh. I was mostly bored and put off from the atrocious cgi.

[aeralux]

"I'd Rather Be With You" - Lucerys Velaryon

Modern!Lucerys x Reader (part two here)

Summary: "People have a way of leaving. Best to not let anyone close." This is the saying Lucerys lived his whole life by. Keeping others at a distance even if it hurts both him and others. Why should you be the exception?

Warnings: SMUT 18+; sad boy Lucerys; virginity loss (Lucerys); fingering; soft sex; angst; creampie; small dead city

Words: 15k

Notes: No description of the reader. It came out long but it's literally full of them interacting idk. This ends how it ends... if you want a part two, please let me know. I am not responsible for the media you consume.

It was honestly a pretty stupid thing to do. Spending the last bit of your summer break like this felt boring and pointless, but your mom insisted you visit your great-aunt for two months. You didn’t want to go, but no one bothered to ask youwhat you thought. It had been four years since you last saw her—so why should you bother now?

She resided in the decaying seaside town of Littlewater, a place where charm had long faded, replaced instead by a haunting sense of isolation. With only about 700 people, the city was filled with rundown buildings and overgrown dunes, giving off a vibe of loneliness. In your eyes, it was no place for a young woman—too stifling, too dreary, an echo of abandonment.

The name was spot on, too—Littlewater. Just a short distance from the lively port city of Duskendale. Your great-aunt Glorina moved there with her husband when it still had some life. But after her husband passed away, so did the town, leaving her alone with her memories and the eerie quietness of Littlewater. What a sad story, you thought.

With little choice, you piled into the car with your dad, your small suitcase in the back, along with your loyal buddy, Cannibal—a big black mutt who thought he was a lap dog. At least he could keep you company and help keep the creepiness at bay.

As you finally stood outside Glorina’s quaint seaside house, the world around you seemed to hold its breath. The tyres of your father’s car screeched against the gravel, shattering the uneasy tranquillity. Tentatively, you raised your hand and knocked on the door.

When it creaked open, there stood a small woman with a warm smile and long grey hair. She pulled you into a hug that felt both comforting and strange. “How good it is to finally see you, my little,” she whispered into your hair, smelling ofsalty sea breeze and cooking grease. You smiled back, feeling a hint of warmth even though you hadn’t seen her since your teenage years. Yet, amid that comfort, there was an odd feeling stirring deep down—a mix of welcome and something else, something a bit off, waiting in the shadows.

You feel a deep sadness wash over you as you unpack your clothes in the small room designated for you. The walls are painted a soft baby blue, adorned with whimsical white clouds that drift lazily across the surface, evoking a sense of innocence and nostalgia. This was once the room of Glorina's little boy, Niclas—the baby who was taken from her far too soon. The air feels heavy with unspoken memories, and as you set the last of your clothes into the small closet, a long sigh escapes your lips. You turn away from the room and head back downstairs.

"I just finished unpacking. Is there any way I could help you out?" you ask, seeing Glorina busy behind the stove. The enticing aroma of pancakes fills the air, golden and fluffy, as she expertly flips one onto a waiting plate. A wide, genuine smile spreads across her face when she turns to you, and despite the sadness lingering in your heart, you can't help but smile back at her warmth.

Maybe it was a good decision to come here, to heed your parents' advice and not make too much fuss. Glorina clearly needed the company, and you felt relieved at the thought. "No, my dear, I'm fine on my own," she replies softly, her voice as comforting as the smell of fresh pancakes. "You should go and take a little walk before dinner. Explore the area, and take Cannibal out for some air." She beams at the large black dog, who sits patiently by her side, his eyes sparkling with excitement at the mention of a walk.

You huff a soft laugh, fetching Cannibal's leash from the hook by the door. "Come on, big boy. Let’s go discover," you coo at him, feeling the weight of tension in the house lift just a little. "I'll be back soon... don’t wanna stay out after dark," you add quickly, a shiver running down your spine at the thought of the town's eerie ambience as dusk approaches. The shadows dance outside the windows, and you can't shake the unsettling feeling that clings to the air like a thick fog. As you open the door, Cannibal lags happily at your side, and you step out into the fading light.

Following the narrow path to the sea, grains of sand sifted into your worn-out sneakers. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the horizon as it slowly began to dip below the water. Perhaps it was time to head back; you were unsure how the people of this town felt about strangers, the thought lingering in your mind.

Just as you turned to retrace your steps, your gaze caught on a figure in the distance. A tall young man stood there, his silhouette outlined against the fading light. Something about his presence made you pause. You felt rooted to the spot, unable to move as you watched him from afar. He was pulling in a fishing net, his movements strong and fluid, yet there was a weight to them. There was an undeniable magnetism in his demeanour—a quiet strength with a profound loneliness that seemed to resonate with you.

Suddenly, Cannibal’s loud bark broke the stillness, jolting you back to reality. You took a moment to collect yourself, and then with heavy steps, you made your way back to Glorina’s little cabin. As you entered, the sweet, inviting aroma of pancakes drizzled with condensed milk enveloped your senses, momentarily pushing aside thoughts of the mysterious boy on the docks.

“So? What do you think of Littlewater?” Glorina asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she leaned forward, eager to hear your impression.

With a hesitant smile, you replied, “It’s quiet. Not that it’s bad, but… it seems a bit lonely.” Glorina nodded slowly, her smile dimming slightly as she processed your words. Sensing the weight of the topic, she chose not to pry any further and simply encouraged you to dig in, serving up a plate piled high with golden pancakes.

The first night in an unfamiliar place always felt like the hardest, so you decided to rise early and make the most of the day. Cannibal still lay asleep peacefully in the small hut just beyond the door, blissfully unaware of your restlessness. The grass glistened with droplets of morning dew, while birds chirped cheerfully in the trees, making the whole area feel a bitmore alive than it had the night before.

You chose to follow the same path as yesterday, seeking comfort in its familiarity. A small part of you held on to the hope of seeing the boy again. But how would you recognize him? You only remembered that he was tall and had dark hair—details that barely scratched the surface.

After a while of wandering, you found yourself at the marina. It was surprisingly quiet, with only a few men scattered around, busy with their tasks. The absence of lively chatter was almost eerie. Among them, one young man caught your attention. He was hunched over, tinkering with an old boat. His hands were smeared with grease, and damp curls framed his face, glistening from the ocean spray.

“Excuse me? Do you know how I could get back to Rosemary Lane? I seem to have gotten lost...” you asked, your voice barely breaking through the stillness. He barely glanced up, mumbling a polite answer before returning to his work, though you caught a flicker of intrigue in his eyes—a brief moment you didn’t fully recognize. Feeling dismissed, you turned to leave, only to realize too late that he was the same young man from yesterday.

“Stay away from the Velaryons.”

You spun around sharply at the sudden voice. A small blonde boy, maybe about 12 years old, sat on his bike. His knees were scraped and dirty, evidence of rough play. “What?” you asked, puzzled by his warning.

“Stay away from the Velaryons,” he repeated, his voice serious despite his young age. “They’re trouble.” With that, he pedalled away, leaving you standing there in confusion, trying to grasp the weight of his words.

With a furrowed brow and a swirl of questions in your mind, you felt your curiosity deepen. Who were the Velaryons? What sort of trouble did they bring? Looking down at your feet, you took a deep breath and pressed on, hoping thatGlorina would have a strong cup of coffee—that definitely had whiskey in it—to soothe your racing thoughts.

Your great-aunt Glorina was still a busy woman despite not working due to her old age. The small, lively woman had embraced a range of new interests that kept her spirit vibrant: tarot cards, crystals, and healing herbs danced around her daily routine. And cooking, oh thank the Gods for that!

As you sat across from her at the small kitchen table, the faint aroma of her famous herb-infused eggs wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble. She cleared her throat as you shuffled the worn tarot deck in your hands, and when you finally drew a card, she flinched. 

“Ohh, the Three of Swords,” she said, her eyes widening as she glanced at the card, a mix of sympathy and mischief in her expression. You narrowed your brows in confusion, leaning closer as if sharing a secret between you. Over the past few days, you had formed a bond, finding comfort and understanding in each other’s quirky interests.

“Is it bad or…?” you asked cautiously, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly but still palpable.

“Well, that depends on how you look at it,” she replied, her voice soothing, almost rhythmic, like a gentle lullaby. “It’s a heart pierced by three swords. Can’t be much clearer than that,” you said with a shrug before tossing back the last sip of your coffee.

“Take two more cards, then we’ll see the whole story,” she instructed, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she offered the deck toward you, her hand steady, as if inviting you to seal your fate.

With a hopeful heart and eyes closed tight, you let your instincts guide you, reaching into the mystical air that seemed to hum with energy. “Well? What’d I get?” you asked, slowly opening your eyes again, curiosity bubbling inside you.

Glorina looked up, her expression a puzzle. “The Star and The Hermit… reversed.”

“Um, what does that mean?” you mirrored her serious expression, your excitement tinged with a hint of nervousness.

“Just eat the eggs I made for you. I cooked them just like you used to like… all those years ago,” she said, nudging the steaming plate toward you with a gentle smile. It was something she often did when she wanted to dodge deeper topics. You noticed how the corners of her mouth turned up, masking emotions you knew were lurking beneath. You let it go this time. 

“You might want to make some friends around here. Can’t be cooped up with an old woman for two months, now can you?” she tried to say playfully, but you heard the hint of sadness in her laugh, a self-deprecating joke that only made your heart ache for her.

“I like spending time with you here,” you admitted, your voice softening as you carefully placed your hand over hers. You could have sworn you saw tears shine in her eyes, yet she kept smiling, and that made you want to hug her fiercely. “I really do. I mean it.”

“But I’ll look around for some people my own age… if they still exist here,” you added with a teasing scoff, and as you took another bite of the comforting meal, you felt a warmth spreading through the room.

And that's where you saw him again. At the local diner, which had seen better days, adorned with faded posters and peeling wallpaper. The only thing missing was the waitresses on roller skates, zooming around with trays in hand.

He sat in a booth with a boy who looked like a slightly older version of him—maybe a year or two apart. It was clear they were brothers. You caught a quick glance, something casual but charged, before deciding to avoid any awkward moments. Instead, you opted for a slice of warm apple pie and a bitter cup of coffee, steering clear of stare-downs.

“Will that be all?” came the soft voice of a waitress with bleach-blonde hair and wide eyes, her smile friendly but faintly curious. You simply nodded, still feeling like an outsider in this place.

“You’re new,” she remarked, not quite looking at you as she placed your pie and coffee in front of you. “Nothing goes unnoticed here.” Finally, she looked up, meeting your gaze. “I’m Hel. You’re pretty.”

You were taken aback by the sudden compliment, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you stammered your thanks.“Thanks, you as well.” 

But before it could turn into a conversation, she returned to her duties, leaving you alone with your thoughts and an odd sensation of being watched. Despite your instincts telling you to ignore it, you turned back. There he was, his striking green eyes locked onto yours, steady and intense. The weight of his gaze made you feel exposed, and before long, you looked away, unable to hold his stare any longer.

The second encounter happened at the shore. Your great-aunt had taken you for a walk to explore the town, Cannibal rightbeside you, his presence comforting. Just as Glorina stepped aside to gřeet an old friend, he appeared, as if out of nowhere, standing tall behind you on the narrow dock meant for kids to leap into the water.

“Hi,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling slightly as you fought to maintain your composure. The air felt thick with anticipation, and for a moment, it felt like the world around you had faded away.

He hesitated, his lips parting slightly as if searching for the right words. Up close, you noticed things you hadn’t before—the faint freckles scattered across his nose, the way his damp curls clung to his forehead, and the guarded expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hi,” he finally replied, his voice soft and tentative, as if unsure whether speaking to you was a mistake.

You felt the moment thin, taut like a thread threatening to snap. He looked away, glancing over the waves lapping against the dock before returning his gaze to you. This time, his expression was cautious but curious. “You’re... new here, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear nervously.

He nodded, his jaw tightening slightly, though you couldn’t tell why. His gaze flickered to Cannibal, who wagged his tail lazily beside you. “Your dog?” he asked, almost as if searching for a safe topic.

“Yeah. He’s my shadow,” you said with a small smile, trying to put some warmth into the conversation.

Luke smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His hands fidgeted at his sides, betraying an undercurrent of unease.“I, uh… I saw you at the diner,” he admitted, his voice dropping a notch. There was something in the way he said it, like it wasn’t just a casual observation.

You blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “Oh. I thought I saw you too,” you said, your own voice softer now. “With your brother?”

At the mention of his brother, Luke’s expression shifted. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he looked down at the planks of the dock, the gentle creak of the wood filling the silence. “Yeah. That was Jace,” he said finally, his tone carefully neutral.

You wanted to ask more, to pull at the threads he seemed to be guarding so tightly, but something about his body language warned you not to push too hard. Instead, you opted for a lighter approach. “Do you come here a lot? The shore, I mean.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly as if your change in direction eased some unseen weight. “Sometimes,” he said, his eyes lifting to the horizon. “It’s quiet. You can think out here.”

The way he said it made you think he came here not just to think, but to escape. For a while, neither of you spoke. The waves filled the silence, a rhythmic backdrop to the unspoken tension hanging between you.

“I don’t usually talk to people,” he said suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice was low, almost drowned out by the sea.

You turned to him, your brows knitting together. “Why not?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “People have a way of leaving.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, an ache settling in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything at all. Instead, you let the moment linger, hoping he might fill the silence.

When he finally turned to look at you, there was something raw in his eyes, a mixture of fear and curiosity. “You don’tseem like you belong here,” he said, his tone not unkind but laced with quiet wonder.

You swallowed, unsure whether it was a compliment or a fact. “Maybe I don’t,” you admitted. “But I’m here now.���

For the first time, his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. It was fleeting, like the first glimpse of sunlight after a storm, but it was there.

And somehow, in that moment, it felt like enough.

That was until Glorina called out your name, her voice warm and inviting. "Come, darling! Let's head back! The chicken in the oven should be ready soon!" With a lingering glance at the boy whose name you didn't even know, you turned away, feeling a mix of curiosity and regret. Cannibal, your loyal dog, wagged his tail excitedly at your side, eager to follow you back.

The next day, your great-aunt sent you on an errand to pick up groceries and other essentials for her. With her cooking bistro-level meals for you three times a day, it was hard to refuse her request. You appreciated her efforts, even if it meant stepping out into the eerie streets.

Standing in the grocery store, you found yourself caught between rows of bright packaging for toiletries and hygiene products. Clutching the crumpled list she had written, you squinted at her small, messy handwriting. It curled and swirled across the page, making some items almost impossible to read. You leaned closer, trying to decipher her hurried notes while the familiar sounds of carts rolling and kids laughing filled the air around you.

"Need help with reading?" Came a deeper male voice from beside you.

You turned toward the voice, already half-smiling in reflex, only to find yourself face-to-face with the boy from the shore.

He stood there, holding a small basket of groceries in one hand, his other tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. Up close, he seemed even more striking—freckles dusted across his nose like constellations, his green eyes sharp and inquisitive. The faintest smirk tugged at his lips, though his posture remained casual, almost distant.

“I—uh, no. I’ve got it,” you stammered, gripping the list tighter as if to prove your point. Heat rushed to your face, a mix of embarrassment and that strange, undeniable pull you felt toward him.

He tilted his head slightly, his curls shifting with the motion. “Sure about that? You’ve been squinting at that thing for a while.”

You glanced down at the paper, realizing you’d been staring at the same word—toothpaste—for a good thirty seconds. Clearing your throat, you looked back up at him. “It’s my great-aunt’s handwriting. Feels like trying to crack a secret code.”

His smirk deepened, but only just. “Sounds like a challenge.”

The tension between you both hung in the air, delicate and unspoken, like the space between two magnets just shy of connecting. You weren’t sure what to say, and for a second, neither was he.

“Well,” he said finally, nodding toward your list. “Good luck with the decoding.”

He started to walk past you, and for reasons you didn’t fully understand, you couldn’t let him leave just yet. “Wait,” you called out, the word slipping out before you could stop yourself.

He stopped mid-step, turning back to you, his brow slightly raised. “Yeah?”

“Do you… live here?” The question felt clumsy as it left your mouth, but you couldn’t shake the need to know more about him.

“Yeah.” His response was short, clipped. His guard was back up, the brief openness you saw at the shore now buried under layers of caution.

“Oh,” you said, feeling the weight of his reticence. But then, a flicker of courage sparked within you. “You’re not big on talking, are you?”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile but close. “Depends.”

“On what?” you pressed, curiosity weaving through your words.

“On who I’m talking to.”

The words landed softly between you, not quite an invitation, but not a dismissal either. He shifted his basket to his other hand as if to distract himself from the weight of the moment.

You weren’t sure why, but his quiet intensity made you want to push, just a little. “Am I that bad of a person to talk to?”

His gaze flickered to yours, and for the first time, you thought you saw something in those green eyes—something hesitant and searching. “No,” he said quietly, almost as if the answer surprised him.

Before you could say anything else, the shrill beep of the intercom announcing a sale broke the spell. Lucerys looked away, the brief moment of vulnerability gone as quickly as it came. “I should go,” he muttered, nodding toward the exit.

And just like that, he was gone.

Later that night, as you sat on your great-aunt’s porch watching the sun sink below the horizon, you couldn’t stop replaying the encounter in your mind. His voice, his gaze, the way he’d seemed to want to talk but held himself back—it all lingered, like a song stuck on repeat.

The boy with the stormy eyes and the quiet demeanour.

A few days had passed, each one quietly shifting from dusk to dawn. You hadn’t done much during this time, choosing to spend moments with your affectionate dog and your quirky great-aunt rather than exploring the town, which still sent shivers down your spine.

But as the days went by, your legs began to crave some movement, and you longed to feel the ocean waves lapping against your skin. So, you decided to take Cannibal, your playful dog, along with an old backpack that Glorina had found for you. You made your way to the small beach a short distance away. The beach was nearly empty—a perfect escape.

With loud splashes and bursts of laughter, you ran into the cool, salty water. Cannibal, dashing ahead, barked joyfully as he swam toward you, his tail wagging as if he had the biggest smile on his face.

“Let’s race to the docks, okay? Come on, big boy!” you called out, starting to run toward the wooden docks. The soft sand made it a bit tricky to sprint, but your excitement pushed you forward. As you neared the docks, you spotted a figure seated at the edge, legs dangling over the water’s surface. You suddenly came to a halt, squinting to see who it might be.

Cannibal, however, had already reached the person and plopped down beside him. You felt a mix of curiosity and hesitation as you jogged closer, trying to understand the scene before you.

“Cannibal, let’s head back, alright?” you said, trying to coax your dog. But Cannibal wouldn’t budge; he sat contentedly next to the stranger, looking up at you with his bright green eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief.

“Your dog’s name is Cannibal?” the figure asked, a hint of surprise in his voice as he held a closed notebook tightly in his hand.

You stopped a few feet away, catching your breath. The voice was unmistakable, and as the figure turned slightly, you confirmed it—him.

“Yeah, Cannibal,” you replied, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face. “He kind of eats everything in sight, so… it fits.”

He glanced down at the dog, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Doesn’t seem very cannibalistic to me,” he said, scratching Cannibal gently behind the ears.

“Well, don’t let him fool you. He’s a menace,” you joked, though your voice softened as you watched the way Cannibal leaned into his touch.

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he shifted his notebook in his lap, the edges of a pencil tucked into the spiral binding catching your eye. “He likes the water, huh?” he asked, nodding toward the ocean.

“Loves it,” you said, stepping closer. “Sometimes I think he’s part seal.”

He chuckled under his breath—so quiet you almost missed it. You hesitated, your gaze flickering to the notebook in his lap. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

“Sometimes,” he said with a shrug, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “It’s quiet.”

The same answer he’d given before. But now, with the notebook in view, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his visits than just seeking quiet.

“What’s that?” you asked, nodding toward the notebook.

Lucerys stiffened slightly, his grip tightening around it. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just… something I mess around with.”

His tone was guarded, but not unkind. You tilted your head, curiosity blooming. “Can I see?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer, his jaw clenching as if debating whether to let you in. Finally, with a quiet sigh, he handed the notebook over. “It’s not… good or anything,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took it gently, sitting down beside him on the dock. Cannibal wagged his tail happily, oblivious to the tension between the two of you.

The first page was filled with rough sketches of the ocean—waves crashing against rocks, a lighthouse in the distance, and the silhouette of a boat. The lines were delicate but precise, each stroke capturing a kind of quiet beauty.

“These are… amazing,” you said, your voice soft with genuine awe.

He shifted beside you, his shoulder brushing yours lightly. “They’re just sketches,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “Nothing special.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” you said, flipping to another page. Your breath caught as you took in the next drawing.

It was a figure—a girl, standing in a grocery store aisle. Her expression was contemplative, almost pensive, as she squinted at something in her hand. Though the strokes were light and the details subtle, it was unmistakably you.

“This is…” you started, trailing off as you stared at the page. “This is me.”

He didn’t answer immediately. You looked over at him, catching the faint flush creeping up his neck as he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the water.

“I just—” He swallowed hard, his words halting and rushed. “I saw you at the store. You looked… interesting. And I guess I just… remembered.”

“Interesting?” you echoed, your lips curving into a faint smile despite the strange fluttering in your chest.

He sighed, running a hand through his damp curls. “I don’t know. You were squinting at that list, and I thought it was funny. And… I don’t know,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just drew it, okay?”

You looked back at the sketch, your fingers brushing lightly over the page, careful not to smudge it. “You’re really talented,” you said softly.

He didn’t respond, his gaze still fixed somewhere in the distance. The silence stretched, filled only by the gentle sound of the waves and Cannibal’s occasional huff of contentment.

Finally, you closed the notebook carefully and held it out to him. “Thank you,” you said. “For letting me see.”

He took it, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, tucking the notebook under his arm.

But it didn’t feel like nothing—not to you.

“You never told me your name,” you said after a beat, your voice breaking the quiet.

He blinked as if the question had startled him. His green eyes flickered toward yours before darting away again.“Lucerys,” he said, his voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it.

“Lucerys,” you repeated, the syllables unfamiliar but captivating. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

He shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Most people just call me Luke.”

You nodded, testing it out. “Luke.”

“You’re really talented,” you continued, hoping to ease his obvious discomfort. “Do you do this a lot? Draw people?”

“Not really,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I… I just thought you looked…” He trailed off, his voice faltering.

“Looked like what?” you prompted gently.

Lucerys glanced at you, his green eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before darting away. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You just… stood out.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the honesty in them catching you off guard. “Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “I’m glad you did.”

He didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of a smile curved his lips, there and gone in an instant.

"You're quite far from home... on Rosemary Lane," he said, his voice trailing off as he stared into the distance.

"How do you know that?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

Lucerys turned to look at you, his expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. "Well, you... um. You asked me for directions about two weeks ago, I think," he replied, his voice quieter now. A hint of regret crossed his face as if he wished he hadn't mentioned it. The way he spoke suggested he was nervous about admitting he remembered such a smalldetail.

Lucerys shifted, his fingers brushing the edge of his notebook as if to ground himself. “I didn’t mean to sound… weird or anything,” he added quickly, glancing at you with a flicker of uncertainty in his green eyes.

You smiled softly, your curiosity easing into something warmer. “It’s not weird. I guess I should’ve remembered you too.”

He looked down at his lap, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “I wasn’t that memorable.”

“Maybe you were,” you countered, your tone gentle but teasing. “I just didn’t know it at the time.”

Lucerys blinked at you, startled by the unexpected honesty in your voice. For a moment, his lips parted as if to say something, but then he just nodded toward the empty stretch of sand behind you. “You need a ride back? It’s getting late,” he offered, the words rushed but earnest.

You hesitated, glancing back toward the shoreline. The sun had already dipped low, casting long shadows over the waves. Cannibal barked once, as if in agreement, wagging his tail beside you.

“Sure,” you said, brushing the sand from your legs. “If you don’t mind.”

Lucerys stood, tucking his notebook under one arm. “It’s not far. My car is parked up the road.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, Cannibal trotting ahead as the faint hum of cicadas filled the warm evening air. When you reached the car, an old, slightly battered Mercury parked along the narrow road, Lucerys opened the passenger door for you without a word.

“Nice car,” you said with a small smile, sliding into the seat.

“It’s my mom’s,” he replied, rounding to the driver’s side. “She’d probably kill me if she knew I took it.”

The engine rumbled to life, and the radio crackled as he fiddled with the dials. Static gave way to the familiar, haunting intro of a song you knew all too well—Crush by Ethel Cain.

The melancholy melody filled the small space, and for a while, neither of you spoke. The road stretched out ahead, flanked by trees swaying gently in the evening breeze.

You couldn’t help it—you started humming along to the tune, your voice quiet but steady. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Lucerys glance at you.

“What?” you asked, your cheeks warming under his gaze.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his voice soft. But when you turned to look at him, his expression had shifted. The usual guardedness in his green eyes was gone, replaced by something softer, something you couldn’t quite name.

The song played on, the lyrics wrapping around the moment like a fragile thread. Lucerys tapped his fingers lightly against the steering wheel, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face as he watched the road.

“You sing,” he said after a moment, almost like an observation rather than a question.

“Not really,” you replied, laughing lightly. “Just… when I like the song.”

He nodded, his gaze briefly flicking to you again before returning to the road. “It suits you.”

You tilted your head, confused. “What does?”

“This song,” he said, his voice quiet but certain. “I don’t know why… but it just does.”

You didn’t reply, unsure of what to say. The air between you felt charged, filled with unspoken words and something deeper you couldn’t quite put into words.

As the song swelled, its haunting refrain filling the car, you found yourself stealing a glance at him. His profile was illuminated by the golden glow of the setting sun, and for the first time, you saw Lucerys not as the quiet boy with walls around his heart, but as someone reaching out, even if he didn’t realize it.

And in that moment, you let the music fill the silence, the connection between you as fragile and fleeting as the last notes of the song.

The car slowed as the familiar sight of your great-aunt’s house came into view. The warm glow from the porch light spilt across the front yard, and you could already hear the faint bark of Cannibal, who had bounded ahead as soon as Lucerys pulled over near the driveway.

He cut the engine, and for a moment, the world seemed unnervingly quiet. The melody of Crush still hummed faintly in your mind, but whatever thread had connected the two of you during the ride felt like it had been severed.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice soft as you reached for the door handle.

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone clipped, the warmth he’d shown earlier now buried under a familiar layer of restraint.

You hesitated, glancing at him. His hands gripped the steering wheel loosely, but his eyes stayed fixed ahead, staring at the house as if it were something distant and unimportant.

“Do you…” You trailed off, unsure of what you were even asking. Finally, you settled for, “Do you want to come in?"

Lucerys shook his head almost immediately. “No. I should go.” There was no bite to his words, just a quiet finality that made your chest tighten.

“Okay,” you said softly, your hand lingering on the door. For a second, you thought about pressing him—asking why healways seemed to retreat just when things felt real—but something about the tension in his shoulders told you he wouldn’tanswer. At least, not tonight.

You opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air. The sound of crickets and distant waves filled the space left by his silence. Cannibal barked from the porch, his tail wagging furiously as if calling you home.

Turning back, you leaned into the open window. “You know, you can stop by if you ever want to. My aunt makes killer pie.”

Lucerys glanced at you then, his green eyes catching the faint glow of the porch light. For a moment, you thought he might smile again, but instead, he just nodded. “Maybe,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a promise.

You stepped back, watching as the car rolled out of the driveway, its taillights disappearing down the road.

Cannibal whined softly, nudging your leg as you climbed the steps to the porch. You gave him a reassuring pat, but your mind was elsewhere—still in the car, still sitting beside the boy whose walls felt impenetrable.

Inside, your great-aunt greeted you warmly, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchen. But even as you settled in, the house feeling as cosy and safe as ever, your thoughts kept circling back to Lucerys.

The way he had looked at you when the song played. The way he had shut himself off the moment you’d arrived.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever let you see the parts of himself he kept locked away—or if he was already too far out of reach.

"You look distraught, my darling. Would you like me to read your cards?" Glorina's voice was gentle, a soft nudge trying to pull you out of the whirlwind of thoughts that swirled in your mind, all circling around him—Lucerys.

"If you want to..." The words slipped from your lips reluctantly. You didn’t have the heart to turn her away, even though the last thing you needed right now was another card depicting dismal outcomes. With a resigned sigh, you knocked three times on the worn card pack, handing the control over to her as if that simple act could somehow change your fate.

Glorina shuffled the deck, her fingers moving effortlessly over the worn edges until she laid three cards face-up on the table. The first one was the Seven of Pentacles reversed, its imagery twisted and bleak. Next was the Two of Swords, depicting a figure blindfolded and balanced precariously between two choices. Finally, there was the Three of Swords, a stark illustration showing a heart pierced by three sharp blades.

You leaned back in your chair, letting out a long sigh, your fingers rubbing your temples in frustration. "Let me guess... nothing good, huh?"

Glorina’s expression turned serious as she examined the cards. "You feel trapped and powerless, don’t you? Are you trying to avoid something?" Her brow arched, probing deeper. "You need to make a decision and face the situation head-on." Her words hung in the air, heavy with foreboding.

"Either way, I’ll get hurt..." you murmured, your eyes lingering on the card with the three swords through the heart—a painful reminder of your current turmoil. Feeling the weight of the reading press down on you, you quickly finished your dinner, the taste as bland as the evening felt.

With a sense of urgency, you retreated to your room, a storm of emotions brewing inside. Maybe, just maybe, screaming into a pillow would bring you some relief from the ache in your chest.

Tossing and turning, sleep eludes you once again. This simply won’t do. Despite the pouring rain, a wild urge pushes you to the docks, the town's most recognizable spot. You sprint there in your flimsy white dress, a picture of a maiden lost in her thoughts.

As you approach the docks, the boathouse comes into view on the empty pier. It’s the one that belongs to Glorina’s late husband's brother’s son, always welcoming with its open door—one of the perks of living in a small town where everyone knows each other. The raindrops fall harder, and the thunder rumbles in the distance. Logic tells you to stay away from the water during a storm, but your mind isn’t listening right now.

You burst into the wooden boathouse, breathless and soaked to the skin. Your dress clings to you, heavy and dripping, but the warm summer air wraps around you like a comforting blanket, chasing away any chill. You pause for a moment, taking in the scent of wet wood mixed with the sharp tang of the sea. It feels almost like a refuge from the storm outside.

You hadn’t expected anyone to be here, but the faint creak of wood under shifting weight made you freeze in place.

At first, you thought it was just the wind rattling the old structure, but then you saw him—Lucerys. He was seated near the far corner, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a sketchbook balanced on his knees. A dim lantern sat beside him, casting flickering shadows across his face, making his green eyes glow eerily in the dim light.

He looked up sharply, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw you. For a second, neither of you moved. The only sound was the rain hammering against the roof, the storm outside mirroring the chaos inside you.

“You’re soaked,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of concern in it.

You looked down at yourself, noticing how your dress clung to your skin like a second layer. “Yeah. I guess I am,” you replied, your voice trembling—not from the cold, but from the sheer force of everything you’d been bottling up.

Lucerys set his sketchbook aside, standing slowly. His movements were tentative like he wasn’t sure if he should come closer or keep his distance. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I just… needed to get out. Clear my head.”

“In a storm?” His tone wasn’t scolding, but there was a thread of disbelief in it.

You shrugged, looking away. “Didn’t think that far ahead.”

Lucerys sighed, running a hand through his damp curls. He hesitated before shrugging off his hoodie and holding it out to you. “Here,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re gonna catch a cold.”

You stared at him for a moment, the gesture so simple yet so uncharacteristically kind that it left you momentarily speechless. Slowly, you reached out and took the hoodie, your fingers brushing against his.

“Thanks,” you murmured, wrapping it around your shoulders. It was warm and smelled faintly of pine and something distinctly him—clean, familiar, and comforting.

He sat back down, leaning against the wall as he watched you carefully. “Why here?” he asked after a moment, his gaze unwavering.

You hesitated, unsure how much to say. “I don’t know,” you admitted finally, sitting down on a nearby crate. “It felt safe, I guess.”

Lucerys nodded slowly as if he understood. “Yeah. It does.”

The silence between you was thick but not uncomfortable. The sound of the rain pounding on the roof and the occasional rumble of thunder filled the space, giving you both an excuse not to speak.

“Do you ever feel like…” You trailed off, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. But when Lucerys turned to look at you, his expression expectant, you forced yourself to continue. “Like you’re stuck? Like no matter what you do, you’rejust… trapped?”

Lucerys’ jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he said, “Yeah. All the time. I don’tthink I’m good at being what people want me to be.”

His words hung in the air, raw and unguarded, and they made your chest tighten.

“What do they want you to be?” you asked, your voice gentle but cautious.

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Perfect. Or something close to it. Jace—he’s my older brother—he’s always talking about responsibility, about doing what’s expected. About how I need to ‘step up.’” His voice dipped, bitterness creeping into his tone. “Like I don’t already know that.”

You leaned forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. “That’s not fair to you.”

He gave a short, humourless laugh. “Yeah, well, life’s not fair. My mom… she doesn’t say it, but I know she’s counting on me. To hold things together. To be… good enough.”

“Good enough for who?”

“For them,” he said simply, his voice breaking slightly. “For my family. For everyone.”

He glanced at you then, the weight of his words pulling down on his green eyes. “You ever feel like you’re running, but no matter how fast you go, you’re still stuck in the same place?”

The honesty in his voice left you momentarily speechless. You nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I know what that feels like.”

He looked away again, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I don’t let people in,” he admitted, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. “Because every time I do… they leave.”

“Not everyone leaves,” you said instinctively, the words slipping out before you could think about them.

Lucerys’s gaze snapped back to yours, sharp and searching. “They do,” he said firmly. “My dad. People I thought were my friends. They always leave.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your throat tighten. You wanted to tell him he was wrong, that you wouldn’t leave, but the words caught in your throat. How could you promise something you weren’t even sure you could keep?

“I think…” you began hesitantly, “Sometimes people leave because they don’t know how to stay. Not because of you.”

Lucerys stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips twisted into a faint, bitter smile. “Maybe. But it doesn’t change anything. It’s just easier to keep everyone at a distance.”

You hesitated, your fingers curling around the edge of the crate you were sitting on. “That’s a lonely way to live,” you said softly.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “It is.”

The rain continued to drum against the roof, the sound filling the heavy silence between you. You wanted to reach out, to tell him you were different, but the fear of saying something wrong kept you frozen.

Finally, you asked, “So why’d you let me in?”

Lucerys looked startled, his lips parting slightly before he quickly averted his gaze. “I didn’t,” he said, his voice quiet.“Not really.”

“You sketched me,” you pointed out, your voice firmer now. “That has to mean something.”

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his sketchbook, his shoulders tense. “I don’t know why I did that,” he muttered.“You just… stood out. In the store.”

Lucerys’s gaze flickered to yours, and for a moment, the mask he always wore seemed to slip. The boy behind the walls, raw and unguarded, looked back at you, his green eyes filled with something that felt achingly familiar—fear, hope, and a longing he didn’t know how to name.

But just as quickly, the moment was gone. He shook his head, letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,”

Lucerys didn’t say anything else after that. He stared out at the storm as if it might offer him answers, his green eyes fixed on a point far beyond the boathouse walls. The rain hammered against the roof, a relentless rhythm that matched the heavy pounding of your heart.

You sat in silence, unsure of what else to say. The vulnerability he’d just shown you was raw and rare, and you didn’twant to push too hard. Still, the ache in his voice lingered in your mind, pulling at something deep inside you.

Finally, Lucerys let out a breath, running a hand through his damp curls. “You should get back,” he said, his voice quiet.“It’s late.”

You frowned, reluctant to leave him like this. “I don’t mind staying.”

He glanced at you, his brows knitting together. “It’s pouring outside.”

“You don’t say,” you replied with a faint smile, gesturing to your soaked dress. “I think I noticed.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips before disappearing just as quickly. “I’m serious. You’ll get sick.”

“So will you, sitting here with your wet clothes.” You tilted your head toward him, challenging. “Unless you want me to go and leave you to brood by yourself?”

Lucerys sighed, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him again. “I’m fine,” he said, though his tone lacked conviction. “This isn’t the first storm I’ve sat through.”

“Maybe not,” you said softly. “But you shouldn’t have to sit through it alone.”

For a moment, Lucerys didn’t respond. He stared at you, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable—confusion, maybe, or disbelief. Then, almost unnoticeably, he nodded toward the crate beside him.

“Suit yourself,” he said, his voice low.

You smiled faintly, moving to sit closer to him. The wood creaked beneath you as you settled in, the two of you side by side in the dim light of the lantern.

The silence stretched, but it didn’t feel heavy this time. The storm outside seemed to soften, the rain still steady but less urgent, as though the world was giving you both a moment to breathe.

“You know,” you said after a while, your voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t think you’re as alone as you think you are.”

Lucerys turned to look at you, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you said, meeting his gaze, “you’ve got people who care about you. Even if they don’t say it the right way, or even if they mess it up sometimes.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a quiet laugh, though it was more bitter than amused. “You don’t know them.”

“No,” you admitted. “But I know you. A little, at least.”

Lucerys blinked, caught off guard by your words. He opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it again, shaking his head.

“You’re different,” he said finally, his voice soft. “I don’t know why, but… you are.”

The vulnerability in his words made your chest tighten, and you found yourself leaning closer to him, the space between you narrowing. “Is that a bad thing?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the rain and thunder.

Lucerys hesitated, his green eyes locked on yours. For a moment, you thought he might retreat, and put his walls back up. But then he shook his head, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“No,” he said. “It’s not.”

The two of you sat there, the storm raging outside and the warmth of his presence grounding you. The walls of the boathouse seemed to fade away, leaving only the soft rhythm of your breaths and the steady hum of the rain.

His gaze lingered on your face, tracing the curves of your cheekbones and the fullness of your lips as if committing every detail to memory. The air between you felt charged, heavy with a tension he didn't understand but couldn't ignore.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a feather-light touch. His skin was warm, his touch gentle yet tinged with a barely restrained intensity. Your breath hitched at the contact, a shiver running down your spine that had nothing to do with the dampness of your dress.

Lucerys' eyes flickered to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze, darkening with an emotion he couldn't quite name. The space between you seemed to shrink, the storm outside fading into insignificance compared to the electricity crackling in the air.

You just sat there, gazing at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Fear clutched at you, making it hard to find your voice. You worried that even a whisper might shatter this fragile moment and drive Luke back behind the tall walls he had built around his heart. You parted your lips slightly, a soft, shaky sigh escaping as you became lost in the deep, warm intensity of his gaze. The room felt charged with unspoken feelings, and time seemed to slow, wrapping around you both.

Lucerys sat frozen, his heart pounding as he gazed at you with wonder and trepidation. The air between you thrummed with palpable energy, the unspoken words and feelings hanging heavy in the dim light of the lantern.

Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, he leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours. His breath mingled with your own.

Time seemed to hold its breath, the rain and thunder fading into a distant murmur as Lucerys reached up with a trembling hand, his fingers grazing your jawline with the lightest touches. His gaze flicked down to your lips, lingering there for a long, charged moment before meeting your eyes once more.

"Tell me to stop," he breathed, his voice low and rough with an emotion he couldn't quite articulate. "Please, tell me to stop…"

But even as he said the words, he made no move to pull away, his body radiating a heat that seeped into your skin through the damp fabric of your dress. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, the depth of feeling in those green eyes making your heart race and your pulse pound in your ears.

You could see the battle raging within him, the war between the part of him that yearned to close the distance and the part that feared the consequences of surrendering to this overwhelming pull. The air crackled with tension, the moment stretching between you like a taut bowstring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

Lucerys swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he fought for control. But the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable, the longing for connection, for intimacy, for something more than the fleeting glances and stilted conversation you'd shared thus far. It was a longing he'd suppressed for so long, a desire he'd never dared to voice aloud.

"Please…" he whispered again, his voice breaking on the word as his gaze searched yours, silently pleading for guidance.

"Don't stop," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. You could hardly catch your breath, your chest heaving with the effort of drawing air.

You leaned in. Your heart slammed against your ribcage, urging you to close the remaining distance, to answer his unspoken question with a kiss.

But you held back, trembling on the knife's edge of surrender, waiting for him to take the final step. Your body thrummed with fear and exhilaration, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

Lucerys's breath hitched as your words reached his ears, the soft whisper settling over him like a balm. The tension in his shoulders eased, the fight draining out of him as the last of his reservations crumbled away. Your permission, your encouragement, was all the invitation he needed to surrender.

Unable to resist any longer, Lucerys surged forward, closing the scant distance between you in a heartbeat. His lips met yours in a searing kiss that sent electricity through your veins. It was a kiss filled with pent-up longing and barely restrained desire.

One large hand cupped your cheek, his calloused palm warm and slightly rough against the smooth skin. The other hand settled on your waist, his fingers splaying across the damp fabric of your dress, tugging you closer. His body was hard and solid against your own, the muscles of his chest and abdomen pressing into the soft curves of your figure.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, you found yourself melting against him, your curves moulding to the hard planes of his body. Your fingers curled into the damp fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as the world tilted and spun. The storm outside faded into insignificance, the only sound was the harsh rasp of his breathing and the pounding of your own pulse in your ears.

Lucerys kissed you like a man starved, pouring weeks' worth of longing and desire into the single, searing embrace. His lips crashed against yours again and again, each kiss more desperate than the last, as if he feared this moment would slip away and leave him bereft once more. The weight of his desire was a palpable thing, the heat of his skin searing you even through the barrier of your clothing.

Your breath came in short, sharp gasps between kisses, your lungs burning with the need for air. But you were dizzy with the taste of him, the feel of his strong body pinning you in place, the heat of his skin seeping through the damp fabric of his shirt. You clung to him, your fingers fisting in the worn cotton.

In between the fierce, hungry kisses, he peppered your jaw, your neck, the sensitive skin just behind your ear with far softer ones. His breath was hot against your flesh, his lips and tongue painting a scorching trail down the column of your throat.

"Need… more…" Lucerys panted against your skin, his voice low and needy. "Need to feel… need to touch…"

His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them possessively as he hitched your legs up and around his waist, pulling you into his lap. The new position pressed your most intimate places against him, the heat of his arousal burning through the last of your defences.

A breathless moan escaped you as his hands gripped your thighs, hiking your dress up and pulling you astride him. The new position sent a jolt of white-hot need straight to your core. You could feel every hard, muscular inch of him pressed against you, igniting a hunger you never knew you had.

Your eyes fluttered closed, drunk on the feeling of his hands on your skin and his breath on your neck. The world narrowed down to the electric sensation of his touch, the pounding of your hearts, and the ragged sound of your breathing mingling in the charged air between you. You arched into him, your soft curves pressed against him.

Lucerys's fingers trembled as they slid up your thighs, pushing the damp fabric of your dress out of the way. His touch was feather-light, almost reverent as if he were worshipping every inch of newly exposed skin. He swallowed hard, drinking in the sight of you straddling his lap, your dress rucked up around your waist.

As his fingers brushed against the lace of your undergarments, he heard you gasp, the sound sending a jolt of electricity straight to his core.

His hands settled on your hips, gripping them gently, almost hesitantly, as if seeking permission. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own.

"I want to touch you," he whispered, his voice low and rough with a need he could hardly articulate.

He leaned in, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the hollow of your throat, to the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. Each kiss was a question, a silent plea for more, for permission to explore the depths of this newfound desire.

You admired his beauty, his dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he gazed at you with hunger and desire.

Slowly, hesitantly, you slid my fingers through his soft curls, gently tugging, drunk on the feeling of his skin beneath your touch. Your heart raced as his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer.

Lucerys shuddered as your fingers raked through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. The gentle tugging of your fingers ignited something primal in him, a hunger that clawed at his insides, demanding to be fed.

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. His tongue delved into the warm cavern of your mouth, stroking along the soft flesh, tasting you, consuming you.

"Tell me," he gasped against your lips, "tell me what you want."

Breathless, you gazed into Luke's intense, searching eyes. "You," I breathed, your lips brushing against his. "I need you." Your voice trembled with nerves and desire, your body aching for his touch.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked softly, his grip on your hips loosening slightly as if giving you a chance to change your mind. "We shouldn't… not here, not like this."

Lucerys hesitated for a moment, his brows furrowing as a flicker of doubt crossed his face. He searched your eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty, any reason to pull back. But seeing only the reflection of his desire staring back at him, he knew he could not deny either of you any longer.

With a low, almost pained sound in the back of his throat, Lucerys stood, easily lifting you into his arms. He cradled you against his chest, holding you close as he carried you towards the old bed in the corner of the boathouse.

As he loomed over you, his gaze drank you in, taking in the way your hair splayed out across the pillow, the rise and fall of your breasts with each shallow breath. It was evident he was both thrilled and terrified to be here, caught somewhere between boyish enthusiasm and a deep, fierce desire.

Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest as you gazed at Lucerys through the dim light filtering in through the small window. You felt shy suddenly, like that giddy teenage girl you thought you had left behind.

"Lucerys," you breathed out, hesitantly reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your trembling fingers. "Are you… so?" you asked lamely, words escaping you.

You searched his green eyes. A blush crept across your cheeks as you realized how intimate this moment felt, how vulnerable you both were.

Lucerys leaned into your touch, his skin warm and slightly rough beneath your soft fingers. He covered your hand with his own, turning his head to press a gentle kiss to your palm, his lips lingering against your skin.

"No," he admitted softly, his voice low and slightly rough with emotion. "I'm not. I've never… I mean, I want to, with you. More than anything. But…" He trailed off, swallowing hard as he tried to find the right words.

Lucerys took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes flickering away from yours for a moment as he struggled to express the fears and doubts that still lingered in the back of his mind.

Without voicing his thoughts, Lucerys leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, searching kiss. His hands began to wander over your curves, mapping the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips.

Each touch was tentative at first, as if seeking permission, before growing bolder, more confident. He tugged gently at the neckline of your dress, exposing more of your soft skin to his hungry gaze. His breath grew ragged as he explored your body, marvelling at the way you responded to his touch.

Your body tingled everywhere his fingers grazed your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You arched into his touch, craving more, as a breathy whimper escaped your kiss-swollen lips. It felt too intimate, too perfect, like a scene from a romance novel. Being here with Luke, tucked away in this cosy boathouse as the storm raged outside, just the two of you…

"Luke…" you breathed out, your cheeks flushed and heart racing as you gazed up at him through heavy lids. "You can take it off," you whispered, hardly believing the bold words leaving your own lips. Your pulse hammered in your throat.

Lucerys's breath grew ragged as he slowly, almost reverently, began to peel the fabric up your thighs, inch by excruciating inch. His fingertips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps and igniting sparks of electricity in their wake.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion and the effort of holding himself back. His eyes never left yours, searching, seeking, desperate for any sign that he was doing this right.

You nod softly, your eyes wide and trusting as they meet his gaze. A soft, breathy "I don't want you to stop," falls from your lips as you lean into his touch, craving more.

Lucerys swallowed hard at your breathy words, feeling a surge of heat rush through him at the trust and desire he saw shining in your eyes. He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to stroke along yours, tasting you, consuming you.

His hands slid up to the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric in his fists as he slowly, teasingly, drew it up and over your head. He broke the kiss just long enough to tug the garment off and toss it carelessly aside, his eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of your bare skin.

"Beautiful," he breathed, his voice low and rough with a need he could hardly articulate. His calloused hands skimmed over your curves, mapping every dip and swell, committing each inch of your skin to memory. He cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks of your nipples, drawing a gasp from your throat.

You could feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his hands on your bare flesh, yet you yearned for more. An imbalance lingered between you, one you suddenly needed to correct.

"I… I want to see you too," you breathed out, your voice small but filled with hesitant courage. Your words were a plea, a soft, intimate request as you traced the firm line of his chest through his shirt.

A flicker of uncertainty crossed his handsome features, and you realized he was still guarding himself, keeping a part of himself hidden behind the fabric. You needed to bridge that gap between you, to break down the last of the walls he'd built.

Lucerys hesitated, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes as he gazed down at you. The uncertainty was palpable, the weight of his past and his fears threatening to overwhelm him. But as he drank in the sight of you, bare and wanting beneath him, he knew he could not deny you this.

Almost shyly, he reached for the hem of his shirt, slowly peeling the damp fabric over his head. He tossed it aside, leaving him bare from the waist up. The moonlight through the window cast a silver glow over his skin, highlighting the lean muscles and the scattering of freckles across his chest.

Lucerys's chest was toned, the muscles defined and strong from years of flying and training. A thin line of dark hair trailed down from his chest, disappearing beneath the waistband of his breeches. His skin was slightly flushed, a light sheen of sweat glistening in the dim light.

You gazed up at Lucerys, your heart pounding as you took in the sight of his bare torso. He looked like a Sea God standing before you, all lean muscle and tanned skin. You wanted to tell him how breathtaking he looked, how the sight of him stole the very air from your lungs, but the words stuck in your throat.

Instead, you reached out tentatively, placing your cold fingers on his stomach. You could feel the heat of his skin, the firmness of his muscles beneath your touch. Lucerys shuddered slightly at the contact, his breath hitching softly. Emboldened, you ran your hands up his chest, admiring the way his skin felt beneath your fingertips, the way his heart raced beneath his ribs.

His breath came faster, each inhale and exhale more ragged than the last as your hands explored his body with a boldness he hadn't expected.

He caught your wrist as your hand reached his navel, his fingers curling around yours and holding it still against his skin.

Lucerys gazed down at you, his green eyes dark and intense in the dim light. He swallowed hard, his tongue darting to wet his suddenly dry lips.

"Please," he breathed out, his voice low and rough with a desperation he could no longer hide. "Touch me."

His hand slid from your wrist to your elbow, his fingers trailing up your arm until he could tangle them with yours. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a fervent kiss to your palm before trailing his mouth to the inside of your wrist, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin.

Your heart raced as Luke's lips brushed against your wrist, the intimate gesture sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but gasp, the sound catching in your throat.

Emboldened by his plea, your hand drifted lower, tracing the line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the firmness of his stomach muscles tensing under your touch.

Your fingers dipped just slightly beneath the waistband of his jeans, teasing the sensitive skin there.

Lucerys's abdomen clenched, muscles jerking beneath your teasing touch. A strangled groan escaped his lips, his hips jerking forward slightly as if seeking more contact. His grip on your wrist tightened, fingers curling around your arm instinctively.

Lucerys's breath was coming in short, sharp gasps now, his chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. He was painfully hard, his arousal straining against the confines of his jeans. The denim was rough and coarse against his aching flesh, a contrast to the softness of your skin.

"More," he gasped out, his voice desperate and needy. "Please, I need… I need to feel you." His other hand slid down to cover yours, guiding it to the button of his jeans. With shaking fingers, he helped you pop the button open, the sound seeming to echo obscenely loud in the charged air between you.

You gazed up at Lucerys through your lashes, a soft smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you slowly, teasingly, pulled down his zipper.

"You'll need to take these off," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Fear gripped your heart, a lingering uncertainty that he might still decide to leave at any moment. You longed to feel every inch of his skin against yours, to banish the last of the distance between you.

But you were still shy, still hesitant, unsure if you dared to believe this was truly happening.

Lucerys swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs as he gazed down at you. The way you looked up at him, the shy smile playing at your lips, sent a bolt of longing straight to his core.

With trembling hands, he stood and shimmied out of his jeans, kicking them off to the side. He hesitated for a moment, standing before you in nothing but his boxers, before hooking his thumbs under the waistband and slowly pulling them down.

His breath hitched as the fabric slid over his aching arousal, his length springing free to stand proud and hard before him. He could feel your eyes on him, drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin, and he fought the urge to cover himself, to hide away from your heated look.

Your breath caught in your throat as you drank in the sight of Luke's naked form. You could feel your heart pounding wildly, a fluttering sensation in your stomach as you openly admired his masculine beauty.

With trembling fingers, you reached for the waistband of your knickers, slowly peeling the damp fabric down your thighs. You lifted your hips, pulling the garment off and tossing it carelessly to the growing pile of clothing on the floor.

Lucerys's eyes darkened with desire as he watched you remove the last barrier between your bodies. His gaze raked over your naked form, taking in every dip and curve, committing each detail to memory. He felt a surge of possessiveness, a fierce need to claim and worship and cherish every inch of you.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Lucerys leaned down, covering your body with his own. The feel of your bare skin against his was electric, sending a jolt of sensation racing through his veins. He shuddered, a low groan escaping his lips as he settled his hips between your thighs.

Lucerys's length, hard and heavy, nestled against your core. The heat of him seared you, the thick length of him throbbing against your most sensitive flesh. He rocked slowly, rubbing himself against you, coating his arousal in your slick heat.

His lips found yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. His hands slid down to grip your hips, holding you in place as he rolled against you, the friction delicious and maddening all at once. He swallowed your soft cries, his own breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps against your skin.

"Lucerys," you gasped, breaking free from the kiss to catch your breath. Your hands clawed at his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving angry red marks in their wake. The feeling of his hard length rubbing against your aching core was driving you wild with lust. You arched your back, pressing your body flush against his muscular frame as you panted softly.

Lucerys shuddered as your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines of passion in their wake. He groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he felt your body arch beneath his own, pressing against him with wanton desperation.

You could feel every thick, pulsing inch of him, and a flicker of fear raced through you at the realization of his impressive size. You knew it would hurt at first, stretching you, filling you.

"Please," you begged, your voice ragged and desperate as you bucked your hips against his, seeking more of that delicious friction. "Use your fingers first, Luke. I need… I need you to prepare me. I can't… I can't take all of you yet."

"Shh, it's alright," he murmured softly, his voice low and soothing. "I've got you. I'm going to take care of you."

His fingers teased along your entrance, stroking and caressing, before slowly sinking inside. He took his time, letting you adjust to the new sensation, before beginning to pump his fingers in and out of you. He curled them, rubbing against that spot deep inside that made your toes curl and your back arch off the bed.

Lucerys could feel how tight you were, your walls clenching around his invading fingers. He could only imagine how incredible it would feel to sink his length into your welcoming heat, to feel you enveloping him like a velvet glove. But he knew he had to be patient, had to take his time and make sure you were ready for him.

Your breath came in soft, needy gasps as you gazed up at Luke through hooded, half-lidded eyes.

"Mmm," you whimpered out, your voice breathy and quiet. "So good."

Your hips undulated against his hand as he worked his finger inside you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your arousal coating his finger as he pumped it in and out of your tight heat.

"Mmm, you feel so good," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "So tight and hot and perfect."

He added a second finger, then a third, stretching you slowly. His palm pressed against your mound, applying delicious pressure as he fingered you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Tell me how it feels," he panted, his own arousal throbbing and aching with the need to be buried inside you. "Tell me what you need."

Lucerys paused, his fingers still buried deep inside your warmth. He gazed down at you, green eyes intense and searching as they roamed your flushed face. His thumb circled your sensitive pearl, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

"I want…" You trailed off, suddenly shy, before taking a deep breath and meeting his gaze. "I want you inside me. I'm ready now."

Lucerys swallowed hard, his heart pounding against his ribs at your boldly spoken words. He could hardly believe this was happening, that you wanted this as much as he did. With shaking hands, he reached down to grasp himself, aligning the broad head of his arousal with your dripping entrance.

He hesitated for a moment, giving you one last chance to change your mind. But when no protest came, he began to slowly push forward, the thick length of him parting your folds and sinking inch by delicious inch into your tight, welcoming heat.

Lucerys's breath caught in his throat at the exquisite sensation, his brows furrowing as he struggled to hold himself back. He could feel every pulse and quiver of your walls around him, gripping him like a vice.

"Oh gods," he gasped out, his voice strained. "You feel… you feel incredible."

"Ohh, fuck," a ragged cry tore from your throat as Luke drove his thick length deep inside you, stretching you around him. Your head fell against the pillow, hair fanning around you as you arched into him. You'd had lovers before, but none as well-endowed as him. He was so big, so hard, filling you utterly.

"Move, please, Luke," you mewled wantonly, your nails digging into his back. You needed him to move, to claim you utterly. The anticipation was driving you mad with lust.

Lucerys groaned as he felt your nails digging into his back, urging him on. He knew he should go slow, and take his time, but the way you were arching into him, the desperate pleas falling from your lips, made it impossible to hold back.

With a low growl, he began to move, his hips pulling back so only the tip remained inside you before surging forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your dripping cunt. He set a steady rhythm, each thrust driving the breath from your lungs, each retreat leaving you aching and empty until he filled you again.

Lucerys braced himself on his elbows, his strong arms trembling slightly from the new sensations. He gazed down at you, his eyes dark and intense, drinking in the way your face flushed with pleasure, the way your breasts bounced with each powerful thrust.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as he drove himself deeper, harder, faster. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he loomed over you, his powerful body blanketing yours.

"Mmm, you feel so good inside me Luke. S-so deep."

Your fingers trembled as you cupped his chiselled jaw, pulling his face closer to yours. You drank in the sight of his handsome features, the stark contrast of your soft, delicate hands against his masculine face.

"Don't stop," you whimpered. "F-feel every inch of you, stretching me…" Your words trailed off into a soft moan as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves.

Lucerys shuddered as your fingers trembled against his jaw, your breathless praise sending a thrill down his spine. He nuzzled into your touch, his lips brushing against your palm as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.

"Never…" he panted, his voice low and rough with desire. "Never want to stop. Feel… feel too good. So tight. So perfect."

"You're doing so good," you praised breathlessly, pulling Luke into a passionate kiss. You tugged at his lower lip, pulling it gently between your teeth.

Lucerys gasped as your teeth tugged at his lip, the sharp sensation sending a bolt of electricity straight to his groin. He shuddered, his hips stuttering for a moment before he regained his rhythm, thrusting deep and hard, filling you again and again.

Panting softly, you rested your forehead against his, gazing up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Each deep, slow thrust sent a jolt of pleasure racing through you, drawing a moan from your lips.

"S-seems like you're the one doing all the good things," he panted, his breath mingling with yours as he pressed his forehead against yours. "Feeling you… it's… it's..."

His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he rolled into you, grinding his pelvis against yours. He kissed you again, hungry and desperate, swallowing your moans and cries of pleasure.

You gazed up at Luke through hooded eyes a breathless giggle escaping your lips at his praise.

"Mmm, you're one to talk," you murmured, your voice low and sultry. "The way you make me feel…" nipping playfully at his jaw.

You could feel the heat building between you, the air growing thick and heavy with your mingled breaths and soft, breathy moans. You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him closer until your lips were a mere hairsbreadth apart.

A shudder wracked through Lucerys's body as your fingers tangled in his hair, your breath mingling with his own. He could feel the heat building between your bodies, the sweat-slicked skin sliding deliciously with each powerful thrust of his hips.

"Can't… can't help it," he panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back. "You're just… mmm… so responsive. So perfect."

He claimed your mouth again, kissing you deeply, his tongue delving inside to tangle with yours. One hand slid up your side, cupping the slight weight of your breast, his thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching your nipple until it pebbled beneath his touch.

Lucerys could feel the pressure building at the base of his spine, his release fast approaching. But he gritted his teeth, determined to hold off until he'd brought you to yours first. He wanted to feel your walls clench around him as you came undone, wanted to hear his name on your lips as ecstasy overtook you.

You moaned into the heated kiss, your body arching into his touch as Lucerys's fingers teased and rolled your sensitive nipple. Sparks of pleasure radiated from the point of contact, stoking the fire that was rapidly building in your core.

"Mmm," you whined as he thrust deep, your walls starting to flutter and clench around his hard, throbbing length. "Lucerys, I'm…" Your words were interrupted by a loud needy cry as he suddenly took one nipple into his mouth.

Lucerys groaned around your nipple as he heard the need in your voice, the desperation. He sucked harder, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak as he felt your walls starting to flutter and clench around him. He could tell you were close, could feel your body tensing and shaking beneath his touch.

"Touch yourself," he murmured urgently against your breast, his voice vibrating against your skin.

Your breath hitched as Lucerys's words sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you. You couldn't hold back the desperate whimper that tore from your throat, your pussy clenching around his throbbing length. His commanding tone set your nerves alight.

Shuddering, you obeyed the command, your hand drifting down the curve of your belly to the junction between your thighs. You found your clit, swollen and aching with need and began to rub tight, swift circles over the sensitive nub. The added stimulation had you seeing stars, a choked cry of ecstasy spilling from your lips.

Lucerys's hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your clenching heat as he felt your fingers find your clit. He could feel your walls starting to ripple and squeeze around him, the sensation driving him wild with lust.

"Yes, just like that," he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. "Don't stop touching yourself. I want to feel you come undone around my cock."

He pistoned his hips faster, each thrust driving the breath from your lungs as he chased his own rapidly approaching release. One hand slid down to cover yours, his fingers tangling with your own as he guided your movements, helping you rub your clit in tight, desperate circles.

You gazed up at Luke with lust-glazed eyes, your plump lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure. Brows furrowed, you panted out between clenched teeth, "I'm… I'm so close, Luke. Don't stop."

Your fingers were under his guiding touch as you rubbed at your throbbing clit together. You could feel your walls fluttering wildly around his pistoning length, gripping him.

Lucerys could feel your walls starting to clench erratically around his throbbing cock, your body tensing as your climax approached. He could see the ecstasy playing out across your face, your lips parted, your eyes glazed with lust.

"Y-you feel… ohh," he panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "I'm going to… fuck…"

He could feel the pressure building at the base of his spine, his heavy balls drawing up tight against his body as his orgasm approached. He knew he couldn't hold back for much longer.

"Lucerys," you gasped out, your voice breathy and weak. "I'm so… Ohh fuuck!" Your words dissolved into a shameless moan as the intense sensation of your climax ripped through you like a tidal wave.

Your body convulsed and shook beneath his. You could feel your release gushing out around his length, your arousal coating his shaft and dripping down onto the sheets below.

Lucerys cried out, his voice breaking with pleasure as he felt your walls clamp down around him. The sensation was too much, too intense, and with a guttural moan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you as his own release crashed over him.

His hips jerked and stuttered as he emptied himself inside you, his thick seed spurting in hot, heavy ropes against your fluttering walls. He shuddered and gasped, his body wracked with the force of his climax as he clung to you, holding you tight against him.

Panting harshly, Lucerys collapsed against you, his muscular frame blanketing your own as the last waves of his release shuddered through him. He peppered your face with soft kisses, his lips brushing against your skin like the gentlest of feathers.

Softly, you turned Lucerys's face, pulling him into a tender kiss. Your lips melded against his. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you lost yourself in the gentle brush of your mouths, the intimate press of your bodies.

Lucerys melted into the tender kiss, his lips moving softly against yours in a dance as old as time.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving inside to tangle with yours in a sensual dance. He could feel your fingers tracing patterns on his back, your touch soothing and exciting in equal measure.

Breathless and sated, you clung to him, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his back. The storm outside raged on, wind howling and rain lashing against the window panes, but inside your little world, all was tranquil. You nuzzled into his chest, breathing in the clean, masculine scent of his skin. Your curves fit perfectly against the hard planes of his body, two puzzle pieces interlocking into one.

Lucerys shuddered, a soft groan escaping his lips as he felt his spent length twitch inside your still-fluttering heat. He knew he should pull out, but he couldn't bring himself to separate from you, not yet. He wanted to stay like this forever, joined with you in the most intimate way possible.

Sighing softly, Lucerys nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your scent as he held you close.

In that moment, Lucerys realised he was falling in love with you, losing himself in the softness of your touch.

The warmth of Lucerys’s body pressed against yours lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep. The sound of the storm had become a distant murmur, fading into the edges of your awareness as exhaustion overtook you.

You didn’t feel him pull away.

Lucerys lay beside you, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest in the dim glow of the lantern. His fingers itched to reach out and brush a strand of hair from your face, but he stopped himself.

This shouldn’t have happened.

The thought echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving. He couldn’t let himself believe in this, in you—not when it was bound to end the way it always did. He had let his guard down, let you in, and now the walls he’d spent years building felt like they were crumbling around him.

Lucerys sat up slowly, careful not to wake you. He ran a hand through his curls, his breath shaky as his mind raced. He could still feel the ghost of your touch, the way your body had moved with his, the softness of your lips against his own. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and utterly terrifying.

Because he knew—knew deep down—that if he let you stay, if he let himself fall any further, it would destroy him when you inevitably left. He stood, his movements silent as he dressed quickly, his damp clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He glanced back at you one last time, his heart twisting painfully in his chest at the sight of you curled up on the small bed.

You looked peaceful, and content, and it made him feel selfish for even thinking about leaving. But he couldn’t stay.

Lucerys slipped out of the boathouse, the door creaking softly behind him as he stepped into the rain-soaked night. The storm had passed, leaving behind a heavy stillness that seemed to press down on him. He walked down the docks, his footsteps muffled against the wet planks.

The guilt clawed at him, a relentless ache that wouldn’t go away. He told himself it was for the best, that putting distance between you now would save him the inevitable heartbreak later. But even as he thought it, the pain of leaving you felt worse than anything he could imagine.

By the time the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, Lucerys was long gone, leaving behind only the faint imprint of his presence in the boathouse.

When you woke, the space beside you was empty.

You blinked sleepily, your body sore but pleasantly warm from the remnants of the night before. At first, you thought he’d just stepped outside, maybe to get some air or watch the sunrise. But as you sat up and glanced around the small room, the absence of his belongings told a different story.

“Lucerys?” you called softly, your voice rasping from sleep.

There was no answer, only the faint sound of waves lapping against the dock outside.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. Your bare feet touched the cool wood floor, grounding you as your mind raced to make sense of his disappearance.

Pulling on your dress his hoodie that he had surprisingly left behind, which still smelled faintly of salt and him, you stepped outside. The boathouse was eerily quiet, the storm from the night before leaving behind a fresh, rain-soaked scent in the air.

You scanned the empty docks, your heart sinking further when you saw no sign of him.

The ache in your chest grew sharper as the truth began to sink in. He had left.

[the-dawn-star]

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's betrothed

A/N: Hey, I kind of have not gotten Feyd-Rautha out of my mind so here is a thing about him. (And all the fanfictions including him are always smut, which is fine but I want more sfw stuff too). Also, Dune has occupied like 50 % of my thoughts this year and I have so many thoughts about the Dune-show (:

TW/CW: Reader is basically having a panic attack the whole time, murders, arranged marriage.

Getting married had never been the most intriguing idea in my mind. But I had to do this. I was born into a great house and getting married to form an alliance with another house was a centuries long inevitable that most young women of the house had to go through.  

But getting married to a Harkonnen, particularly to the Na-Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen was not something that happens to everyone. But I had been given this role, being his wife, his baroness after his uncle dies at some point.  

I sat on the high balcony of the gladiator arena.  Mother and father sat next to me and on the right side of my father sat the Baron and the rest of the family next to him. My family and I had come to Giedi Prime a few days ago when my engagement was announced to me officially. And somewhere below the arena was my future husband ready to come out and fight, show his power to the thousands and thousands of onlookers.

I picked the edges of my nails. The anxiety and stress hadn’t given me a break since the ship had landed on the colorless planet. My heart hadn’t stopped its overwhelming pounding and with a glass of tea in my hand didn’t stop the shaking. Now the black dress I had been given as a gift by my future husband felt restrictive, especially with the metal jewellery that was brought from home as it was a tradition back home. 

The wedding had been planned to be in a few days and after that my only family and the only way of life that I had known was going to leave. And then I will be alone, alone on this planet with a husband who had rumours of his sadism floating around the known universe.  

I decided to concentrate on my breathing. Not letting the panic override the teachings I had learnt of the Bene Gesserit at home. I let the forced calmness overtake me but even within this state I felt the terror in the back of my consciousness. My eyes glazed over and my sight became unclear but I didn’t mind.

The fighting started as the Na-Baron arrived into the arena and I pushed my years long training past the normal. Feyd-Rautha fought just as well as I had heard. The crowds’ clamour felt like a distant whisper in my state of dissociation. With speed and technique, the future Baron took down his opponents one by one but still clearly showing off the talent he possessed with a blade. The black blood stained the ground but for a reason not known by me didn’t bother me as much as I had expected. 

--- 

The last body fell to the ground dead with his stomach bleeding of blood. The crowd erupted in cheers and I brought myself back to my body in its normal state. My ears rang and as I clapped as did my parents, still clearly disturbed by the cultural change when compared to our home. Father looked like he was ready to retch his previous meals in any second. But I had started to study the Giedi Prime culture as soon as my engagement plans were announced to me. Still, as much as I could learn, I hadn't learnt thousands of years of cultural practices so different from my own, like my parents had expected. 

My future husband made few circles around the arena, raising the audiences’ energy if it was anymore possible. His blades were dripping with blood that showed fully black to the eyes of the eager onlookers. The Na-Baron shoved one of his blades to his belt before circling back to the high seats where his family were sitting next to me and my parents.  

Without a word from anyone Feyd-Rautha dropped to his knee, raising his bloodied blade above his head as if for our box to see.  

Once again, the arena exploded in cheers to the heights I had thought were impossible to achieve.  

“He wants you to accept the engagement, girl.” The Baron’s lazy voice brought you to reality from almost a frozen state for not knowing what was happening. This was the first time the Baron had spoken to me at all, not that I had minded at all. The arena fell into an unexpected silence.  

I stood up with shaking legs, took a step closer to the edge of the box meeting eyes with my future husband. My hands started to shake and I had to squeeze my hands into fists so I could stop them. I nodded uncertainly to my betrothed below on the white sand.  

That tiny nod brought the crowd back to life as Feyd-Rautha rose up before disappearing to the tunnels below the arena where he had come from in the first place. His direction was lost by me. I was too lost in my panic and the work that I needed to do to keep it under my control.  

I let out a breath I hadn’t noticed I was holding. I turned back to my high-born parents. My mother had lost all colour from her face and was breathing even harder than I.  

“My nephew seems to have taken a liking to you, girl.” The Baron’s laughed before leaving with the rest of the Harkonnen family and servants behind him.  

“Maybe this engagement was a mistake...” My mother said in the private llanguage of your great family.  

“Do not speak of such things, wife! This is a great accomplishment for our house!” Father declared.  

My mother and I both knew not to push the topic any further.  

--- 

I had been given my own massive room at Giedi Prime as well as my own servants that were meant to take care of me even after the wedding. For the first time in my short life my servants wouldn’t report all of my movements to my parents. Now all of my movements would most likely be detailed to my future husband if not to the Baron himself.  

On top of the bed was laying one of my gifts from my new home planet. My parents were clear, I needed to acclimate to my new home as fast as possible so, I could please my new family as well as my husband without any home-sickness. At Giedi Prime the clothing didn’t seem to be as meaningful as it had been at home, not that I had anything to complain about. I or my family hadn’t been harmed, I was safe as one could be, I had been told that all that I would want would be given to me without questions, not that I had dared to ask anything.  

I felt the fabric between my fingers. It was rough, thick, heavy, opposite of the silks I had gotten used to at home. But I didn’t mind it, maybe it could warm me in this world so unknown to me. I smiled at the thought.  

A gentle knock woke me from my light daydreaming of my possible warm future.  

“Yes?” I yelled, turning to see one of my servants whose eyes were to the ground. I hadn’t learned their names yet, especially since it felt as if all of them looked so similar. I let go of the fabric, missing the feeling between my fingers.  

“The Na-Baron would like to see you...” I wasn’t sure how much it was a question and how much a demand where my own word did not matter in the slightest. So, I chose to nod without much of a pull to either direction.  

The servant left without waiting a beat and as she left another figure came to my room. This one's name I did remember. Walking through my door was the Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, my future husband who I was going to be bound to by the imperium's laws.  

I straightened my back if anymore possible and tried to keep my sisterhood training in the forefront of my mind.  

He looked just as terrifying in front of me as he had looked at the arena knives in his hands and blood on his clothes. His hands were tucked behind his back and left more space between us than was necessitated by the rulings of the imperium.  

The door closed behind him.  

“It is an honour to meet you, my lord Na-Baron...” I started making sure not to look at him directly, instead lowering my gaze.  

“No need for such formalities. We are to be married, after all...” He looked deep in thought when thinking of his next words. “You are to be my wife and the future Baroness after my uncle passes...”  

I felt the pressure which was building in the room, the space that I had started to feel was my safe haven.

I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say to him and with this I simply nodded. Feyd-Rautha seemed content with my answer.  

“I have a gift for you...” Feyd-Rautha said as he pulled his hands behind his back. He had a rectangular silver metal box with carvings over it. He took a slow step forward, closer to me. And after seeing I didn’t flee away; he took another step and then another until he was within touching distance of me. I didn’t make a move not wanting to upset the man in front of me.  

He handed the box to me and I took it. Right after getting rid of the box, he hid his hands once again behind his back leaving me unsure what he wanted me to do.  

“Open it.”  

I took a deep breath before opening the box, barely able to do it as my hands shook. I opened it and laid my eyes on the inside. There was a laying a knife, a knife on a deep purple pillow. It was one of those hunting knives. A one that had a curve into it.  

I didn’t take my eyes off of it, unsure what would happen if I were to look at the man in front of me. What was the proper response to this?  

“It is the same blame I used today at the arena, the one I raised for you...” His voice was rough but quiet as if he were unsure of his own acts and words.  

I pulled my eyes off of the knife to face my betrothed.  

“Thank you...” I whispered, my voice weak and almost breaking but my response got an approving nod as a response. 

“Now, I must see my uncle.” 

“Of course...” I closed the box but cradled it in my arms.  

With great care he took my hand to his, pressing a momentary kiss on it before letting go and leaving without another word.  

I was left in my room alone and there I stood for a while unsure of the passage of time. I looked at the box, the carving clearly old. There were stars, forests, plants, snow, all of it as if woven into a one marvelous picture of human talent and craftsmanship that passed even the metal work of your home planet could not replicate.  

“My lady, is something wrong?”  

I turned around to the direction of the sound. The servant from before was standing by my door with shaking hands and anxiety pulsing off of her.  

“Everything is fine... The Na-Baron gave me a gift, that’s all.” I looked at the box once again and opened it, wanting to remember all of those curves in the knife.  

“He gave that to you?” The servant asked as if she needed a confirmation for my words, like she couldn’t believe me so easily.  

“Yes? Is there something wrong with that?”  

“It is an old tradition, giving a knife to the one marrying to the Harkonnen family...” She raised her eyes, giving herself a moment to look at the knife directly. “It is the same knife he used today at the arena... It shows the devotion to their future partner, that they are ready to kill for their spouse.”  

She must have realized that she was telling too much, because her gaze fell back to the floor.  

Now I was the one needing confirmation for her words. “He used this knife today...”  

I closed the box once again. The servant only nodded before leaving the room seemingly as fast as possible.  

I closed my eyes concentrating on my breathing as I let calm waves hit me. I tried to remember, no one had harmed me, even my future husband hadn’t hurt me and was as close to pleasant as most likely possible. Maybe I could survive...  

[cy-cyborg]

A family friend of mine (and fellow wheelchair user) is starting a business centred around getting disabled people back into nature and has invited me to trial some all-terrain wheelchairs which im super excited for! He heard I might be moving back in with my parents for a bit (which is on a farm in the bush) and since I'm a lot more dependant on a wheelchair now than I used to be, he thought it would be a good thing to look into. he's pretty confident he can help me get one of my own if I can demonstrate to the NDIS how it would benefit me - and no better way to do that then to just show them (my OT will also be attending lol)

He has a few available. One is a hand-free wheelchair that works kind of like a segway - you lean in the direction you want to go. Apparently, these are quite popular among disabled farmers in the region because they let you carry things and still move easily, something that a traditional wheelchair struggles with, and it lacks the small front wheels that tend to get caught on rough terrain. Another is more like a dune-buggy than a wheelchair for VERY off-road use, and the last is a power chair with tank-tracks for wheels, which apparently hss a standing feature. We were both very curious about whether I'd be able to use this though. He was, as a paraplegic man, and the manufacturer insists double leg amps would be fine, but my experiance with standing wheelchairs so far has not been great, as they still kind of expect the legs to be there even if you can't use them. It seems to mess with the way the chair's weight is distributed I think? Well see if that's still the case, maybe they've fixed that since I last tried one.

Either way, I'm very excited!

[max1461]

Recommend me TV shows or movies. figure out what will appeal to me with your own powerful brain. I don't like tumblr type shows steven universe, I don't like salacious straight people movies competitors or whatever the new zendaya whatever the fuck is called, I don't like dune because baron harkonnen scared me when I watched dune 70s on tv as a child.

Shit I've liked, a brief recapitulation (non-exhaustive):

Movies:

lord of the rings

several of the wes anderson ones my favorite was grand budapest hotel

makoto shinkai movies

ghibli movies

what's that other guy. he made paprika and millennium actress

star wars original trilogy

indiana jones

die hard. now that's a great fucking movie

anastasia (1997)

movie everybody likes but I got BORED OF half way through the godfather

TV shows

fullmetal alchemist brotherhood

nichijo

gilmore girls

bocchi the rock

spice and wolf

foyle's war

the x-files

TV show that I turned off immediately cause I thought there was too much sex which is fine but bullshit to me game of thrones

You're supposed to recommend me FILMS and TV SHOWS in the comments and so on. GOOD FOLLOWERS of max1461 who GREATLY DESIRE to receive my favor will do this SUCCESSFULLY and their recommendations will be much liked by me.

[strawurberries]

Oh my god! Berry I had an idea and I had to come running to you with it cause I thought you'd enjoy it too (and cause your writings awesome) but,

A Soulmate AU where you can hear the other person's thoughts?

With Vash, Wolfwood and nai please! (Separate obviously cause I honestly think having all three as soulmates would just be too much xD)

Whether headcannons or a little scenario thingy I leave up to you 😁

Hope you have an awesome day! - 🍰anon

Soulmate Head cannons

Summary: Head cannons with little drabbles about Soulmates <3

Authors Note: I'm sorry this took so long! Finals are finally over so I can focus on writing :) I hope you all enjoy!! Also I wouldn't mind having all three as soul mates. . . but ya know 😂

Warnings: Self-hate, mild sexual themes, angst, cursing, mentions of religion and murder.

Vash didn’t know what an ocean looked like—deep, painfully blue, and so cooling yet full of dangers unimaginable—but he assumed it had to be something similar to the sight before him: sand dunes rose and fell like the chest of some great giant, tumbling across the horizon without thought or remorse. Compared to the vastness of sand before him, he was nothing but a speck of dust—smaller than the grains of sand that covered this desolate, prison-like planet. Part of him was comforted by that fact, knowing that in the grand scheme of things he would be nothing but a passing memory—no one out there to judge him, hurt him, or even see him. Yet he also hated the loneliness of it all. Looking out and seeing no life but himself, it only served to remind him what he was. 

Vash the Stampede:

“Shit!”

He paused, feet sinking into the dry sand below. A semi-cool wind hit the back of his neck. “Hello?” his voice echoed out into the world around—hello. . . hello. . . . . hello. Nothing responded and he adjusted the strap over his shoulder. He must really be losing it now. He had suffered from heat stroke before, had experienced delusions, and been near deaths’ door due to the pounding suns above, so, unfortunately, he knew what might be happening.

He stood still for a moment, longer. . . nothing. Okay, perhaps this was a one time delusion and he’ll be fine.

“How the hell am I going to get out of this alive?!”

He whirled around, looking for any sign of life—the person of whom the disembodied voice belonged to. After a moment he confirmed his suspicions. There was no one around. He groaned and covered his face, thinking to himself: “the heat must be getting to me. . .”

“What?”

He blinked, “What?”

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?” he yelled out into the vastness of the desert. No one responded. “What the hell?”

“Great! I’m getting shot at and I’m hallucinating!”

“What is happening right now?!”

“You tell me! You’re the voice in my head!”

“No, you’re the one in my head!”

The first time you two met—and by that, I mean: the first time you two heard each other—was a mess. You were busy running for your life, and he was wandering through the emptiness of a sandy sea. Both of you, due to different reasons, thought you were going insane. You thought the adrenaline of the situation finally made you snap, and that this run-in with danger took the last bit of your sanity. Vash, on the other hand, swore the heat was out to kill him again and he ignored you for the most part—no use in talking to a delusion. It was only after you both reached safety and had a night's rest, that you both came to realize this was something more than hallucinations.

“Uh. . . so. . . are you real?” Vash thought to himself as he washed his face in the sink, the morning sun starting to make the hotel room feel like an oven.

“Of course I am! . . . are you?”

From then on you two talked a lot, and bonded immensely considering the other’s deepest, darkest and most intimate parts are on display. 

Vash tried desperately to keep the fact that he’s a plant and an outlaw a secret, but simply thinking about how he wanted to not think about it, made him think about it. And, therefore, you heard it all within the first five minutes of knowing him.

“You’re Vash the Stampede! The humanoid typhoon?!”

“Uh. . . no?” He thought about how stupid of a lie that is.

“I can hear your thoughts, Vash! You can’t lie!”

“Aw man I forgot!”

Really, Vash was terrified at first. Having someone able to hear his thoughts? It meant his act, his silly persona, was useless. He was laid bare in front of a person he didn’t know, had never seen, and wasn’t even sure if they were 100% real. No matter what lie he constructed, the truth would be sitting somewhere in his thoughts; easy to access, and even easier to talk about considering there was no way to ignore each other.

“Vash?”

He didn’t want to talk today. A mother had been killed, he had been shot in the shoulder, and ran out of town faster than he had ever known was possible. Sitting by himself in a crude rock formation, miles from any town with the moons shining down on him with pity. He wanted to be alone—to wallow, and think, and cry, and grieve for what was lost and what could never be.

“Vash, I know you're throwing a pity party right now.”

He wiped some tears from his eyes, watching the stars. 

“Vash, Vash, Vash, Vash, Vash, Vash—come on! I know you're hurting, but it wasn’t your fault. Nothing is. The whole space ship thing? Not your fault. Your brother? He’s his own person, you can’t control his actions—his decisions aren’t on you. The deaths? Inevitable, Vash. Everyone dies someday.”

“But they died because I was there!” He hated showing this side—the pain, the anger, the grief. He didn’t deserve to feel this way. His life, the wandering and suffering, was his punishment for failing to save the people he loved. He didn’t deserve comfort.

“When I finally meet you, I’m going to slap you upside the head before giving you the biggest hug you’ve ever felt.”

He blinked. “Eh?”.

After the rocky start, the weird emotional trauma bonding, and the insecurities—Vash fell hard. Having someone who could peer into his very soul? It, despite feeling so terrifying at first, made him feel so understood and. . . safe. This person has seen the very worst of him, the bottom of the barrel, and yet they chose to keep on talking to him. And, of course, normally Vash would take those emotions to the grave. He doesn’t deserve love. Whoever loves him, whoever he loves, will end up dead. But those thoughts, quite literally, are destroyed the moment they are given tangible sound. 

“I love you too, so I need you to stop thinking that I shouldn’t. Even if you keep running away—” despite the fact that he so desperately wants to meet you he’s terrified you’ll get hurt, and runs away the moment you're in a hundred mile vicinity—“I’ll still love you. And one day I’ll find you Vash. I promise that.”

He sobbed for about an hour straight after that.

He really does want to meet you, it’s the truth, but he needs to confront his fears before he can enjoy your love without guilt. 

Wolfwood:

Wolfwood couldn’t fall asleep. The lull of the bus hadn’t hit him yet, the rocking and groaning metal not a lullaby but a shrieking reminder of how far away from civilization he is. Usually he’d be passed out by now, cigarette limply hanging between his lips, but he had opted to twiddle with it between his fingers. The smoke curled around his palm, lazily rising up into the musty air of the bus. No matter how long he closed his eyes for, how many sheep he counted, or how he positioned himself, he couldn’t reach the comforting arms of sleep. Eventually he gave up, annoyed that everyone else on the bus—excluding the driver himself, thank god—had managed to peacefully drift away into their dreams.

“I’m tired. . .”

He blinked and chuckled quietly, “you and me sister.” He turned away from the window, taking a small drag of his cigarette as he turned to see who had spoken. A lady across the aisle looked at him, tilting her head. He gave a small wave and she turned away quickly. 

“Rude,” he thought for a moment before sighing. Maybe he should try to go to sleep again.

“Hello?”

He blinked and looked around. Surely someone must be sleep-talking. Right? “Wish I could be sleeping,” he looked around once more, eyes lingering on the lady across the aisle who was now starting to doze off. “This sucks.”

“Okay, I’m hallucinating now. God damn it. I knew that I shouldn’t have eaten that sandwich.”

He turned around, looking behind him, and then back to the front where the bus driver was humming a song to himself. “What. . .?” Pure confusion was all he felt. Earlier he had spent several hours in the sun, but the heat couldn’t have gotten to him this bad. . . right? Right?

“Oh God, please make this food poisoning death quick. I’m not into pain.”

Sleep deprivation must really be getting to him. This is going to be a long ride.

Chaos. Absolute chaos. 

Part of Wolfwood thought for a moment he might be getting possessed—he tossed that idea aside quickly but he did consider it for a moment before shaking his head. The other option, he thought, would have to be that the stress of trying to find the Humanoid Typhoon finally caught up to him, and he’s in the middle of a psychotic break. But he remembered hearing that you can’t be aware that you’re in psychosis so. . . where does that leave him?

“Has God really forsaken me this time?” he grumbled, stumbling off the bus and waiting for someone to toss the Punisher down to him.

“I hope not!” came the voice again, “I already have bad luck. If god hates me then I’m really a goner.”

Both of you came to the conclusion fairly quickly that there was no demon or god involved, nor were either of you dying or having a breakdown. Wolfwood, unlike Vash, accepted the situation a lot faster. He was confused and apprehensive at first, after all, no one likes showcases their true, intimate selfs—but he got over it fairly quickly. If this was what fate had given him, he would accept it. After all, it didn’t seem to be too horrible. What’s the matter with appreciating the good things in life?

When he gets bored he’d just stare off into space and annoy you—doesn’t matter what you're doing, or what he’s supposed to be doing. He’ll call your name over and over and over, or start preaching until you tell him to shut up. Sometimes, though, he will start talking about the dirtiest, strangest things you’ve ever heard of until your interest is piqued or until he can hear a reaction from you. Either way, no matter what method he chooses, you’ll eventually be talking to him.

“Here’s another quote, ‘Give your burdens to the lord. And he will take care of you. He will not permit the godly to slip and fall. Psalm 55:22’. You know, personally, I’ve always thought that bible verse—”

“Please shut up. I will literally kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try, Doll.”

His favorite pastime is annoying you, making you flustered, or straight up saying the most out of pocket shit you can ever imagine. And, the funny thing is, you always know what he’s trying to do yet he still manages to get a reaction. It doesn’t matter if he spends several minutes brainstorming before saying what he wants, and it doesn’t matter if you try and prepare yourself, he is a master at being a cocky, loveable bastard.

He does hate when you manage to get him to talk deeper about himself, when you bring in the comfort and philosophical talk. Deep down he knows this life isn’t something he wants to partake in, he doesn’t want to go down the path that has been chosen for him, but what other option does he have? 

“You don’t have to kill.”

“How am I supposed to survive if I don’t? This world is built on blood, and one person trying to make it better isn’t going to do shit.”

“Well, I actually think it’s two people trying to make it better. Can’t say I’ve ever killed anyone.”

He was slightly salty when he got that response. 

He didn’t fall first here, but he most certainly fell harder. His heart is a little petrified, and he often lets people in, but only deep enough to where they feel accepted yet can’t glance at anything too important. It’s like if he invited you over to his home, showed you the kitchen and living room, but kept every other door locked and closed. Yet you had the key and essentially broke every lock in one go. He still doesn’t know if he hates or loves it.

He also desperately wants to meet you but, like Vash, he’s terrified you’d get hurt. But his love and desire outweigh his nervousness and, besides, he’ll protect you with everything he has. If he must die for you, so be it. So, the moment he is sure of himself he asks where you are. And, of course, you knew this was coming, and he knew you knew, and you knew he knew you knew. Make sense?

“Do you want to meet in person?” he thought about how much he wanted to see them, feel them, hear them with his ears not with. . . his mind? He wasn’t really sure how this whole thing worked.

“Of course! How could I deny you when you’re practically begging?!”

“Begging? You haven’t seen me beg yet. . . and now that I think about it, I haven’t seen you beg either. That must be a pretty sight, huh?”

Bastard. He’s a bastard.

Million Knives:

Knives were pissed. No matter how loud he played the piano, or how many plants he surrounded himself with, he could not get that annoying little song out of his head. A solemn, lonesome hum that echoed through his mind like nothing he had ever heard—and it infuriated him beyond anything he had ever known. At first he had assumed it was the sound of the pipes, the mechanical building breathing with man-made life, but once he found himself in the desert, alone, he knew that wasn’t the case. It crossed his mind for a moment, a moment, that he might be having some mental issues but he quickly tossed that idea out the window. He could never have any problems like that, never. 

He brushed his fingers along the piano keys, thinking of problems past and future, thinking of what is to come and how he should deal with it all. His own thoughts, he noticed, almost drowned out the humming; that was, until, a voice blew through his troubled mind. 

“Woah, you’re a plant?”

He whirled around, ready to mame and kill whoever had managed to infiltrate his base. . . but no one was there. “Come on out now!” he seethed, “and I’ll make your death painless.”

No response but the clacking of gears and the hiss of steam.

“Audacious human,” he spit out in his mind, already thinking of different ways to kill whoever dared to address him. He began to stalk the room, eyes snapping from one corner to the next. “They can’t hide long. I’ll find them.”

“Why are you so violent? Geez. . . well, I mean I guess it makes sense but don’t you get tired of being angry all the time?” The voice trailed off and began humming that infuriating tune. A vague thought that wasn’t his came to the forefront of his mind, wondering if it was worth eating the stale bread or if he should—wait no, not him because this isn’t his thoughts—they should wait until they get paid tomorrow to eat.

He ignored the mundane thoughts and confronted the voice in his head, “you’re the one who’s been singing that idiotic song?!”

“Wow, you’re rude too. Who would’ve guessed?”

The conversation devolved very quickly after that.

To be honest, you’d be found very, very quickly. Unlike Vash, Knives won’t avoid you; and unlike Wolfwood, he won’t wait until the time is right—he’ll rush off into the desert and hunt you down in less than a week. Finding a stranger is surprisingly easy when you have infinite access to their thoughts. At first he was angry and only wanted to find you so he could cut your head off, but soon—despite his hatred for admitting this—he found you interesting.

“I’m coming to kill you, and you’re not worried at all?”

“I’ll die someday, and besides, I think I’m starting to charm you.”

“I will rip you apart.”

“Sounds sexy.”

You infuriate him on so many levels he doesn’t even know where to start. 

Actually, he does know where to start. You peer into his mind and learn everything about him and oh my god that pisses him off because now a human—a mere human!—knows everything about him: his trauma, his fears, his past, his brother. And he has now way to stop you from learning about him. Out of pure spite, though, he tries his best to learn nothing about you. . . but that plan fails quickly.

“I’m going to kill myself!” you cry out in your mind, rage edging at the tone of your words.

“Please don’t, it’ll take the joy out of me torturing you.” 

“I’m already being tortured! My boss sucks! Ugh! I’m going to kill him!”

He has a tiny, second-long urge to say he’ll kill the man for you before he literally gags with disgust. He had never been so glad someone was distracted because if you had focused on his intentions in that moment you would have teased him until he showed up on your doorstep and killed you. 

Over the course of the couple days he spent tracking you, he unwillingly came to be invested in your life and found a small amount of joy when he debated with you. 

“Humanity sucks, yes, but we can be good!”

“It doesn’t matter if you can or can’t. What matters is what you’ve done, and what you’re doing. Your potential means nothing when compared to the damage you’ve done.”

“. . . damn it why are you smart. Also, I didn’t do anything! I was just born!”

“That’s a sin in itself.”

“Okay, well, gotta call you out on that one. Being born is not a sin, also, what are you? A preacher? Jesus Christ!”

“Don’t use his name in vain.”

“What?”

After he gets over his initial repulsion and hatred he finds the look into human life interesting. You’re pitiful, weak, and disgusting yet you still push on. Why? Why? Why?

“Why not?’

“It’s useless.”

“So?”

“So. . .?”

“I got you, the great Knives, tongue tied? Wow, I can die happily now.”

Overall, it takes a while for him to fall for you. At first it’s purely rage, and then it’s curiosity, and then. . . maybe he’d call it interest. He wouldn’t fall first and he wouldn't fall that hard, but he’d still appreciate you in some capacity. 

[definitelynotamhafan]

Punishment (Darkness pt. 1)

“Hurting someone is easy…..But healing? You wouldn’t know about that, now would you?”

Alone. That’s what you first felt when you entered the world. When the first winds produced by the primordial goddess sent you to the Egyptian dunes scorched over by her light, when your eyes had opened for the first time, when the only thing shielding your eyes from the fiery ball of madness in the sky was the sun goddess herself.

Am-Heh, that was the name spoken in fear by many, even by Ra herself. Once a goddess which you trusted, which had suddenly banished you to the underworld.

Devourer of millions, Eater of enternity, The One in the Dark. As much as these titles swelled you with honor, as much hurt and pain they stabbed in your heart.

But now, those times of sorrow and pain are now over. Trapped in the underworld as you were, you didn’t have much to complain. You sat in your lake of fire and scorching lava, watching the bubbles blow from time to time, chatting your days away with whatever poor soul you could find, which had maybe gotten lost from the field of reeds, or escaped Osiris’s watchful eye. Your boredom however, was increasing moon by moon. And trust me, the dark confines of the land of the dead were really starting to piss you off. That was, of course, until you heard a scream.

Screams here were rare, since there were only dead people, who had nothing more to fear. Well, that was except for the newcomers who failed the weighing of the soul test. But of course, they never let out screams that loud.

You grabbed your headdress, pulling on your black shendyt, as you dried the lava off yourself. You tiptoed towards Osiris’s chambers, not knowing what the incredibly evil pea-looking bastard was up to. He wasn’t there.

I wonder why…

Your eyes gazed towards a hole in the sky, well, what you would call the sky of the underworld. There it was. After millennia of being stuck here. An exit. You crawled out, dragging your whip with you, which you managed to recover from a chest under Osiris’s bed, which hadn’t been hidden quite well.

The stars. You hadn’t seen them in ages. They looked even more beautiful than you remembered.

——— It has been at least a moon or two since you had escaped from the underworld, your betraying lover’s scorching eye searching restlessly for you each day.

“Honestly Ra, give me a break.” You mumbled to yourself, pushing back your grown out hair out of you face.

You groaned to yourself as you pulled the veil over your nose and mouth, preventing the specks of golden sand to creep where they shouldn’t be. Just as you were about to walk over to the Foreign God and complain about the poor condition of the tent which he had you in, you noticed a red haired beauty laying on his bed. If it wasn’t for red hair, you wouldn’t have recognized him in the first place, and yet….. how could you? You barely were there for Nut’s birth, let alone his.

You had only heard rumors, of course. Of the Great Seth, who Osiris was pretty much simping for. Every minute you would spend in your lava bath, casually trying to enjoy your exile as an ex-god, Osiris would strut in, waving his hips like a schoolgirl and twirling his nonexistent hair as he rambled on about how perfect Seth was. Damn. Now you could see why he was so obsessed with him. No wonder he acted like that.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a whistle from behind you, and a friendly shoulder pat.

“Well well, Am-heh. Like what you see?” The Foreign God asked.

“Shut it.” You elbowed him in the ribs. “The tent you gave me is ripped!”

“Awwwww, can’t you handle a little wind?” He teased, his hand tracing your shendyt.

“Paws off, this fine ass belongs to someone else.” You retorted. “And no. Sand has gotten in places I didn’t even know I had in the first place!”

“Alright, alright. You can sleep in my tent tonight, if you’re so insistent.” He winked suggestively.

“You smooth fucker.” You mumbled as you entered the tent, dragging the little luggage you had, only to be interrupted by a groan.

the red haired sleeping beauty was waking up, and he wasn’t exactly pleased.

“What the hell? Don’t you know how to keep quiet for at least half a-“ He stopped himself as soon as his red eyes landed on yours. They widened in horror as he realized what you were, grabbing the nearest object and throwing it in your direction, which happened to be a pillow.

You caught the pillow in one hand, effortlessly before chuckling.

“And who might you be? FG’s little boyfriend?” You teased. “What? You act like you’ve never seen a god before.”

“Y-you…..Y-You!” He stammered out. “You’re him! Am-heh!” He pointed at you, shivering.

“Relax, kid. I’m not gonna hurt you.” You chuckled, reaching to tuck out a red strand of hair which had gotten in Seth’s face.

He pulled away as if he had just been bitten by a venomous snake. He backed up against the wall, staying as far away from you as possible.

“I know about you! I read the scrolls-! And the hieroglyphs on the temple walls! And-“ he raised his voice.

“I know….I know…” you tried to calm him down, putting your hands out in a protective manner. “See? I’m harmless! I can’t do anything.” You showed him you hand, which was marked by a curse.

Its black veins molded in with your skin, the ink-like substance making your very existence a pain in the ass. The little flakes and specks of silver and gold, which had been your only map to the sky in your exile to the underworld. His Ruby red eyes stared at your open palm, his own cursed one reaching out to examine it, only to pull back away.

“I don’t trust you.” He hissed.

“I know.”

[persefolli]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌

𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞

𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐀/𝐧: 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐡

“So you want me to take my ass all the way down to California to capture this guy for 500 caps. You've lost it.”

“A thousand.”

You tilted your head and inspected the photo

“15 hundred.”

The fat man groaned and rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

You folded the paper and slipped it in your back pocket. 

It had been about a decade since you woke up. You were a long way from California. What was once left of Oregon was filled with sandy terrains. Sweat dripped from every exposed part of your body and for miles there was nothing but dunes. It was crazy how much a nuke can alter a landscape, back a couple hundred years ago the Pacific Northwest had grass and tree filled mountains with lush rivers. Now everything reminded you of a Frank Herbert book. 

The longer you walked the more you accepted that you weren’t gonna find a shelter for the night. Slowing down, the fatigue caught up to you and you fell to your knees, face down into the earth. 

“Emergency alert system has been activated, this is a national emergency. All broadcast and cable systems shall transmit this emergency action notification message.”

You sat with your mouth hung open along with your team as you were getting ready for another shoot. Before you could even think of calling Cooper, armed men bursted into the room, shooting every living thing in sight. You screamed loudly and dropped to the floor, but was grabbed by one of the soldiers and dragged out of the filming studio. 

You stumbled barefoot behind the soldier, then paused.

Everyone fell silent and the world stopped.

The familiar mushroom cloud that was only shown in demonstrations was stretching beyond the skyscrapers of L.A. 

“We have to go now!” One of them yelled and dragged you to a bunker shaped building. One you’d always thought was a set but apparently not. They shoved you in, and you stood in your robe, alongside other girls you recognized as Cola girls.

Soldiers guarded the door as they motioned for the doors to be closed. "W-wait." You walked up to one of the guards. "My....boyfriend is supposed to be bringing my lunch he...he has to be driving up the hills by now can't we wait?!"

"No. We're closing this vault now!"

"I never signed up to be here! I want out. Now!"

"Have you fucking lost it?" One of the soldiers pushed your shoulder. "We're gonna be skinned dry if you don't move the fuck back now!"

"I won't be-"

The guard raised his gun and clocked you right in the face.

You woke up to a dog licking your nose and whimpering. You opened your eyes to see you were at a gas station, or what once was. Sitting up you looked at the german shepherd that sat and began wagging his tail. "Hey you." You smiled and pet the dog.

"She's awake? Great!"

A man came trudging from the gas station in an abnormally large backpack and a severed head.

You instinctively reached for your gun but realized you’d been stripped of all your items. The man shook his head and you scowled at him. You averted your eyes to the severed head and the man rolled his eyes.

"Oh this?" He raised the head. "Long story."

You stood and wiped your hands on your pants. "Where is my stuff?"

"I have it. Put away. Safe."

"Thanks but I'll be needing it back." 

The man didn't move and he cleared his throat. "I am Thaddeus. Squire of the Brotherhood-"

“Ah, ah, ah, listen,” You interrupted him. “You seem like a knightly man and all but I need my bags."

"Listen. I found you. A woman alone in the wasteland. And as a sworn protector I must take you back to-"

"The Brotherhood?"

"Yes."

You stared at him for a moment before sighing deeply and cracking your knuckles. "No."

"What?" Thaddeus nervously chuckled.

"I'm not going. You can't make me."

"I mean....physically I can but....."

"Oh can you?"

Thaddeus sighed and dropped his backpack along with the head. He began skipping on his feet and rolling his neck. "I usually don't mean to use force on a woman but you've left me no choice." He lunged at you but you quickly jabbed his throat which caused him to grab his neck and wheeze. He fell back onto the ground and groaned.

You took the chance to raid his backpack and get your things out of there. You then paused and picked up the head.

"This worth money?"

Thaddeus panted on the ground, unmoving.

"Gonna assume yes." You clicked your tongue and began walking towards what seemed like a small city in the distance. 

“...blood pressure of 120/80, heart rate of 72 bpm….” The male's voice faded as you fluttered your eyes.  

“Where the fuck am I?” You moved your mouth to speak but nothing came out.

Doctors and nurses moved around you and eventually helped you sit up. “Y/N…Y/N L/N.”

A man in a suit and briefcase smiled and stood at the edge of your hospital bed. “You must be confused.” He smiled. “Let me explain some things. Get you situated.”

You looked around and realized how strange it was to be  in a hospital after nuclear bombs had dropped. You reached up and grabbed your head. 

“209 years ago you signed on to be a Cola girl for Nuka-Cola! Well, Vault-tec is the mother company of Nuka-Cola. You only served out a few months of your contract and now you need to serve out at least 14 more years-”

“Fifteen years? You just said it's been 209!”

“Yes. We preserved you during cryosleep so you can finish the rest of your contract.”

“I want out. Hit me with a firestorm of lawyers I don't care.”

The man in the suit began laughing and shook his head. “You don't understand sweetheart. There is no law there is no…way out.” He nodded. “Vault-tec runs things now. So how about you get washed up and you can get ready for the photoshoot later.”

You made it to this place called ‘Filly’. It was a few miles from the hills, or what used to be. You were a good distance away from Santa Barbara, you and Cooper's favorite place. Cooper. You bit the inside of your cheeks everytime you found yourself thinking of him. Imagining how close he was to the bunker before they shut the doors. The guilt ate you up day by day.

There was a singular store in Filly, to which you walked in and sat the head on the counter of the old lady’s shop. “Who’s looking for this and for how much?” You nodded at her.

“What’s a lady like you doing carrying around-” You pulled your jacket pocket back and flashed the gun, not to scare her, but to show her there were female bounty hunters that passed through California. 

“You can give it to Vault-tec….or I can try and get you connected with Moldaver.”

“Get me the Moldaver guy.”

The lady nodded and began flipping through the book. The bell on the door rang notifying everyone that someone had entered.

“Also,” You started. “You seen this man?”

The woman let her glasses fall and nodded behind you. Surely it was the man on the sketch. 

“He hang ‘round here a lot?”

“Stays right in that hotel across from here, sits his creepy ass outside everyday all day till he gets drunk and disappears to god knows where.”

You watched him through the glass door as he walked over to the motel. “I think I’ll be staying here for a while.”

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐋𝐨𝐥 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐭.

You’d never taken this much time to wrap up one of your bounties and send them off to get your money, but this Ghoul guy was one of the most difficult to get alone. The lady in the store was right about him sitting on the front porch of the motel everyday just staring at people.

When you walked out of your motel you made sure to keep a bandana on your face so he wouldn’t notice how much you lurked around. The plan was to wait until he got drunk and stumbled off, knock him out, tie him up, then rent one of the trucks and drag him to the Oregon border but this was one of the first times you actually felt nervous about capturing one of your bounties. 

The Ghoul had gotten into a bar fight a few days back, and he ended up blasting the whole structure with his explosive bullets so half of Filly was exposed to the dusty wasteland. The townspeople didn’t like that so they vandalized his motel. But he didn't care, the next day he just sat right back out on the porch.

“Sweetheart.” He called to you once.

“Get me some tomatah’s yeah?” He threw you a few caps.

You nodded and kept an eye on him while you bought a bag of cherry tomatoes from him. He had that southern accent. Cooper used to speak just like him. You handed him the remainder of caps and the bag of cherry tomatoes. You left him alone after he gave you a thank you and a wicked smile.

Frustrated with your progress, you decided to focus on more important matters. The convenience store lady was able to get you a meeting with Moldaver’s people not too far from here. The morning after the cherry tomato incident, you set out of Filly, walking towards a place called Shady Sands. 

You treaded on a desire path, one that walked on the edge of the crater of where a small city once stood. You stopped seeing a standing billboard. A Nuka-Cola billboard, and the Cola girl that happened to be on there was you. You furrowed your eyebrows and drew your gun quickly, blasting a hole right where your face was plastered, replacing it with the blue sky.

You hated yourself for signing that contract, you hated doing photoshoots all the time, and you hated that you didn’t do more to save Cooper that fateful day. 

Whatever, that was hundreds of years ago.

A few miles from Shady Sands was an abandoned school, and you knew Moldaver was there based on the sets of footsteps that were in the ground that led to the entrance. Inside, you saw two armed guards standing beside a woman with long black hair. You narrowed your eyes and scanned your surroundings, making sure you weren’t falling for any traps.

“Heard you were looking for a head.” You held up the severed head. 

The woman smiled, standing and walking forward to inspect it. “Nice to see another woman in the industry.” 

You said nothing and rocked on your heels. “What’s so special about it?”

The woman sighed, “Cold fusion, can basically power up New York City without actual electricity. It's a complicated concept.”

You nodded, “So…how much is it worth?”

“I got 10 thousand caps for you.”

“Ten thousand?!”

“Well that was the bounty, and you brought it right to me.” She narrowed her eyes at you. “Everyone’s been looking for this head and you just have it. And you don’t care that you're just handing it over.”

“I don’t have much to care about anymore…not really.” You shrugged. 

Moldaver recognized the look in your eyes. The look that told the same story a thousand ways, that you had lost everything.

“It’s getting dark. Take your caps and go.”

“Wait!” You stopped her and pulled out the bounty for The Ghoul. “Why is this thing wanted?”

Moldaver narrowed her eyes and looked at the photo closely. “Oh him! Just a pain in the ass.” You were surprised at the reason he was wanted so badly, but whatever, you needed the money, but not so much anymore after turning in the head for thousands of caps. 

After the meeting you hiked back to Filly, thinking of all the different ways you would spend the money tonight, maybe a bigger room, or a couple of drinks, but you were shocked to come back and see people scurrying around and yelling. You went through the tunnel and saw The Ghoul in the midst of the chaos grunting and punching the ground. You drew your gun, assuming he’d gone feral, but he was just drunk, and upset.

“Who shot the board? Who did it! Come out right fucking now!” He snarled.

You raised an eyebrow and approached slowly, drawing your gun. The older lady from the store grabbed your arm to stop you, shaking her head. “He has explosive bullets.” She reminded you, pointing to a large hole in Filly’s infrastructure, where the bar once was. 

“I got this.” You reassured her. 

The Ghoul looked up at you and heaved as you got closer to him. “The fuck do you want. You know who did it?”

You silently stared at him as he jerked, waiting on an answer. You jumped hearing him yell. “I won’t stop! til I find out who shot my baby’s face!” He yelled.

“That was my face you dipshit.” You tugged down your bandana and his pupils dilated. He visibly calmed down and dropped his arms in disbelief. He was still on his knees, so you held the gun to his head. “Dead or Alive. I think I'm just gonna take you now.” You said. 

“Oh Y/n….Y/n.” He grabbed at your jeans. “This can’t-....how?”

“Stop moving!”

“Wait!” He exclaimed. “It's me! It’s me, baby. It's Cooper!”

You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head in confusion, scanning his face over again. How could you have not made the connection. The voice, the mannerisms, even down to the way he dressed. “It’s me, baby. We had a dog named Roosevelt, a house in hidden hills, and you have a birthmark on your right asscheek.” He panted. “You always covered it before a shoot because you didn’t like how bright it was.” 

You dropped the gun, stumbling back in disbelief. Over 200 years later. The man that was the cause of your coldness, was now here in front of you. You dropped your gun and began crying, sniffling and shaking your head in shock. You’d been hunting your own man all these months, ready to kill him. You dropped to your knees and cradled his face. He began to cry as well, dryly since his ducts had been burnt out long ago, and he nuzzled his face in your neck. His arms wrapped around your waist and squeezed you close to him. “That board….That’s all I had left of you.” He whispered. “I tried going home and finding a picture I just couldn’t-”

“Shhh.” You rubbed up his neck and the back of his head. 

The two of you situated in the middle of a chaotic filly, holding one another in shock and love.

You reached in your pocket and raised the bounty paper in the air, letting it fly off into the dust beyond.

[lowtaperfeyd]

Heyo! Love your writing so much! Would you be able to take a request for Gurney? Was thinking like maybe the reader being Paul's older cousin and admitting their feelings to him after admiring him for years? Cheers <3

Gossip Like That

Gurney Halleck x Atreides!Reader

author's note: I'm literally over the moon at the fact you enjoy my writing!!!! like my heart grew 3 sizes like the grinch. This is pre-dune bc I want them to be happy 🤧

warnings: large age gap, not illegal tho, pretty much all fluff

wc: 1092

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” (Y/N) whispered to Paul as they sat next to each other in the imperial dining room, “Not exactly handsome, but distinguished…”

Paul turned to look at his older cousin, perplexed,

“The Earl’s son?” He inquired.

Oh right… they thought, the son.

(Y/N)’s eyes looked at Earl MacArthur’s son, Mikhail, who was sitting at the other end of the table with the Duke, Lady Jessica, and the War Master. Sure, he was handsome. But his eyes were dull and the only time he exhibited any sort of excitement was when he talked about inheriting his father’s rice empire. In other words, he was boring beyond belief. But he wasn’t the man who attracted their eyes. It was the man sitting diagonal to him. The War Master, Gurney Halleck.

His strong arms and calloused fingers made fire spread all over their skin. When he brushed his hand gently against their shoulder, when directing them into the proper stance for sparing, left goosebumps. Unknowingly, he was the subject of several stares from them. With them starting when (Y/N) came to Caladan to study interplanetary politics with their uncle, the Duke. (Y/N) thought they were safe to gaze at him a little longer, but sooner rather than later,

“Gurney!” Paul whisper-yelled, while accidentally slamming his fork down onto the table and making it clatter.

“Shut up!” They expressed that at the same time, the room went silent.

“Is everything alright?” the Duke asked with concern written on his face. Heat began to creep onto (Y/N) and Paul’s faces at the intrusion.

“Oh yes, everything-” (Y/N) announced before Paul cut in too quickly,

“It’s all fine here!”

“Alright,” Duke Leto replied, unconvinced, “continue.”

Just as fast as it started, everyone in the room began to fall into the rhythm they were in before. The room was filled with idle chatter and laughing once more. (Y/N) had their head down, looking at their plate, for the rest of the dinner only to bring it up while replying to a remark made by one of the guests at the table. And while it was down, they wouldn’t notice Gurney Halleck peeking over to ensure they were okay.

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

It was just after dinner and Paul and (Y/N) were strolling blankly through the halls.

“I just don’t get what you see in him.” Paul began, “He’s not handsome or distinguished and contrary to popular belief, he’s not that great of a singer.”

“I thought you liked the man?” (Y/N) retorted.

“Yeah, as a teacher. Not as a suitor for you.” Paul stated like a lady of old that (Y/N) had studied years ago.

“But he’s just so-”

“(Y/N), he’s virtually bald.” Paul interrupted, “If you liked the person I said, I could condone that because he still has a full head of hair.”

“Oh please,” they scoffed, “we all know it’s thinning.”

“We all know whose hair is thinning?” Said that familiar gruff voice behind them, with a hint of a smile.

(Y/N) and Paul turned around to see Gurney Halleck standing with his feet shoulders width apart and hands behind his back. They were dumbfounded. They didn’t know how long he had been following them or how much he had heard. In some odd way, they had been caught.

Both of them lost their bearings and began to start mumbling out things that didn’t even make sense in this context.

“Oh look at the time!” Paul said while looking at his wrist that lacked a watch.

“I must be going!” He affirmed before all but running down the hall.

(Y/N) folded their lips together and started to pick at the skin around their thumb as Gurney began to walk closer to them; until he was arms length apart.

“I didn’t mean to intrude on your conversion, but it got interesting closer to the end.” He divulged. His lips were slightly quirked at the side of his mouth and his eyes had a newfound twinkle that wasn’t there before. Maybe it was the moonlight shining through a nearby open window, but (Y/N) thought that he was more beautiful than before.

“Mikhail,” they breathed out, “He’s the one whose hair is thinning…” They shifted their weight from heel to heel and picked their head up to look at him.

“That's who me and Paul were talking about.” They said quietly.

“And the other man?” He brought up teasingly. “Who’s he?”

“The man who is ‘bald’, an awful singer, and one of Paul’s teachers.” He toyed, “Who is he? Do I know him?”

“Gurney Halleck, how dare you assume I would partake in gossip like that!” (Y/N) fibbed to try and cover themself.

They turned around and began to walk away from the situation. But, the War Master only followed. He let them walk for a little bit before taking long strides to catch up to them. When he caught up, he grasped their wrist gently but firmly and spun them around to face him. (Y/N)’s hands fell onto his expansive shoulders. They could feel the old scars beneath the perfectly pressed uniform he wore for such an occasion. Their eyes were in a constant fight between looking at his lips and his eyes. His arm was wrapped around their waist and the other rested on the side of their arm.

“Come on, you can tell me.” He pleaded. His voice was lighter and his eyes were clear.

“Gurney Halleck.” they answered. “How dare you assume I partake in gossip like that.”

Their lips met in a frenzy. Gurney’s arm tightened around (Y/N)’s torso and pulled them in closer; his hand traveled from their arm to neck and his thumb made small circles. Their hands moved from his shoulders to his face as they continued to passionately kiss in the middle of the hall. They were chest to chest and oblivious to the world around them. It was like they became one person. It could have been minutes or hours before, breathlessly, they pulled apart, panting like dogs in the sun. The silence enveloped them like a shield protecting them from the blade of the world.

“Is it correct to assume that this man is in the room with us?” Gurney proposed to wind them up.

“No, that's incorrect. He’s the man in front of me.” (Y/N) came out with before kissing him again with even more passion.

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

“So you and Gurney spoke last night”

“Shut up, Paul.”

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 17

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

How many ways can someone say I was lonely without saying it?

“I was bored,” Sirius says. “Thought I could teach it tricks,” excuses in the kitchen, before Remus has a chance to stick on the kettle.

“Thought I saw a mouse,” a little later, as they’re both drinking tea, “and he was just there. Free pest control.”

“He’s really a very good conversationalist,” above a couple plates of shawarma, “we bonded over your elbow patches.”

“If you wanted the cat, I won’t begrudge you. Though I don’t know what you’ll do with it when it’s time to go back to England.”

Sirius picks the cat up with great affront, like Remus said he’d throw it out of the window or feed it to a wolf. “It’s coming with me, of course. Ziggy will love the house I have there.”

“Ziggy?”

“Stardust.”

“You named the cat after Bowie?”

Sirius rubs his forehead into the cat’s fur. “And he knows good music, too,” he says lowly into it. Remus shouldn’t be able to hear it.

And as in in addition to. Remus wonders what else has Sirius been telling the cat about him, wants to know beyond a curiosity. It doesn’t matter - shouldn’t matter – but. But.

“Did you sneak out anywhere else?”

“Post office.”

“Sirius…”

“I know, I know,” Merlin, that grin will be Remus’s death, “your Ministry rules. It’s your own fault for not spelling the door shut.”

“Sirius you’re a Curse Breaker. Whatever ward I’d put on it you’d be out of in minutes.”

“What I’m hearing is that you think I’m better than you.”

Remus is an adult with adult responses to irritants, but never has he wanted to roll his eyes at something as much as he does now. He stops himself because: adult. Not teenager. “Of course that’s what you choose to hear.”

He should be furious. Should be worried about his job. Should be writing Kingsley to let him know. The convict had escaped. He’s back now but who knows what he did. Other than getting a cat, that is. Send a team of Aurors.

He does none of that. He eats his shawarma, starved after the change and days of hospital food. It’s so good he feels a bit teary. It should be embarrassing, but it’s such a normal part of his month he doesn’t have the energy to muster to feel shame.

“What happened to your leg?” Sirius asks when he gets up to clean up the table.

It’s a strategy, responding to those kinds of enquiries. He’s used it on Sirius before. It feels wrong now, but what choice does he have? “Fell down a flight of stairs.”

Sirius stands at the kitchen sink. The cat weaves between his legs. They do the dishes by hand, not by magic, and it’s achingly domestic. It’s a reprieve, Sirius demanded, a moment to step away and do something manually, with their hands. Had my best breakthroughs while doing the dishes.

“Remus. That’s obviously a lie.”

It’s the first time. Remus has told his excuses to so, so many people. He’s been “hit by cars”, “fallen off ladders”, had “unfortunate gardening accidents involving shears”. Never once had he been called out. He doesn’t know what to do about it.

“What?”

“You were gone for five days,” and here it is, the argument Remus has been bracing himself for, “and you come back limping. You didn’t fall down the stairs. You’re a wizard. There’s no damage bad enough you could have done to yourself falling down the stairs.”

Of course he’s right, and of course he knows it. Remus stays silent, soapy plate clutched between fingers like a shield.

Sirius sighs. It’s dejected and disappointed. It’s the worst sound Remus has ever heard. “Fine. You won’t tell me. Or you can’t tell me, whichever. Just… is it dangerous, what you’re doing?”

What a question. Sirius asks it with large, open eyes. This is dangerous, Remus wants to say, this here, the way you look at me. Sirius makes him want to tell the truth. Dangerous to whom? He wants to ask. To me? Always. To others? Not as long as I’m in the cell. To you?

“Not to you.” (Stay away from me, stay hidden and locked up and don’t leave the hotel when the moon is full, and it won’t be to you.)

NEXT PART

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

@sweetstarryskies

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@procrastinatingstuff

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[unicoo]

Okay just hear me out

(You absolutely don’t have to agree with this, I’m just saying what I THINK)

I’m going to post the link to @austinslounge post with the timeline because I used that for help

My theory (based simply on my intuition of people & what I’ve watched, I could be very very wrong about all of this, I’ll be the first to admit if I am 😭) starts in 2023….kinda. Just stay with me while I lay out the timeline.

Towards the end of the year they seemed fine, like they can still stand to be around each other and at least pretend to be in a “loving relationship”

End of 2023/beginning of 2024 Kaia starts attending more events alone around this time as well, she’s got movies and she’s getting invited places and it’s amazing for her. Everything seems great for Kaia, all the things she’s “worked so hard for” are in her reach.

It’s also notable that around this time Cindy DIDNT want Kaia to wait for Austin to settle down lol.

Then we get the infamous Dune 2 after party (sorry for the jumpscare), I think we can all agree that what Kaia did, didn’t please Austin. After that we get a month break from Kaustin and then those really bad gym pics came.

Honestly, compared to how they started the dune 2 after party, with kisses and hand holding…..this looks bad. She’s in front of him throwing the door open with no intention of opening it for him….that’s how it looks to me 🤷‍♀️.

When I read the situation I can see (humble opinion again) that the after party incident caused bad tension and by this point Kaia was kind of making her way to the top, so why keep “acting” “in love”? Why not get this break up on the roll?

I only think this because after those pictures Kaia has her palm royale premiere AND a Jimmy Fallon appearance! I mean that’s HUGE for her……except it isn’t. She goes to a few more solo events and the crickets keep chirpping. This whole time Kaia thought she bagged a W and she hadn’t. Her name was still connected to her mom, Austin, or nothing at all.

Then we got these 🙄 she needed press for herself because she had more events coming up that she KNEW Austin wouldn’t be attending, just like he didn’t go to award shows & take her, just like he didn’t watch the Golden Globes with her, even though she tried to make it seem like he did. Kaia is not stupid, she’s pretty smart, she knows she needs another BIGGER name next to hers to get attention, Austin’s is perfect. If fans believe she’s with Austin or he’s with her, they eat it up and give her attention.

She had the Met Gala (which Austin didn’t go to) & another premiere after those pictures. At both events she looks like a kicked puppy. And with the Met you can pinpoint exactly when she gets sad.

While getting ready she looks fine, eyes look normal, then she walks out of the hotel………..she isn’t as popular as she thought she’d be 🥴 I need it to also be noted that after this we see the start of what we now know to be significant weight loss. In my opinion this was her relapse into ED.

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At the end of May a fluff piece about Kaustin was written and not long after that, this comes out.

After this we get this 😂😂 if anybody has the link to the video please put it in the comments, but you can tell Austin was OVER IT. Like you can just tell.

After this Kaia goes on a Vacation that looks a lot like a breakup trip. She was calling Camilla her one true love and using Travis to pose all seductive, as if saying “look what you lost”.

Sometime after this is the first time Austin gets asked about Kaia in an interview and after that it happened a few more times, more than it had in the past years. And each time you could tell it caught Austin off guard and he was uncomfortable. Then we get the Bikeriders premiere with the separate arrivals and forced kiss that was posted WITHIN MINUTES. Austin was obviously taken aback and after that he’s seen on video dragging Kaia around like a child. Then they go their separate ways and sorta disappear, but Kaia still blesses us with her thirst traps and post-breakup feeling posts.

After this we got the play date that was just hilarious tbh. @destinymoore05 THIS is the smugness lol. The video of him completely ignoring her for his fans and her DESPERATELY trying to be a star LMAO. Then the way he stares down the camera in confused amusement as she tries to be sexy and capture his attention LOL. Don’t even get me started on the phone in almost every picture 😂🤚

After that was the Library Science event he went to, which correct me if I’m wrong, it was the only one. After that Kaia goes to Paris with mommy and no Austin in sight, even though so many shippers claimed he was there. Then we got the late night, still weird in my opinion, fan encounter.

Then there was the wedding Austin didn’t attend, followed by a pap walk and TWO birthday parties neither do them came to. Which is so weird for a “loving couple” lol. Event though Kaia wasn’t at Austin’s birthday celebration, they did a pap walk 3 days later.

I love this pic, Kaia in her element, sucks she has to keep dragging Austin through it. After this Kaia does the whole Disney birthday trip and no Austin, but Ayo & Presley’s girlfriend do go.

Kaia has 2 premieres after this, which have traction for the NIGHT. After that she’s irrelevant again lol. She third wheels a date with Cole & Camilla before she and Austin go out ONLY AS DAMAGE CONTROL after the Marcello stunt she pulled. She showed her ass and it needed to be fixed, I find it telling that Austin pulled the mask and hat back out too. Since this they haven’t been seen together again.

Interesting enough this article came out AFTER the Marcello incident and BEFORE this pap walk. Then we get sorta back to back articles, this one from Austin’s team, then another Cindy article that’s a whole 180 to what she started the year off saying.

Kaia has been to countless events by herself, from Times100 to Hollywood Next Gen. She’s going to after parties for movies directed by people she wanted to work with. She did the vogue cover, no Austin at the party despite being in the same city. Let’s not forget the Halloween party she attended, the same party Austin’s coworkers Matt Smith attended……We had the Austin stays in Mexico situation, followed by the weird thumb dude Kaia posted, and now we have the “I’ll sit on a lap, just not Santa’s” situation.

Saying all of that leads me here, so if you stuck along I appreciate it, I promise there’s payoff 😭

I THINK, the year started with them gearing up for a breakup. That’s why the Cindy article dropped and Kaia was everywhere solo for a while, pap walks included. They didn’t really need Austin anymore, Kaia “had a name” and a foot in the door. As the year went Kaia realized she didn’t have any of what she thought she did. She wasn’t important or popular and the Met Gala cemented it for her 💯. She went from clear eyes getting ready, to that brief upset on the bus, to red eyed on the red carpet, because the truth began to show itself. After that she and Austin are back “together” expect after the Dune after party I think Austin made it clear, I won’t take you to any more events. Pap walks are fine and I’ll even support you at yours, but you have to keep yourself & your paps away from mine. After that they stopped acting, no longer pretending to like each other, let alone love and stand one another. Kaia keeps trying and nothing, those pictures of them smoking were done on purpose and if I’m not mistaken an article followed not long after. She was already planting the seed that Austin was a bad egg, starting all the way back with Cindy’s first article. She goes to the Met Gala and all these events and realizes, she still needs Austin, but he’s not going. He’s over it and tired and just wanted to focus on his career in peace. My guess is Kaia tried convincing him to do more events together and he said no, because soon after that his team drops an article that bluntly states they have nothing in common, it even planted the seeds for a summer break up. Which is why we were all kind of shocked about the pap walks and premiere kiss. That break up was supposed to happen this summer, I firmly believe it, but Kaia & her family used their “power” to pressure Austin. The article even said they would if he didn’t take their daughter to the three year mark things could get ugly. So Austin settles in for the rest of the year. He’s done pretending, he won’t feed into it anymore, because just like Kaia’s been planning, he is too. He gets smug, staring at the camera, keeping contact minimum, really showing us with body language (and ig likes) that he does not like her. By then I think they were really finished which is why afterwards Kaia went on a whole post-breakup Instagram coping phase. The ONLY reason she was at the Bikeriders premiere is because Austin flirted shamelessly during the press tour, which he didn’t really do during Dune. It was definitely a statement on his end, especially if you pair it with his disinterest with Kaia in any sense when it came to the public. She forced a kiss to prove a point, but it backfire, as all her plans do. She keeps trying, wayy too hard, and Austin is eating it up. He’s happy she’s making her own trap, all he has to do is pull the cord and in all honesty Austin has the most control in this situation. (He may not be Uber rich, but his name hold weight within the movie world, if he was a bad guy he could ruin Kaia’s whole career tbh.)

Back to the theory, Kaia goes to Paris with her mom for the Olympics and some Omega bullshit. Shippers start rumors that keep Kaia’s trip relevant, Austin was NOT there, but they had to make the delusional claims that he was. After that is the wedding Austin doesn’t go to, but he does go to Canada for their vaca? That’s weird to me and no real couple would do this. He was only in Canada to talk over game plans and contracts between him and Kaia (my opinion!) What they didn’t account for was Kaia’s messy, disrespectful, slutty nights out. So damage control had to be done because Kaia can’t look bad when the breakup drops, it has to be Austin if she wants to keep come relevance. So they do a few more pap walks, they have to keep Kaia’s name trending as well as make it to that three year mark. They don’t spend their birthdays together, don’t even pretend, because by this point it’s strictly business. Austin’s going out with friends and doing things by himself for himself, by all accounts he’s free. Meanwhile Kaia keeps shoving her foot further and further in her mouth. And to make it even clearer that he’s DONE, his team drops an article about Austin outgrowing Kaia & the relationship, another very clear indication that he’s ready for this to be over. Then to combat his article, Cindy releases one, she has to tell the people her daughter isn’t boring, she’s trying to keep herself busy & interesting! And let’s not forget the Gerber article where they basically shit on Austin AND beg him to love Kaia lol. I think that came from Austin’s team. Why would the Gerber camp release an article that made them look crazy? They wouldn’t, but Austin would & could to help protect his image against these powerful leeches.

Going back to the Deuxmoi situation, I do actually think Austin said something about Kaia, but only that yeah they were still together. No breakup article is out so they have to keep the appearance up, but also, it makes Kaia look bad when she does things like get on her knees for a guy then spend 20 minutes in the bathroom alone with him, or sit on some rando’s lap. People are literally turning on Kaia before our eyes, it isn’t many, but an avalanche always starts as a snowflake. Now, it’s pretty clear they aren’t together. The last few things we’ve seen from Kaia have involved different guys and Austin is MIA. Austin can’t afford another post Vanessa break up situation. He caught so much hate and still does because of rumors and misconstrued situations. He knows that Kaia & her family can milk him for a while after the breakup and by letting Kaia bury herself it leaves Austin with solid ground to stand on after this is all done. Kaia tends to act a certain way when things don’t go her way, and right now the pattern is patterning.

Austin is smart and I’d like to hope his team has his best interest at heart. I hope they’re letting all the snow fall before letting out the yell to release the avalanche.

The Gerbers have been playing Checkers, and whole time Austin might’ve been playing Chess.

And again, I could be very very very super wrong….😭

[dankmyfarrik]

Eternal Sunshine | Chapter 9: Know Hope

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Summary: An alternate universe where the only thing that happens differently is... well, the Emperor wins. And Luke wakes up with a mysterious scar on his temple.

Read it here:

AO3

Welcome back! Sorry about the delay! This took way longer than I was expecting to finish. But here we are - enjoy!

Chapter warnings: Cannon typical violence, Grogu is put in a dangerous situation but is completely fine.

Word Count: ~7k

*~*~*~*~*~*

A few things happen when a Star Destroyer enters lower atmosphere. 

First, because there are other ships that serve similar purposes more eloquently, a Star Destroyer needing to leave the vastness of the galaxy, and stoop so low is considered a rarity and thus a necessity. A docking Star Destroyer is not an everyday occurrence. 

It begins as dark omen cutting through the sky—small at first, eventually growing to eclipse the suns. Large enough the beast ever so slightly captures the curvature of the planet, it dwarfs whatever landmark of civilization or nature lies below it.

Second is what happens in the mind. 

It's a humbling sight that freezes the blood of the non-imperial. 

Then, the wind begins sweeping the land like a beckoning storm. And that's when the roar of the engines, deep and resonant, echo through the valleys, cities, mountains - whatever is in the way, sending shivers down to the marrow.

The only sensible action then becomes surrender. But most of the galaxy, Din had found, was not sensible. Star Destroyers, more often than not, served as the beginnings of glorious tales, a demon descending to find itself unwelcome.

So when the Descant slowly clambered its way through the docking procedures, the shadow cast on the ground growing larger and larger it was a rarity that the planet below it offered no fight. The fight had been beaten out of it years ago, now it had succumb to the great galactic Empire. 

It was an odd sight, Din thought. The world was beautiful: pristine grassy hills, a bright blue-purple sky, soft tufts of cherry blossoms. Yet the planet was swarmed by the Empire; it was a hive home to parasites. Two worlds of freedom and order.

As a passenger, Din was not permitted to land with the Descant. The Crest, forced to depart with a grumble from underpaid and overworked imps, left the Descant and Natus behind. He would have stayed as long as he could have, even against the beckoning draw of the beeping fob in his hand—seeking the bounty, calling him on. Everything in Din's beingknew it was wrong to leave Natus alone and vulnerable. And Leia. Maybe even the Maker didn't know what they were doing to her. But her orders were clear—say his name. Get through to him. Leave if you must.

A glance behind the departing Crest revealed the Descant was exchanging large creates, and to his horror chained people between the Imperial facility. 

The Crest lurched into hyperspace. 

Stars encompassed the viewport.

It wasn't long before Din was circling Tatooine and preparing his own docking procedures. As he got closer, a black dot, a silhouette of a ship against the pale gold marble, slowly slid into focus. His gloved hands paused on the controls.

The silence in the cockpit was palpable, broken only by the hum of the ship's engines and the faint, rhythmic beeping of the navigational systems. Tatooine sprawled beneath him, a desert planet of endless dunes and scorching suns, a placewhere survival was as harsh and unyielding as the landscape itself—an old, familiar pain. The ship in the distance, stark against the golden sands, seemed almost a mirage, a specter born of heat and light. One of the suns eclipsed the planet just behind the Crest, eliminating the shadows.

The familiar husky voice sparked over the com. 

"If you're looking for the trandoshan, I've just bagged him." Slave One drifted closer. The monitor thrummed and beeped innocently. 

Boba broke the silence again, something abnormal lacing his usually jolly tone. "Djarin… I have something you need to see."

"Fett," Din started, believing this to be the reason, "how we left things—"

Solo. We fought. I left you behind. I think you got hurt. 

All unsaid.

"I know." His brother recognized his tone. "This isn't a trick. I respect you. If I ever come to my senses and choose to finally fight you, it will be with honor."

Slave One latched onto the Crest from where they circled high above the desert hell. 

Din entered Boba's ship still aware of the weight of the blaster at his hip, but his hands didn't itch for it like he normallydid seeking through the scum pits. Din trusted him. 

But nothing could have prepared him for the sight when the latch door hissed open. 

A small human girl, her hair tight in braids clung to Boba's leg nervously. At the sight of Din she jolted behind Fett further, only leaving room for her wide eyes to peek over, head as high as his knee pad. Awkwardly but with a demonstrated practice, the burly man placed a comforting and familiar hand on her back. She couldn't have been older than four. 

"Now my kar'ta, it's alright. Din is a friend. He has a little one he watches over too."

Din's chest tightened, a sharp pain piercing through at the thought of leaving the kid with the imps for so long. His only solace was knowing there was a protector on the inside.

Instinctively, he dropped to one knee, trying to make himself as small as possible. Even then, he still towered over her.

"Hi kid."

The attempt was pitiful, even to him. But the act seemed good enough to her. Her eyes looking through him, into his soul and he thought he met her eyes through the visor for a split moment but maybe it was just his imagination. She seemed to see what she was looking for and hesitantly stepped out from Boba's shadow. She reached a hand up, and Fett instinctually held his arm out. They locked pinky fingers as she guided herself and Fett closer to Din. She needed to take three steps for every one of Boba's.

"They must have kept her in one of the most secure places in the whole kirffing galaxy." It was too late to fix his language so both the men just winced. "Yet she got out. They had glowing wristbands on her–maybe something for a shock? This little thing. Can you believe those monsters? And she still got out. An'edee!"

She paused, seeing herself in the reflection of the polished beskar. She reached a tentative hand, the pad of her finger brushing Din's chestplate and for a moment, with her small hands on them both, she linked them together, and whatever hurt and unspoken words he and Boba had harbored dissipated into the universe. 

She had a firm face and stern eyes despite her age–a childhood cut too short. She, at four, may already know of danger and death, and her place in all of it. In a flash, Din saw a small boy hidden in a red hood looking back at him—reaching out—screaming for his mother. And with an unheard clang on an anvil working beskar he was back, looking at this freckled, fair girl with hurt soulful eyes. 

And a small scar in the same exact place Natus had his. 

"I'm Rey," she said—proud of every word, "It's nice to meet you."

"They sent me after her." Anger shook his voice as he bit out three words Boba prayed to the Maker she wouldn't understand. 

"Hot or cold."

At these words Din's jaw clenched, drawing blood from his cheek. Boba's fists balled so tightly Din could hear the leather creaking from where he stood. "So she stays with me now."

Fett obviously skipped a lot in between, but enough went without saying.

She will never go back.

"I said the oath," He was full of warmth and pride. "She's my ad'ika."

"I'm happy for you." 

"You're looking at it," Rey piped up softly. Her hand moved some of the hair blocking Din's view of her scar. Now he saw it wasn't red and angry like Natus' cut, it had scabbed and healed over rotations ago—losing a time war and fading into her skin as a small ice-like sliver. "You want to know."

"Yes. Someone I care about a lot has a similar mark."

Boba's helm turned a sliver of a degree, he must now understand the depths of Din's affection for the Sith but he didn't comment.

"They hurt my mommy and daddy," her voice a broken whimper. "I got mad. They wanted me to not remember anymore." Her small, childlike hand touched her scar again.

"There was a nice man in a black mask. He held my hand and told them: no more!"

"Wait," Boba breathed, "Nice man in a black mask? Karking Darth Vader??" The men winced at Boba's language again.

Rey nodded happily. 

"But your scratch, they wanted you to forget?" 

"Yes. Then my head hurt bad. But he helped me."

Din had the start of an answer.

"Thank you," he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him, a tooth missing.

Mission now set, Din quickly turned to leave, Fett caught his arm at the elbow. 

His voice a hiss, "Wait. If you go now while they are docked or anywhere near that hub—it's a death trap Din. They would never give him up easy. You will get swarmed and will lose any trust you ever gained."

Din knew he was right. But he had a thought of those Imps hurting him like they hurt her, with maybe less reservation because he wasn't child—maybe they didn't think that way. No matter, it clawed at him, seared in his mind, urging action. He knew he didn't have long. 

"You heard her about forgetting. Natus—Luke—How many times do you think…"

Fett looked down at Rey.

"I can't leave him. Like you can't leave her. He knows something is wrong. I can't let him forget. Not now." Not when Leia is there too.

"I'm not going to put her back in danger."

"I would never ask that of you."

"I know."

Din stepped through the latch separating the ships. Boba continued, "Reach me if you need a quick escape."

Din nodded, the door between them slid shut, and the ships separated.

—-

Leia had felt the Descant dock with a low rumble and a jolt so subtle it would have gone unnoticed if she weren't trapped in a bright, blank cell. The rumble and the jolt, however minor, were a disruption in the otherwise unchanging monotony, a reminder that the galaxy outside still moved and shifted; she could only pray that the pawns she put in place were strong enough to shift the tide in her direction. It was what she excelled at, after all.

Her intricate braids were held up by a sharp blade that, at a moment's notice, she could brandish or slowly use the tool to chip away through the backside of the door's control panel. She could knock out a trooper, commandeer a pod, and be in lightspeed minutes before an alarm would even sound. Leia knew she would neither fight nor flee, and the opportunity, the ability, and the willingness to do so were more torturous than anything the cell itself could muster.

She mediated some, always keeping her brother and his whereabouts in a quiet corner in her mind. Before everything fell apart that day an eternity ago, he had been a steady constant to her–-and she knew it went both ways. In some way she always had known of their shared blood, drawing to him like a magnet in her head. Now, Leia knew she also still had a home in that quiet part of his mind, but it felt like that home had been boarded up, or the path to the home eroded away.She still felt him. Kept him close.

Thus Leia knew when the Mandalorian executed his part of the plan. Neither of them had been clear on specifics, just–say his name. Get through to him. Find a way. 

Well, the hunter certainly found a way. A blush found its way to her face, the tips of her ears turning a shade of red. Leia was, thankfully, able to tune out their connection momentarily, choosing to focus on… literally anything else. Even her dull box. 

She didn't fail to notice, before tunning him out, his feelings of dread soften and even turn to bright comfort she hadn't felt in a long time. How rare, she thought, love in a place like this.

Leia froze the instant she felt him again. With her absence, he had gotten close; a plume of worry and fear surrounded his movements—that's what snapped her attention to him. Maybe the Mandalorian got through to her brother a bit too well…

The seamless panels of durasteel parted with a light mechanical whirl. The corridor beyond was bathed in more of the cool, sterile light casting sharp shadows on the metal floor. A breeze, carrying the faint scent of recycled air and machinery flooded inwards as her brother stood in the doorway panting, looking like he was living through a nightmare.

"Leia," he paused and sucked in more air, he had been running, "what do I do?"

She jumped to her feet from where she had been failing to meditate. An impending dread was closing in on them both. It was nameless but in the air nonetheless, as real as them both but nowhere to be found. But he was there, seeking her like all the other times before.

"Leave this awful place with me. I have help–lots of it–they are coming soon, we just need to leave and get outside."

"I cannot abandon my father and Master. Or are you suggesting I leave and be with rebel scum?"

He wasn't as far long as she had hoped. Leia pushed down her own panic to speak, needing to be heard more than she needed water or to breathe.

"You've called out to me before. We've met like this briefly, a few times. I need you to remember. Remember me now Luke. You know something is not right."

"I don't know!"

"Focus on what you feel." Her eyes were wide.

"I don't know you!" He pointed a wicked finger at her, his body quivering.

Leia clamped her mouth shut, absorbing the hurt. She took a step forward so that his quivering crooked finger poked her straight in the heart. She could feel his pain seeping through his anger and confusion.

"You came to me just now," she whispered, "why."

His voice made more of a choking sound than actual words. "The Empire is good. I know it to be true. We need order to the chaos. But there are deep and painful secrets being kept from me. Everyone knows but me. And then you show up."

He growled and she didn't dare to stop his flow of words.

"I can't write you off as a fool like my officers would like me to believe. I spoke to a scientist---they are manipulating force users with an operation—I. They are doing something terrible to me, and I don't even know what it is."

"It's true. They are doing something to you, I'm not sure what. But over and over again they make you forget when you remember—when you remember me. They are hurting you." 

Even still, he shook his head like he couldn't fully believe her, "How have I known you all of my life when I've never met you before?"

"I am your sister, Luke."

He dropped his accusing hand with a soft gasp. He knew very few things about this universe and much less about himself, but he knew this to be true.

"And we haven't known each other for very long. Not a lifetime. But I…I feel the same."

Family. 

More than just him and Father. 

"Leia," his voice broken, "help me."

She rushed to him, grasping his face in her hands with gentle urgency and pressed their foreheads together. Energy of the Force bloomed from her, amplifying the beauty of the planet that lay beyond the walls of the Descant. Through this, he tangled his hands into her hair, holding onto her with all his might, a plea for permanence, he would never let go, not when she was this close. Never again. He loved her. 

The floodgates opened, and memories rushed in. The ones with comfort. Feelings of friendship—closeness with faceless people he knew so well. Flashes of family, Leia was there, but so were other people. A home, a stove, cinnamon, nutmeg, warm bluemilk. An old man and woman's faces etched with lines and crinkled eyes—the woman's simile. 

The smile was contagious, it bloomed on his lips, a simple joy. Leia felt it too and she shared her warmth with him in the Force. He wrapped her into a hug, squeezing her somehow even harder. 

More memories followed, a cascade lightheartedness. Laughter—oh, the sound of it was like music, so pure and rare. Someone's laugh, bright and unrestrained, resonated through his mind. It spoke of simpler times, of shared jokes and carefree moments with friends and a droid. He laughed, very light with the memories.

Another laugh, no a cackle, shattered this world–cutting through his mind like the jagged lines on his skin. This wasn't a memory. 

The walls of Leia's cell reeled open with a mechanical hiss. Palpatie—glowing eyes peering from his hood—his clawed hands outstretched at his sides undoing the illusion of the cell. The larger room was lined with data pads, testing tubes, an operating table with restraints cipped open, waiting. 

An interodroid buzzed next to him, and behind that was Pershing, the man didn't look up, he just pushed up his glasses from his hardened stare at the floor. 

Despite the bile, he fell on one knee. Leia stayed tall—lips morphing to a scowl, defiant as the day she was born. They were still so close, he could feel her warmth next to him in his bow.

The soulless cackle continued, and more memories hit him. Bad ones. Sadness, fear. The old couple lay burned, home on fire, the smell of their flesh. Father struck down a cloaked figure, and a horrified scream escaped his own lips.

"Natus, my boy," Palpatine spoke, a squeaky gravely wine, "I came all the way here because I felt your pain."

Natus wouldn't have felt this pain. These memories didn't belong to him, these memories belonged to the other one, the one ripping him in two. The one Leia reached. Luke.

Yet, he still felt the wave of shame and embarrassment that not only was his weakness palpable to his Master, but it was strong enough that it compelled Palpatine to check on him. And to see that he was failing. 

"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered, casting his eyes to the ground. 

Then, Luke reminded him about those memories. Did those memories feel like he was a failure? Certainly not.

"It is my sincerest apologies you had to find out this way, but the princess, manipulative as ever, forced our hand."

"Liar!" Leia cried.

Palpatine continued diplomatically, ignoring the outburst of the girl beside him. "You were sick. Your mind hemorrhaging from a concussion. I had my best scientists save your life. We need to check your mind often…for your saftey. Only the Empire has the technological resources and the facilities for such unprecedented advancements." 

His yellow-bagged eyes grew, "Without me you will surely…" he paused a crawling, tingling feeling, as he placed extra emphasis on every syllable, "...parish."

"Then why not just tell me?" His voice not as strong as he intended. Still on his knees. 

Why didn't you tell me? You told me that Darth Vader betrayed and murdered my father. 

Your father... was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. He ceased to be the Jedi and "became" the Sith Darth Vader.

His head throbbed.

"The scientists thought that would hurt you more." As his Master continued Pershing didn't budge, didn't look up. Locked, frozen. "But I am telling you now."

A cold washed over him in the Force.

"You know it's not true, trust your feelings."

Search your feelings. You know it to be true. 

Impossible!

"Nonsense. I have loved you, boy, and cared for you for as long as you can remember. I want what is best for you. Come with me now."

The interrodoid buzzed closer. But it wasn't going for him.

It was after Leia.  

"NO!!!"

Then he was falling. Falling. Falling through the clouds.

He searched the Force, frantic for something not bolted to the ground to throw–to collapse the Descant into itself as to how he had done with the Profundity. In half a breath, he scanned the room, sensing every detail: the muscles and veins of windpipes, Pershing's abnormally fast heartbeat, and his shaking hands on a remote button.

There was a slight hiss; he felt a single drop fall a short distance—the sound soft through his own screaming as the drop mixed with a solution. 

Before his breath could be finished, the Force stopped slowing his perception of time as the sound of screaming durasteelpropelled itself at them, followed by a wall of fire. He felt himself thrown to the floor—reaching out to block debris with the Force. 

With an unidentifiable wail, Pershing and Palpatine vanished into the sea of flames. The chemicals ignited along the walls, shattering—pops and bangs—spitting their glass and spilling onto the floor.

Leia's hand found his, yanking him up and pulling him through the chaos. Flames licked at his feet, his cape singeing, smoldering black firey holes into his pristine uniform. The smoke swirled around them, shifting to shades of green and magenta, as they struggled to breathe, sprinting through the demolished opening.

With one glance back into the room, he saw the operating table, restraints still open, reaching out to them. The broken interrogation droid lay amidst melted, warped surgical tools and scattered syringes, vanishing into the thick smoke.

Trial 3.C—

Trial 14.A stim–

Leia!!! I'm here—

No this is wrong—

Trial 21.D—

Trial 27.B, stimulating superimposed inhibitor chip…Pain. 

He was limping badly. The onslaught of memories couldn't be stifled, and everything and anything was a trigger. He was vaguely aware of the smoldering patches burning in rings into his body as they ran. 

The old couple told him to run. That woman after him. He was smaller then, his legs carrying him as fast as he could through the desert. Sand kicking up as he ran and ran.

Was he crying? He was aware that Leia had taken his communication device and was giving commands into it, but her words didn't register in his mind. 

Bleeding and broken. Alarm shrieking and echoing through the red-flashing halls. 

"Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured."

"We just need to make it out of the Descant!" Leia cried above the jolt of the speaker.

"Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate—"

They turned a corner, then another, and another. He kept a strong enough posture to pretend to be in possession of Leia. It worked; troopers practically leaped out of his way—just as they had done every other time he had made the same path with crazed eyes and blood-stained clothes. Because Natus is a monster. 

Horrors he committed came to him. He gasped, and a tear fell. 

They pasted another dozen soldiers all of then running paying them little mind. But it only took one to put two and two together. One com-in and they would all descend upon him.

"Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or—"

A horrible screeching sound ripped through the air, and they followed—leading them to the outside world lit by starlight and burning ships. Hundreds of ties rocketed past them, in the disarray hitting each other, causing multiple collisions in the sky as the tie-fighters desperately returned to their designations, incapable of making a lightspeed retreat by themselves, like cockroaches in the light as rebel fighters loomed down from the heavens. 

An attack of this scale must have taken months to plan. How had he let this happen under his nose? He was thankful.

"Watch out! Go. Go!"

Dazed, he felt as though he were watching himself in a holo--removed from the situation and scenes providing him information seconds behind as he tried to filter through the onslaught of memories.

Leia seized his hand again, jerking him down as a ship hurled itself just above them, slamming into the Descants' hold. Fire and steel tumbled down on them, forcing them to jump blindly, limbs flailing in the air, hitting the ground hard. Tumbling, rolling, damp grass and foliage clinging to him. 

Leia hauled him up once again. 

"Hurry, to the landing spot! We can't slow now—I have you. We are so close!"

Then out of the corner of her eye she spotted the Descant behind them. Troopers were all but running—loading equipment and prisoners back on board. The red lights still flickering, illuminating them in the hellish light, revealing their chains. 

—-

The Crest fell from the sky with a roar.

Din only had seconds after completing the jump to discover the firefight he had been dropped into. By that point, the Crest was already spiraling downwards with a cracked thruster. 

Din's arms strained with the might of pulling up on the controls. He aimed for a patch of trees; it was the best he could do. If he survived and found the siblings, they would have to steal a ship or make that call to Boba. He wished he had told Leia he would come back for them. He would just need to survive this… controlled crash.

It was the beskar that had saved him. 

When he awoke, ears ringing, approximately ten minuets after the impact. Muscles protesting, he dragged himself out of the shards of transparisteel, treelimbs, and smoldering rubble of what used to be his home. 

No time for sentiment now. 

Once his feet were comfortably on the aborial floor Din toggled through the settings on the visor. He ignored the chaos in the sky with swarming X-wings, ties, and the Star Destroyers beginning the slow ground-quaking take-off process. It remindied him of tired banthas trying to stand as they were swarmed by flies. Maybe his humor wasn't fully gone. And somehow he knew Leia was responsible for all of it.

He instead opted to scan the chaos on the ground. No signs of the twins. Maybe they were still trapped inside. Din's heart dropped. He could see the Executor beginning lift off and the Descant's ion engines in the distance—behind three other Star Destroyers—slowly flicking to life. 

Platoons of troopers, plastasteel armor that reflected red lights, marched to their respective ships. Some set up cannons to fire into the sky, while others brandished jetpacks and launched into the air.

Perfect.

A squad of four flew overhead, keeping a fair distance from each other. Timing was crucial. Din reached out, targeting the lagging trooper with his grappling hook. As the trooper flew just above the trees, Din pulled the trigger. The rope shot out, wrapping around the airborne soldier. Despite digging his feet into the ground, Din was flung into the air. 

"What the?!"

They began tumbling and spinning out of control, going higher and higher. Din managed to unclip the pack from the man's chestplate. The engine cut immediately, and they both dropped. With strength he managed to clip the plastasteel to his back, and the engine roared back to life pulling Din skyward while the trooper kept falling into the darkness of the forest below.

Using the pack's momentum, Din navigated the battle, staying low enough to avoid the dogfight above but high enough to evade ground troops. 

Dawn began to creep over the battlefield, the beginnings of light threatening to rise through the forested mountains on the horizon.

Then he saw him. Gideon holding the kid.

Nothing else mattered. He pushed the jetpack to its limit, rocketing towards the fighter where Gideon was forcing the struggling child inside. The kid spotted Din first, using the Force to slip from Gideon's grip. 

Gideon turned just as Din collided with him, both crashing to the ground, a blur of punches and kicks. Pain shot through Din's back as he hit the fighter.

Gideon clawed to his feet, an awful black beam igniting in his hand. Unlike Luke's crimson lightsaber, this blade seemed to devour the light around it, a void of death. The blade pressed to Din's throat—Gideon chose this moment to monologue.

"Hello Din," his voice cold, a cruel twitch of his lips as he revealed to know his name, "I want to do a favor for you," he flashed his teeth, "Assume I know everything. Your bond to Grogu, your blossoming feelings for that little angsty twat, your deal with Princess Leia Organa…You see, I want to help you Din—"

That wasn't a good sign.

"I don't like Natus either. Force users and their obsessive entitlement stand in the way of the true potential of the Galactic Empire. I will be at the center—"

Din whipped around, kicking Gideons leggs out from under him, sending him to the ground with a thud. 

The man reeled, eyes crazed, slamming the black saber into Din's despairing attempts to block. He dodged and intercepted another blow, Din was forced to be defensive in this fight, taking him out of his element as he possessed more technique than Gideon displayed. 

With a particularly hard swing aimed at his neck, Din dropped himself to the floor, sprang back up, kicking the other man down on the chest, the saber retreated to its hilt clattering across the rough gravel and roots. 

Din scrambled, grasping onto the blade to take away Gideon's advantage, swiftly clipping the hilt to his belt, secure. His. When Din whirled, bracing himself from an inevitable kick from the man who was a tad too slow to beat him to the deathly weapon, a blow never came. Instead, Gideon had the kid, his ears down, in one hand and blaster in the other. 

There was a soft "Patu." The man slowly took a step backward.

Something cold and dark paulsed in Dins blood. He thought he had seen some of the worst things the galaxy had offered in these years since his parents and constantly searching through scum pits. But this was the first time he had ever been too terrified to move. 

With all of his concentration, Din slowly raised his hands, dropping his blaster. 

Gideon spat out a tooth, blood dripping from his lips, and limped another step backward, his cape hitting the entrance of the ship. The engines rumbled, the door closed and began to lift into the air. 

Anger raged in his core. 

One. Din breathed, trying to claw himself back together.

The wind from take-off whipped his cape with the long grass that had been trampled from their fight.

Two.

He felt the rough but tattered texture of the glove face brush against the hilt now clipped to his hip.

Three.

The pack shot a plume of smoke and fire. Din was hidden in the clouds in an instant, following like a hawk above the slowly rising fighter carrying his kid. 

The pack's engine cut as the saber ignited. His stomach plummeted, and with an awful sound, the screeching metal and burning chemicals, the top was sliced off of the fighter, sending it spinning. Going down down down.

He heard the child's delighted giggles.

Din turned to see the kid floating (falling) next to him in the air, ears flapping in the wind, almost like a miniature parachutes. 

"Hang on," he grumbled, placing the kid on his shoulders. 

A hand thrust out of the tumbling wreckage clining to Din's cape for purchase but he jetted off—Gideons hand slipped past the cloth. The burning ship continued to fall, finally exploding in the distance.

No one would be able to survive that. Din thought.

Staying in the air, he turned his attention to the fight below.

—-

"Luke NO!!" Leia screamed feeling helpless to her bones.

After all of the tears, months of planning, years of holding out hope, all for just the smallest glimpse—any semblance of his past self—returned to her. And now she was about to lose him because he was being himself.

He held in his straining hand three Star Destroyers. They jerked and lagged in the air, and their ion engines, with nowhere else to place their energy, began crackling storms, rolling in the clouds. 

Splinters of trees and leaves littered the artificial clearing as the forest had been stripped to its roots—the Force releasing itself in the might it took to keep the ships from leaving. 

A tear of blood fell from her brother's eye, it splattered on his white cloak with the dropps of blood from his nose. 

"I know what will happen to them when the Empire is done with them," he whispered. 

The Executor groaned and there was a sound of thunder. The ships shuttered. 

"Luke! Please this will hurt you."

It was Din. He ran up to them, the child clinging to his shoulder. Din held out his arms as if he were speaking to a rabid, wounded animal. 

Luke looked back to them both, his cape smoldering and burning in places as it lashed around behind him. 

"You above others should know," he strained back a scream of pain, stumbling, "they were loading the lab equipment and people. How many others could there be like me? It's too dangerous! They will just keep hurting."

"They lost their leadership and most of their artillery today," Leia tried to reason, "This attack is a massive blow. We will have secured dozens of those ships; we can let three leave. It will take them a while to regroup. We can take them then. But we need you alive."

Luke shook his head, another tear of blood, "No. I more than deserve this."

He opened himself to the Force, beiging to relax in its presence despite the pain. He was aware that like during the battle with the Profundity his feet were no longer on the ground. His arms stretched open—he may have been screaming but he wasn't sure. 

The ships began to move backwards through the sky. His vision formed foggy and white but he knew he could do this.His energy continued when he was no longer aware of a physical world. 

He heard the pleading voice of the Mandalorian. He felt his connection with Leia. Her love and compassion had never left him despite all this time and all the awful things. He felt clarity. 

Names began to come to him. How fitting he would remember them now.

Aunt Brue. Uncle Owen. 

Tatooine.

Obi-wan--Ben.

Anakin.

"My son, come back to me." 

Father?

Luke's grip slipped for a moment, and he plunged back into the physical world. The ships screamed and shook. 

He turned his head slightly, and sure enough, Vader was there.

"Father, I don't want to fight you. But I cannot let them get away."

"I know," Vader didn't move. Both the Mandalorian and Leia had blasters pinned on him. "You are my son, not a lab rat."

Vader lifted his arm, grasping onto the ships. A breath escaped Luke in relief simultaneously to the choking sound of his father's mechanics. The ships began to pull back further and faster. 

They could do it. Together. 

It was a moment, perfect for a breath but spoiled, when he saw Leia and the Mandalorian thrown backward, clawing at their throats. 

Then there was a cackle. 

"I was there for you in your worst moments. I raised you. This is the thanks I recive? You traitor and stain."

Purple lightning escaped Palpatine's pale hand and long yellow fingernails. 

Then Luke remembered Endor.

A sickly smell of ozone and burnt metal, flashes of sharp purple light. Luke dropped his grasp on the Star Destoyers. Panic seeped into his bones—his heart beating faster than if he received adrenaline to the neck. The blank mask peered down on him. Palpatine's obsessive laughter. And the pain that crisscrossed his body, scaring every surface. His biggest mystery. The secret shrouded in darkness the pain. He couldn't breathe. It was as if he were locked in a Force chokehold—trapped.

His father's mechanics sparked, and he could feel his pain. His father still held onto the ships despite everything. There was a strangled, modulated cry. Lighting traveled the tension in the Force like a current, zipping through his father as a conduit and a massive bolt rung outwards. Hitting one of the battleships. Vader fell to his knees. The energy from the ion engines built with the lighting traveled back to his father, striking Palpatine and expanding outwards. 

Two Destroyers slipped his father's grip, disappearing into hyperspace--the third burst.

More lives called out in the Force. 

Luke whipped his head to see Palpatine's pained face one last time as the figure turned to ashes, blown in the wind. Only the cloak remained.

The last pieces of the Descant sparkled in the sky like a meteor shower. 

He was free.

There was a strangled mechanical breath, and Luke rushed to his dying father.

—

Leia helped Din to his feet; they had all seen much better days. The kid crawled back onto his shoulder, sleep threatening his movements. 

The three of them waited quietly from the dim treeline as Luke held his father in his arms, the dark mask cast on the ground next to them, watching the sunrise together. The Descant's falling particles caught the dawn, reflecting hues ofgold, pink, and lavender over the landscape before blinking out. She saw them exchange a few words, but Leia stayed back—Vader was never her father. 

Anakin disappeared into the Force. 

Luke tried to stand twice, relenting. He fell on his knees—his face to the rising sun, letting the warmth hit him and the memories flood in. There was a joy to it, remembering himself. But each contrasted painfully, a twisting dagger, with a memory of what he had done. 

"What was he like?" Din whispered just above the vocabulator. 

"Kind."

"He was kind before." She gave him a distrustful look. But he continued, "He was. It was buried sometimes, but he was."

"I guess it was something they couldn't take away."

—-

"So I guess this is it." 

The day was bright, too happy for a goodbye. A cargo freighter blazing the resistance insignia took off nearby, blowing the blond's hair. Dozens of ships were now filled to the brim with whatever the Imps couldn't take with them. Leia said it was the largest victory since the desctruction of the Death Star.

The noise was so loud it cut off what he was going to say to Din, so he stopped. They just looked at each other. The words weren't needed anyway. 

Din knew what he needed to do—to say goodbye. Din's hands shook in such an uncontrolled way that it was almost embarrassing as they locked onto the rim of his helmet and lifted upwards, above his jaw. But just before he could look at Luke in the afternoon sun without a screen in the way, his wrists were gently caught. Despite Luke's hands in cuffs, the visor fell back into place.

'No,' he mouthed, shaking his head under the noise of the freighters taking off and landing. 

Don't waste that on me. It was unspoken but heard. Clearly. Like a voice in his mind.

Two guards came and escorted him away up the ramp, and Luke was gone.

END OF PART I

*~*~*~*~*~

Did I just attempt to wrap up the OT, Mando s1 and s2 in 7k words? Yes. I did.

Also what does END OF PART I mean? Absolutely nothing! It makes the most sense in my brain to mark this as the rough halfway point. Yay we made it this far!

[winterspiderpurrs]

Tony was wrapping up his jog on the private beach when his drone dropped off the coffee he had Friday get ready for him. He was cold and didn't want to wait til he got back to the house to have his coffee. He was moving up one of the dunes when he paused with his cup in hand.

There not to far off, at the estate next to his oddly enough was a young man in a big puffy coat. He seemed to be putting together a bunch of logs, huh must be setting up a bonfire. Not to out of normal but it wasn't something done often in the winter time. The only reason he wasn't in more layers himself was the possibility of over heating while out on his jog.

His nose twitched a moment when the faint hint of cinnamon, cloves, and honey. Eyes widen as he stares. Male omegas are not unheard of, just not as common as they used to be. Most packs swoop them up.

Clearing his throat he waltz over.

" Hey there. Starting a fire?"

A pair of warm brown eyes looked up at him. He knew the moment he recognized him as his eyes widen before he smiled.

" Yeah. Your welcome to join us if you like. Making smores."

At the 'us', Tony looks around and spots on the edge another man, older, kneeling down next to a little girl. Ah. So he has a pack.

" If you don't mind. Never had one as long as your Alpha is fine with it?"

The young man blinks.

" Never? Well you don't have to worry about Stephen. We aren't like that. ... kinda sorta?"

Tony sits down across from him.

" Kinda sorta kid?"

" Parker i mean Peter Parker that is. Call me Peter Mr. Stark. Its complicated? "

Tony snorts and takes a sip of his coffee.

" Call me Tony. So... Peter. Whats so complicated?"

" Well... Stephen is great, and he is Mary's father. But uumm, it was more of... After I had my degrees even though I had 2 doctorates... most places won't hire omegas...so I ended up getting a 3rd degree in nursing. Stephen is a doctor, famous, really, at least in the medical world. We grew close. But Stephen is married to his career, which I understand. After a couple of years... well, I wanted a baby. I was actually looking into sperm banks when Stephen found out well he volunteered. So.. we aren't really together, but... we kinda have this....thing? Stephen likes to call it an open relationship, though we both haven't actively dated other people. See, it's complicated"

Peter laughs and lights a match and gets a small fire going.

" No. I don't see it too complicated... odd but whatever works. How involved is he?"

Tony's thoughts go to his father who was in a committed relationship with his mother but was distant and more overbearing than anything.

" Oh Stephen is great with Mary. We live in the same building we both have rooms at each others. We take turns picking her up, we go with him to all his conferences. Vacations. Holidays. He adores our daughter"

Tony nods and sips his coffee looking back toward the others in the distance. They had started walking toward them. The little girl laughing as she runs to jump into Peter's arms. The man, Stephen, approached them and raised an eyebrow at Tony before looking over at Peter.

Peter laughs " Tony, this is Doctor Stephen Strange, and this little wild heathen is Mary"

Mary giggle " Momma! I'm just Mary"

Stephen nods his head before moving to sit down next to Peter.

" Don't believe I've seen you here before Mr.Stark. Are you here for the Medical Green Energy Conference?"

Tony blinks and nods his head.

" Yes. We are presenting on day 3."

Some rustling is heard and the older men turn to look at Peter and Mary as they start to set the ingredients for the smores out on a tray.

" Mary, why don't you show Tony how to make a smore. He has never made one before"

The little girl gasps and spins around to look at Tony.

" Never Misters Starks? Smores are the greatests in the world!"

Tony blinks and smiles.

" Never. Its a tragedy. So lets see what all the fuss is about."

Not long later after several quiet talks and bellies full of smores. The fire is put out, Mary is fast asleep on Peter's shoulder.

" It was great meeting you Tony. Maybe we will see you at the conference? Excuse me while I put this sleepy girl to bed."

Peter gives Tony a shy smile before he heads up the the beach out with Mary in tow. Stephen and Tony were left standing there, cleaning up the rest. As they headed back up the dunes heading toward the houses. Stephen paused before they went there separate ways.

" I know you like Peter. And I won't sway him away from you if he wants to be pursued. But I won't have you hurting Mary in the process"

" Hey now. I just met Peter. He is a nice guy. But I'm not looking to date"

Stephen raised an eyebrow.

" Sure. But I wasn't interested in dating either, and now I have a family. I'm willing to share MY omega. But stay in line, Stark, we are a package deal."

And that is how Tony found himself courting an Alpha and an Omega. And within three years time, Peter was giving birth to another little girl, this time to Morgan Stark.

[s-che]

The Dream Library: Apocalypse World 2

The Dream Library had our second Apocalypse World one-shot earlier this week, ending out the end of a month of talking about D. Vincent and Meguey Baker’s game of high octane apocalyptica. Next month, we'll be continuing our semester of PBTA one-shots and book-club discussions with two excellent historical games: Night Witches and Sagas of the Icelanders.

If you'd like to get in on the discussion and maybe even sign up for a one-shot, shoot me a message -- we'd love to have you.

As with the last play report, I want to open by making two things absolutely clear:

Apocalypse World is a sicknasty game that deserves to get played way more often than it does, especially by people who are working and playing in a design lineage which has been forever altered by Meg and Vincent’s work.

Apocalypse World is a game done absolutely dirty by short-term play, a fact which came out way harder in this session than it did the first time round. We had a ton of fun, of course — but the fact that our play was capped at the 3-hour mark meant we barely scratched the surface of what this game can do. 

This time, I ran the game following Vincent Baker’s advice on running Apocalypse World in a con slot, which helped a lot — and still didn’t scratch the itch I have to play this game and only this game for the next hundred or so years. Most notably, we ended up dividing play into two micro-sessions — meaning we got to turn our bio-break into a narrative breather as well and flex some of the game’s “long-term” rules. I’ve broken my thoughts up here by session, which felt appropriate.

Session 1: A Desert Landscape

I had no idea where the session was going to start when we settled down to play — beyond the fact that I was going to open in media res with someone (the answer ended up being my first volunteer, @tormentedbyvisions) in a very bad spot. Details came quickly when we looked for them ��� a collapsing office tower and glimpses of a desert landscape out the broken windows, dotted with more towers in the distance. Goldman (The Savvyhead, any pronouns), an elderly survivor who, as it turned out, loved nothing more than telling people lies about the world as it was, is cornered on the second floor as a gang headed by a warlord named Dremmer picked their way through the rubble below. Cut forward a few seconds and we have Goldman leaping from a hole in the wall to land on the dune below as Dremmer’s gang fire wildly at a phantom drawn from the psychic maelstrom.

Meanwhile James (The Driver, he/him) and October (The Skinner, they/them) raced along the desert highway looking for their friend. A bad role lead to an ambush, a flipped car, and a surprisingly civil conversation with a would-be raider named Jackabacka — who James enlisted to get the car unstuck and then left unconscious in a ditch. Meeting back up with Goldman — a little battered from his fall from the building, but mostly fine — the game headed back to their home: the outskirts of an oil-refining city which sprang into existence at the moment we needed it, and never before. We wrapped on our first microsession by developing character Hx and nailing down who all these people were to each other.

What did we learn? For one, Apocalypse World is a great game to make shit up in. I talked at length in my last session write-up about the instruction to “barf forth apocalyptica” and how good getting really in the juice of a genre feels, but there’s more than just that happening here. Apocalypse World has a deeper philosophy of storytelling and play (one related, I think, to what I called “fluid mapmaking” in a recent article) which really relishes in moments of hesitation and consideration. There’s an approach to play which some games and players take where “good improv” is ultimately about maximal flexibility — where the ultimate end is to hide the fact that you’re “making things up” at all, and make the game world seem as fully realized as possible. Improv is just a way to get there — since we cannot possibly have prepped for every occasion, improv fills in the gaps. The hyper-performative role of the GM is never permitted to ask for a second to think or talk through some ideas out loud (in the way a non-GM player might) — their role is a kind of computer-referee (a “stable,” as opposed to fluid, mapmaker) who presents only the truth.

Apocalypse World bucks this trend in several ways: in the way moves prompt big narrative swings, in the suggestion you spend session one just following the characters around and seeing what happens, in the MC philosophy (to “always say what your prep demands,” yes, but also to “barf forth apocalyptica,” to “ask provocative questions and build on the answers,” and to “sometimes, disclaim decision-making), and also (and perhaps most importantly) in the “umms” and “hmms” which permeate the play examples. Apocalypse World is a game which is invested in modeling collaborative — really collaborative — play and which, as a result, never felt like a burden or a trap. It felt like my players and I were all together mapping and remapping a world with the tools and toys the Bakers had given us (and what lovely tools and toys they are) but never restricted by the thing we were trying to make. It felt like we were playing. 

On another note about the first session — and this isn’t textual to Apocalypse Worlds, but to Vincent’s con-running method, but — the practice of giving players something to do (in this case, filling out the details of their character sheets) while the narrative spotlight is on others is one of those design ideas that, once you’re exposed to it, you’ll never forget. This is something I’ve seen others to — most recently (and extensively) @jdragsky's Seven Part Pact is a game that does this over and over and over again — but it really hit me in this session what a lifesaver it is. Especially in online games, where losing focus and energy is so easy, giving people something to do which keeps them invested in the game (in the way, in person, just being in a space together might) is the kind of thing I’m going to start putting in all my games. 

Session 2: Lord Terry’s Gasland Refinery

Back from a brief break, I introduced the players to the threat map I’d designed while they were away. It was populated, mostly, by people we’d already talked a little bit about — the refinery where they lived, Dremmer’s Gang in the north, the landscape of the desert highway all around them — plus a couple of strange details thrown in for good measure (at the last minute, I decided to add the Red Priory, the setting of the last oneshot I ran, on the map in the far east — a fact which I could talk about for hours. People need to play Apocalypse World with me west marches style PLEASE). 

Jumping back into the swing of play wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped — the result, I think, of breaking up the session like we did meant we needed to do the usual beginning of session dipping our toes in the water again, but this time with a much sharper awareness of the ticking clock. Still, we got somewhere — thanks in no small part to the fun of just bopping around with these characters. It’s rare that you get to say “okay, now it’s a week later. What has that week looked like?” especially in the context of a oneshot. The cost of starting a session to the players — okay, what has your life looked like? how much barter are you losing to afford that? — quickly transformed what had been a pretty generic setting into a place that had some teeth. Barfing forth apocalyptica — and some yes-anding with the players — gave us Lord Terry, a feudal tyrant whose authority rests (shakily) on the loyalty of his retained soldiers and the terror of the serfs (including our players). 

Truthfully, we didn’t get particularly far in this session: some tinkering in Goldman’s workshop, an argument with Terry, a scouting mission which ended in a tense standoff with Jackabacka, and then a race back home as October washed Jackabacka’s blood off their knife and James bled out in the backseat. I don’t think the “plottiness” of the session got anywhere — but that has also maybe never felt like less of the point. The joy of our second session was absolutely frontloaded — in the moments of thinking about the community to which we (tangentially) belonged and the powers that be, there. 

Apocalypse World tells you it is best played in a long campaign — and I think this was the moment it was most clearly right. I would love to tell you what happens next to James, or whether Lord Terry is going to be dethroned, or if Dremmer’s really the threat he seems to be. None of those are questions I thought I’d be asking, going into this session — they’re questions the game gave me over the course of play. We had some hiccups, of course (combat is brutal when you don’t have a medic, and I wish, in retrospect, that I’d pushed players to read people more often), but on the whole Apocalypse World is a marvelous engine for generating a really collaborative story.

Which makes me ask, like I did last time — what the fuck happened? People talk a lot about PBTA as a philosophy and not just a mechanic — but I think at some point in history that philosophy seems to have fallen out and gotten slimmed down to "PBTA is when 2d6+"

This isn't to say there aren't good PBTA games being written now — we'll be playing some of them in this unit — but, GOD. There is shit in this game that, hearing it from downstream, you would never know about. People should know about it! You, right now, should know about it! Go and play Apocalypse World right now! and also forever!!

[hx4x4enthusiast]

Two sparks and a drumming heart

Part 1 (3233 words)

Ship: Optimus x gender-neutral reader x Ratchet 

Fic category: hurt/comfort 

Trigger Warning: Self-Harm, Depression, mention of past suicide attempt,

“Speech”

-Commlink conversation-

kursiv=thought

It was a calm Friday at the base, the kids finally got the permission from their parents, Fowler and Optimus to have a sleepover all weekend long. Difference all the kids sleep with their guardians, and I will sleep n the main area.

 You see everyone has a guardian, a protector of sorts, they pick you up from school protect you from the Decepticons spent time with you while you teach them about earth and humans. For example, Arcee is Jacks Guardian, Bulkhead protects Miko meanwhile Raf has Bumblebee as his Guardian and I well, I can take care of myself, always has always will and that is fine. Believe me I can understand Optimus is the leader of the Autobots he already knows all about Earth and humans a top of that he has the burden of an entire planet and war on his shoulder, meanwhile Ratchet constantly works from trying to help with scientific advancements to give constant medical services.

 Ratchet is a medic to be more precise the medical officer of the Autobots, and probably the person that loathes me the most. And I tried to befriend him, or at least be on civil speaking terms (like June), with him but every time I try, it seems the opposite happens. Some people just don’t get along with others. And I would stay out his way believe me I can take a hint. My other half guardian would be Optimus he is the leader. He is civil with everyone, and kind of the only bot Ratchet is willing to listen to. He is nice we, on the rare occasion he has time, talk about books. But well Optimus is the Autobot leader and a Prime he doesn’t have time for a small human like me, which is absolutely understandable, I mean he carries the weight of the fate of our planet and the future of his planet on his shoulder. While simultaneously being a strong leader for his team and fighting in a war. Problem they are my guardians, well half guardians, they sometimes just drive me home or well bridges me there. But seeing the other kids with their guardians does make me miss something I wish I had, but that’s just me being silly. And I have my ways to deal with these thoughts and feelings.

 Shaking myself out of those thoughts I look at the time and realize the kids are not going to be back soon. Jack and Arcee were on Patrol, Raf and Bumblebee were out as well probably racing and finally, Miko and Bulkhead are out dune bashing. Realizing I have the bathroom to myself I grab my bag and move into the direction of the shower.

 We all had bags in the base with back up clothes, sleeping bags and basic hygiene products after one-to-many incidence that ended in us needing a change of clothes or having a spontaneously sleepover. And I was in desperate need of a shower.

 Infront of the bathroom we put an old locker where we could put our stuff, the locks were Jacks idea to make the locker Miko-proof. After I took my clothes and shower out of my locker, I checked the floor to check for anyone in the hallway. Knowing it was empty I rummaged through my bag to get to a small cardboard box buried under my clothes. Having the little box in my hands I pull out one of the wrapped articles an put the box back into its hiding spot. Having the utensil concealed underneath my clothes I give one last look into the hallway before stepping into the the room with the showers and putting my clothes into the designated spot. I start to strip out of my clothes, and leave them on the floor, they are a problem for future me. Taking my shampoo, bodywash, towel and the still wrapped object I proceed into the actual shower. The warm water on my skin feels like heaven and I release a shaky breath.

 There are several reasons in my opinion why showers are great. But the biggest is probably that a shower washes everything away like stress, exhaustion, tears, and blood. Though I suppose for most people they are just a way to get clean. In the background of my brain my thoughts are continuing their philosophy about humans and shower time. While I watch fascinated, with the occasional sharp sting on my lower arm, as red mixes with the clear water and goes down the drain. I glance to my arm and see my dominate hand holding the now unwrapped blade while continuously slitting red lines into my skin. The little red drops don’t even have time to form as they are immediately washed away. It has been some time since I last did this. When did I last cut myself, it was probably a few weeks before I met the Autobots. Right, I wanted to kill myself on the day I met the Autobots but couldn’t go through with it because The Decepticons attacked me before I could begin. And since then, I didn’t find the time. Oh, right I should go back before someone tries to find me. No one should see me this way.

 Quickly washing my hair and body, while being careful around my wound, I turned off the shower and dried myself up, carefully dipping around the wound, it was a good decision to buy black towels.  After throwing on a hoodie and a pair of short sweatpants I clean up after me and leave the shower, stuffing the wrapping paper and blade into my hoodie, to dispose of them later. After gripping my bag and putting it back into my locker, I slowly start to trot back to the others.

 The main room came into view, mentally preparing myself for the social flood I take a deep breath and step into the room. Only to find nothing, or more like no one, the room is empty. The human area is missing Jack, Miko as well as Raph and even Arcee, Bumblebee along with Bulkhead are missing. Only Ratchet and Optimus are on the computers no doubt calculating and strategizing the future of the Autobots. Having just taken a few steps into the room both of them suddenly freeze which is concerning. After they scan the room for whatever it is that unsettles both their optics land nearly contemporaneous on me.

 “Uhm are you okay should, should I leave, I can go no Problem I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Do you know where the menaces are I wou-.”

“You are injured.”

“What?”

“You are injured.”

  I blinked my mind trying to process onto what is happening. While Ratchets observation is not wrong, how did he know? Does Optimus know? He looks just as shocked as Ratchet. Wait do they know? Know what I did? No, they can’t that’s not possible. But they are aliens, with high tech and Ratchet is essential a doctor. My body erupts into goosebumps, and I have a full body shiver. Which tears me out of my thoughts. Just in time to see Ratchets green arm scanner disappearing and him looking at the apparent scan results. Looking up it’s like some turned a switch around and he is in doctor mode.

 “You have multiple incisions on your underarm. The next steps are to clean the wound and wrap it up to keep the wounds from getting infected and help with the healing process. Now follow me to the med bay so that I can ensure the appropriate treatment of the wounds and check if there are incisions that need stitching.”

 I look shell shocked between Optimus and Rachet. Unable to react.

 “Well, what are you waiting for the faster you receive medical treatment the lesser the chance of infection.”

 One thought crosses my thought. -If Ratchet takes me to the med bay he will see the wound, if he sees the wounds, he wants to know how they came to be. Then I must explain, then they will now that I am a useless wreck, and they should abandon me. - Scared of the reaction that will follow the reveal of the reasons behind my scars I do the only thing, sensible to me at that moment. I turn tail and bolt out of the room into maze which are the corridors of the old missile silo. Followed by an angry shout.

 “You better come back here right this nanocycle, or so help you, Primus!”

 The floor feels like it is vibrating and the muffled sound of something solid hitting the ground repeatedly, changes to fast approaching vehicles. A Blur of red and white speeds past me, I collied with solid metal. A Ambulance is parked right in front of me. The ambulance belongs to a medic, a medic which patient just went AWOL and not only tried to escape treatment but also him. Doing a 180 is met with yet another collision, this time though the metal adorns a red-blue colour scheme and the vehicle changes from an ambulance to a semi-truck. Both ways blocked by vehicles and surrounded by thick concrete walls that are enclosing rapidly.

 “What is wrong with you? What happened back there?”

 “Little Archivist?”

 A high-pitched tone goes through my ears and my hands instinctively cover them, only for my chest to feel like someone laid multiple rocks on my lungs. Rapidly trying to take deep breath to get oxygen in my lungs doesn’t seem to work and my vision starts to blur. The feeling of a calm deep baritone voice starts to slowly blend the high-pitched noise out. while the feeling of warmth and something smooth encircles me. Drawing small patterns onto the metallic looking appendage start to pacify the wind whirl in my thoughts.

 “You are safe our little archivist, everything’s going to be alright, we are here.”

“Can I come closer? Is it okay if I touch you?”

 Looking up I am met with the concerned optics of Ratchet. I nod and slowly the feeling of something warm and smooth encircles me. And I find myself sitting in a metal servo with a cybertronian equivalent of a thumb gently draped over my legs Drawing small patterns onto the metal appendage furthers the process to pacify the wind whirl in my thoughts. And I feel a light draft from being slowly lifted, as Ratchet starts to slowly right himself to his full hight. Optimus slowly makes his way over to us with careful steps, like one would do when faced with a scared animal.

 “Little Archivist, are you back with us?”

 Looking up to Optimus I nod, his faceplate shows the same feelings as Ratchet. Confusion, Concern and behind the two one could see fear.

 “We won’t discuss or ask about what transpired if you don’t feel ready for that conversation.”

“But I do need to take of your wounds. I won’t ask any question related to how you got them, in exchange you will go with us to the med bay and let me take care of the injury.”

“And after the medbay you will stay within both see and hearing distance of either me or Ratchet, which includes recharge which we will do once Ratchet has checked you, over. Do you agree to our condition?”

 I nod unsure and confused on what else I could do. Ratchet carefully curls his servo around me and we move into the direction of the medbay. No one saying a thing.

  As Ratchet walks through the doors of the medbay Optimus directly behind us closes the doors and moves to the side of the berth Ratchet carefully put me on. A series of clicks later two mass-displaced cybertronians are sitting next to me. As Ratchet makes a move to inspect my arm, I get startled out of my vegetive state and recoil back. Right into Optimus. Gently he lifts me up like I weigh nothing and deposit me into his lap. One servo circles around my midsection and remains there light enough to not make me feel trapped but still secure enough to give comfort and be grounding. All the while laying his other servo on my head and tenderly guiding my head to his chest plate right above his spark.  The sound of his spark giving me something to focus on, as I lean against him.

 “Your safe little archivist, we are here, we want to help you.”

The deep rumble of Optimus voice and the warmth of his chassis made me snuggle closer to him.  

 “He is right little spark, would it be ok if I touch you? I want to take a closer look at your wounds.”

 Looking up at Ratchet I saw the gentle look upon his faceplate, being reassured by his words and voice.  I slowly uncurled my arm and hold it out for Ratchet, my scars on full display for both cybertronians to see. Both silent as Ratchet inspects the scars and starts getting the supplies, he needs to clean the incisions, from his human med bag that I only notice now.

 “I am going to disinfect the wound now, little spark. This may sting a little.”

 Hissing as the alcohol-soaked cotton ball hit my wounds was the only thing I could really do, with the firm grip Optimus and Ratchet had. I couldn’t escape or really move my limbs, though I weirdly didn’t feel trapped, it felt comfortable, it felt safe. After cleaning up the wounds, Ratchet put some ointment onto aid in the healing process and started wrapping up the arm, while continuing to hold my arm in the strong hold. Ratchet took a deep vent, a human custom he adopted. And raised his helm util his optics met my eyes.

 “These incisions are very clean, like they were created with a sharp object under the intension to cause harm.”

“A sharp object like a knife or a razor blade.”

 That sentenced from Optimus made me look up, only to see his gaze on a small metal object in his left servo that had previously held my head. I paled and try to escape only to realize Optimus had tighten his grip around my mid-section and Ratchet held my arm the same way Optimus held my mid-riff. Atop my legs were trapped between Ratchets thigh guards. It was clear that they both did this before and had no intension of letting me run away again.

 “No no, let me go. Please I won’t do it again I swear. Just please.”

 In hindsight I also could have tried to move a brick wall and would have been more successful. But in that moment my flight reflex complex was in full motion. Ratchet took that moment to ask the dreaded question.

 “Little Spark did you do it? We are not mad or disappointed, we won’t scream or judge you.”

“But we need to know if you hurt yourself, little archivist. We want to help but we can only do so if you let us.”

“You are important to us, we don’t…can’t lose you. Please talk to us.”

 Hearing their concern, I hesitantly looked up to see their optics on me. Fear and sadness edged onto both of their faceplates. Seeing the always confident leader of the Autobots and the consistently guarded medic be this vulnerable for me. They cared for me, the one always over, the third wheel made, the back-up friend, made me break. For the first time in a long time, I opened up to someone, let someone see my heart, see me. Not the carefully crafted persona made to please everyone. No, I showed them the real me the shattered person that fixed themselves with all-purpose glues and duct-tape. I always was pretty ugly when I cried.

 ­

As my crying ebbed down into silent little sobs and I realize my surroundings. I find myself in a hug, surrounded by warmth and seeing parts of an orange-white shoulder pad. Slowly the shoulder pad moved back to reveal a chassis with a helm and a face plate with a look of love, care and relief.

 “Now little spark, I say you need a good recharge, doctors’ orders.”

 I heard Optimus chuckle, at Ratchets attempt to hide his as he calls it “soft side”, as he lifts me up and into his arms. Causing me to yelp and latch onto Optimus due to the sudden movement. Causing another chuckle from Optimus and a small smirk from Ratchet.

 “I agree with him you need rest, little archivist. Besides I don’t think it is wise to go against a medic’s orders. Especially Ratchets”

“Can I get that in writing.”

 I couldn’t help myself and smiled, it was small and a little shaky, but it was real, the first one in a long time, that wasn’t forced. Turning back to his original size ratchet took Optimus with me in his arms into his servo and moved out of the medbay.

 “Where are we headed?”

“To our hab suite little spark. Because besides you there is another bot that hasn’t recharged in a few decacycles and desperately needs to shut down.

 Said bot kept quiet and didn’t acknowledge the hint Ratchet gave. Continuing the journey to the bot’s quarters while surrounded by Optimus warmth and with the gentle movement of Ratchet, my eyes felt heavy, and I couldn’t contain my yawning. The Adrenalin is probably leaving my body. Fighting against the exhaustion seemed useless as I grew more tired from minute to minute. Until sleep claimed me and I fell asleep in the arms of Optimus.

Feeling a sudden weigh on his shoulder the Prime carefully moved his helm to see their little human deep in recharge on in his arms. Feeling a small smile make his way onto his faceplate as he carefully readjusted his grip on the small human.

 -Ratchet it seems our little sparkmate, didn’t make it to our berth to fall into recharge. -

Ratchets gaze fell upon his Counjux to see the little human, in his arms, indeed had felt into recharge.

 -Well, are you surprised, after everything that happened today. I am just disappointed we didn’t notice it earlier. Then they wouldn’t have to suffer today. Who knows how long they already had to deal with this on their own. –

 Feeling the blame Ratchet put on himself through their spark bond. Optimus looked up to his Conjux.

 -Not you or I are to blame for not this. Though the situation my be dire it is good we have found out now before worse could happen. Now we are able to help, able to stand beside them to fight of their inner demons. –

-Always the poet, Optimus. But enough of the sentimental their will be more than enough time for that in the future. For now it’s time for recharge, both of you desperately need it. –

 Seeing they arrived at their shared hab suite. They end their commlink conversation, as Ratchet carefully deposits them on the berth. Optimus carefully lays the sleeping human in his arms down, before changing back to his original size and laying himself next to his conjux. Taking their little human between them. They share a little kiss before powering down to the sound of two sparks and a drumming heart.

Part 2 - Masterlist

[destinyc1020]

https://youtu.be/PB9v5BPFKnc?si=Rug9GS7uttXLsV2K I love her and her questions are so great. Z always hype her poc interviewer which is so cool of her.

Thanks Anon for sharing the Sherronda Williams interview with the "Challengers" cast. 😊

She's an awesome interviewer, and I love how Z hypes up black women. 🥰 She knows how hard it can be for us as black women in this industry. I like how she asks actors really awesome and thought-provoking questions that aren't just the same old same old....

I didn't see Mike as being "rude" in this interview like the previous Anon was stating. He might not say as much as Zendaya, but I didn't get the feeling that he was being dismissive? He even called her "amazing" halfway through the interview.

I think sometimes, fans may forget that these press tour interviews can be SUPER LOOOOONG. I recall some of the cast of Dune 2 was saying that they were doing like 17-hour days of interviews at some point! Sometimes past midnight! 🥴 🤪 It's crazy! 😩

If people look tired or worn out during interviews, it's probably because their schedule (especially for HUGE blockbuster films) is so jam-packed. 🙃😔

Z is always a consummate professional in everything she does, so maybe not everyone is going to have that same level of work ethic that she has, but as long as the actor isn't being rude and disrespectful, I think it's fine? 🤷🏾‍♀️