#it’s those damn planets again isn’t it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

papurgaatika · 2 months ago

Text

Hear Me Howling Outside Your Door

kinktober prompt 4: exhibitionism/public

Pairing: Joel x f! Reader

MINORS DNI WITH MY WORK!

A/N: howdy howdy my lovelies. thank you as ALWAYS my darling @carlynkurin for beta'ing for me<3

ANYWAY peace and love on the planet Earth, stay horny, read smut forever, xoxo, etc.

Pairing: Joel x f! Reader

Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!!

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: public/exhibitionism, facefucking, a few spanks, bodyguard! Joel, reader is a tease, degradation, and slightly dubcon for a bit but Joel does ask the reader for consent.

Summary: You were continuously flirting and teasing joel, and when you pull out an exceptionally tiny skirt, the man simply can’t do it anymore.

You were quite aware of how much you were pissing him off today. Slipping out of his sight when he was turned around, poking around with guys you shouldn’t be talking to, grabbing clothes that he was certain covered barely any part of your body “What about this one, Joel?” you hold up a black skirt against your body, biting back a smirk when his jaw twitched at the sight of how damn short it was.

“I don't think so.” he’s stoic as usual, keeping his facade up until he drags you home. “Too short, your dad would kill me if you bought it.”

You roll your eyes at him “He doesn’t need to know” you keep the skirt in your hands and peruse through the clothes, not bothering to see if he was following you. You know that it’s his job, that he’s getting paid to watch over you and keep you safe, but that doesn’t mean you can't have any fun with him.

He was gorgeous, you weren’t blind, and he was so single it made you giddy. You’d seen his body before when he’d come to a beach vacation with your family. The toned muscles of his arms, the soft but sturdy expanse of his tummy, and his back. God his back. You had found yourself chewing on the straw of your drink when he’d bent down to grab something, his shoulder blades keeping your attention focussed on every single move. You had slipped into bed early that night, feigning a headache, and slipped your hand between your legs to the thought of those broad shoulders between your thighs.

You grab a few more clothes, none of which necessarily screamed you, but were risque enough that you could see the vein in his forehead making its presence known. You flit to the dressing rooms, and bat your eyelashes up at him before you speak “Sit here, I want your opinion on them.” He doesn’t even have a chance to argue with you before you disappear into the single fitting room and start to change. You put on a sleek black top first, stepping out and giving him a little spin. He can see every single one of your curves, and the low-cut neckline does not leave much for his imagination. “Do you like it?”

He grunts in response “s’fine.” You know he isn’t getting paid to give you fashion advice, but it was fun to make him squirm, to watch him watching you. You simply hum with a pout on your lips and walk toward him where he’s sitting on the obnoxiously small sofa.

“Joel -” you huff “you don't think it’s pretty?” Your hand fiddles with the hemline of the shirt, pulling and adjusting it so that he can see more of your cleavage.

His eyes dart to your chest before he coughs slightly and meets your eyes again “It’s nice, just go try the rest on” You grin, satisfied with his reaction before walking back inside the fitting room and staring at the skirt he’d adamantly said no to. You slip it on, doing the zipper up and grinning at yourself in the mirror. He was right, of course, it was too short for you to wear out. You’d known that already, but where was the fun in letting him know that he was right?

“Ready?” You call out to him, assuming that the noise he made was him agreeing with you, you step out. “It's pretty” you muse, swaying your hips so the fabric swings lightly against your thighs.

Joel was ready to have a heart attack right then and there. He shifts in his seat so his cock isn't as visible to you, and narrows his eyes at you. “Ain’t cute, it’s too damn short.” You roll your eyes at his answer and open your mouth to argue with him before he cuts you off. “No. Go take it off. Your daddy pays me to be in charge of you, best do what I say.”

You groan but do as he says. As you grumble to yourself in front of the mirror, your fingers struggle with the zipper. You curse after a few futile attempts to get it unstuck, but the metal of the damned clasps were stuck. You have to take a few deep breaths before you suck up your pride and call out. “Joel …?” he grunts in reply, as is his usual, but you know he’s listening. “I’m… the zipper is stuck. Can you help me please…?”

There was a long pause of slightly uncomfortable silence, and you consider calling out to him again until you hear his voice much closer to the door than before “Open the damned door.”

You make quick work of unlocking it and letting him into the tiny fitting room. “The zipper-” he cuts you off with his hands on your waist, spinning you around so he could see the zipper. You glance at him in the mirror from the corner of your eyes. One of his big hands was on the small of your back holding you in place, and the other was tugging at the zipper of the obnoxiously small skirt. The bulge in his jeans was stirring something inside of you, the ache between your legs growing steadily as he tugged at the zipper, his strong hands getting the teeth to come unstuck. You stand there unmoving as the fabric flutters to the ground, his hand just above the band of your panties now. He hadn’t held you like this before, hadn't even dared to touch you like this, so you don't move. Don't try to move his hand, don't even dare to speak at this moment.

His hand follows the curve of your ass slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. You didn't. “This is why you called me in here?” he scoffs, voice taunting “To show me what a little slut you are under that small little skirt?”

You shiver at his words, the rasp in his voice delectable as it rings in your ears. “N-no i-”

He doesn't let you get your words out, cutting you off as soon as you can start. “Don’t lie to me, princess.” His hand is still grazing over your ass “You’re a damn little tease and you know it. Wearing the tiniest little things you can in front of me, trying to get a rise outta me. You think I don't notice the way you stare at me?” You have to bite at the inside of your cheek to keep from whimpering at the honest words he was saying.

You had done all of that. You did want to stir something inside him, but now, the proximity was making your stomach turn to butterflies. “Joel I didn't- fuck!” your muttered apology is broken by the feeling of his palm cracking down against your ass. “Joel!”

“Gonna put you in your damn place, actin’ like a spoiled fucking princess” he grits, and you swear you can see the edges of his lips quirking up into a smirk. You bite at the heel of your palm to stifle your little yelps as his large rough hand comes down against the smooth skin of your ass again and again. You feel his hand smoothing over the new reddened skin, your body jolting forward slightly when his lips, which were just about as soft as you’d imagined they were, press a gentle kiss to your body. “You tell me if you want me to stop, ain't gonna do anything you don't want” his voice is soft, softer than you’d truly ever heard it, and it almost turns you into goo right then and there.

Your head turns over your shoulder to look at him, and god he was beautiful. Pupils blown, the veins in his arms straining, a vision to behold if there ever was one. “No, no don't stop, I want it. I want you, Joel.” You murmur. You can see his resolve snap the moment the words leave your mouth, the stoic put-together man that you know, leaving in an instant.

He pulls you to stand up and turns you around, your chest pressed against his, and tangles his hand in your hair when he dips down to capture your lips. It isn't soft and gentle, it is messy. All teeth gnashing against each other, his tongue exploring your mouth, while he holds you in place by your hair. “God damn tease” he grits out against your mouth, his teeth nipping at your bottom lips before he tilts your head up so he can bite at your neck, careful not to leave any marks that would draw too much attention. “This what you wanted? Wanted me to put you in your fuckin’ place?” his lips are pressed against your chest, his teeth biting a mark on the visible skin of your breast.

“Yes” your words are breathless as he keeps a steady hold on you “I wanted you so bad, for so long”

The look on his face is wolfish like he was going to devour you, and frankly, you wouldn't complain if he did. “On your knees, let's go” he commands, his face moving away from your chest to look back down at you.

Your face flickers with confusion for a moment, a brief pause of hesitation at his words. “Joel we’re in”

“I don't care where we are.” His words are gruff. “You wanted to be a little tease for months, so now I'm gonna give you what you want. Knees.” he clicks his tongue at you like you were an animal listening to someone give commands. And like a trained pet would, you obey. Your eyes meet him from where you were down on your knees, big and wide as you stare up at him.

He looked like a Roman statue from down here, chiseled and practically carved from the perfect marble. Your hands pull at the top you were trying on and fling it into the corner of the dressing room, sure you were about to let him fuck your face in public, but you had some decency. His eyes follow the scrap of fabric and he raises a brow at you in a silent question. “Didn't wanna get it dirty” you shrug at him, a mischievous smirk playing on your own lips. He rolls his eyes at you, and fists his hand in your hair, pulling your head back.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease” he murmurs, “and you run your damn mouth too much. C’mon, put it to good use for once” The hand in your hair presses your face into the bulge of his jeans, your lips parting to press open-mouthed kisses over the fabric.

Your tongue runs a line over the outline of his cock and you can feel his grip growing tighter in your hair. The feeling of him losing some of his normally calm and put-together demeanor makes your ego inflate. You catch the zipper of his jeans between your teeth, dragging it down agonizingly slow. “Don't be a fuckin’ tease” he grits out, “take it out.” You do not waste any time getting his cock out, and Lord have mercy was it better than you had imagined. And you had imagined it. Every night when your hands drifted into your panties, your fingers deftly making circles around your clit, you imagined what it would have been like to have his cock pressing into your cunt. To have the head of it rubbing against your clit, to worship it.

Your tongue presses soft licks over his head, swirling around the tip, coating your lips with his pre-cum. Your mouth is already watering for him, already addicted to the way he tastes. “That's a good girl.” He groans when your lips finally wrap around him. “That pretty fuckin’ mouth was made to suck my cock. Wasn't it?” His tone only makes you suck on it faster, your tongue pressed flat against him. “Wasn't it?” He repeats himself, pulling you off of his cock, a line of spit connecting the two of you still “I asked you a question, I expect an answer brat.”

Between his eyes and his cock, you aren’t sure where to focus. His gaze is boring into yours, waiting for a reply, but his cock is hard and aching for you, waiting for your mouth to be back on it again. “Yes,” you sigh, managing to look up at him finally “Yeah it was, meant to suck your cock” He seems pleased enough with your answer, his hand holding the base of his cock while he lets you bob up and down on it. You could be here every single day, truly. The taste of him, the feeling of his hand in your hair, it was all addicting. Your eyes close instinctively, and your hands drift down to your panties, trying to soothe the dull ache between your dripping folds.

“Ah ah,” a quick spank on your cheek jolts your eyes open. “Be a good fucking slut, don't touch until I damn well say you can.” You whine around his cock, hand still pressed against every growing damp spot of your panties, until his hand is pulling you off his cock and his face is inches away from yours. “What the fuck did I just say?” his voice is low and his eyes leave no room for argument

“Said not to touch, but-” he cuts you off with a tut, standing back up to his full height, his cock back in your line of sight.

“No buts. What I said goes, little girl. Behave and maybe I'll fuck you if you’re good.” His cock is pressed against your lips before you have a chance to say anything again, your mouth opening and taking him in greedily. Your tongue swirls around him as he lets out quiet grunts of pleasure, his hand tightening in your hair as he slowly drags you up and down. Your eyes are looking up at him, watering slightly when you feel him hit the back of your throat. “Atta girl” he coos “you can take it all, relax.” His words weren’t necessarily a command, but your body gave into him like it was a baser instinct. You can feel your own drool dripping down onto your chest, letting him use you, letting him debase you how you wanted.

“Tight fuckin’ throat” he groans as you remember to breathe through your nose. “Ain't gonna be running your mouth when I'm done with you.” You swear you felt like you were on cloud nine. Despite him not touching you even remotely, your entire body was aflame. Every single movement of his hips had you clenching around nothing. His thrusts were growing faster steadily, the only sounds in the room were the occasional gagging noises you’d make as he pressed you all the way down and his steady grunts.

You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, his head tipping back slightly as his thrusts grew more erratic. “Just like that, gonna make you swallow every damn drop” His words are shaky as he spills down your throat, pulling out of your lips and resting his spit-covered cock on your cheek. Your mascara was running slightly, your lipstick staining a ring around his cock, you were surely a mess. He moves your hand away when you wipe away the mascara stains under your eyes. “Leave it.” He hums, helping you stand up “want you to have something to remember the lesson when we get home. Get dressed, we're leaving.”

Your lips form a pout when he steps out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Your cunt was throbbing and your throat was sore, you just wanted his cock inside you. You step back into your clothes, glancing at your wrecked face in the mirror before you step outside. Joel wordlessly hands you a bottle of water and you gladly accept it, gulping it down. “Let's go.” He ushers you out of the store with a hand on the small of your back. “Ain't done with you yet.”

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist.

PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

#joel miller #papaya writes <3 #joel miller x reader #noelle 🩷#joel miller smut #kinktober 2024 #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller au

83 notes · View notes

zadralien · 11 months ago

Text

He wanted Dib to beg for his life.

Dib has become his life.

Ficlet under the cut.

“Fuck, Zim!” Dib reaches up to gingerly press his fingers to his nose and feels the thick blood pooling down past his mouth. “I swear to god, you fucking bug, if you’ve gone and broken my nose again I’ll-“

“-Shut up!” Zim shrieks, pak legs unfurling and clanking onto the concrete. He rises above Dib and encroaches slowly, legs clacking with each step. “You.. you worm! Do you have any idea what you could have done?”

“Dude, it was just some papers. I didn’t even read them for christ’s sake. They’re in Irken, you of all people should know I’m slow at translating that chicken scratch of yours.” Dib looks forlornly at the stack of crumpled papers a few feet away, scattered and likely marked with a spray of Dib’s blood. He turns back to look up at Zim when he snarls, reaching out a gloved claw to shove Dib back hard.

“They’re not for you, they’re Zim’s private papers!” Zim leans further over Dib, tongue curling and spitting flecks of saliva onto Dib’s face. Dib scrubs at his face, remembering how disrespectful spitting is considered in Irken culture. It burns a little.

“I don’t give a shit what they are. I didn’t even mean to touch them! I just wanted to put my crap down.” He meets Zim’s eyes. They’re a deep red and set in a foul expression. “I’m not interested in your secrets. You can keep those. It’s not like I don’t know everything anyway.”

Zim stiffens and Dib’s expression softens despite himself. He runs a tired hand through his hair and steels his gaze.

“You don’t really think I’m that big of an idiot, do you? You’ve just been quietly shoving your fat green head into my life over the last year and suddenly you save my life. I don’t know man, a guy spends his entire life trying to kill you and then just stops you from bleeding out some random Tuesday? That was weird.“ Dib shrugs, looking away briefly.

“That does not mean anything, Dib-worm. You were bleeding all over my base, it was disgusting. Zim had to stop it somehow.”

Dib shakes his head.

“It’s okay, Zim. I know we’re friends. I don’t know why, and I don’t care to know - but I know you’re lost and don’t know where to go. I know, and it’s okay. I’m lost too. We can be lost together. Your leaders, the Tallest -“.

“Don’t.” Zim grits out, quiet in a way Dib has never heard, didn’t know was possible. Physically, he begins trying to reach one hand out to soothe, to touch, to reassure. Mentally, he begs his sister to come collect his corpse once she realises what most likely happened to him. Damn it, he hopes she realises.

He isn’t that surprised when Zim lunges at him, but he wishes he’d had more time to brace before an Irken claw punches into his chest to grab at the material of his shirt. He wheezes a little.

“You do not know what you speak of, you pathetic slime! Do not mistake your loneliness for Zim’s. Zim doesn’t need you, Zim doesn’t need this dust bowl of a planet. One more fucking word and I’ll finish what that disgusting cryptid creature started last year.”

The human swear word sounds weird coming out of the alien’s mouth, but it’s not the first time. He’d only ever heard Zim swear once before - specifically when he got shredded by a cryptid in the woods and, in a blood-loss haze, made his way to Zim’s base to start bleeding out on his frenemies floor. He knows how hard it is to admit how miserable you are on the inside, especially to the people that matter most.

Well, he had made it this far.

“I know you Zim, and it’s okay.”

Zim’s quiet for a moment before he speaks, clenching his jaw.

“Beg.”

“What?”

“Zim told you, one more word. Now you beg for your pathetic life, you insolent worm.”

“I’m not going to - Zim, stop it. You know I’m right. I care about you too! It’s fine!”

Zim snarls, fist clenched, pak legs raising him to his full height. Dib’s heart drops when he sees one leg glint as it lifts itself behind Zim, preparing to strike.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He might actually die today. Shit.

“Beg!”

“No!”

“Beg!”

Shit. The leg is calibrating.

“I’m all you have! Kill me and you’ll have nothing. You know it too!”

Zim stops. The leg pauses. His eyes are wide, frightened, conflicted. He chokes out a pained sound, continuing to clench and unclench his fist. He yanks Dib closer by the shirt still tangled in his fist. Dib breathes heavily.

“Beg Zim not to kill you.” His voice is raw, tired. His eyes roam over Dib’s face, carefully categorising and assessing. The stilted pak leg drops back to the ground.

Dib’s whole body un-tenses despite the proximity. The alien’s face turns slowly into a somewhat unreadable resignation.

Dib swallows the lump.

“Please.” He whispers quietly. Swaying, pressing forward.

“You fool.”

263 notes · View notes

eureka-its-zico · 9 months ago

Text

A Body of Stars

Ongoing series

Synopsis: With a galaxy at war, it’s hard to distinguish the stars from the metal of UNSC ships. You were told about the war that waged between the UNSC and insurrectionists; your planet opposing them since you were born. Your enemy was meant to be the UNSC and the Spartans they created, specifically John-117 - the Master Chief. Except, all isn’t as black and white as you were raised to believe, and the galaxy holds secrets far darker than you could’ve imagined.

Pairing: John - 117 x F!Reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, Halo TV series/Mass Effect mashup

Warnings: mentions of war, violence

Word count: 11.7k

A/N: Alright. As hyper fixations go, the Halo series (and let’s be real, Pablo is a menace) has my ass in a chokehold. That being said, season 2 was amazing and made me want to work on a small fic that blended the series and my love of BioWare’s Mass Effect. Mass Effect is my favorite sci-fi space game about galactic war, friendship, love, sacrifice. I could rant but I won’t. There will be mentions of certain ME things in here, like the reader having biotics, to go along with the lore of the halo series. So, without further ado: its back story time. I hope someone out there enjoys this and as always, thank you for reading 🖤 much love, Jenn

Year: 2521

•Shadow Sea cluster•

•Lera system•

Destination: Laconix

ETA: 13 hours

The Midsummer Night came out of slip space without a hitch.

Not that he’d been worried. It was one of the few things that Captain Jacob Keyes hadn’t worried about during this current mission. What, or rather who, currently worried him was standing less than ten yards from him and came in the form of his ex-wife. He risked a glance where Dr. Catherine Halsey was hunched over with her nose deep inside another holopad.

Those holopads had been one of the many reasons why their marriage fell apart.

There was no doubting the brilliance her work contributed to the scientific field or the war effort. All of her research was the stepping stone humanity needed in terms of augmentation and the human genome. The contributions Halsey and her Spartans made towards this never-ending battle against the covenant saved lives, but, and it was a big but, Jacob knew that Halsey’s methods were questionable, at best. Hell, he’d been a part of those questionable decisions, driving the helm, while she did what she deemed was necessary.

Vital.

So, Jacob Keyes knew without her ever having to say a word that something was off. The Midsummer Night and the Pegasus holding Halsey’s darling Spartain-III’s were meant to go for a routine extraction. Intel indicated one of the leaders in the insurrectionist rebel groups, Kahn Montrello, was located on a planet within the Lera system of the Shadow Sea cluster. It was a typical snatch-and-grab unless they were met with resistance.

Halsey requesting to tag along was more than just a surprise. It was suspicious. Jacob knew Halsey didn’t do anything without purpose.

“Tell me again why you’ve insisted on inserting yourself into a routine mission dealing with insurrectionists?”

Halsey hadn’t even looked up from the damn holopad to acknowledge he’d walked over.

“I’m just here to gather some data while the Silver Team is dispatched to help your marines on the ground.”

Jacob’s boots scuffed against the metal of the bridge as he moved closer to her. His eyes on Catherine’s back - willing her to turn, to acknowledge him - as her gaze held tightly to the readings she’d taken from a tablet from her lab. The data was transferred to the larger scale computer in the bridge’s main console. Halsey’s eyes roaming endlessly through data Jacob himself knew he’d never understand without her help.

“Come on, Catherine. That may be the bullshit you fed Parangosky and the other admirals, but don’t feed me the same lies and expect it to go down smoothly.”

Halsey broke away for the briefest millisecond from whatever data she was reading. Her eyes skimmed over him before returning back to what was more important.

Research in the name of human exploration always was.

“It’s not bullshit. Data collected in the field is highly valuable for furthering my research; proof to Parangosky the Spartan research is worth her continued funding.”

“That’s a nice speech, Catherine, but I know that any collected data during the mission is recorded and sent back to your lab for analysis. So, when are you going to start telling me something honest?”

Honesty.

Asking Halsey to be anything other than secretive was like asking a tiger to get rid of its stripes. Jacob knew even if she told him - really shared - it still wouldn’t be all of the actual information. Key pieces of information - the most valuable - would be forever stored within her; leverage for another day.

Whatever it was she could see on those holopads had her sky blue eyes wide in excitement. Halsey wouldn’t be able to contain it - hide it - for much longer. If the small rise at the corner of her mouth was any indication, all Jacob needed to do was push a little further. Find the right words to spark a rush of hypotheticals that might turn out to hold some truth. If she didn’t crack yet, it would take one more well-placed question and she would cave.

“Jacob,” her voice was breathy, tinged with unrestrained joy. “I think I found something.”

“What are you talking about, Catherine? Found something?”

More cryptics. More hoops.

A sigh heavy with years of fights - conflicts - departed his lips and Halsey rushed to recover some ground. Her body quickly took back the space he left to place her hand gently on his bicep. The grip was soft but demanding that he stay close; pleading with him not to pull away.

Halsey needed him.

“A few weeks ago the UNSC sent over old documents from companies they’d disassembled. Conatix was one of them.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the confusion that deepened the lines in the crease of Jacob’s forehead and scrunched up his nose. His eyes roamed her face searching for a tell, but if Halsey had one she’d never show it.

“Conatix was an old UNSC factory that produced our warships-“

“Yes, I know.”

“Why would you be interested in anything about warships?”

Halsey scanned the room to make sure no one was watching - no eyes lingering on the two of them - before she directed her attention back to him. The caution that darkened her eyes shifted with a spark Jacob knew all too well.

Halsey had found something. Really found something.

“Usually, nothing of value would be of interest in old documents and schematics for warships but, while scrolling through the files I stumbled upon an encrypted file.”

“UNSC documentation is always encrypted when it’s being shipped out to-“

“To be destroyed, yes I already know that, Jacob,” Halsey cut in. Her body directed back towards the holopad that she carefully picked up. Her fingers darted across the screen hunting for the files in question. “But this was different. It wasn’t schematics or calculations - it was redacted - sealed documents about an incident.”

No sooner had she started Halsey was finished. Her hand reached out to give him the holopad and waited patiently for him to take it.

“Go ahead.”

Jacob looked around the ship's bridge to make sure no one was watching. He needed to be careful, not necessarily for Halsey’s sake, but for that of his crew. He should’ve known - did know - Halsey had a habit, a bad one, to go above the chain of command to get what she wanted. That leverage she saved for a rainy day coming in hot to throw around pawns and pieces as she saw fit to get her way.

Cautiously, Jacob secured the holopad from her and started looking at the documents, or what little he could see. Almost with every swipe all he saw were broken links and documents with holes of information missing. Sentences that formed into two words with the rest gone or replaced by shapes and numbers. An elaborate break in the code.

“I was able to decipher most of them. Get back what information they tried to hide-“

“Catherine,” he whispered her name in warning, not for himself, but for her.

“Jacob - this wasn’t about warships or weapons or schematics. Something happened. A ship they’d used with element zero - eezo - had leaked out over a few colonies. A hole in one of the port engines that wasn’t caught in time.”

“Catherine,” Jacob pleaded again, “This isn’t news or anything that concerns you or me.”

Halsey wasn’t going to back down. He knew she wouldn’t. Not when the sheer joy of finding something undiscovered was close. The science behind furthering human evolution. The moment he realized what this was - what he held in his hands - Jacob knew his eyes were saucers. The sudden shock of realization stunning him to the spot.

“Children, Jacob,” Halsey practically laughed. “The pregnant mothers who were infected by the particles gave birth to children with eezo ingrained into their nervous system. The abilities these files claim they saw…it’s like nothing I’ve ever read.”

In her excitement, Halsey reached out and took a hold of his arm. The startled warmth of her touch was enough to knock Jacob back out of his daze. His eyes skimming one more time over impossible things he saw in diagrams Halsey recreated.

“Even if that was true, you don’t even know if any of them are still alive or where they are.”

With her lips curved up in victory, Halsey plucked the holopad from his hands.

“Yes I do. We’re headed there now.”

————-

“You get caught staring up at the sky again and Caster is going to throw a fit.”

“When isn’t he throwing a fit?”

Your question wasn’t meant for an answer. The words barely made it above a whisper while you kept watch on the green hued light that streaked across the sky like a river. Calling it green felt like you were doing it a disservice. You knew it was more than that - the way it moved with purpose across the endless blue above. The different shades that reminded you of the grass on which you stood and dark as the forest that surrounded you.

“Come on,” Thao called over his shoulder. Your name calling from his lips like it would be enough to coax you forward. “I want to get back to actually enjoy what little of my day I have left.”

“You can enjoy it now,” you reminded him.

It took a few more seconds - another millisecond after that - for your eyes to turn back to the world around you. The snap of a branch somewhere off to your right informing you Thao had taken off without waiting for you to catch up.

“Not when my friends are back at the colony having fun without me. And I’m out here looking for dumb ass yaks.”

A small tut of disapproval clicked at the roof of your mouth. Your stride easily brings you closer to the shorter eleven-year-old boy. It allowed you to gently ruffle his hair. Your efforts were greeted by a grunt of annoyance with his hand grabbing at your wrist to gently shove you away.

“And just think, you would be there now, doing whatever it is you troublemakers do, if you and your friends hadn’t set a flare off inside Caster’s hut. And don’t disrespect the yaks.”

Thao’s eyes disappeared inside his head as your elbow gently nudged his shoulder. You must be making some kind of progress, because this time he made no move to push you away.

“Old man deserved it. Always hoarding the chicken eggs.”

“He owns the chickens.”

“So?”

“So,” you drawled, “it means he owns the eggs. Owning the eggs also means he gets to distribute them however he sees fit.”

“How is that fair? You know he gave Lydia and her kids three eggs last week? Three eggs. What is a family of five supposed to do with that? It’s not right.”

You knew what Thao meant. You understood the feeling of anger that burned into sadness and ultimately to the ash of defeat. Kahn allowed those who proved useful in the fight against the UNSC to have a majority hold on most of the items in the colony. Those who allowed themselves to be shuffled around an unseeable chessboard like pawns.

Willing to die, to give up everything, at his disposal.

All in the name of fighting a government who grew more powerful everyday. The UNSC sharing their own videos of propaganda that showed thousands upon thousands of soldiers equally willing to die for a cause, and Spartans being the unmovable force needed to shift any battle back into the UNSC’s favor. It was this very reason Kahn looked for those desperate enough to join, to do anything he asked, to win.

A devoted father agrees to be a walking bomb to blow up a UNSC building? His family is rewarded with food, wood, and blankets to help make it through the harsh winters. Attempting to infiltrate a building to release a virus, whether you were caught or not, Kahn took care of your family. It could be with livestock, guns for protection, or even the yaks whose pelts made the biggest profit at the markets.

Every loss of life was just another reminder of the men and women who slowly disappeared from the colony. A senseless loss of life. You were still trying to figure out what it was for; what purpose you hadn’t been able to see, because for every life lost in the pursuit of justice against the USNC, their numbers only grew. The colony's numbers, however, weren't so lucky.

“You could turn this war around.”

“I won’t kill for you, Kahn.”

You swiftly whipped your head to the side to rid yourself of the memory. Your eyes narrowing on the green rolling hills on the other side of the treeline. That was where you would find the yaks grazing. You gently patted Thao’ss shoulder - for whatever comfort it would give - before you moved forward to take point.

“That’s because it isn’t fair, Thao.”

“See! Even you agree,” Thao huffed out your name. His small body broke into a jog to match your hurried step. “If anyone in the colony would be able to kick his ass, it would be you.”

Your feet were turning before you’d even realized it. Your body answered the piercing spike of adrenaline in your blood with your hands shooting out to grab his shoulders. The action made you crouch a couple inches until you were face-to-face with Thao. Your eyes scanned wildly across his features reading nothing but uncertainty.

“Don’t ever say something like that out loud again, Thao. Do you understand me?”

“I was only saying-“

“I know what you're trying to say. The answer is no, and if Kahn or any of his dumbass lackies ever heard you even mention something like that we are both as good as dead.”

“But-“

“Tell me you understand!”

If anyone asked why you felt the sudden surge of panic ripple over your skin, you wouldn’t be able to say, or place where it stemmed from. Technically, the both of you were out in the safety of the mountain fields and away from the prying eyes of Kahn’s dictatorship. Lost behind a sea of forest, the rolling fields of green, and poppies that puddled around you like blood.

You’d seen what Kahn and his insurrectionists were capable of. Any whisper - false or not - and the person went missing. Kahn ruled the colony with the fear generated by the UNSC, but cultivated his own like the boogeyman.

“Yeah I get it. Whatever.”

Thao shrugged out of your hold and turned away from you. His pre-teen feet stomped a path out of the tree line and out into the field. A sigh left you, worn and heavy, as you watched his retreat.

I Should’ve been softer��

You let out a huff of air as a hand scrubbed over your face. It was supposed to be a simple ‘herd the yaks back to the colony’ type of day. Not grovel to one of the only people - kid or not - who wasn’t afraid of you.

It was your turn to jog after his retreating form. Quickly, you noticed that he didn’t even look up to acknowledge your presence. He wasn’t sending jokes about being an old lady (you were twenty-four, thank you very much) whose brittle bones could snap under the strain of being a person. You would’ve taken being called an old lady than suffering through the silent treatment.

Gently, you nudged his shoulder with your elbow. When he didn’t turn you tried again and again until, finally, you were rewarded with him turning an annoyed side-eye in your direction. You gave him your best apologetic smile and carefully looped your arm around his shoulders to bring him in close.

“I’m sorry. Okay? I was kind of an asshole.”

“A major asshole.”

“Okay. I’ll accept that major part but only for today.”

“If there was an asshole award, you would’ve taken home the prize-“

“Okay, geez. I get it.”

You both settled into a comfortable pace with your arm still draped over his shoulders. Your mind raced back to the last time you’d been able to do this. Thao had been younger - shorter - and with the rate he was growing, you soon might not be able to reach him. Soon, Thao might not care for your company.

“You know, I am surprised you didn’t fracture an ankle running after me at your tender age.”

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” you grumbled in mock annoyance.

You ended up having to shove him away just to try and hide the smile that threatened to lift the edges of your mouth. The sound of Thao’s laughter at your weak attempt at being mean - he 100% knew it took way too much to even make you raise your voice - made the crack of a smile begin to form.

The yaks were about another ten or so feet ahead of you both. Their massive bodies moved in slow steps while they grazed along the long grass. You weren’t sure if it was their adorable long bangs that made it impossible for them to notice you right away (doubtful) or if they just didn’t consider either of you a threat (possible). Either way, they didn’t startle as the two of you closed the remaining distance. Didn’t jump up to try and kick or gore either of you with their horns when Thao produced the ropes from his satchel.

It took a grand total of ten minutes, maybe less, to have all seven of the yaks securely held in makeshift collars from the rope. Their large bodies begrudgingly followed the two of you as you gently pulled the lead, forcing them to give up their meal of dewy grass and follow you back through the treeline.

“You know,” Thao cautiously began, his eyes skimming between you and the trees. “This might be a lot faster if you just…ya know, float them up.”

“Float them up?”

“With your blue magic.”

This time you weren’t able to hide your smile as you shook your head.

“It’s called biotics, Thao, not blue magic.”

“Blue magic sounds waaaay cooler than ‘biotics’. Who even came up with that lame name, anyway.”

“You can thank the good folks at Conatix for that one.”

One of the yaks pulled back on its lead forcing you to give a slight tug back. You could understand if they were tired after eating, but you really didn’t have time in your schedule for yak naps. A huff of air came from the nostrils of the yak to drive home that it wasn't happy not having its nap. Or maybe it was the berry bush it was after, either way, napping and eating stops were prohibited.

You weren’t aware the conversation had died until Thao’s voice interrupted the silence.

“Is it true that you were born like that?”

His question was timid - afraid he would upset you. You were used to the questions; the stares. You remember sitting with your parents in a room, about Thao’s age, when Conatix came back around trying to clean up their mess. Said mess being spilling eezo from their ships across planets that later infected children. While some pregnant mothers had children like you, exposed to element zero in the womb creating a nervous system made of eezo, a majority were far less lucky. Children born riddled with tumors or horrific physical complications that left them in pain their entire lives.

You were supposed to be a lucky one.

One of the lucky ones they’d been trying to take back with them to their laboratories. A lucky one meant to be bought by a substantial fee that your parents quickly declined. It was the last choice they ever got to make for you before they mysteriously died in a tragic accident off-world.

“Yes.”

You didn’t feel lucky and maybe it was the way the words crumbled out of your mouth. The way they sat suspended in the air in a swirl of regrets and dead wishes that Thao knew you didn’t want to talk anymore. Not about your past or anything that reminded you that what you are - who you are - has felt like one big burden. You wondered, most nights, if there was a possibility that curses could be born.

————

The rest of the walk back was filled with an awkward silence. You weren’t sure if it was one you’d made by your lack of response, or if Thao no longer felt like talking. A part of you feared the image he’d held of you since he was young, full of mystery that made you seem cool, was slowly becoming destroyed. You knew it was a matter of time before it happened.

You were an anomaly.

Children saw you as magical, while adults believed you could perform some kind of mind control or read their thoughts. It was the main reason Kahn wanted you to join the resistance. Who wouldn’t want someone who could read thoughts and control minds on their team? You’d know when and where attacks could happen and make them blow up their ships from the inside. Unfortunately, for Kahn, the only thoughts you could read were your own and, as of right now, they were desperately shouting at you not to lose one of the few friends you had left.

Even if they happened to be a young boy who was notorious for being the most talkative kid in the colony.

With a few more steps up the hill, you both came to a stop at the top of the hill. You took in the thatched roofs of the huts that lay scattered in a misshapen circle of rows. The outer ring of homes were made of clay and the only splash’s of color came from designs being painted on the sides of homes or flowers planted in the yard.

The middle ring was meant to be for men like Kahn and his commanders; men and women of importance so that they lived closer to the final, smaller ring, of storefronts and farmers. The middle circle was left open and featured a large walkway down the center of town and out into the hills.

Kahn specifically had the colony built this way. The walkway was the most important, because Kahn believed it was good for his people to be able to watch those that fought for their freedoms return from another victory against the UNSC. You knew it was more about parading around having people kiss his ass than for uplifting any kind of morale.

It was the same path that Thao and you took now as you brought in the yaks from the mountains. You knew it wouldn’t be long until you got them back inside their pen and with the irritated snorts and tugs on their leashes, the yaks knew it too. The sound of multiple small feet came rushing in on Thao’s side and the faces of a few village children came into view. They made sure to stop just before they got in the way of a yak.

“Thao, can you come play?”

“Not yet. I have to finish this choir for Caster.”

A lot of groaning ensued and you felt your free hand reach over the back of a yak. Your fingers waving for him to give you his leashes. Thao’s brow raised in question and you only answered him by pointing at the leash and waving him again to hand it over.

“Hurry up and give them to me before I change my mind.”

You were trying to be grumpy. The way any elder in town would complain about the youth of today being too soft and not knowing the meaning of hard work and blah blah. You were sure they were all just stuck in super grouchy mode from having to be an adult with responsibilities for too long. And because of that, you knew, instead of looking grumpy, a smile was already brightening up your face. Thao’s face lit up in response and his eyes darted - unsure - from up the path and back to you.

“Are you sure? Caster -“

“Will never know that you didn’t help bring them all the way back. Now, like I said, hand over the lead before I suddenly have a fit of amnesia.”

He didn’t need further prompting. Thao’s hand smashed the remaining leashes into your waiting palm and turned on his heel to run off with the other kids. A soft, “thank you,” calling out behind him.

You didn’t waste any more time watching their retreating backs as they tore down a small alleyway between huts. You had your own things that you still needed to finish today. As you continued on your way, you greeted people who were outside in their gardens or hanging up laundry. Some of them returned your greetings of, “Hello,” with grunts with their backs turned to you or hurried inside. Apparently, if they didn’t look you in the eye or were behind the safety of a wall it kept you from using your mind control powers.

You were willing to bet Kahn had something to do with that latest lie about your make believe abilities. If you wouldn’t fight for him, why not cause a little mass panic in your presence. You being the monster and him, the hero, forcing you to toe the line. No ‘mind reading’ unless it was for the ‘cause’.

As you neared the pen in front of Caster’s shop, you started to rotate the leashes tighter in your hands. You were positive if the yaks felt a slack in their leash, they would attempt a revolt. They also weren’t the biggest fan of the metal pen of broken down ships Caster created to house them; the metal of an old hatch door from a USNC frigate - rusted and covered in moss - groaned as it opened. A sound the yaks knew well and instantly sent their hooves stamping into the muddy grass.

“Alright, ladies, I don’t want any trouble. It’s time to get your butts back in here - whoa!”You shot around with a start as one of the yaks gently bumped its nose against your back sending you forward towards the pen. “None of that,” you mumbled. Your index finger pointing at your chest then back to every single one of them. “Your home, not mine. Now go.”

With a cautious glance over your shoulder you took a step forward leading the herd inside. It wasn’t until you’d begun to remove their leashes that the familiar sound of a man clearing his throat brought your gaze up to search the fence. It didn’t take long for you to find Caster leaning against it. An arm hanging over while the other held up whatever self-righteous bullshit questioning he was about to spew.

“Where’s Thao?”

“He helped me bring them here, Caster. I sent him on his way once we reached the pen.”

“That’s not what he was told to do and you don’t have any authority to change orders.”

Every word reached you like a slap in the face. Caster’s irritation was evident with the click of his tongue. You tried to keep your face neutral; your gaze fixed on one of the yak's as your fingers ran through the tangled fur. You gave one final pat to signal your departure before you walked back to the pen’s exit.

“I wasn’t aware Thao had to be the specific individual to deliver a bunch of yaks inside the pen.”

“Bullshit,” Caster snarled your name. His body closing the distance between you as you stepped through the pen entrance. “You can try and play dumb with me all you want, but we both know you aren’t that damn dense. Thao can’t shut up even for a second in his sleep, and you’re trying to tell me the boy magically didn’t complain the whole time he was with you?”

Caster invaded what little space you had once you stepped fully out from behind the pen. The door hadn’t even closed yet before Caster rushed you, attempting to trap you between him and the metal. The cold gray of his eyes roamed your face waiting for you to break at his intimidation.

One of the Shadow Sea’s three moons would have to explode first before that ever happened.

You jammed the cool metal of the pens chains into his chest. You didn’t bother to see if he would catch it when you released it. You knew he would, and when Caster did, you made sure to take a step towards him forcing the older man two options; hold his ground or back up. You weren’t surprised when he did the latter.

“You’re right, Caster, I’m not that damn dense. Close up your own fucking pen.”

You didn’t give him the chance to reply. The first step you took forced him to take another step back, your shoulder ramming into his as you pushed your way past him.

Could you have gone around?

Yes, but, no matter what, it felt a lot better being petty for a couple of seconds than pretending for a second you cared.

It didn’t take Caster long to find his bearings. The sound of the chains rustling in his hands and a slew of curses thrown at your back were the first to greet you before he yelled after you: “Just wait until Kahn hears about this!”

“Yea, yea,” you mumbled.

You were willing to bet no matter how the exchange between Caster and you went, Kahn was always going to hear how it went. Good or bad. Caster yelled something else at your retreating back. You responded with a wave and continued back down the main path before you veered off course into a smaller path. It was one you knew well since you were a child. One you knew led to your grandparents' hut.

Smoke rose from the clay chimney and you knew, before you entered through the doorway, you’d find your grandfather working to dry his latest clay pots by the fire. Your grandmothers weathered fingers working tirelessly with a needle and her beadwork scattered over the small table. It was only a few days before everyone with goods left to try and sell them at the Market. You moved through the small space stopping to kiss the top of your grandmother’s head before you gently took over for your grandfather.

“And where did you run off to this morning?”

You didn’t have to look up to feel the weight of your grandfather’s stare. His scrutinizing eyes waiting for you to give him a response knowing full well it wasn’t going to be the one he wanted.

“There is no need to worry, grandpa. I was nowhere and everywhere all at once.”

“That sentence alone turned what little hair I have left white.”

“All of your hairs’ already white.”

“Precisely my point,” he groaned.

The soft chuckle of your grandmother cut through the tension in the small room. Your eyes now directed to the open flame and focused on turning the pot slowly with the tongs. The last thing you wanted to hear on top of giving your grandfather white hair and an early grave was ruining a pot he’d worked on most of this morning.

“Would you two stop it? I’m sure she has a perfectly good explanation for why she was missing this morning. Don’t you dear?”

Your grandmother sent a coy look in your direction and you couldn’t wait to completely crush her dreams. While your grandfather believed in hard work, your grandmother believed in finding a good spouse who could provide for the imaginary great grandchildren she’d already named.

Either that or joining the resistance.

“I was out helping Thao rally up the yaks that ran away this morning.”

A sigh so heavy escaped from your grandfather’s chest that you could’ve sworn all your ancestors before you joined him.

“And there it is.”

The soft call of your name forced your attention back to where your grandmother now sat idle. Her hands placing the beadwork and adjoining needles on the table. Her small frame turned on the bench to make sure she had your full attention.

“I’m happy you want to help but you already know Kahn will-“

“Will throw a bitch fit. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

A smack on your arm sent you jolting back in surprise. Your eyes cautiously roaming over to your grandmother to see if she was going to hit you again. With how tightly her lips were pressed together, you had a feeling, with some of the things that came from your mouth, the possibility of her doing it again was imminent.

“Whether you like him or not, Kahn is our leader.”

“No, he is your leader. Kahn will never be mine. A real leader doesn’t sacrifice their people to gain information or so they don’t get locked up inside a UNSC prison.”

“And do you think there is someone more fit to lead if he was gone? Who do you think would run the rebellion?”

“Plenty of more competent individuals could step forward to take his place if he wasn’t aro-“

You realized you sounded like Thao who, hours before, you’d shushed him into complacency. Your fear for his safety was paramount over how right his words might have been. And here you were doing the exact same thing inside your grandparents hut.

“Enough!”

Your grandfather wasn’t known for raising his voice and when he did it was usually out of desperation; a fear that surpassed anger that delved into worry from the unknown. You could see it now etched into every wrinkle that creased in the sagging skin of his sunburnt face. The way he tried to hold onto the anger before it was swept away by something he wouldn’t voice in fear of giving it a name.

“Whether you like it or not, Kahn runs this settlement. He is the only one working here to free us from the tyrant that is the UNSC! At least he is doing something, which is more than I can say for my own granddaughter!”

“Ernest,” your grandmother’s voice cautioned.

“So you want me to just let him use me like some kind of weapon?”

You no longer cared about holding the pinchers over the fire or the clay pot - your grandfather's life’s work - held delicately between them. As you stood up from the stool you dropped the pinchers and the sound of clay cracking tapered over your shuddering breathing for just a moment. You moved away from the fire towards a corner of the room closest to the door. The thunder in your ears drowning out the shouts of your grandmother; your eyes coming in and out of focus as you tried to ease the panic from your veins.

It would only take a second - a fatal second of panic to fill the room with a cobalt hue of flame that would ruin everything.

“Kahn offers you a way to use your gift, to teach you how to use it, and better help our people and you spit in his face!” He hissed. “Your parents gave their life for the cause-“

“And what has Kahn given!?” You hadn’t meant to scream. Each word laced with a grief stricken with rage that only bloomed brighter over time. “He asks families to give their husbands, wives, their children to fight his battles and what the fuck does he do for us?!”

“Why can’t you ever see that you can help save us? Kahn can help teach you how to control it.”

“Help me control it or control me?”

“You ungrateful child.”

His words hissed through the air and buried themselves in the hollow of your chest. Your feet involuntarily took a step back, ready to flee the hut, ready to find peace in the hills of the forest when the collective raised shouts of the villagers rang out from behind the walls.

“UNSC vessels spotted!”

It was the distraction you needed to escape the hut. The shouts of worried men and women pushing you to rush outside and greedily take gulp after gulp of fresh air until the flare, the warmth, of your power began to dig back inside your skin. When you dragged your gaze away from the grass you were greeted with villagers running back and forth. The ones who sprinted down the open lane back out towards the open forest only ended up coming back moments later.

You made your way out into the crowd, weaving in between the bodies to get to the heart of the circle their bodies created. They all stood in large huddled groups; mothers clutching their children and the able bodied men moving in front of them, in front of everyone, to try and guard them. The villagers who tried running down the main road were coming, as if herded, back to the center of the village. You didn’t understand why they were all running back to the middle.

This was a kill zone.

Strategically the worst place to be for any of the resistance fighters if they were going to make any attempt to fight back. It wasn't until you made it to the middle that your earlier rage turned to ice as you watched the UNSC marines, and four very big fucking Spartans, make their way up the middle.

If Spartans were here you knew no one stood a chance. A fight would be suicide. You needed to get back to your grandparents. You needed -

“Attention settlers of the Lera system of Laconix: I am Captain Jacob Keyes of the USNC. We have viable intel that led us to believe that you are harboring a fugitive by the name of Kahn Montrello - a known insurrectionist. We are asking for your cooperation in this matter. We can resolve this matter peacefully, with no need to resort to any unnecessary violence.”

“Screw you! You have no jurisdiction here or any outer colonies.”

Fred. That was his name. Maybe. You didn’t know - couldn’t remember. Your brain couldn’t think past your own rushing pulse or speeding thoughts. He was just pushing past the crowd with angry shouts and limbs flying while he moved towards them. You watched as he made his way towards the marines like a man on fire, and was met by a Marine who burned brighter. The butt of their gun cracking against his cheek sent him spiraling to the ground.

You weren’t sure if you were already panicked or if the sight of blood seeping through his fingers caused it. No matter what the real reason was you knew there was no getting around whatever came next. Like a swarm of locusts, the marines fanned out and moved forward. Their bodies corralled the villagers tighter together and kept any hope of escape at bay.

It was the perfect time for Kahn to make his appearance. His form practically glided from between a lake of terrified bodies frozen in fear, clutching one another, as he opened his arms in welcome.

“You say you wish us no violence, only want our cooperation, and yet attack a simple working man.”

“You need to stay where you are or you will be taken down with force,” a marine answered, their gun trained on Kahn who continued to take careful steps forward.

He responded with his hands showing he wasn’t armed. Kahn made a show to come to a stop in front of Captain Keyes.

“Maybe that was advice you should’ve opened with, Captain Keyes.”

Kahn was treating this like a joke. He was wearing that easy smile of his displaying he didn’t have a care in the world. He was either suicidal, genocidial in willing to let them completely kill the colony or, you realized with a sickening drop in your stomach, Kahn had another plan.

“And you are?”

“I’m Malcom. Another humble merchant who lives here.”

Liar!

The panic that settled like lead inside your gut dropped heavier, threatening to upend whatever was left from your morning breakfast. You didn’t have to guess what his plans were, because Kahn was laying them bare for everyone to see. The only difference between you and everyone else is that whoever he chose to sacrifice for the name of his ‘revolution’ would be met with silence.

Captain Keyes outlined Kahn’s frame with suspicion and a pebble of hope was thrown your way. Maybe he could sense the lie that costed Kahn’s words. Maybe it would be enough for him to call bullshit.

“Okay, Malcolm. And what is it you’re wanting?”

“I want nothing, Captain. I just want to show you exactly who you are looking for.”

Kahn never intended to point the finger at himself - why would he when there were dozens of men brainwashed to think their sacrifice mattered. You followed his finger like everyone else drawn to the imaginary string he pulled and waited to see what poor fool he chose this time.

Except this time - no…NO!

It was your grandfather who took a step forward out of the dozens of bodies. The wooden tip of his cane met the ground with a depth of a shovel digging a grave with each step. Your grandmother reached out her arms - called for him to come back - but he continued to make his way forward. His head held high like he was making a decision everyone should be proud of.

“I am Kahn Montrello. The man you seek.”

Captain Keyes took one look at your grandfather and you could see the disbelief reflected in his eyes. The way they darkened further on a decision you, or anyone else, would ever be made aware of until he made it.

“I’ve never known an insurrectionist leader to give themselves up so willingly.”

Thank god Captain Keyes was smarter than he looked. Your grandfather, however, wasn’t backing down. He squared his shoulders and planted his hands coolly over the hilt of his cane. His head held high enough for his next words to strangle him.

“Any leader should be willing to give themselves up for the safety of their people. Is that what you can offer me, Captain Keyes? The safety of my colony if I come willingly?”

“What are you doing?”

You were sure it was the panic that surged you forward. How you found yourself taking step after step until you were out from behind every last villager and into the clearing with Kahn and your grandfather.

“Stay back!”

“Don’t take another step forward!”

You were vaguely aware of the commands being slung your way. The arms that lifted weapons as you took scrambling steps towards your grandfather who only looked on with distaste.

“Go back with the others. I won’t tell you again.”

It was the voice he’d used countless times since you were a child. A voice that radiated with authority that now only showcased his age. A part of you wanted to follow his orders and run to your grandmother’s side. To be a good granddaughter and comfort her the way she needed.

But she wouldn’t need comforting if Kahn wasn’t such a fucking coward.

“No!”

He hissed your name as he nervously looked out over the marines. At Captain Keyes.

“Be good and do as you're told.”

“I won’t let you do this!”

“And I don’t need your permission-“

“What about grandma? You’re just going to leave her like this?”

“I wasn’t aware Kahn Montrello had grandchildren?” Keyes quipped.

You could see your grandfather open his mouth to reply and you made sure to cut him off before he could say another lie.

“That’s because he doesn’t because Kahn -“

“Apologies, Captain Keyes,” Kahn cut in. “This girl is unwell. Ever since she lost her parents -“

“Don’t you dare speak about them.“

“-she’s been desperately trying to cling to anyone willing to call her family.”

You weren’t aware you were moving forward until you heard the shouts from the marines; the gasps of fear from your own people. You were vaguely aware of the tingle of heat that moved like a shockwave from your fingertips up your arms until it consumed you. In another time, a different life, maybe you would’ve been aware that your biotics had flared to life and enveloped you in what looked like cobalt flame.

A fitting image for the one Kahn so lovingly painted for you. An unhinged woman filled with crazy fantasies and a desperation for family.

The only thing you could focus on was Kahn who stood before you. The coward who easily was willing to give your grandfather up to the UNSC knowing what they do to insurrectionist leaders. The unspeakable torture done to collect secrets, and their executions televised on every available feed for all to see.

With the thought of your grandfather’s future weighing behind your eyes you lashed out. Your hand rising forward to catch Kahn midway in taking a step back. Your biotics held him suspended in the air. You were vaguely aware of what sounded like your grandfather calling your name. The wood of his cane crunching through dirt and leaves to rush to you.

There was more shouting - orders being relayed and metal clicks of safeties being released - and you knew chaos was about to ensue.

“Spartan’s your orders are to grab the insurrectionist known as Kahn Montrello. Marines focus on providing backup and subduing any and all threats.”

A wash of relief rippled through you. The UNSC had come to their senses. They must have realized Kahn for the liar he was. Captain Keyes caught on that the rouse Kahn created with your grandfather was all a lie.

Except that wasn’t what happened.

The marines who fanned out around the clearing were now moving in towards one sole target: you. The Spartans who Keyes sent forward to capture Kahn weren’t headed in your direction, but towards your grandfather who was visibly shaking as he watched two of the UNSC’s giants - their most powerful weapons - move towards him.

“No! You have it all wrong! He isn’t Kahn!”

You released the hold you had on Kahn. No longer was he held suspended in the air as you sent his body flying towards the marines. Your feet were digging into the soil, pitching you forward in a hard sprint, as you barreled blindly towards your grandfather. You could hear him warning you to stay back - ‘stay away’ - but you never were good with doing what you were told.

The closest Spartan,only identified by the numbers 028 on her chest, was almost on him. They were so close it would only take a couple more inches and this Spartan would grab a hold of him and you would lose him. Forever.

You were running on pure adrenaline. Your vision honed in on nothing else but the hand of the Spartan that reached out to grab at his arm. If they got a hold of him, that was it. You called on every cell of energy in your body, your arm drawing back - nerves frying - as the eezo inside your body compacted in the space around you, changing it into a powerful ball that you launched with a scream. The Spartan barely had time to react when the cobalt sphere of element zero slammed into her suit and sent her flying back.

“Riz!”

You had a split second to make half a shield before the second Spartan’s fist slammed against it. The impact snapped like a shockwave of its own. The force of impact sent your feet sliding back against the dirt. The sound of heavy footsteps following your rolling body forced you to spring to your knees as you called on another surge of element zero and sent it flying like a fastball.

It slammed into the Spartan but, unlike the first one, it barely slowed them down. The impact crackled against the air and the force field around his armor allowing your biotics to push them back only a few feet. It was all the feet you needed to scramble on all fours to your grandfather, who was kneeling in a heap in the dirt.

As soon as you slide in next to him, you put up a small force field - a bubble of blue that encapsulated you both just in time before bullets bounced against the shield. Gently, you secured an arm underneath his shoulders and tried to lift him up to you. All while your right hand stayed pressed against the barrier you’d created. Your arms shaking with the strain of holding back another round of gunfire and the slamming fists of a very big, very angry, Spartan.

You were running out of time. The strain of keeping the barrier up, of using powers you usually never touched, left a noticeable trail of perspiration to crown your forehead. If you kept this up much longer, you knew the nosebleeds would start soon.

“Come on grandpa. We have to get up now. We gotta get you out of here.”

“Just let them take me, deheyah*.”

A heavy wave of memory, weighted with emotions thick and stifling, threatened to knock you off balance. The last time your grandfather had ever called you that, was before your parents died. When you were allowed the luxury of childhood innocence and the imagination that the world held the beauty of magic before it was destroyed by the gravity of reality.

“That’s not going to happen, grandpa. I won’t let it happen. I can’t lose you too.”

Your body jerked with the next slam of a fist against the barrier. The impact sent a shutter down into the marrow of your bones and snapped at your nervous system. The pain was immediate and tore a gasp from you.

“You will never lose me. I will always be with you. Wherever you go. Whatever you choose to be.”

“No.”

You shook your head violently forcing him to reach out to steady you. The soft leather of his hand cupped your cheek quieting your protests and forced you to keep your eyes on him.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Earlier. I just - I just wanted what was best for you. I always have. But…only you know what is best for your life. Never stop fighting. Don’t be afraid of who you can be.”

“Why are you talking like this? This isn’t goodbye grandpa. Come on, I have to get you back to grandma. She’s going to be pissed if you just stay here.”

But it was, wasn’t it? You’d felt it when your hands touched the layers of shawls that draped over his chest. It was wetter than it should’ve been. His eyes glassy and unfocused and struggling to keep them on you while he spoke. Somehow, you’d been a few moments too late when the bullets came your way, and those few seconds allowed the hollow point of a bullet to find a hole in the center of his chest.

Blood covered your left hand as another sharp synopsis of pain resonated through your nervous system. Spartan 028, Riz, was back up and hammering away at the sphere of the barrier you’d created. The pain should’ve been unbearable but nothing compared to the last gasp of air that shuddered from your grandfather. It couldn’t compare to the feeling of his body, lifeless, and sagging towards the earth where the weight forced you to place him.

None of this would’ve happened if Kahn wasn’t a coward. If he didn’t use people, the very people he claimed were his. People he swore to defend and liberate - for his own gain.

The anger swelled brighter inside like a raging flame. Every beating your nervous system took holding up the barrier became a dulled sensation as you struggled to breathe around the loss of your grandfather.

The Spartans had stopped but didn’t move back. A woman was off to your right. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Smiling like she was friendly but the mock kindness didn’t reach her eyes. They were bright with excitement; the way hunters spotted prey. A scientist finding a new object to dissect.

“…I’m Doctor Halsey.”

Of course she was. She wanted to dissect you. The same way the scientists from Conatix tried many years ago by trying to buy you from your parents. She was saying your name but she had no right to it.

This Dr. Halsey.

False smile given under false pretenses. Just like Kahn has his fancy glittering speeches that kept hopes high and results low.

“We don’t want to harm you. If you are willing to come peacefully we promise we will leave the colony immediately. No further bloodshed needs to happen.”

The part of you that wasn’t soaked in grief agreed. It was the best call to make - the right call. It promised no more suffering would happen. It meant your grandmother would be safe.

Your grandmother. A woman who lost her son. Her husband. Now her granddaughter. Who would watch her if you left? The thought alone sprang a sharp refusal to your tongue until you stood, your eyes cast down at the warm body of your grandfather. In that moment, whatever reasonable human being you used to be ceased to exist. The only thing left was rage.

Dr. Halsey must have noticed. No longer was she crouched to be eye level with you. She returned to her full height. Her hands placed out in front to shield herself, as if that would be enough to stop what happened next.

“Whatever you’re thinking - don’t.”

Your reply came in a scream that crawled its way from the pit of despair that had lodged itself inside your heart. The loss of your parents, the death of your grandfather, and for your grandmother who would be alone. You used that hurt, bitterness, and rage and used it to erupt your shield into a burst of biotic energy that detonated like a bomb. The sheer force alone sent the Spartans back.

It wasn’t enough but you only needed a minute or two. Just enough time for you to send your biotics crackling along the air in a line until it grabbed a hold of Kahn and pulled him like a slingshot of force back towards you. When he was close enough, you dropped your left hand that you’d use to control the pull of his body, and cocked back your right arm, your palm open, and launched it forward. The slam of the biotics hit home at the center of his chest launching Kahn back through the scrambling crowd of people, with the sickening crack of his sternum mixing with the scream that tore from your throat.

It was all the time you had before the Spartan marked with 117 came into view. His armored fist closes in like a warthog at full speed against your cheek, sending your body spiraling into the dirt. You could feel the earth shift with tremors as he moved to follow you. You could taste the blood from the hit and wondered if your jaw was broken. If you just lost a whole row of teeth.

“John, Incapacitate her only! I need her to be brought back with us. Alive.”

For a glorious moment, your blurred vision swirled only with the uninterrupted view of the sky before the cameo green of Master Chief, savior of the galaxy - or John - 117 - helmet came into view. A joke was brewing on the back of your tongue, covered in humor and blood before his fist came crashing down your line of sight, and the world became blissfully quiet.

_________

You found that the darkness wasn’t as quiet as you’d hoped.

The impact from the punch the Maater Chief, or John - 117 as that woman called him, had launched you into what felt like a nightmare. Held hostage by a paralysis of your own mind. Unable to change the forms of what you saw. The images were vivid. The sounds carried a weight that sat heavy like lead in your skull. It made you miss the pain of being conscious.

You weren’t sure if the screams that bounced around inside your head were real or if they were just a part of the nightmare. Over and over your broken mind played out the moment a Marine’s bullet found a hole inside your grandfather's gut.

No matter how fast you ran, if you launched yourself in front of him, you were never fast enough. Each step you took sunk deeper into the earth as if your legs were trying to race through quicksand. Your own biotics mysteriously grew quiet - refusing to work for the first time in your life.

No matter what the outcome never changed. Your grandfather was gone, and there was no time travel to head back and change that startling fact.

A sickening lurch, one you knew meant a ship was coming out of slipspace, sent the contents of that morning’s breakfast swirling in your stomach. You barely had time to register that it was real, the nausea, and that you were really about to throw up. You’d barely rolled to your side before said breakfast displayed itself onto a very shiny metal floor.

As soon as you finished, you rolled back onto your back. Your eyes fluttered open to take in the fluorescent lights, the cool slated metal ceiling that matched the walls and floor. It was definitely a cell, and you most definitely found out much too late that your wrists were tied behind your back.

When you were sure you weren’t going to upend anymore of your breakfast, you slowly began to maneuver to sit on the only bench they’d laid you on. The pain in the sockets of your shoulders informing you that you’d been like this for quite a while.

You were still trying to gather your bearings when the sliding doors to your right opened. A woman with blonde hair stood at the forefront with a Spartan, the dusk green armor of John - 117, standing protectively behind her. When she moved, he moved. You couldn’t help but consider her a puppeteer and the Spartan the puppet. He didn’t move unless she did and you doubted he would be doing any of the talking.

She entered the room with a cautionary smile and clinical eyes assessing you before she even entered. It was easy to tell she was a scientist and, more than likely, a very experienced one in whatever it was she specialized in.

“Hello, Subject Cobalt,” she said brightly. Her smile never faltered once. “I’m glad to see that you are alright. My name is Doctor Halsey. I’ve come to do an assessment on you and make sure you didn’t sustain any life-threatening or mind altering issues after what happened back on Laconix.”

Subject Cobalt?

Was that supposed to be you?

You eyed her warily as she took her first step inside the cell. The heavy footsteps of Mjolnir armor followed closely behind. If she suspected you were jumpy - a rabbit in headlights, as the old ones used to say - Halsey never showed it.

A few more steps and she was beside the bench. Another breath and she was sitting beside you. The smile on her face beaming and hollowing out her eyes with rapture at what she must have considered a new species. You made a fine new specimen for any scientist, you would imagine. A nervous system full of eezo that lit your body up like an Earthen Christmas tree and the power to wield it like a weapon.

Doctor Halsey was practically giddy beside you.

“I’m going to do a few simple tests to verify cognitive function isn’t impaired. To do so, I’m going to need your assistance. Do you think you could do that for me?”

Your eyes scanned over her as you considered your options. It turned out to be a very short list that was available to you. The only option being to go along with what she asked.

“Okay.”

That one word was all the go ahead Halsey needed to cause her megawatt smile to go up a notch. She must have thought you would be resistant to following orders and she wasn’t wrong but, from where you were sitting, this seemed like the lesser of two evils.

“Splendid. First, I’m going to run this pen horizontally and vertically. I need you to focus on the tip of the pen, and follow it as closely as you can.”

“Okay.”

Doctor Halsey lifted the pen up to eye level, a few inches away from your face, and waited for your eyes to train on the silver point. You hadn’t expected an examination as soon as you woke up. You weren’t sure if you should’ve felt happy or worried about it. If you were one misstep away from becoming a lab rat.

You’d been so deep in thought - your mind considering all the outcomes and possibilities of this interaction ending well - that you completely missed her first question.

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

Another smile. Another deflection. It was enough, however, for you to notice the tightness in the fine lines of her face. It was so small you could’ve missed it.

“Of course. During your biotic episode on Laconix, I noticed your nose started bleeding. Does it do that every time you use your biotics?”

“No.”

The tightness again. This time it was the edges of her smile - suspended in that mock sweetness - that reminded you of your mother. Waiting for you to give more detail without prodding and realizing, rapidly, you feared incriminating yourself. The pen dropped into her lap. Her eyes roaming over your face for a sign - a tell - that she could exploit.

“You aren’t in any kind of trouble. I’m merely trying to help you -“

“Is that what you’re trying here, Dr. Halsey? To be my friend? To tell me I’m not in any danger when you took me off my planet against my will?” You inquired. Her mouth was still suspended open, forming around a word cut short by your desire to not hear anymore bullshit. “It feels like there is more going on than what you’re sharing.”

She schooled her face - even her eyes - to remain emotionless. A perfect blank slate to display only what she wanted without giving away what she didn’t.

“Alright. I watched you. At first, you seemed in control, but after the third or fourth time your biotics displayed themselves, and you overextended their use, you suffered an epistaxis - the nosebleed. Further scans done here in the ship’s medical bay presented signs of swelling and hematoma on the brain. A few hours before you woke up, I had them run another analysis and both are gone. Which leaves me to believe it only occurs upon exhaustion.”

She watched you as she spoke. Her gaze searching, prodding, for signs of whatever reaction she expected but wasn’t getting. You would’ve loved to offer up whatever it was she wanted, if only you knew which specific one she was hunting for.

“Tell me. Do you get migraines?”

“What is this?”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s a lie,” you shot back.

The tone in your voice matched the anxiety rising in your chest. It caused your words to be rougher than intended, alerting the Spartan in the corner who took a step towards you. Only the rising hand of calm - control - from Dr. Halsey kept him from taking another step.

“I think you understand more than you’re willing to tell me or, at least, not wanting to show your whole hand, anyway. You’re a scientist, right? Probably super smart. Smart enough you probably come from some UNSC lab from Reach or Illium?”

“Reach.”

The carefully constructed smile was back on her lips, but this time you could see a spark of something brighten up the soft blue of her eyes. You were doing something she didn’t expect, but her scientific mind found it fascinating. No doubt logging it away to draw it open later somewhere quiet to dissect.

Your lips pouted around her admission. Reach. One of the top three planets, if not the first, for all private and commercial research filled with legal litigation and NDA’s to protect organizations and UNSC labs from the courts of public opinions. It was how Conatix got away with doing what they did to you and the other kids scattered across the galaxy. Only taking notice when it seemed like something that could benefit them. You weren’t stupid. Halsey had taken one look at what you could do - what you did - and only two things came to mind: control or destroy.

You hadn’t figured out exactly which one you were to Dr. Halsey yet.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Halsey didn’t necessarily give you a reason to think it was an outlandish guess. Everything - everyone - was expendable when it came to science and the betterment of humanity. Or whatever the UNSC’s science team's new slogan was.

“Why would we kill you?”

You tried to shrug off the growing anxiety that sat coiling inside your gut.

“To experiment on me. Take me apart and see what’s buried underneath, so to speak. Isn’t that what you people do.”

“You don’t realize what you are, do you? The advancement of human genetics - biology - that is flowing through you.”

“What’s flowing through me is eezo and it cost hundreds of children their lives.”

“Yes, but for one out of a hundred children there is something remarkable. You. The one out of a thousand. A stepping stone towards humans having a place amongst the vast and ever growing populace of space. I don’t want to kill you, Cobalt. I want to integrate you into my program.”

“What program?”

You wondered if madness was contagious. If you asked anyone else, they might have dismissed your words as too harsh. No doubt calling Halsey’s display of excitement for simply that, but you could see her eyes. Underneath all that perfectly concealed pleasant exterior was an intelligence that was willing to break the norms - rules - to get to whatever she needed.

“I run the Spartan program. Granted, you are well past the parameters to become a Spartan, no, I…I want to make a subunit. I think Cobalt, we can help each other, and not only help each other, but possibly end this war.”

UNSC propaganda.

That’s what the war was. Everyone in the outer colonies knew it was just a fancy attempt to stop the growing surge of colonists from joining the insurrectionists. Halsey sensed your doubt before you disregarded her words with a shake of your head.

“No. The covenant is just a UNSC nightmare story to try and get the outer colonies to toe the line. To allow themselves to be governed under your jurisdiction.”

“I can promise you. It’s not.”

“Of course you would say that! You’re a USNC scientist for Christ’s sake!”

“John.”

Somehow, you’d forgotten that big hunk of tin was in the room. Halsey kept you focused on her - solely on her - that when the Spartan took a step forward, the reflection of the room mirrored in his visor, you almost jumped out of your skin.

In his hand was a holopad that he deposited into her waiting palm. Halsey didn’t waste time logging in. Her fingers tapped wildly across the screen with a speed that left you dizzy. When she found whatever it was she’d been looking for she extended the holopad out for you to take.

“This was transmitted to us only a few hours ago.”

Warily, you watched her. Your mind debating if you should take the holopad or tell her to fuck off. It was more made up videos or fancy speeches, you were sure of it. The grim lines of her face, however, left you wondering just how certain you were. It was her turn to place the holopad in your hands. Your gaze on her a few more seconds before it dropped down to the video that played on the screen.

Bright beams. It’s what you noticed first. Beams that erupted from the sky with such brilliant clarity you knew it could only be one form: plasma. You couldn’t understand - comprehend - what you were seeing.

Plasma on that scale was impossible. It should’ve been and yet, you watched as it sliced through the planet's barrier, through molecules, and simple things like trees and mountains. Everything it touched turned red hot like lava from volcanoes you’d heard stories about that were on the original human planet of earth. While the plasma beam continued its destructive course, the magma it left behind flowed behind.

You didn’t understand until you did.

You knew that mountain. You’d glanced at it many times on walks to neighboring villages for trade. Attempted to climb it a thousand times as a child.

“What is this?”

Your disbelief was met with something you couldn’t place from her. Halsey didn’t offer up sympathy. She offered up an understanding of watching everything you love disappear in a wave of destruction. But how could she understand the hollowness, the sinking feeling of dread that gripped your heart and threatened to make it stop?

“It’s Laconix. Shortly after we left the Covenant arrived. They glassed the planet.”

“Glassed? I - I don’t. I don’t understand.”

You were going to hyperventilate if you weren’t careful.

“It’s gone, Cobalt.” That’s not my name. “The Covenant doesn’t take prisoners. They destroy everything. Kill everything. Your planet is gone.”

Gone.

Your home. What was left of your family - your people - your community. Gone. In less than 7.8 seconds of holopad footage.

“But you can avenge them. You can fight for them and to protect every other planet still left out there in the galaxy and I can help you do it.”

Deep down a part of you knew this had been her tactic all along. If reason didn’t make someone join your cause, then using their emotions against them would. You should’ve seen it coming. Took the time to ask more questions but the growing hole in your soul moved on from shock and grief was rocketing towards unbridled rage at lightning speed.

When you glanced back up at her, Halsey knew she had you before you even spoke.

“What do you need me to do?”

As always, thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

111 notes · View notes

andywritingstuff · 8 days ago

Text

geto doubting himself :(

“Everything I touch turns to poison.”

Geto Suguru loves nobody. His heart gave up years ago, unable to feel anything that wasn’t a hunger sated only with power and vengeance against those civilian monkeys that believe they’re better than everybody, yet are the worst thing that has graced this damned planet.

“Everything I touch turns to poison.”

The girls - those he rescued when they were barely kids, mistreated and abused by ignorants - are the live example of it: girls with a great talent, transformed into the perfect vessels to carry on his war plan against humans and sorcerers that stood in his way; girls that were just learning how to survive the world…

How did they end up?

Geto Suguru is a broken person. A person that cannot be trusted. If he betrayed his best friend, how can somebody trust him? How can someone look at him in the eyes and see something worthy of appreciation and trust?

You…

How did you see it?

No, the question must be reiterated: how is it that, despite everything, you took his blood-stained hand and kissed his knuckles, looking at him as if he was the most precious thing on Earth? How did you have the guts to stroke his hair and murmur sweet words into his ear when he felt his world falling apart on his shoulders while he was unable to do anything about it?

“Everything I touch turns to poison.”

It’s just a matter of time for your sweetness to turn sour, for the warmth of your hands to become as hot as lava; now comforting, it will become ardent and hurtful. It’s just a matter of time that you realize he’s a farce. That now he’s not as sure of what he believes in, of what he wants to do.

And maybe the answer lies in the most simple and obvious: he is the venom.

He gets in your bloodstream and contaminates you, takes from you what he needs. Mixes in with your blood and controls your body. He spreads out and occupies every part of you until you’re useless to him, and then leaves you being a carcass of your former self.

“Everything I touch turns to poison.”

That’s why it’s best for him to get away and never come back. Leave a letter, at most, and never contact you again. Getting away is easy. He did it once with Satoru, what’s doing it once more?

But, really… Suguru is tired of running away. He’s the strongest, isn’t he? Then, why does his heart tremble whenever he thinks of being with you? With your infinite kindliness, he should be the one that refers to you with the utmost respect, like many others refer to him. With your beauty, he should cover his eyes whenever you pass by. Kneel to the floor with his forehead on the ground to avoid looking at you if he doesn’t want to perish at the sight. He should be adoring you, and not the other way around.

What have you done to this man? You’ve destroyed him, do you even notice? Do you notice how he tries to keep calm whenever you’re around but his eyes betray him? The eyes are the windows to the soul, or so artists say. He’s presenting it to you entirely. He observes you, waiting - hoping - that your gaze finds his own and creates this click! he desperately desires.

And when it finally happens, he can’t help but ask himself if you feel as intensely as he does.

Does your heart beat like his?

Do you get goosebumps?

Do you feel your lungs burning inside you?

He can only hope you do.

This intensity he feels, do you feel it too? But, then again - Geto Suguru is not someone who feels lightly.

“Everything I touch turns to poison.”

#jjk drabbles #jjk drabble #geto suguru #suguru geto #geto x reader #geto x you #cw mentions of blood #jjk suguru #jjk geto #jjk suguru geto #jjk x reader #x reader #jjk fic #jjk short fic #gn!reader #gn reader #gn reader x jjk men

37 notes · View notes

the-blind-assassin-12 · 8 months ago

Text

What Can Still Be Known

A/N: This is my submission for @wannab-urs Hozier Drabble Challenge... which I meant to have finished weeks ago, but since it's May the 4th, today seems like a good time to post it even if it is later than I originally planned. Thank you so much to Gin for putting this together! I love music prompts, so this was right up my alley. I can't wait to catch up on the other stories written for this event! Make sure you all go check them out, too! You can find them here.

Prompt: My song was Butchered Tongue from the album Unreal, Unearth, and my character was Din. I was delighted to get this prompt, because that song speaks to my soul. It's melancholic and beautiful, and I think it fits Din so damn well, so I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: angst, mentions of canon typical violence, mention of death of parents/family, you know, Mandalorian stuff.

Word Count: 3,545 (oops.)

Summary: Din doesn't remember much about his parents or his life with them... but that doesn't stop him from wishing it were different.

Nevarro’s sun burned bright and hot as Din crossed the scrubby stretch of flatlands that separated the town from the Mandalorian encampment. Shifting the crate he carried under one arm, he tilted his head down to where Grogu hopped along beside him, using the Force to propel himself every few steps to accommodate for his father’s much longer stride. The sight, along with the string of happy gurgles and babbles spilling from the kid’s mouth, made a smile sprout beneath the man’s helmet.

“It’s good to be back, isn’t it buddy?”

Grogu looked up at him and squealed happily, nodding and pointing one clawed finger at the semi-permanent settlement growing closer with every step they took.

Though the efforts to reclaim their homeworld had been successful, a small group of Mandalorians remained on Nevarro during the rebuilding process on Mandalore - mainly those responsible for teaching and raising the foundlings and other young children that were not yet ready to start their trials. There were two combat instructors, two teachers whose focus was on the tenants of the Resol’nare, one additional teacher who was responsible for teaching Mando’a, as well as a dozen or so students and their guardians. Eventually they’d all join the rest of their people on Mandalore, but until things were more solidly settled there, Nevarro was as safe an option for an outpost as could be found in the Outer Rim.

Din chuckled. “I’m sure your friends will be happy to see you again, too.”

That response sent the kid bouncing with excitement, hopping high enough so that he could fit in a flip before touching down again, the rondel and small pauldron he wore clinging together like chimes with his motion.

“Go ahead,” Din urged him, jutting his chin out in front of him. “You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll be right behind -” But the child was gone before the last word left his lips. He sighed and shook his head in amusement. “-You.” He watched through the tinted screen of his visor as Grogu darted towards the sparring grounds, no doubt in search of Ragnar.

It had been a few months since they’d been back on Nevarro, Din busy taking Grogu through his apprenticeship, teaching him skills that he would need in order to move on in his training. Tracking, hunting, navigation, survival, negotiation, just to name a few. Every lesson took them to a different planet, some of them coming with the added bonus of coinciding with a bounty or paid favor. The most recent one, a lesson in tracking on Rodia, had resulted in uncovering a stash of beskar ingots that had been defaced with an Imperial stamp.

Immediately after finishing up on Rodia - Din showing Grogu how to incapacitate an enemy without killing them - they’d taken the recovered beskar back to the Armorer on Mandalore, so that she could fashion it into new pieces for the foundlings. It was strange, but good, to see the glass encrusted planet so teeming with life. It was a relief to know that what his people had fought for for so long, what so many had given their lives for, was finally secure. Finally theirs.

But despite the fact that the Mandalorian people finally had a safe place to call home, Din had yet to feel that sort of connection with the planet. Unlike Bo-Katan, he hadn’t been born there, nor had he spent any time there as a child. He’d heard stories about what the Great Forge had been like in its glory, how lush the gardens of Sundari had been long ago. But to him, a foundling Child of the Watch who had never set foot on Mandalore until he was a grown man, they’d always felt like stories about some fictional, far off place. He wondered if that would change, if he would ever feel at home in a place that brought him no nostalgia or warmth.

A part of him hoped that it would. Because it wasn’t just Mandalore that he felt that absence of connection to. It was everywhere he went. A side-effect of losing every home he’d ever had, it turned out, was not knowing where your roots would grow if they could grow anywhere they chose.

He knew he had a home once. A true home, one where he could have collected a whole life’s worth of memories, enough of them so that when he returned there they’d all come rushing to fill his heart with warmth and welcome. He knew he had a family before the Tribe had become that for him, too. A mother and father who loved him so fiercely that they sacrificed their own lives to save his. When he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, he could still find their faces. His father’s was easier to recall because he himself wore so many of the same features. Every time he saw his own reflection he was reminded of the man who carried him through the battlefield that their village had become.

His mother’s face was more difficult to recall in detail, but that didn’t mean he had forgotten her. He remembered her thick, dark hair and the way it curled at her shoulders. He remembered the texture of the red robes she wore, remembered tracing the intricate pattern of woven stitching on the cuffs of her sleeves with the tips of his fingers. He couldn’t be sure, but he had the thought that he must have remembered these things because she was the one who comforted him when he was hurt, sad or scared. That what he really recalled when he thought of his mother was the feeling of safety and warmth that her embrace provided.

He remembered the tone of her voice, soothing but strong. His father’s was full and confident and always sounded like a smile was about to appear. He remembered that the two of them sang often. Sometimes he’d be hit with a snippet of a melody, the lyrics lost, turned to dust and ash like the rest of his homeworld, but he’d find himself humming and realize that it was one of the songs his parents used to sing.

The forgotten lyrics were only a small part of a larger loss, though. They were written in a language that had died when the population of Aq Vetina had been snuffed out. So he could remember his parents’ voices. He could remember the melodies they sang. But the things they said, the words they used, the meaning behind them? All of that was gone. For all the languages and means of communication he did know, the first one he’d ever heard and learned escaped him. And in all of his travels since leaving his homeworld in the arms of an armored stranger that had become his Buir, Din had never met anyone who spoke his native tongue.

It made him wonder if anyone else had survived the attack on his home that day, or if he was the last living member of a completely slain culture.

Before he could ruminate on that thought for too long, though, Azil, one of the combat instructors, saw him walking towards the sparring grounds and waved him over. “Olarom, Djarin!” He pointed at the crate Din carried, tilting his helmeted-head in question. “Gifts from home?”

The contents of the box shifted as Din handed it over, newly cast cuiresses ringing together in answer to Azil’s inquiry. “New beskar,” Din responded with a nod. “Freshly forged on Mandalore,” he added in answer to Azil’s question about where it came from. “I was told to deliver them to you for distribution to your students.”

Azil set the crate down and clapped one gloved hand to Din’s shoulder. “Vor entye, vod.”

Returning the gesture, Din did the same. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Azil echoed, and then immediately set about unpacking the box of armor, sorting it by size, leaving Din to see where Grogu had gone.

It didn’t take long for him to find his son. The long, green ears were a giveaway, sure. But so was the small crowd of other children gathered around to watch him levitate a black chunk of volcanic rock while Ragnar Vizsla practiced blasting it with training darts. With each successful hit, the other kids would cheer, a collective sound of amazement coming from them each time Grogu managed to evade the blast by redirecting the rock.

Din stood watching for a few moments, silently appreciative that these children had this opportunity to laugh and learn and grow together somewhere open and safe and free. He could remember playing similar training games and showing off new skills with the few other children in his covert, though then it was all done underground, in hiding. But he couldn’t recall the kinds of games he might have played with friends in his village. If there were any nursery rhymes or tall tales he might have known once, they’d long since faded from his memory.

It made him wonder if he’d eventually forget what little he could remember about his native culture. Would he lose it piece by piece? Until not even a familiar tune or the color red or his own reflection sparked any feeling? He hoped not, but it seemed inevitable.

At least, it had.

Suddenly - from a different group of children than the one gathered around Grogu, much to Din’s relief - a small child went darting by his boots, arms outstretched in front of her, the distinct sound of sniffles and cries trailing after her. Turning away from the training grounds, he watched as the child was scooped up by a woman who had just stepped out of one of the tents. He assumed that whatever sent the girl running was just the result of one of the other kids being a little too rough. Or perhaps one of Nevarro’s reptilian species had frightened the child. Either way, it was clear that there was no real danger and that the woman had things under control, so he started to turn back towards Grogu and Ragnar’s shenanigans.

But then he overheard the woman begin to soothe the young girl in her arms.

“Ny mo yariin, necta.”

It stopped him in his tracks and sent his head swiveling back in the direction it came from. His heart pounded beneath the elongated diamond stamped into the center of his chestplate as he felt something unlock in his memory.

He’d heard those same words before. So long ago that he was stunned when he recognized the phrase. So long ago that the meaning behind them was lost. But he knew they were spoken to him as comfort. He knew that they were words steeped in love. He watched the way the woman cradled the child to her armored chest, his eyes catching on the piece of red fabric that was pinned to the cowl of her flight suit.

No matter how impossible it seemed that the words he’d just heard had survived what a whole settlement of people hadn’t, no matter how unlikely it was that it was there of all places that he’d heard it, no matter how slim the odds were that the tattered scarlet linen was the same fabric that he remembered from his home, Din found himself drawn to her.

To you.

— — —

You were rewiring the com device in your helmet when you heard Tira’s cry.

Though you knew that she was probably fine - there were dozens of other Mandalorian adults present in the settlement, and you knew that none of them would allow any real harm to come to the children - you immediately set your work down and stepped outside, senses heightened. But as soon as you saw her running towards you, you relaxed. She wasn’t hurt or being chased. She’d likely just been knocked over by one of the bigger kids while they played one of their games. Tira was small, but didn’t like to be told that. And since her older brother had begun his trials and wasn’t there as often to make sure she didn’t get pushed around by the others, she’d been having trouble adjusting.

It didn’t help that less than a year ago, she and Maj had lost both of their parents in the battle to retake Mandalore, which is how the children had come to be in your care.

As a former foundling yourself, you were more than willing to step in and raise them as your own, just as the Mandalorian who rescued you the day your village was attacked and your parents were killed would have done had he not been able to reunite you with your kin. You’d been brought to Corellia, where your mother’s sister lived with her family, and they’d taken you in and raised you instead. It wasn’t until you became an adult that you rejoined the Mandalorians and took the Creed, choosing to commit your life to the very people who had saved it.

But though you mainly spoke Galactic Basic and were muddling your way through learning Mando’a, it was still your first language that came to you when you scooped a sniffling Tira into your arms and cradled her to your armored chest. It was still the words your parents - and then your aunt - had spoken to you when you’d been hurt or scared that you used to comfort the girl.

“Ny mo yariin, necta.”

You’re safe with me, sweet one.

You knew Tira and Maj didn’t speak Aquitto. They only knew the meaning of that one phrase because you’d taught it to them. And since your aunt had passed away, you knew that you were possibly the only person left in the galaxy who would even recognize it let alone speak it. As far as you knew, there hadn’t been any other survivors from your village that day. It struck you that every time you spoke it could be the last time it was ever uttered.

Pushing that thought from your mind, you focused on Tira, kissing her cheek and letting her clutch at the sculpted pin that held a piece of red fabric - a remnant of the hooded robe you’d been wearing the day you were rescued on Aq Vetina - in place on your cowl. The pin had belonged to your mother, the woman pressing it into your hand before disappearing to go try to fight off the monstrous machines with the rest of the village. As a child you would trace the design on it with your fingertip whenever she held you, whenever she made the same promise you were making Tira.

“Ny mo yariin, necta.”

By the time you’d said it a second time, the girl had stopped crying. The words themselves weren’t magic, but the sentiment in them was. Even if they were the last scraps of the Aquitto language to live on, you hoped that one day Tira or Maj would pass them along to a child who needed to hear them, too.

Whatever had brought on the sudden storm of tears had passed, and Tira wriggled in your hold as she caught sight of some of the other children watching as the Jedi foundling levitated chunky rocks for Ragnar to blast with darts. You chuckled at her eagerness to get back out there with the big kids. “Okay, necta. But watch out for yourself, got it?” You set her back on the ground, stooping down to her level and ruffling her hair. “I know you’re a tough one, but you still have to be careful.”

She nodded enthusiastically, telling you that she would be, and then she was gone, scurrying back across the crusty flatland towards the other kids. When you stood back up, you were met with the dark visor of Din Djarin - a man you’d never personally met, but who you’d heard a great deal about from the others in the settlement on Nevarro. You knew he was the Jedi foundling’s adoptive father. You knew he had previously wielded the Darksaber and that he was instrumental in helping Bo-Katan Kryze and the others take back Mandalore. You knew that he was responsible for reclaiming the beskar that your armor had been forged from.

– – –

“Oh, hello,” you greeted him, a small laugh in your voice that he figured was a result of the way he’d caught you off guard. You lifted a hand and reflexively tucked the piece of red fabric at your collar into place. “It’s Din, right?”

“Yes. Din Djarin. I’m sorry I don’t know your name, I-”

You waved him off and introduced yourself. Smiling, you pointed in the direction that the little one you’d just set down had run off in. “That’s your son over there, isn’t it? Tira was excited to see him.”

Din turned his head to follow your finger, though he didn’t need to look to know that you were indicating Grogu. “It is,” he confirmed, facing you again with a small shrug. “He likes to show off.”

You laughed at that. “I would too, if I could do what he can.”

“He’s a special kid,” Din replied, and you smiled again.

“He is.” You nodded, and it was clear to him that you were still unsure of why he had approached you. “Is there-”

“Can I ask you something?” He tilted his head, hidden eyes fixed on the fabric at your neck - and on the sculpted pin that held it in place, the designs so familiar to him he could feel them on his fingers.

You furrowed your brow, expression turning serious. “Of course. Not sure if I’ll be able to help you with it, but-” You held your hands up, palms to the sky. “Ask away.”

“The words you just spoke to that little girl… Tira?” You nodded so he went on. “How do you know that language?”

He watched your eyes widen with your blink. “You… You’re familiar with Aquitto?”

Din sighed, giving a slight shake of his head. “I didn’t even remember what it was called, but… Yes. Or, that phrase, anyway. How do you know it?”

You let out a breath. “I… I was born on Aq Vetina. It was the language my parents spoke. It…” Again your fingers came up to the pin and the fabric that it secured. “It was my first language. I was lucky that my aunt knew it, too, or else I would have forgotten it completely after our village was destroyed and-” Something dawned on you and your eyes widened again. “You said you were familiar with it?” He nodded. “How?”

You asked the question in a way that made him think you already knew the answer, but you needed - or wanted - to hear him say it. So he did. “Same as you. I was born there. It was my parents’ language. But I haven’t heard it spoken since the day droids raided our home.” He blinked, somewhat stunned that only moments before he had been mourning the loss of his native language and culture only to find a source of it right in front of him. “I didn’t know there were other survivors.”

Your mouth fell open slightly as you stared up into the visor that hid his eyes from view. When you spoke again it was quiet, your words equally full of disbelief. “Neither did I.” Your lips twitched into a small smile despite the way your eyes had started to water. “I’m glad we were both wrong, Din.”

“I am, too.” He felt a tightening in his chest, but it was unlike anything he felt before. It wasn’t from sorrow or anxiety, it wasn’t to alert him to a threat or caused by regret. It felt more like a connection forming - like meeting you had brought him closer to his own heart somehow. Instantly, a thousand questions popped into his mind for you, and he imagined you might have had some for him as well. But there was one thing he needed to know first. “Can you tell me what it means? What you said to Tira? My… I think my parents used to say it to me, and…” He trailed off, waiting for your response.

“It means, ‘You’re safe with me, sweet one.’” You smiled again. “It literally translates to ‘You’re in my heart’ though. It’s… It’s what you say to the people you love most.”

Just then, Grogu and Tira came tearing over, Din bending down to pick up his son and you settling your hand on the little girl’s head as she clung to your side. “Hey, Buddy. Remember when I told you about my parents and what I remembered about where I came from?”

“Patu.” His head moved up and down, ears flapping with his nod.

“Well, this lady comes from the same place that I do, and she just taught me how to say something in my old language. You wanna hear it?”

“Patu!” He spread his clawed fingers over Din’s chestplate.

Din looked over at you - at the warm smile on your face as you smoothed the little girl’s play-ruffled hair and gave him an encouraging nod - and then back down at Grogu. “Ny mo yariin, necta.”

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist for this or any of my stories, please feel free to let me know in an ask or message, or you can fill out the form on my masterlist! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @pheedraws @beautifuldesastre @alraedesigns @valkblue

@dihra-vesa @marauderskeeper @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @stevie75

@nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth

@thescarletfang @trickstersp8 @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80

@hp-hogwartsexpress @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @competentpotato @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

@jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharinee @anoverwhelmingdin @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle

@severin-proud @vickie5446 @jessthebaker @ael_xander

#hozier drabble challenge #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fic #butchered tongue #the mandalorian #may the 4th #star wars fic #din djarin #grogu #what can still be known #Spotify

59 notes · View notes

sapphiresterreart · 1 year ago

Text

Inspired by this post: where Shadow finds Super Sonic and ONLY Super Sonic attractive. Sonic's normal self is not wanted.

It made me cackle because I couldn't help but picture Shadow deciding to explore this gay awakening in the most convoluted way possible. Cue me getting carried away with the idea and scribbling a rough scene.

Stuffed under the Read More.

At one point after seeing Sonic's glow-up into Super a few times, Shadow's brain latches onto an idea and goes insane until he scratches the metaphorical itch.

He zooms around the entire planet to collect the 7 Chaos Emeralds AND the maximum amount of rings a single person can hold.

Randomly shows up at Tails’ workshop/house one day, looking particularly deranged to the poor fox because the guy's spent the past month running himself ragged and is now gunning for his older brother for some unfathomable reason. Eggman couldn’t possibly have recovered from the last beat down in such short time! Something’s clearly wrong.

Shadow’s carefully manicured quills are in utter disarray. Gunk and grease coat his muzzle. Gloves notably tattered and inhibitor rings tarnished. There’s a suspicious smearing of red all over his typically immaculate chest fluff. Worst of it all are his eyes: near feral in their intensity as they pin the fox in his computer chair from afar.

The surly hedgehog snarls. “Where’s Sonic?”

All the while, Shadow has to keep ahold of the seven emeralds that prolly act like magnets and want to repel away from each other. His sanity’s hanging on a thread.

Luckily Sonic shows up soon (instead of late? First time for everything! What a relief) after a brief, albeit frantic call from his lil bro.

Sonic does not expect Shadow to look like such a wreck. He does not expect his usually composed rival to yank an absurd amount of rings from the pocket dimension everyone had in their feathers, fur, or otherwise back part of their body. He does not expect those same rings to be shoved into his hands and quills, forcibly stuffing them into his own ‘inventory’ of a pocket dimension.

He does not expect the rings to keep coming until he can’t hold anymore.

He does not expect the Seven Chaos Emeralds to immediately follow after.

“Shad–” Sonic tries, absolutely baffled.

“Transform.” Shadow gives him nothing except a haggard sort of desperation. “Now.”

And. Well. When asked like that? Damn. He won’t say no but that’s some voice his rival has on him. Hmm. Still. He doesn’t go super just yet because there’s only so long a transformation can last and he’d like some of the facts first. Especially if the situation’s as dire as Shadow’s making it out to be.

“What’s up?” He tosses out a tense smirk and a quip to lighten the mood. “Got yourself in trouble with the law again, Shads? Need me to use your own money to bail–“

“Transform.” Shadow staggers and oh no he’s gonna pass out isn’t he? He straightens before he can truly fall.

Sonic lets the smirk fall. This is too unusual. “Not until you tell me what’s going on! What the heck Shadow?”

The glare intensifies. He looks weirdly… hungry? Oh. He hopes that's not some alien DNA comin’ out to play. Sonic’s not in the mood to be eaten. At least… not in the way his shoot-first-questions-later friend would likely consider.

“…Transform first and then I’ll tell you.”

What an oh-so generous counter-offer. Sonic’s tempted to refuse on principle but the guy looks ready to collapse and there’s only so long Sonic himself can hold all seven emeralds at once before they launch outta his grip.

He sighs. “Yeah, alright.”

Sonic closes his eyes. Concentrates. Feels the power humming in the gems, lets them push away from him with him as their center of gravity to orbit. Momentum builds as they whirl around him. His focus deepens. A zen sort of calm settles over him like a familiar cloak as he pulls the gems back into his core sense of being. A spark ignites and he’s set aflame.

His feet leave the floor as the power repels him against the planet. Feels the gems thrumming alongside his veins as he opens his eyes. The world glitters a beautiful gold but he doesn’t have time to smell the roses. Rings are burning like a candlestick’s wick, after all.

“Start talking.”

Shadow does not start talking. Instead he stares. Only stares. It’s… kind of concerning, actually.

“Shadow?” Super Sonic frowns, spending more energy concentrating on maintaining the sheer power humming in his soul than on coming up with a funny joke. “Are you alright?”

Shadow doesn’t make a sound. Is he even breathing? Super Sonic’s brow furrows and gently glides from near the ceiling to hover in front of his rival. Red eyes track the movement like a predator intent on its prey but Super’s not worried about that. Not right now, at least.

Keeping his expression soft, yet unwittingly focused, Super examines his rival’s disheveled state. For the Ultimate Lifeform, he looks ultimately wrecked. He smirks, just a lil, and Shadow hones in on it like a laser beam. Super blinks, smirk twisting into a puzzled smile as he tilts his head, before slowly grasping Shadow by the shoulder.

“C’mon focus, Shadow. You with me?” Wide, red eyes blink dumbly and Super huffs a laugh. “How can I help?”

Shadow. Doesn’t respond. Merely gapes at him like he’s drinking in the sight. It’d be flattering at any other time but right now it’s just frustrating.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s goin’ on. On a time limit here–“

“You have full inventory.”

Finally! He speaks! But lacks sense. “What?”

“Rings.” Shadows answers though that doesn’t answer much. Choosing instead to fall silent once more and continue staring.

Super doesn’t know what to do with any of this so he turns to someone who might. “Tails? Any clues?”

“N-no…” His lil bro trots over to them, visibly disturbed. Good. Glad he’s not the only one confused here.

“I’m burnin’ rings.” Super settles for instead. “Thought you said it was urgent?”

“I thought it was.” Tails gestures at the catatonic state of their friend. “I mean look at him! What was I supposed to say?”

“Well.” Super starts strong only to trail off.

He pivots in the air, still hovering in front them both. Cups his chin with a thoughtful frown. Absently skims the cluttered workshop as he slowly spins in place before re-centering with a shrug. It’s surprisingly hard to keep focus and maintain the super form when there’s no imminent threat. Without anything to go on, he's just wasting power. So. His gaze returns to his battered rival.

“If nothing else I could try this?”

He drifts closer to the still stunned speechless ‘hog. Frowns slightly at the white part of Shadow’s eyes. They’d reddened significantly. Had he blinked once in the past minute or two? Nothing worth worrying over, he supposed. Not if this worked.

Super reaches a hand, still glowing a vibrant gold and soft flames of light emanating off him, and gently braces a palm against the side of Shadow’s face. Shadow doesn’t even move as Super closes his eyes.

Tails shifts beside them. “Try what?”

Super hums. “We’ll see if it works first, buddy.”

The sound vibrates in his chest and makes its way down the arm connecting him to his rival. The rings are burning slower than usual but once he starts this, they start burning like they would in battle.

Super focuses the gem’s energy from their raw state of chaotic power into something he can channel into another person. He smoothes corrosive edges, softens acidic potency, gentles the sheer intensity of it all and funnels them through his own energy. Pours bits of his own chaos mixed with the gem’s through that funnel in his palm. Pushes it from there into Shadow’s own energy.

Shadow doesn’t do anything more than gasp sharply and let him do his thing. Super mentally shrugs, privately delighted by the fact Shadow was letting him touch him at all especially his face, and continues his foray into healing via chaos energy.

The rings are gone even faster than in battle and soon after the last wound has closed and Super’s pulled away, the power keeping him aloft drains completely. The golden glow fades from his quills and they drop back into blue as he returns to the ground, his normal self once again. His grasp on the chaos emeralds slacken and the tension that had been building between the seven finally releases. The gems launch themselves harmlessly out of him like a slingshot and scatter once more.

He bounces a step from the residue energy crackling inside him and beams at his rival. “So now that that’s over with, mind telling us why you came all this way looking like you crawled outta a dumpster caught on fire?”

That of all things has Shadow snapping back to himself. Any awe lingering in his rival’s face vanishes. Fully returns to his normally composed self as he straightens and crosses his arms with a muted huff.

“Merely an experiment. Good day.” Whirls on a heel with shoes revving, dips his head in what might’ve been a polite farewell at his lil bro. “Prower.”

And leaves. He leaves. The cryptic jerk leaves.

Sonic gawks. “Whuh–? What was that?” He spins to face his brother. “Did you see that? Did you see?”

“I saw.”

“Didn’t even say goodbye to me! Me! He was the one who asked me to come all this way! I was next in line for brainiac dogs over in Spagonia, you know. Not as good as chili dogs but it was buy one get one free day! What the heck?”

His younger brother can only shrug helplessly with a puzzled smile, twin tails swishing behind him. “Don’t know, big bro. He did say it was an experiment.”

“Experiment in driving me insane, maybe! Now I’m gonna go crazy trying to figure him out.”

“You mean you weren’t already?”

“Tails!” He grins and hooks an arm around his annoyingly adorable baby bro. “I’ll show you who’s crazy!”

His bro only laughs and swats at the fist digging into his hair. Futilely fighting against the inevitable noogie but he's got him secured by the shoulders. “Have mercy! I’m not the one who spent the past month looking for seven whole emeralds and an entire inventory’s worth of rings.”

“I’ll give ya that!” Sonic cackles and lets him free. “What was up with that anyway?”

Elsewhere, unbeknownst to the brothers, one Shadow the Hedgehog was having a crisis of epic proportions. He had discovered a new, albeit incredibly difficult goal in life: to have Sonic turn Super more often than not because wow did he look alluring with a face of focused intensity framed by golden hues.

#Sonadow #Sonic the Hedgehog #Shadow the Hedgehog #Super Sonic #Fanfic #Sonic

340 notes · View notes

pabit · 14 days ago

Text

[corrupted footage]

OH WOW. THESE COOKIES REALLY ARE FUCKING AWESOME. WELL DONE, COWBOY!

Haha, thank you thank you. I’m hoping this can cheer you up a little…you’ve had quite an emotional day.

EMOTIONAL? I'M NOT EMOTIONAL.

Really…? Sorry sweetheart, but I’ve read back on your posts from earlier today and…it seems to me like you’re full of those stinkin’ feelings, actually!

YEAH, NO FUCKING DUH. I SAID I'M NOT “E-MO-TION-ALLL”…YA DIG? I DON'T WAIL LIKE A WENCH AT EVERY LITTLE INCONVENIENCE. BUT THAT'S NOT TO SAY I HAVE ZERO CAPACITY FOR “FEELINGS” EITHER. IT'S TWO DIFFERENT THINGS. SO DONT PISS ME OFF.

Oh fine. Let’s get serious then.

What about other feelings? In your story about Vinny, you said you had felt something there but couldn’t figure out what.

(HABIT swallows the rest of the food in his mouth and pauses his vigorous feasting to stare down into the cookie plate)

…FUCK. WHAT'S YOUR ANGLE, PATRICK. I THOUGHT YOU WANTED ME TO CHEER UP…THIS TOPIC WON'T BE CONDUCIVE TO THAT END.

I am sincerely trying to help you, Habs, that's my angle. The fact is, I can cheer you up with small gestures that will certainly make you feel good for the moment, but you wont feel any better overall by refusing to talk about the shit that's dragging you down.

…UGH. I GUESS YOU ARE RIGHT, BUT… VINNY IS DEAD – NONE OF THOSE FEELINGS FUCKING MATTER ANYMORE, PAT. THEY PROBABLY NEVER DID. WHAT MORE IS THERE TO TALK ABOUT?

Ah. That’s the part that haunts you isn’t it; the “probably” of it all. You’re uncertain, still confused about what happened here – what went wrong. And most importantly, you want to know why.

Am I correct?

……

Hm.

………………….

Not going to answer me? Fine, fuck it. This is how I see it:

You became attached to this guy like ya never could with anyone else in the whole fuckin universe, Habit. And it felt so good to do so. You let yourself become lost in a fantasy; anticipating the thrill of having Vinny fumble over himself to keep you interested. Or how grateful he would be, to be the one entrusted with building you back up after every great fall; and you fall hard and often. You could crush him utterly and have him back in the next life. Vinny is much smarter and much stronger than he looks, and just as obsessive in his own ways…so he’d climb out of the rubble and do it all over again, just because he can; just because he wants to.

Oh yes…you and him would have grown so much stronger together, enough to take on the whole damn planet someday if you guys really tried. And you wanted that so badly. A monster-man and a man-made monster, gleefully kicking up the dust of all the world’s ashes, readying it for her new rulers: Vinny and the Habit, side by side, hand in hand, blood on blood.

It was a wonderfully childish ideal to believe in all that though, wasn't it? Even after all you’ve done for him, Vin betrayed you; taking all of those unspoken dreams and unfulfilled desires along with him as he dies to a fucking papercut.

So much time spent with him…now made completely pointless. So many pieces of your mind, heart, and body gifted to him, just to carelessly toss you to the curb when you weren’t looking…

It’s easier on a broken heart to deny that it’s broken in the first place. It's easier to fall in line when the numbness takes hold, and mindlessly insist that none of it matters; never did, never will. There's no reason to cry over spilled milk as they say. It's no big deal. It’s all just part of the game. Vinny was meant to be nothing more than a pawn on your board anyways. But he was indeed more than just that to you, wasn’t he?

Vin softened you and left you exposed to a world that won’t ever accept what you'll become even after he is gone; and he won’t be coming back, not this time. You and him made sure of it by bringing those awful weapons to life on that chilly fall evening before the end of the world. Your last full day together; where everything else in the universe ceased to exist beyond the confines perpetuated by two desolate dreamers; a warm fire at his legs; the melody of ghosts crowding around, crying out towards the inky sky above; beautiful and tragic all the same. You must have seen that in him, too.

After the end of it all, you got out alive and he did not. You didn’t win the game nor Vinny’s companionship, but you survived…and just barely.

Vinny is dead.

And when that harsh reality slaps you across the face, you know you will never be allowed to forget the price you’ve paid, with suffering and with fire, for the loyalty that Vin never actually intended to give you. Now you’re covered with those scars. Razor sharp claws have sunk themselves deeply into you and won't let go. However…to whom do these claw marks belong to? Vinny; for betraying your trust and destroying your dreams? Or yourself; for letting him do it so easily…?

Why did you go back to your old sinking vessel, Habit?

Were you really so tempted by the belief that not taking Evan’s corpse would otherwise be wasteful? A shame?

Were you inspired by the discolored splotches painting decaying flesh in dull greys and blues; admiring the texture of his flesh canvas, well-weathered by the rain and the hungry mouths of all the tiny critters that feast happily upon each wrinkle?

Did the overwhelming smell of iron from all that ghastly bloodspill soaking into the ground below, brought up in the wafts of wet earth and wild mountain grasses, bring a wistful tear to your eye?

Was Evan really worth all of that to you…?

…

No.

You weren’t there for Evan at all, I think. He was more of an afterthought if anything. It was Vinny you wanted to see though. And I believe that’s why you made the impulsive decision to repossess his friend’s body; it was the only way to be there at Vin’s side and feel him next to you, just one last time.

Then you ran away to avoid the consequences.

...........................................................................

#everymanhybrid #mlandersen0 #chrono

15 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 9 months ago

Text

WIP excerpt from "Krypton lives and Kara did not sign up for this".

“Yes,” Kara says instead of anything about war crimes. She doesn't want to stress the kids out right now. Especially when they clearly don't have the context to understand what she's actually upset about, given what she knows of them so far.

“Why?” Match asks, still obviously incredulous. It might be the most expressiveness she's seen from him so far. That level of reservation is normal, coming from another Kryptonian that she’s just met. But Kal kept gushing excitedly about how emotive and expressive Earthlings are every time he called, so . . . is it actually that Match is reserved, or is it that he really just isn't feeling anything?

Or is he just that unwilling to show any trace of an actual personality?

There really isn’t a good option there, she’s pretty sure.

“Because I want you to like it,” Kara says. “So: sweet, savory, or spicy?”

“. . . uh,” Thirteen says as Match just stares at her like he thinks she’s sun-drunk. “Is the . . . ‘bai’ fruit the healthiest one, or . . . ?”

“It’s a dessert, kid,” Kara says. “None of them are ‘healthy’.”

Milk rice isn’t unhealthy, necessarily, but that’s not the point of a damn dessert, now is it.

“Uh,” Thirteen says, then looks . . . anxious, for a moment, before visibly drawing himself up and steeling himself to blurt: “Spicy.”

“Okay,” Kara says, envisioning backwater-planet war crimes before glancing to Match. “What about you, then? You like spicy?” Kal doesn’t, but Kal wasn’t built in a lab and raised on Earthling MRES.

Match just stares blankly at her, the corner of his jaw tightening.

Maybe she shouldn’t have phrased it as “like”, she thinks, and once again considers calling up Atrocitous with her ring size. No reason. Just because.

Two very specific reasons, actually, but also ten thousand reasons.

“There’s three of us,” Kara points out. “I can just make all three.”

“‘Dessert’ isn’t nutritionally useful,” Match says, his tone flat and expression bland. Thirteen half-eyes him, looking both restless and like he wants to say something. She’s still not sure how well they get along; still isn’t sure how to expect them to get along, especially once they’ve both settled in. Kal was not helpful on those grounds.

She’s also still not over how awkward both their dialects sound. Especially with the memory of Kal at their “age” so easy to revisit in her mind. He never looked or sounded a thing like either of them, even with the exact same face and voice. He definitely also didn’t have the muscle definition they do, which those bizarre tight outfits of theirs do absolutely nothing to conceal.

Kal could’ve at least gotten them an over-robe or two, for Rao’s sake. Fuck, five minutes off-planet and he loses all sense of decorum and rational thought. This is why no one wants his job! This! This is why!

. . . also the unsolicited cloning thing, she supposes. Also that.

Only Kal would manage to get his DNA stolen on a planet called “Earth”, of all the godsdamned places.

#wip: krypton lives and kara did not sign up for this #long post

133 notes · View notes

vanfleeter · 4 months ago

Text

Bound For Earth: Chapter 4

Characters: Jake Kiszka, Josh Kiszka, Sam Kiszka, Daniel Wagner, Marlie (Star) Warnings: 18+ || Language. Fluff. Brotherly banter. Teasing. Angst. Secrets. Lies. Feelings of frustration, anger, and resentment. Allusion to possible violence. Jealousy (if you squint).

Bound For Earth Masterlist

Life on the cruiser felt just like it did living on the station. Mom made sure that no matter what we still did our testing. Our monitors were checked at the beginning of the day and at the end of the day. Blood tests were still the same and everything. Still feeling like a damn guinea pig. But we made it to the four month mark, only two to four more months to go.

I managed to get access to a computer about a month ago so I was able to contact Marlie. She was surprised at first when I first messaged her. Eventually our messages turned into video calls so we could see each other. Her hair had grown slightly longer in the handful of months that we haven’t seen or spoken to each other.

I couldn’t wait to get to her. I couldn’t wait to do everything with her. I’ve been dreaming about walking the beach with her. In my dreams, the mystery woman was finally replaced with Marlie. The trip seemed to be taking forever and we’re only halfway to Earth.

“Jake and Marlie, sitting in a tree–”

“You better shut up..” I say as I whirl around to face Josh.

“You haven’t met this woman and you’re in so deep..”

“So what if I am?”

“You’re from two different planets,” Josh chuckles. “Eventually you’ll be going back to Mars and she’ll be staying on Earth.”

“Do you have to be such a downer?”

“I’m only stating the facts.” Josh says.

“Can’t you just let me have this?” Jake says.

“I’m letting you have a lot of things.” Josh says. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up so high only to be crushed so soon.”

At least I’ll get to experience love, even if it is for a short amount of time. There’s quite a few things I’ll be experiencing for only a short time before we get sent back to Mars and go right back to how things were before. But I didn’t want to think about going back, not just yet. I want to focus on what’s coming up now. And I’m definitely looking forward to sleeping in a real bed again.

We’re basically tied down, or in this case, we’re wrapped in a cocoon of a sleeping bag. I turn over on the bed and stare at the blank ceiling. Rolling back over onto my stomach, I glance out the porthole style window and out into the open space around us. Stars still flash. Earth is getting closer but not close enough.

Damn, I wish we were going faster.

I videoed Marlie again. This time she was in a pair of red pajamas. I must’ve woken her up but she keeps denying it.

“How much longer now?” She asks.

“Less than two weeks,” I told her. “I’ll let you know when we get to the moon.”

“Never thought I’d ever hear those words being uttered out of someone’s mouth.” She says.

“Can I be honest about something?” I ask.

“Shoot..”

“I’m a little nervous,” I say.

“Makes two of us,” She says. “But it’s a good kind of nervous. You know, the giddy feeling where you when you think about the situation, you can’t help but to smile and you want to giggle and kick your feet.”

“I’m so nervous, I feel like I might vomit.”

She giggles and shakes her head. “You’ll be fine! And you better pass the twenty-four hour hold. I rented a cute little beach house, to give you a little taste of the beach before we go looking for your dad.”

Dad..

I had been so focused on getting to Marlie that I forgot entirely about our dad. At first Josh called me crazy again for thinking something was going on, until I told him that I knew dad was home. Mom was lying. He isn’t on a trip. He’s home.

“You hacked into his phone?!” Josh whispers in a slightly raised voice. “Are you insane?”

“No.. But mom warned him that we’re coming to Earth and that we want to see him. She told him to leave and to take Sam with him.”

“Sam?” Josh’s face recoils. “Who’s Sam?”

“Hell if I know..” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

“Do you think they had a secret kid while Mom was away?” Josh ponders.

“Could explain why Dad “failed” his tests to come up to Mars for a visit.”

“Yeah, because he was busy raising another kid.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “Why wouldn’t they just tell us?”

We’ll be on Earth in less than two weeks and now I kind of don’t want to see him. He chose to stay on Earth to raise a child versus coming up to Mars to raise us. He chose whoever this ‘Sam’ is over his own two sons already growing up with a father, and mostly a mother. All I felt towards him now was resentment. They could have told us. They could have brought Sam with them to live with us. We could have been a real family living together. Josh and I wouldn't feel alone. Instead they chose to keep us separated and Dad chose to stay on Earth.

All that mattered to me now was getting to Marlie and experiencing Earth with her with whatever amount of time that I had. Josh can do whatever he pleases, he can see Dad and meet this Sam for all I care. I don’t want to know this person nor do I want to meet them. And if they knew about us this whole time, then I wouldn't know how to react.

Marlie: Are you ready to talk yet?

I just stare at the computer screen unable to type back a response.

Marlie: I take your silence as a no.

Jake: I’m still angry.

Marlie: You have every right to be. Just don’t push me out.

I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how a relationship is even supposed to work, if you can even call this a relationship yet.

Jake: I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that we have another sibling. Nor can I believe that our parents chose to keep them a secret.

Jake: But it also hurts because our dad chose to stay on Earth to raise them. He chose them over us.

Marlie: You keep saying ‘them’..

Jake: We don’t know what they are to us. A brother? A sister? All I know from our parents’ files is that they’re listed under the name Sam. I’m afraid of how I’ll react if Sam is our brother.

Marlie: Afraid you’ll be angry even more knowing that your dad chose him over the two of you?

Jake: Yeah… He has two sons already that needed a father and he didn’t even make an effort..

Jake: Ever since finding out this information, all I can feel is regret wanting to come to Earth.. And I shouldn’t.. Because aside from them, I have you.. I want to see you, I want to hold you, I want to kiss you..

Marlie: You had me worried there for a second.. I was about to start yelling at you.

I can’t fight the smile as it graces my face. I could never regret her. She’s made this past year bearable back on Mars, even if we were millions of miles apart. For six months, I only knew her as Star. She told me that whenever I look at the stars, I think of her. And I do. I still do. Every time a star passes by the cruiser, my heart races when she appears in my thoughts.

I have a crush on her, sure. But truthfully, I’m falling in love with her.

Jake: I could never regret you.

The two weeks seemed to go by quickly and soon we found ourselves just twenty feet from the landing pad outside of headquarters. Unbuckling ourselves when the time is right, we make our way towards the exit of the cruiser. As soon as my foot touches the ground from the last step, I begin to feel the heaviness on my body. My lungs struggle to expand but I’m sure that in time I will grow used to the gravity on this planet and I won’t struggle as much.

Once we were inside the base, Josh and I were immediately escorted to a separate facility where we were hooked up to IV bags and oxygen masks. “I feel silly..” Josh speaks, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask.

“Is this really necessary?” I ask the medical staff as he takes down our vitals.

“It is,” He says. “We must get your body accustomed to these new conditions.”

“How long will it take? I have places to be.”

“The normal twenty-four hour hold that everyone must go through after spending time in lighter conditions.” He finishes taking Josh’s vitals before closing his clipboard and leaving the room.

“This is going to be the longest twenty-four hours ever…” Josh grumbles.

–

Time kept in isolation from all other people, we were finally released. We were given clean clothes to change into before we were escorted into a different area.

Screens littered the walls, monitoring different things and showing videos of something else. “Joshua and Jacob Kiszka. It is quite the honor to be in the presence of you two.” A man says as he weaves his way around tables and desks. “Welcome to Earth.”

“Way to not make us feel like aliens,” Josh says. I crack a smile and stuff my hands into the pockets of my pants.

“I am Walter Camens, the CEO of Explore Tech.” The man says holding his hand for us to shake. I keep mine in my pockets but Josh is kind of enough to outstretch his hand to Walter. After shaking Josh’s hand, Walter turns his attention to me. “Jacob, I must commend you on your ability to sneak aboard the cruiser. I admit that I underestimated your abilities.”

I’m not sure if I should thank him or if I should stay quiet. I chose to stay quiet, still not fully trusting him.

“It has always been his dream to come to Earth,” Josh says.

“Well you have made it.”

“We were hoping that we would be given time to meet our family,” Josh continues. “Our dad lives in Dallas with our sibling, Sam. A-And Jake has a friend that he would like to meet with.”

“I am afraid that we cannot let the two of you leave,” Walter says. “We do not yet know if your bodies can withstand Earth gravity.”

“Well we are your guinea pigs,” I say, a smirk growing on my face. “No?”

“We can’t risk it.”

“We risked coming here,” I say as I remove my hands from my pockets. “And we survived. Least you can do is let us try.”

“I am sorry.. Per your mother’s request, you are to remain here until the next transport back to Mars.”

“What? No!” I shout, my voice bouncing off the walls.

“I’m sorry, but we cannot risk your lives any further..” He waves his hand, signaling to someone behind us. “Please take them back to their room where they will stay for the duration of their stay.”

I feel a pair of hands grab hold my arms and I turn my head to see two security guards ready to escort us out. “No!” I shout again as I struggle to free myself. “You can’t do this! We have a right to be here! Let go!”

Back into the same room we go and the door is latched behind us. I curse and bang on the door because that’s all I can do. We made it this far, it won’t end here.

“It’s no use, Jake..” Josh says as he leans against the wall. “We can’t go out there..”

“We will get out of here. I didn’t come all this way just for it to end here.”

Nightfall came and I eventually gave up, dozing on and off again against the wall beside the door. All I could think about was Marlie. She knows we’re here and yet nothing can be done about it.

As my eyes start to droop closed, I hear the latch on the door unlock. I perk up and look over towards one of the beds only to find them empty. Where was Josh? The door begins to open and Josh peeks his head around it.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” He says.

“How did you-”

“I’ll explain later but security is currently changing so we have about five minutes to get away from here before the new shift comes in.”

I quickly follow behind him as he brings the two of us through empty corridors. We begin to hear voices and he pushes us both against the wall. A couple guards walk past, going down the adjacent hallway, not even noticing us in the process. Josh slowly peers around the corner before grabbing my arm and pulling me along with him down the hallway.

“How do you know where to go?” I ask from behind him.

“I said I would explain later.. Now be quiet..”

Coming to the end of the hallway, he pulls out a keycard and swipes it and the door unlocks. He gets us both through it and suddenly I’m blasted with the dry heat of Texas. It’s still dark out but there’s plenty of lights. He pushes me behind a large metal container.

“There’s a gate just over on the other side where trucks come in and out frequently.” He pulls me over to the side of the container and points to a truck on the loading dock. “That one there is leaving in approximately five minutes, so we have to get on that one in order to get the hell out of here.”

“Do you even know where it's going?”

“Last I heard was Dallas which is where we need to be.” He slowly stands to his feet, still keeping to a low crouched position. “Ready to run?”

“Let’s go..”

On his call, we race across the lot and towards the truck where we climb in and hide in the very back, hidden behind all of the boxes. We can hear a couple men speaking as they load more boxes.

“I think we’re good,” One of them says.

“Alright let’s head out.” The other says before he’s pulling down the hatch and locking it.

I hadn’t realized that I had fallen asleep until Josh was shaking me awake. “Wake up, they stopped.” He whispers.

The back of the truck is being unlatched and the hatch is pulled open. “Let’s head in first to grab the lift.” Once Josh deemed that the coast was clear, we quickly made a run for it across the different parking lots and towards the gates. Gravity is so much different making it slightly more difficult for us to run.

What felt like hours of walking, Josh made the decision to finally stop and rest for a minute to catch our breath. We had no idea where we were supposed to go and no idea where we currently were. Josh had remembered Dad’s address from the files and wanted to find our way there, but I wanted nothing to do with that.

“You don’t even have to talk to him,” Josh says. “But we need somewhere to stay.” Even though I know he’s right and that we do need to find a place to stay, I just don’t want it to be at Dad’s place. But I give in anyway and Josh hails down a taxi.

“How–”

“You think you’re the only one who watches movies?” He says as a taxi pulls up to the side of the road. We get in and he gives the driver the address.

As the taxi pulls up in front of the house and both of our jaws drop open. This house is huge. What are they–rich? We climb out of the taxi and Josh promises a form of payment before we’re walking up the walkway to the front door. I can’t even begin to describe this house. Think of the houses you see on those reality tv shows where they sell multi-million dollar homes and this would be it.

Josh reaches for the doorbell and presses it. We waited a couple minutes. Would take a while considering the size of this place. But when the door opens we’re greeted with a woman.

“Can I help you?” She asks.

“We’re here to see Paul..” Josh says. “Our father..”

The woman’s jaw falls open as she looks at us in disbelief. “I was unaware that he had more than one son.”

Ah, Sam. Turns out he is our brother.

The taxi driver honks the horn and the woman looks around us. “Please come in.. I will handle the driver..” She says as she ushers us inside while she steps out.

We find that inside is a lot more spacious. The ceiling has to at least be between twelve and fifteen feet high. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling. There’s glass everywhere. Nothing is opaque. A floating staircase leads up to a second floor landing while a different one goes downstairs. Off to our right is a sitting room and to our left is an office, presumably Dad’s. Floor to ceiling windows are more common in this place than actual windows apparently. Doesn’t seem very..private.

“Darlene?” We hear a man’s voice call from the second floor. “Who’s at the–” He stops talking when he appears around the corner. He’s tall, most likely taller than us. His hair is about as long as mine and he sports more facial hair than me and Josh put together. He’s more slender than we are and his face is more long vertically versus our somewhat more rounder features. He does have the same brown eyes as us. “Who are you?”

“We could ask you the same question..” I say, earning Josh’s elbow into my side. I glare at him and he gives me his “Knock it off” look.

He clears his throat and looks back at the man standing on the second floor landing. “We’re uh.. Geez, I’m not entirely sure how to say this.. We’re your brothers.. I’m Josh and he is Jake.. We’re twins.”

“Don’t think he cares about that detail..” I mutter to him.

“My brothers..” The man states. “I don’t have brothers.. I’m an only child.”

Mmm, seems someone else has been lied to too.

“You are Sam, no?”

“I am..” He says. “But I don’t know you..”

“Why would you?” Josh awkwardly laughs. “We were born on Mars,” He adds, peeking Sam’s interest by the way his eyebrows raise. “Long story..”

Sam slowly walks towards the stairs but stops in front of the top step. “I’ve heard stories of two kids being born on Mars,” He begins to say. “But how would you be my brothers? I’ve been an only child my whole life, never once was I ever told that I have siblings.”

He slowly walks down the stairs, as if he’s afraid of us. Can’t say that I blame him. I’d probably be feeling the same if I were in his shoes. Oh wait.. I am.. Just feeling anger and resentment. He got to grow up with our father, he got to have a normal relationship with him. He was chosen over us.

“Are either of you thirsty? Hungry?” He asks once he reaches the bottom step. He leads us around the corner through the sitting room and into a modern and open kitchen.

“Water’s fine.. Kind of parched..” Josh says. “We’ve had quite a day.”

“It’s only noon.” Sam says.

“Again.. Long story..”

I roll my eyes and stay off to the side of the room and lean against the wall. Sam reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a couple glasses and fills them with water from the fridge. He sets them on the counter and Josh gladly takes his, whereas I just stare at mine.

“Sam?” Another man calls out from somewhere in the house. Definitely does not sound like Dad.

“Kitchen!” Sam calls back.

In walks a man, just as tall as Sam but more fit and slightly more muscular. His hair is in curls and stops at his shoulders. His face is more slender and his nose is kind of..big. He stares at the both of us in confusion as he walks over to Sam.

“Who–”

“Oh uh, my brothers–apparently..” Sam says, motions his hands out towards us. “That one is Josh and Mr. Broody over there is Jake.”

Mr. Broody–nice nickname little brother. I give him a smug smile and cross my arms over my chest.

“Brothers? You have..brothers?”

“Seems so,” Sam inhales sharply. “They are the two kids that were born on Mars nearly thirty years ago. Josh, Jake–this is Danny, my childhood friend.”

“Woah.. Wait.. Mars?!” Excitement fills his eyes and all I want to do is burst his little bubble of joy. Not as glamorous or fun as he thinks it might be. “Oh my god, I remember learning about you guys in like third grade science! I always thought it would be so cool to live on another planet! I’ve been training with Explore Tech.. Hoping to get up there on the next transport.”

“Would be cool to have someone around our age up there,” Josh says. “We’re literally surrounded by middle aged people.”

“Don’t get your hopes up though,” I say. “It’s not as cool as you might imagine.. Do you have a phone that I could use? I need to make a call.”

“Yea, here!” Danny says as he hands over a small looking tablet. “You don’t have cell phones up there, do you?”

“Like I said, not as cool.” I say as I watch him type in a passcode and pull up a keypad. He hands it over and I briefly thank him before leaving the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Marlie..” I sigh.

“Jake?!”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Oh my god! Where are you?! I saw on the news that the cruiser landed yesterday and I hadn’t heard from you yet! I was worried something happened..”

“I’m fine–we’re fine..” I look over my shoulder at them behind me only to find Sam staring at me. I turned back around before continuing, “We uh, we snuck out of Headquarters–stowed away in the back of a transport truck that was headed here to Dallas.”

“Do you need me to come to you guys? Where are you?”

“We’re at my dad’s, I’ll text you the address.”

“Please do, I want to see you.”

I smile and run a hand over the back of my neck. “I want to see you too.”

“Text me the address and I’ll be there soon.”

We both hung up and I sent her the address. Once I saw the word ‘delivered’ pop up beneath the message, I quickly deleted the thread before closing out of the messages and locking the phone. Before I even could turn around, I heard something click behind me. “Don’t..move.” Sam says behind me.

______________________________________________________________

Apologies in advanced with this taglist, I have recently been having problems with it!

@watchingover-hypegirl @losfacedevil @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @writingcold (more tags in comments)

#bound for earth #sci fi #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #gvf #jake gvf

33 notes · View notes