#loading and firing a canon will follow

[darktrashsoulbear]

The Abyss Of Affection

Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: Aemond discovers the book his sweet wife has been obsessed with and after reading one of the scenes, a plan begins to formulate (fluff)

This was inspired by a conversation I had with the wonderful Hannah @gwaynesprincess

House of the Dragon Masterlist

Warnings: Allusions to smut

Word Count: 2308

Divider Credit: @saradika-graphics

Not entirely show canon as Jaehaerys is alive, Maelor exists and people are happy

Any likes, comments and reblogs are always always appreciated :)

His calculated footsteps echoed in the hallways of the keep’s royal chambers, following the elder of the King’s brothers - Prince Aemond Targaryen - back to his chambers after an incredibly taxing day filled with fulfilling duties that were not his own and patrolling the city atop his beloved Vhagar, the Queen of all Dragons. Many would argue a dragon fit for a true king, Aemond would agree. Finally rounding the corner, he greeted the familiar face of Ser Steffon giving a cordial nod as he made his way through the doors of his chambers, removing his cloak as he went. 

The sight that greeted the prince was not surprising yet still brought a small, fond smile to his face. Laying on her side of the feather bed was his sweet wife curled up under the various blankets spread across the bed to combat the chill in the air as the citadel switched black ravens to white and summer turned to winter. Aemond made quick work of stripping out of his leathers and into a loose night shirt and breeches ready to join his wife in slumber.

Just as he was about to blow out the candles beside where they lay, he noticed a book beneath the blankets next to his sweet wife’s sleeping form. He picked it up ready to place it on the small table on her side of the bed before taking a look at the title and realising it was the book that had so often stolen her attention away from him during the nights they spent together before the fire. The prince’s insatiable curiosity, it seems, also extended to what on earth his sweet wife could be reading in the non-academic books she so loves.

Flipping over to one of the pages he remembers her completely raving about with her lady in waiting, he began to read and as he continued, a plan began to formulate.

She was met by a chorus of “good morrow, Princess” to which she responded with decidedly less vigour and an almost petulant expression as she discovered that her husband was in fact not in their shared chambers. This prompted the other ladies in the room to barely suppress their giggles knowing how not seeing her husband in the mornings can dampen her mood - not that the Prince fairs any better himself.

“Do any of you happen to know where my dear lord husband is at such an hour?” she discontentedly drawled.

The handmaidens exchanged uneasy glances with one another which, of course, did not escape her watchful gaze and she probed further with a single raise of an eyebrow. Silence ensued for a couple of very awkward, tension-filled seconds until the Princess’ lady in waiting - Elaena - stepped closer and stated that “we are not at liberty to say, Princess,” adding a slight curtsy at the end.

Again silence ensued only interrupted by her own chortle “what in the name of the seven do you mean ‘not at liberty’, forgive me but I am utterly confused.”

“I’m afraid Prince Aemond has forbidden us to speak of it Princess and he reminded us that if you demanded… well Princess he said for us to remember that his orders outrank yours,” Elaena hesitantly explained, shoulders visibly tense at her admission.

An even longer silence commenced, this one not so easily interrupted. Instead the Princess slightly nodded her head and proceeded to load some fresh fruits onto her plate before biting into a strawberry that was surprisingly ripe given the season. She sat with a contemplative look on her face, her ladies worried she was deeply hurt when really she was wondering what the best way to punish him would be, perhaps… 

She was pulled from her musings by a knock on the chamber doors which one of the handmaidens - Lyla - was quick to answer. She carried a written message delivered by a page boy and with mild curiosity the Princess unravelled it and began to read.

She then very calmly got up, retreating to the sitting chambers with her beloved book and instructed her handmaidens to leave her, and on their way to “inform Prince Aemond that if he wishes to have an audience he may do so in our private chambers, I am not a dog to be called to heel and told to wait in the dragon pit until he finally chooses to descend from the sky”.

Suddenly Queen Helaena turned to look directly into the Princess’ eyes causing her to startle. Helaena grasped her arms in a gentle hold and decided that “you will be very happy with it,” and while not always understanding but being kind to Helaena’s ways, the Princess confidently nodded in affirmation.

“I’m certain I will be sister,” followed by a soft squeeze of the Queen’s hands she quickly let go to ensure she didn’t crowd the gentle soul beside her.

Turning her attention to Maelor, the youngest of the King and Queen’s children, she scooped him into her arms and brought him to her lap where she proceeded to grab the second less than perfect dragon (Daeron’s first attempt) and began to play with him. Entirely encompassed by the babe's soft giggles she failed to notice the shadow of her husband nor feel the piercing but fond gaze he stared at the two of them with - giving him a few ideas of his own.

Finally sensing his presence, his sweet wife turned towards him and pinned him with a markedly less than sweet gaze. After returning Maelor to his mother, the princess stood, brushed off her dress, said her goodbyes to the children with the promise of visiting again soon, squeezed Helaena’s hand and strode straight past her dear husband without so much as a look in his direction.

Aemond Targaryen, the incredibly formidable man that he is, immediately turned and followed (and after speaking with her lady in waiting) trailed a step behind knowing that if he got any closer he may well be subject to a more physical attack.

“Sweet wife - ,” his mouth slammed shut, the sound of his teeth clacking together audible as she turned around to face him and he thanked the seven that they’d at least made it to the hall outside their chambers to give a small amount of privacy.

“How can I be of service to my Prince? Shall I draw you a bath, change your linens, perhaps wash them too? After all, your commands should certainly be obeyed by all who rank lower than you lord husband!” and Aemond’s moment of stunned silence was all she needed to turn and push the door to their chambers open, her hair almost whipping Aemond in the face. After clearing his throat and righting his already perfectly placed doublet, the prince followed after his wife. This time the nod to Ser Steffon was slightly more stiff and definitely less cordial. 

Upon entering their chambers, it became apparent that his sweet wife was just getting started on his torture as she began shedding her day clothes to ready herself for dinner that night as it had become customary for the royal family to dine together per the Dowager Queen Alicent’s request. As he walked in she turned to look at him, again raising a single eyebrow, a silent demand for him to explain himself and explain he did - after he managed to bring his eye back up to meet hers.

Aemond nervously began to describe how he had to go patrol the city earlier than expected that morrow and after his wife’s further probing he let out a sigh as he admitted that he was hiding something from her but he insisted she could not know. Instead he decided to avert her attention by apologising for his blunt and insensitive instructions, insisting his mind was incredibly preoccupied and he meant none of it. 

After a beat, his sweet wife looked back up at him and simply agreed that it was foolish of him before continuing to prepare herself for dinner. With the guilt still weighing down on him, Aemond tried once more to draw a further reaction from her and informed her that “we will not be dining with the family tonight, my heart, it shall just be the two of us so please do not feel obligated to wear something that will placate my mother”. The huff of air Aemond let out could have rivalled Vhagar’s as his Princess finally met his eye and gave a smile of her own.

The Princess very quickly decided that she would never again allow her husband to guide her through the gardens, at dusk, alone with no idea of where on earth he was going. She marvelled at how her Prince had spent the entirety of his life growing up within the walls of the keep while she had only moved here three years past when their betrothal was finalised and yet she knew the gardens a lot better than he did. They walked in silence with the occasional mumble of “I’m sure it was this way”, “perhaps it’s actually that way” and what she is sure sounded like a “seven hells this is so embarrassing”.

Eventually, the Princess abruptly stopped walking causing Aemond to turn back to look at her with wide eyes as though he was expecting her to end the night and head back into the castle (which definitely seems tempting) but instead she drew herself closer to him tracing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb and sweetly asked him to tell her where he wanted to go and she would lead the way. Confusion clouded her eyes when she saw her husband’s gaze darken with disappointment at not being able to keep the location secret before giving a rather reluctant nod and mumbling the area of the gardens.

This again caused her to still, as not long before setting off on their adventure she’d gotten to her favourite scene in the romance novel she was currently re-reading which described the relationship between two lovers from flea bottom snook into the castle’s garden and had a picnic beneath a section where two trees intertwined to look like a heart. She let out a small laugh at the coincidence before leading him in the direction of the garden’s that she learned the trees actually existed in when she went searching after her first time reading the book.

As they stepped through the clearing, fingers interlocked, Aemond’s sweet wife stopped dead in her tracks. The scene before her bringing an onslaught of tears to her eyes and Aemond’s own eye drank in her reaction feeling his chest expand with pride. The scene was exactly as described in the books - granted the royalty version - with a table in the middle of the clearing, the heart trees standing right before it. A small fire was lit as the air was cool and biting and she thanked the gods for giving her a husband intelligent enough to organise for a canopy to be set up over the table. Even the food was some of the meats and fresh fruit described in her book.

After taking it all in, the princess - now thankful for there being no escort - fisted her husband’s nicest leathers and brought him down for a bruising kiss, whispering thank you’s and I love you’s in between.

Aemond’s own heart was beating out of his chest as they finally pulled away from one another and he helped her into her seat before taking his own next to her, never letting go of her hand - not even when they began to eat, opting to do it with his left hand instead, and certainly not as his sweet wife moved from her own seat into his lap, playing with his hair and telling him just how wonderfully he had done.

If you asked anyone who crossed paths with the Prince and Princess that night, they’d tell you that never before had they ever encountered two individuals looking so shamelessly in love. They’d express their shock as they witnessed their Prince, the fierce rider of Vhagar, laugh freely with his lady wife with his arm firmly wrapped around her waist and the Princess’ hand rubbing up and down his back.

As the Prince once again encountered Ser Steffon, he greeted the guard with a slightly more reserved smile than his wife received and instructed him to have a good night while he ushered his giggling wife inside. Once they were out of sight Ser Steffon let out a small chuckle of his own before walking a few paces down the hall, away from the door.

As the very smitten couple climbed into bed the Prince once again asked his sweet wife if everything met her standards to which she simply pulled herself up and decided on showing him how pleased she was instead - but not before ensuring the punishment she decided on earlier was carried out.

[little-lynx]

EVERLARK OUTFITS: THE VICTORY TOUR

This part of “Catching Fire” is done (finally) so I put it all together;) DISTRICT 11, THE SQUARE

I go to my compartment and let the prep team do my hair and makeup. Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. <…> As the train is pulling into the District 11 station, Cinna puts the finishing touches on my outfit, switching my orange hairband for one of metallic gold and securing the mockingjay pin I wore in the arena to my dress. <…> I can hear the anthem beginning outside in the square. Someone clips a microphone on me. Peeta takes my left hand. // Catching Fire, ch. 4

I think this dress should be a little semi-official so I choose cape sleeve sheath midi dress. It’s perfect for autumn (and they have early autumn weather there in 11th). The hair is just plain + gold hairband = girlish innocent look like the one after the games (this tactics they choose for the Tour). Plus I wanted to draw Katniss with her natural straight hair because i draw her with her braid usually ;) And again nothing about Peeta’s outfit. You know I feel like Portia 😅 because I have to choose how to dress Peeta. I’m not complaining through. So it is black suit with golden buttons (matching Katniss’s hairband and pin), thin soft orange sweater and black leather shoes.

DISTRICT 11, THE DINNER

A pale pink strapless dress brushes my shoes. My hair is pinned back from my face and falling down my back in a shower of ringlets. Cinna comes up behind me and arranges a shimmering silver wrap around my shoulders. He catches my eye in the mirror. “Like it?”  “It's beautiful. As always,” I say. “Let's see how it looks with a smile,” he says gently. // Catching Fire, ch.5

DISTRICT 7

Jackson has devised a game called «Real or Not Real» to help Peeta. He mentions something he thinks happened, and they tell him if it’s true or imagined, usually followed by a brief explanation. <...> But since Peeta’s greatest confusion centers around me—and not everything can be explained simply—our exchanges are painful and loaded, even though we touch on only the most superficial of details. The color of my dress in 7. My preference for cheese buns. The name of our math teacher when we were little. Reconstructing his memory of me is excruciating. Perhaps it isn’t even possible after what Snow did to him. But it does feel right to help him try. // Mockingjay, ch. 19

So we have only one sentence in “Mockingjay” about this outfit. And still I decided to draw it because I have a theory (head canon?) about it. I think Peeta remembers the color of her dress because it was special night for him (a lot of kisses and attempts to sneak away from everyone and maybe it felt very real at times) and also because she had two braids and the dress was red. RED is the color ❤️. / Peeta has dark red + black + a little bit gold which is also sexy color combination.

DISTRICT 5 I volunteer to take Annie back to my house in 12, where Cinna left a variety of evening clothes in a big storage closet downstairs. All of the wedding gowns he designed for me went back to the Capitol, but there are some dresses I wore on the Victory Tour.  <…> Annie wears a green silk dress I wore in 5, Finnick one of Peeta’s suits that they altered— the clothes are striking. <…>  As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie’s gown were done by Cinna’s hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta’s.  // Mockingjay, ch. 16

Katniss: green silk dress + wavy sleeves + sea waves embroidery / Peeta: ivory dress shirt + knitted green waistcoat with sea waves embroidery + tweed suit

DISTRICT 2

Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at. Opinions on clothes, hair, makeup. So I lie. “Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet.” Velvet. The only fabric. I could think of off the top of my head. “I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back,” says Johanna. // Catching Fire, Chapter 15

This description gave me strong “Anastasia” feels 😅. So I loosely based Katniss dress on Anastasia’s ballet evening gown. For Peeta I chose tuxedo jacket similar to Salvatore Ferragamo design for FF 12/13.  Neo classic, purple velvet, shiny shoes. Also I decided to include a cane, both to help Peeta to have some rest during all this Tour activities and as an accessory.

DISTRICT 12

When we reach the mayor's house, I only have time to give Madge a quick hug before Effie hustles me off to the third floor to get ready. After I'm prepped and dressed in a full-length silver gown, I've still got an hour to kill before the dinner, so I slip off to find her. <…> She [Madge] saw my reflection behind her and smiled. “Look at you. Like you came right off the streets of the Capitol.” // Catching Fire, ch.6

When I started drawing this one I just felt that I need to make it look very “Capitol”. So I added some feathers. A LOT of sparkling feathers, haha. Also there are some “moon and stars” accessories in Katniss’ hair because this silver gown gives me moonlight vibes. For Peeta I came up with classic suit but made him wear it casually.

[yandere-wishes]

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝔹𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Synopsis: You finally realize that you and Miguel are stuck inside a comic book romance. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, angst, the reader has Stockholm syndrome but can we really blame her? 

There's something about a sleepless night that's lethal. A loaded gun aimed point blank at your head and your heart and your eyes that are too weary to recall the difference between fact and fiction. Right and wrong.

Miguel should be home soon you think as you stare at the Daily Bugle's nightly broadcast. The headlines are the same as last week's villain attack and the week before that, and the week before that. 

'SPIDERMAN REPORTED DEAD AFTER TANGLE WITH NUEVA YORK'S NEWEST VILLAIN!'

 You think this is the 18th time he's died this month. A hologram dances in front of you, some withering reporter adamant in his claim that this time. This time for sure Spiderman is dead. A Harrowing claim, one you know to be false. Your lover isn't so easy to kill, you should know on account of how many times you had tried. Back when you'd painted Miguel O'Hara as the villain in your story, back when you were so obstinate to return to a wholly ignorant life of so-called freedom. 

Miguel can't die, you refuse to believe that a man like that is subject to such a mortal thing. 

You use to try to imagine a Miguel that had grown old. You couldn't back then and still can't today. Because heroes are eternal, or so you've come to believe.  They die a hundred deaths and reawaken younger than before. Heroes aren't immortal -that's the part that makes your heart skip a beat- yet death has never had the chance to lay claim to them. Miguel is fine you're sure of it. 

There's a noise, a disturbance in the wind, the sound of thousands of coiled webs being used to sling across the air.

A sign that Spiderman has arrived.

He's here.

You can't help but smile. 

"What's the old man saying this time?" 

You turn to see Miguel, land at the edge of the rooftop. Legs limb as he staggers towards you. With a defeated moan he sits down. Close enough for you to inspect the galaxy of bruises that dance across his stunning face. 

When did you fall in love with him, again? 

"You're supposed to be dead," you say, a bitter laugh following, the peculiar words.

"I think that's the 14th time the Bugals had a spread on me dying" He chuckles, dry and humorless. 

You bite your tongue to avoid correcting him. 

"Who was it this time? Venom or Flipside?" you ask, trying to guess which of the two had been able to give the Miguel O'Hara a run for his money. 

"Just some kid, from another dimension. Mocoso already screwed up the canon once, and he's damn well trying to do it again. He used Spider Bite to send himself home, so I didn't get the chance to..." He doesn't bother finishing that sentence. Doesn't have to, you've seen worlds collapse upon themselves because a tiny imperfection had distraught the canon. You know why he does this. You know why he must do this. No one is exempt from the canon. No matter how young and naive they may be. 

How peculiar the life of superhumans are. For all the guts and glory every hero's world is only bounded by thin silk strings. Perpetually on the verge of collapse should the chosen one refuse to follow destiny's orders. 

Heroes aren't pretty, they neither sparkle nor shine. Instead, they burn with a self-lit fire that grows out of control, burning until only ashes remain. Heroes are tragedies swung across every dimension. War-torn children with blood under their fingernails and chipped teeth from one too many close calls. Heroes aren't pretty, nor beautiful, nor divine. They're mangled creatures who come alive at night, staggering across half-lit streets doing what they believe is right. 

You've tried to commit this to memory. Tried to memorize it so you wouldn't make the same mistakes as every lovesick idiot who's fallen in love with a superhero. 

But sometimes it's so hard to remember, especially when Miguel has been your only companion for months now. The only person you have to talk to. The only person who is there in the early hours of the morning when even sleep abandons you. And he's always there again at night to tuck you in before he departs to fight whoever has broken the few simple rules that the canon calls for. You've almost come to appreciate his paranoia and insistence that you stayed locked inside the penthouse. Although he's grown a bit bolder as of late. Permitting you free range of the terrace and rooftop. A sign of good faith, he'd called. Whilst you'd presume that he's come to enjoy you waiting outside to greet him when he returns from the miseries of being a golden boy. 

"I try to save everyone, I try to make sure the universe is held upright. So why the hell does everyone always treat me like I'm the villain?" His voice is raising, fangs glowing in loose rays of starlight. His hands are crossed in annoyance. You rest your hand on his arm as you snuggle closer.

Heroes and villains, what's the difference? 

That's a question the two of you have been pondering for too long now. 

Even though you doubt  Miguel truly knows who he is. It's hard to fall into the orderly boxes of 'good' and 'bad' when the fate of every universe lies on your already brittle shoulders. 

He's a hero who acts like a villain. That's what you use to call him. Back when he'd first plucked you away from your ordinary mundane life.Deeming the world too dangerous for a defenseless little civilian such as yourself. He had promised to love you, to cherish you. Back when you'd been so resistant to play the role of the hero's lover. But seeing as how no matter what nightmares he went through as Spiderman, he had still kept those two promises. You had slowly started to grow fond of him

Time and time again Miguel has made you feel like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. Wings clipped and waiting for the inevitable. He's overbearing to the point where his sheer presence feels like a boulder placed on your chest. Or maybe his strings have finally found their way to your heart, coiling around the organ controlling its every beat and pulse. Yet somehow, somehow, you started to desire more and more of him.

You're in love with the hero who plays the villain. 

You're in love with the villain who bares a hero's mask. 

"You should be more careful when dealing with the other spiders. I hear they're not all as precautious as you." Your fingers trace the purpling marks on his cheek.  Sliding from one universe to another. 

You know Miguel isn't a tiny spider he's a bloodthirsty tarantula. Yet you still worry. Fear that one day he may fail to return home. 

"You shouldn't worry about me preciosa,"

"Someone has to, Miguel, you're not as indestructible as you may think."

"If I kiss you will you stop complaining?"

There's no room to answer, his lips rest on yours, forceful and sweet. Captivating, dominating, and as always overbearing. His fangs slowly sink into the back of your lips. That familiar iron taste invades your mouth once again. 

Sometimes Miguel feels like a hero, shouldering the universe's burdens, and fighting for what's right. After all, with great power comes great responsibility. This is what he wanted, he always wanted to be the hero.

But sometimes when the spider's lair is abandoned and he returns home to you, he can't help but feel like the villain. He's protecting you he knows that. Justifying it is easy when you watch dimensions wither away in violent glitching and endless screams, daily. Yet he wonders if his predecessors were ever like this. If the heroes are supposed to keep their lovers locked away. Alone yet safe. A fair trade in his mind. 

Miguel isn't quite human, half-everlasting and half-horror. 

A dangerous combination

Or at least a confusing one. 

The point is he's some sort of hero. But that also means he's some sort of villain. Even the old tales got things wrong, not every superhero is carved from porcelain and ivory. Not every villain is built from ash and rage.  

Sometimes heroes are carved from gravestone granite and glazed with poison. Sometimes their powers are self-inflicted curses that chew away at flesh and bone. sometimes the hero's halo is made of barbed wire digging into his scalp and embittering his thoughts. Sometimes heroes kill themselves before any villain gets the chance. Spitling their body apart a million times a day because destiny decided to play a cruel joke on them. Picking the weakest of all mankind to become its guardian. 

When he pulls away from the kiss, he lifts your hand to his mouth. 

His fangs sink into your finger puncturing bone as he gnaws the stress away. Blood leaks down his chin, spilling over the rooftop. He pulls your body closer. An anchor in a never-ending storm. 

You kiss his chin, looking into his eyes. Eyes that can never choose whether they wish to be human or monster. Your head instinctively finds his chest nestling into the cold metal of his suit. 

Oh, how you wish you could crack his rib cage open and crawl inside. 

Sometimes you think back to the original tales. The ones from your dimension, albeit it seems that -regardless of a few rare exceptions- the stories are consistent in every universe.  

The story always goes the same. Peter Parker falls in love with MJ or Gwen, you've come to learn that in the long run, it doesn't really matter. Spiderman saves them again and again. Until the whole world knows that Mj or Gwen are somehow connected to the masked hero. But never once does she leave his side. Rebellious blond or dotting redhead, Spiderman's lover stays regardless of how desperate and vicious the villains become when they start to learn that the story always ends in the hero's favor. 

It's every gal's dream to be the lover of a superhero. Awaiting their betrothed's triumphant return. Greeting them with amorous tidings and cherry red kisses. 

You think you're Gwen or Mary Jane. Or whoever else decided to fall in love with the troubled boy who has radioactivity coursing through his veins. The boy who was deemed a hero and thus was destroyed because of it.

Of course, there's the other part. The underlying message of the story, that parents all so conveniently 'forget' to tell their children. The disease of the otherwise perfect tale. They forget to tell you that Gwen Stacy fell to her death and Mary Jane is left abandoned, once the hero realizes that his mere presence is a curse. Stories may end in the hero's favor but much like the villain the lover is also doomed by the narrative. That's normal for any hero's lover. They always burn out to cater to the hero's ever-fuming torch of justice.

you feel broken, as you're sure they did too. An unspoken rule of being with a hero is that eventually, you start to lose your sense of self without them. It doesn't make sense when you put it like that but along the way bits and piece of you broke off. Pieces that you forgot to patch up. You've been mending by using segments of Miguel to make yourself feel whole again. It's a small miracle that you still hold a fading memory of whom you used to be before he made you his. A miracle that sweeps through the cracks of your soul. 

Heroes never need to fear death, just an eternity of pain. Losing everyone they love, over and over again. Maybe that's why Miguel's grip is so suffocatingly tight. He knows that eventually, not today and maybe not tomorrow but eventually he's going to lose you too. 

You're a comic book Juliet and he's Romeo with superpowers. Everyone knows that comic book heroes are doomed from the start. Neither you nor Miguel are exceptions. 

Maybe the two of you are doomed by the narrative.

But for tonight, as the moon slowly sinks behind the skyscrapers and the stars fade one by one. The two of you are safe in each other's arms. 

[peachyhalstead]

alive | j. halstead

summary: chasing down an offender doesn't go quite as planned (dw it ends fluffy)

pairing: established (married) fem!reader x jay halstead, platonic!reader x adam ruzek

word count: 1.75k

warnings: canon-level violence, gunshot, hospitals, medical inaccuracies

a/n: meet a seasoned fanfic writer's first fic about jay <3 please let me know what you think of this !! also it was originally written in 3rd pov so if you see anything wrong, no you didn't ---- You followed Adam down the alley, weapons drawn. "Chicago PD! Stop!"

You felt your lungs burn as you raced down the alley, nodding when you saw Adam silently gesture to enter through the front door, and he would take the back.

Noticing the door was already open, you walked in, eyes alert for any sign of a victim or offender.

Hearing Adam call out a "clear!" you opened your mouth to do the same, but didn't make it that far as you heard three shots ring out, feeling two sharp pains tear through your body.

Adam, having seen the offender shoot you, quickly fired a round of his own weapon, pressing a button on his radio. "5021 Ida, shots fired by offender and police! We need an ambo to our location, plain-clothed officers at the scene, one in need of urgent medical care!"

Near the end of the block that you and Adam were on, Jay's head shot up to meet Hailey's, hearing their coworker's distraught call into the radio.

The two sprinted out of their location, and down to the abandoned house, hearing the sirens grow louder.

"Ruz! Where are you guys?!" Jay called, stomping through the house.

He felt his heart plummet when he saw his wife on the floor, bullet hole in your shoulder and belly, Adam holding his jacket over the wounds.

"Y/N!" He fell to his knees next to you, letting out a breath when you looked at him.

"J-Jay, I didn't see him coming." You mumbled, breaths shaky.

"Shh, it's okay, hon. You're going to be alright." Jay reassured you, his hands trembling as he reached out to stroke her the back from your face. He shot a panicked look at Adam, who was still pressing down on the bullet wounds.

"Ambo's en route, Jay," Adam said, his voice tight with worry. "She's strong, she's gonna pull through this."

Jay didn't answer, his attention solely focused on his wife. He held onto your hand, willing his strength into you. "Hang in there, baby."

"I'm trying," you answered weakly.

Just then Voight and Kevin Atwater stormed into the room. The sight of you on the floor left them momentarily stunned before they sprung into action. Voight acknowledged Ruzek with a curt nod and Atwater immediately moved to Jay's side, helping apply pressure to your wounds.

The sirens outside grew louder as the ambulance neared their location. It wasn't long before the paramedics came rushing in with a stretcher, immediately getting to work on stabilizing you for transport to Med.

As they carried you out of the house, Jay followed closely behind, fear etched on his face but determination in his eyes. He watched as they loaded yoiu into the ambulance before climbing in right after them.

The team was left in the eerily quiet house -- a stark contrast to the chaos moments ago. Voight looked around at his team, each one wearing an expression of concern and fear for their colleague.

"Everyone alright?" he asked gruffly, though there was a hint of concern in his tone.

Ruzek and Atwater both nodded, and soon the team made their way to Chicago Med, making home in the waiting room, wanting to be there for both you and Jay.

Jay, having hopped out of the ambulance as you were unloaded and ushered into a trauma room, a few nurses stopping him from going in. "Jay, Jay stop!"

The detective pulled a hand through his hair, looking at his older brother, Will. "Will, you gotta help her, man."

Shaking his head, he nodded to where his coworkers Dr. Marcel and Dr. Choi were working on you, who had since lost consciousness. "I can't, bro. She's family, against hospital policy."

Jay hit the wall, tears coming to his eyes. "I can't lose her, man. We just got married, this can't be the end."

Will clapped his brother on the back, jaw tense. "They got her, Jay. She'll be good, she's a strong one."

The two brothers watched as you were rushed into emergency surgery, being told to wait in the waiting room for any updates.

------

Jay stared at the clock on the wall across from him, watching the hands move as time passed. It had been two hours since you were taken to the O.R., and as much as Will tried, he wasn't able to get any more information out of his coworkers.

"Hey, man." Adam walked over to Jay, handing him a coffee.

"Thanks." Jay spoke, voice raw. "You saved her life, Ruz."

Adam shook his head, sitting next to Jay. "It was my idea to split up. If we stuck together, maybe she wouldn't have gotten hit."

Jay looked at his friend. "Don't blame yourself, Ruz."

The two detectives sat in silence, only perking up when Will and Dr. Marcel walked out into the waiting room.

"Is she-" Jay cut himself off, unable to finish the question.

"She's alive. We got both the bullets out, there was some damage to her shoulder, but we were able to repair it all."

Jay let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, grateful smile on his face. "Can I see her?"

Dr. Marcel shook his head. "Not right now. She's being moved to a recovery room in the I.C.U., a nurse will come out to bring you to her when she's settled."

"Will she still be able to be a cop?" Adam asked, the question plaguing him ever since he saw you hit the ground.

"With physical therapy and rest, Y/N should get full function and mobility of her shoulder. It won't be fast, she'll need lots of rest."

Jay thanked the surgeon, shaking his hand before he walked away.

------

Once the team had all heard that you made it through surgery, they headed back to the district to close up the case, the offender in CPD's morgue.

Jay sat up when a nurse walked over to him, smile on her face. Maggie, he recalled, from when Will introduced them a while ago. "She’s awake, she's asking for you."

Rising from the uncomfortable seat, Jay groaned as his back cracked, following Maggie down the halls to the I.C.U.

He smiled when he finally laid eyes on you, blinking blearily as the door opened and you saw your husband.

"Jay," you sighed in relief, her voice barely a whisper.

His breath hitched in his throat as he approached the bed. Your face was paler than he remembered, hair fanned out on the white hospital pillow. The sight of seeing you awake, those sparkling eyes looking at him despite being clouded by painkillers and fatigue, was enough to bring tears prickling in his eyes.

"Hey, baby," he murmured, carefully taking your hand and pressing a kiss to it. "How are you feeling?"

You gave a small wry smile. "Like I’ve been shot twice."

He chuckled weakly, stroking your hand with his thumb. "They said you did great in surgery."

You shrugged slightly, wincing after. "I don't remember much."

"They also said you’ll need a lot of rest and physical therapy for your shoulder."

You nodded slowly. “That’s okay. I can handle it.”

Jay looked at you, admiration clear in his eyes. Despite having just woken up from surgery and being shot twice, you were still trying to put up a brave face.

"There's my soldier," he said softly, brushing a loose strand of your hair from her your-drenched forehead.

Just then there was a soft knock on the door and Will walked in followed Dr. Marcel.

Dr. Marcel greeted you two with a warm smile as he approached your bed. He checked on your vitals before turning to Will and Jay.

"She's doing well considering the circumstances," Dr. Marcel reported.

Will nodded, sending you a comforting smile. "Should be able to get discharged in a few day’s time."

You nodded, looking at the sling your arm was in. "How long do I need to wear this?"

Dr. Marcel smirked, Will had warned him that his sister-in-law wasn't one to sit around and do nothing. "At least a month, but it depends on how your physical therapy goes. But, for a couple weeks, you can't move your arm. We had to repair some muscles in your shoulder, so it'll be sore."

You nodded, thanking the doctor as he left, Will following.

Jay looked at you, sad smile on his face. "Ruz is blaming himself."

You frowned, trying to sit up, wincing as your abdomen throbbed.

"Hey, hey, take it easy." Jay helped you sit up, making sure you were comfortable.

"Can I see the team? At least Adam, I want him to know it wasn't his fault." You looked at your husband, who nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead, heading down to grab the team.

------

After a few days, you were finally able to leave the hospital. You had signed the discharge paperwork, and Jay walked back into the room after pulling the car around, soft smile on his face when he saw you struggling to get her coat on, one arm still in the sling.

"Here, let me help," he offered, walking over to you. He helped you put on the coat, paying extra attention to not disturb your injured shoulder.

You met his eyes and offered him a soft smile. "Thanks, babe."

Jay just nodded, his throat choked with emotion. He was relieved that you were okay but knew you had a long way to go for your complete recovery. He gently took your hand, gave it a squeeze, and lead out of the room.

As they walked through the silent corridors, you leaned into him slightly. It was subtle but Jay noticed it immediately. He wrapped his arm around you, offering her comfort and support. The worry lines on his face seemed to deepen as they moved towards the exit of the hospital.

Outside, the city was bustling as usual. The harsh city lights reflected off Jay's face as he helped you into their car before moving around to sit in the driver's seat.

The ride home was quiet. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the occasional honk from nearby traffic. You were staring out of the window, mind lost in thoughts while Jay focused on driving, occasionally glancing over at his wife.

“Hey, Jay?” You looked over at him, voice quiet.

Jay hummed, glancing at you while he pressed on the gas petal when the light turned green.

“Just,” you paused, feeling a teenager in love again. “I love you.” ---- a/n: did u like it? also please don't expect good titles ever titles always make me wanna punch a brick wall

[skydaemon]

does anyone want to hear the worst iwtv thought i've ever had? spoilers

so yknow how there's been a load of hints this season (and some last season) that claudia won't be killed by sunlight like she was in the book, but will die in a fire? i can't recall every instance right now, but in ep 4 there was her talk w santiago and daniel's question about the theatre, both of which could just be hinting at the fire in general, or could be suggesting that claudia dies in the theatre fire. there's loads more examples that someone else collated, but i can't find that right now. considering armand and louis are together in the present, it seems unlikely louis knows armand killed claudia, so if she died accidentally (or "accidentally") it would make sense for them to possibly have trauma bonded or just stayed together, rather than being torn apart the way they were in the book. again, could just be coincidence, or could be foreshadowing.

but i was watching ep 4 today in the scene where claudia confronts louis about armand and i found myself offhandedly thinking that the embers from louis' photographs were going everywhere, and they could start a fire.

then i stopped fucking DEAD.

because this episode sure focused a lot on the fact that louis is learning to control fire, huh? weird, since it's not a skill we see him use in present day. also showed he's not totally in control of it, and that he gets emotional and sets things on fire. so of course my brain jumped to the worst possible conclusion: what if louis set the theatre on fire and it killed claudia?

now, it's totally possible that, as in the book, louis just sets the theatre on fire in response to claudia's death. but before i could snuff out the terrible thought, another one followed: if he did, does he know?

because to me, there are four options. 1: he didn't kill her and he knows it. boring, basic, as per. 2: he killed her and he doesn't know. armand has mind-wipe powers that he's clearly used on louis, and it seems pretty in-character for him to hide this from louis. it would be absolutely devastating as a reveal and i KNOW jacob would kill me by acting it. 3: he killed her and he knows. this would be so INTERESTING!!! like retroactively making it canon that louis killed his daughter/sister/best friend and has been dealing with that for the last seventy-five years has INSANE implications and that would destroy me. 4, and possibly the most awful: he didn't kill her but armand made him think he did. this would explain the way louis in the present is significantly more under armand's thumb when daniel arrives compared to their 40s relationship, and why louis is so fucked in the head. it is so fucking juicy i want to rip into it with my teeth like a ripe mango.

anyway, very possible none of this will turn out to be right, but it was such an arresting thought in the moment that i felt pressed to share it.

[rassicas]

so, home spawn points!

- are they considered a form of home security system, or some kind of safety feature like having a fire extinguisher around (or maybe both)? are they something that comes standard with inkfish homes, or is it an income-related thing where not everyone can afford one?

- do they have any additional purposes like maybe transportation (like can they be hooked up to other spawn points to quickly teleport an inkfish home)?

- how did the salmonids know where it was, and that they needed to disconnect it? makes me think they've been watching cress for quite some time...

[DISCLAIMER: the following post is full of headcanon, extrapolated from what canon information there is or just What I Think Makes Sense] i have SOOO many thoughts about spawn points i'll try and not get side tracked and answer the questions LOL Communal spawn points are located on rooftops of residential buildings, where the building owner pays to maintain it and it's expected that only residents of that building use it, and in public places around the city, funded by the city. The nearest spawn point to Cress falls under that first category.

I last minute threw some spawn points of the rooftops of some nearby buildings in the last panel. So to answer the last question, the Salmonids knew that the spawn point was on the roof, because that's where it always is for an apartment building. This comic takes place some time before S3 era, so the one-man flying spawn points aren't in common use yet. I'd imagine hi-tech communal spawns are less common in less affluent areas and areas with low populations of inkfish vs other species, and extremely rare in the octarian domes due to electricity demands. I'd think there'd be more low-tech, slower ways to respawn, but the modern style of machinery is truly the best way to do it. the spawn points have two purposes: -to revive an inkfish in case of an accident at home/public space -navigation

The spawn points themselves aren't teleporters, but rather the kettles are, kind of- the way i think that works is that the kettles turn the inkling's genetic info and soul into a gaseous form, and the spawn point functions as a receiver and can rebuild the body from there- anyway. The main way inkfish get around is by super jumping, and to super jump to a far away location, you need an electromagnetic signal to hone in on, like radio waves from a radio tower, a satellite dish, or a spawn point. this signal emitted from the spawn points helps not only with guidance for super jumping, but it also helps guide the soul of a downed inkfish to it. The signals of each of these spawn points Feel different (maybe depending on what ink color it's loaded with, or particular to the machine itself, or both), and it'd be much much easier to hone in on the signal of a far away spawn point you're used to and have physically been to before than one you haven't. Cell phones are also built to pick up these signals from spawn points, kind of like wifi networks. Also like wifi networks, you can register a spawn point as a "home" spawn point, and your phone can notify you if it suddenly goes out or if it's been reloaded with a different color or something.

fortunately for cress, he forgot to turn on "do not disturb" on the spawn point notifs.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

It Was His Year

Day #21 - Hate This Town | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Slightly Graphic Imagery, Blood, Injuries | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Steddie (If You Squint) | Tags: Missing Scene S4 Finale, Evacuation, Canon Divergence, Eddie Munson Lives

Gareth runs out to his mom's minivan, carrying another load, and his hand hurts, even with his fingers taped together. At least one is broken, he's certain. Fucking Jason Carver.

The town has cracked wide open and everyone is panicking. Fleeing. Packing their cars, ready to haul ass out of this godforsaken place. Goodie and Jeff are helping load up his drums, and what gear they have between the four of them.

But Eddie is nowhere to be found.

Hasn't been around for days, and Gareth's worried. Something's going on, something more than an earthquake. Something more than an evacuation. He gets that Eddie's been hiding out, and for good reason, but this isn't just about that. Can't be. 

Eddie wouldn't have hurt Chrissy Cunningham. Not a chance in hell. Eddie's mouth runs a good game, but Gareth knows him. Really knows him. And Eddie was ready to finally get out of this sorry fucking town. Graduate.

It was his year.

And now he's missing, and the fucking Scooby Gang that is always somehow in the middle of every disaster that befalls Hawkins, are missing, too. 

Dustin Henderson is never this quiet. Something's up. 

Something big. 

A couple miles outside of town, Gareth slams on the brakes, and Goodie braces himself against the dash, "What? What is it?"

"Steve Harrington," Gareth says, because that was Steve Harrington's BMW hauling fucking ass in the opposite direction, towards town.

"So?" Goodie says.

"That wasn't Steve Harrington driving. That was Nancy Wheeler," Gareth says, starting to make a three-point turn in the middle of the highway, getting honked at by everyone behind him. He throws his hand out the window, flipping them off, then follows the BMW as it barrels back towards town. 

"No, no. Over my dead body. We're not going back. Tell me you're joking? The streets are caved in," Goodie says, looking for back-up from Jeff.

"Gareth, maybe we shouldn't-" Jeff tries.

But it's too late, he's giving chase. If anyone knows where Eddie is, it's that group, Gareth's sure of it.

After dodging streets that don't exist anymore, he sees Steve's car parked under the awning of the already bustling emergency room. Gareth gets out of the driver's seat, and looks over at the group that's surrounding the familiar car. They seem to be in costumes, like they went and raided The War Zone outside of town. Robin Buckley is standing there as Dustin is fucking bawling, holding onto the open door of the car. 

And Nancy Wheeler? She's absolutely screaming, arms waving, pointing. Barking orders to an already overwhelmed staff. 

That leaves Steve Harrington, and Gareth can see the soles of his boots as he's in the backseat of his own car, on top of Eddie, as Eddie's limp, boot-covered foot hangs out of the vehicle. The leather upper torn, shredded to the bone. 

What could even do that? What the fuck has happened here?

Gareth runs to the other door, the still closed one, and when he opens it, Steve barely looks up at him, doing chest compressions, breathing for Eddie.

Steve looks feral. Soaked with blood, smelling of kerosene and fire.

Death.

Eddie's neck is bandaged, his cheek, and Steve drags Gareth's hands to Eddie's neck, pressing them down. Gareth puts pressure, while Jeff hovers behind him. Goodie nowhere to be seen.

Gareth holds on tight, but he thinks Eddie's dead. He's not sure there's anything he, or Steve Harrington, can do about that. 

But Steve keeps working, arms pumping against Eddie's ribcage, and Gareth tries not to cry. 

He's in a daze, when he realizes Goodie is standing behind him, with his dad. Dr. Goodwin. Of course. He's not the kind of doctor Eddie needs, not by a long shot, but maybe he can get him into the right hands.

"What did you kids do?" Dr. Goodwin asks, but there's no answer to that. Between all of them, they're able to get Eddie pulled out of the backseat, and loaded up onto the gurney.

Steve Harrington bullies his way beyond the staff only doors, and Gareth doesn't understand why, as he stands there, the doors gently swinging, as Eddie's taken away.

Jeff is scrubbing Gareth's hands at the public bathroom sink, and Goodie is wiping at his neck where Eddie's bloody hair rubbed against his face when he helped pull him out of the car. His bandana is in Gareth's pocket now, soaked in red. This is fucked. It's all so fucked.

"What happened? It looked like he'd been attacked by an animal," Gareth mutters, "Did Carver do this?"

"I don't know," Jeff says, and yeah, Gareth thinks, none of them know anything. Not anymore.

By early morning, Eddie is hooked up to machines and tubes, and Steve Harrington is sitting at his bedside like a guard dog, still filthy. Still itching for a fight.

"We're his friends. His band. Corroded Coffin? Hellfire Club? With Dustin?" Gareth tries. Steve Harrington doesn't look well, he's glassy-eyed and pale. He has one dirty hand on Eddie's bedrail. Gripping tight.

"We can stay with him, you could go change clothes. Take a shower? See a doctor yourself?" Gareth offers, because Steve Harrington is sweating, and looks like he can barely sit, let alone stand. 

And then Robin Buckley is here, fussing, calling him a dingus and leading him to the sink in the corner of the room. Lifting his shirt.

Jesus H. Christ.

"Oh shit," Gareth says, seeing the angry, weeping wounds on Steve's sides. At the rope burn around his neck. "Goodie. Maybe get your dad again."

It takes weeks, more than a month, and they all take turns sitting with Eddie, before Eddie finally opens his eyes and blinks, looking around. It's a full-house.

Gareth leans over him from one side, Steve from the other, "Eddie? Are you okay? What year is it?" Gareth asks.

Eddie coughs, but smirks, ever so slightly. Voice hoarse from disuse, "It's '86, baby. I told you this was my year."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[in1-nutshell]

Sorry just thought of something you know but buddy with the personality of rumble how would they react to finally knowing who rumble was I would also like to see them just get adopted by soundwave because that boy just needs some closure

I've had a lot of request similar to this, so I'm just going to mix them all and put them in this one.

I know there are hints on where Rumble went, but this is a scenario I invented to fill in what happened with him.

We got the new Canon name too!

Hope you enjoy!

Echo finding out what happened to Rumble and meeting Soundwave again

SFW, ANGST, Character death, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

TFE

Echo didn’t tell the others about their nightmares.

Not that they needed to anyways, they felt something bothering their sibling.

It was always the same look the Bots and Cons gave them when they called them Rumble before the falling rocks came down.

After a while, they decided to finally go out and ask who Rumble was.

This led to more dead ends and more questions than anything.

Echo is trying to keep up with Megatron and Optimus’s pace.

“Seriously! Why won’t you tell me?!”--Echo

“You don’t need to know Echo.”--Megatron

“Well, I feel like I should! Everyone has at least called me ‘Rumble 5 times before getting my name right!”--Echo

They try and stop Megatron’s pede.

“What are you so afraid of?!”--Echo

Megatron stops and sends them a glare.

Echo instinctively let’s go and watches Megatron transform and fly away.

They quickly shake the heavy feeling in their chassis.

“You coward! You can just fly away from me!”--Echo

Optimus kneels in front of Echo.

“Echo… the subject about Rumble isn’t an easy one Megatron can talk about.”--Optimus

“And what about you? Why won’t anyone tell me?”--Echo

They look down.

Optimus gives them a pat on the helm.

“Perhaps when your older, we’ll talk about it.”--Optimus

Echo swats his servo.

“And you still can’t tell me because…”--Echo

The Prime stands back up.

“Its not my place to talk about Rumble.”--Optimus

He suddenly transforms and leaves.

Echo angrily shakes their servo before transforming to try and follow the pair.

“GET BACK HERE!”--Echo

Their siblings did help them get information here and there, but it wasn’t enough.

That and the fact that their parents also didn’t help.

Alex truly didn’t know what happened to Rumble and Dot had told them the same thing Prime had.

That it wasn’t their place.

Echo figured at this rate they would be as old as the Earth before anyone would tell them about what happened to Rumble. They needed to take this into their own servos.

Thus began the secret research.

Well, it was more looking through the comics Alex had around and sneaking into G.H.O.S.T and try and access the data base for Rumble.

It would be one late night they’d finally get their answer.

Echo seeing a video on screen.

They press play.

It was a human body camera.

The video was shaky, but they could clearly see Soundwave being strapped down by some pink rope thing.

Megatron had appeared on the side.

“Soundwave, just come with us peacefully! Nothing bad will happen to you or the minicons!”--Megatron

Soundwave’s movements were much sluggish than before.

Suddenly something shot out of his chassis.

Echo stared in shock at their double standing in between Soundwave and G.H.O.S.T.

The minicon’s side was sparking heavily with energon gushing from his side.

Proudly brandishing a pair of blasters aiming them at Megatron.

“Rumble!”--Megatron

“Rumble! Explain!”--Soundwave

“You really think I’d leave you here for G.H.O.S.T bait? Fat chance! Frenzy and the others are coming soon.”--Rumble

He looks up at Megatron.

“As for you traitor!”--Rumble

His blasters were loaded and ready to fire.

“Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t blast you and your little friends into pieces!”--Rumble

Megatron carefully kneels.

“We are not here to harm you or Soundwave—”--Megatron

“Coulda fooled me!”--Rumble

“—We are here to offer you an ultimatum.”--Megatron

“We’ve heard about that and unlike you, we are Decepticon’s through and through!”--Rumble

“Then shoot. Prove you are a heartless Decepticon then.”—Megatron

Echo tenses when the words leave Megatron’s lips.

Rumble points his blaster at Megatron… but everyone sees the shake in his servo.

“Primus… WHY CAN’T I DO IT!?”--Rumble

Megatron gently pushes the blaster down.

“Rumble, you and the others have a chance to live peacefully on this planet. Are you not tired of the war?”--Megatron

The shakiness in his servos only increases as little pricks of tears start coming down his face.

Soundwave and Rumble both share a look.

“Guess Frenzy and the others are going to be disappointed by this…”--Rumble

He raises his blasters again.

The camera zooms in on his shaking servos that were letting go of the blaster.

He was going to give up.

He was dropping his weapon.

BOOM!

The camera shakingly goes in and out of focus before getting back into view.

The audio had been turned off for the rest of the video, likely damaged by the boom.

Echo was not prepared to see what had happened while the camera had been out of focus.

Megatron was kneeling over the minicon who laid still in his servos.

The energon leaking from his servos.

The former war lord looked distraught and angry shouting at something.

Serveal G.H.O.S.T vehicles had suddenly thrown into the air.

The person with the camera was running for cover as it rained dirt.

Soon the camera turned back to Megatron and a now down Soundwave, reaching for Rumble.

The video ended.

Echo hadn’t noticed they had been crying until they saw their reflection on the dark screen.

No wonder Megs didn’t want to tell them about this.

Speaking of Megs… they really needed to apologize now.

But on the plus side, they were a bit at peace with finding the truth behind Them and Rumble.

As they started sneaking their way out, Echo came across a familiar looking corridor.

The one that held most of the Cons.

If Soundwave hadn’t escape yet…

The minibot quietly made their way to Soundwave’s cell.

The larger Con was on his side with his back towards them, as if he were sleeping.

“Psst! Soundwave!”--Echo

“The mech groaned a bit before turning around.

Soundwave swore for a moment he saw Rumble, before realizing it was the Terran look alike.

They waved a bit.

He came a bit closer to them.

“What are you doing here?”--Soundwave

“…I never got the chance to thank you… Thank you for saving me.”--Echo

The mech huffs a bit.

“You’re welcome, now get out.”--Soundwave

“I know what happened with Rumble.”--Echo

The mech tensed.

“You don’t know anything.”--Soundwave

“…There was footage of the attack. Its not full and I’m sure there’s more things but… I get it.”--Echo

“Get what?”--Soundwave

“Get why everyone calls me Rumble, get why everyone avoided the questions, avoided talking to me about it…”--Echo

They vent shakingly.

“I am so sorry that happened. I’m not too good with words… much better with other things, but this is all I can say. I’m sorry.”--Echo

A minute of silence passes before Echo decides to leave.

“What is your name?”--Soundwave

Echo stops before looking at him with a watery smile.

“Echo. My name is Echo.”--Echo

Soundwave nods silently as he watches the minibot leave the holding area.

A strange sense of relief and heaviness form in his chassis.

He simply turns back to his position.

Tomorrow he would continue the escape plan… but now... now wasn’t the time…

[saintsenara]

I made up some ships and I wanna know your opinion on them, I don't know if they can be considered deranged but whatever 🤷‍♀️

Snape/Padma. I ship them in a one-sided way? like Padma has a crush on Snape and she's very embarrassed about it. Maybe she grows out of it and wonders "What did I even see on him in the first place?"

Neville/Barty Crouch Jr. I made it up while watching Goblet of Fire. I have no idea how that would even work.

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

padma patil/severus snape

in half-blood prince, snape describes ron as "so solid he cannot apparate half an inch across a room", which is an opinion padma - who has the worst time anyone has ever had [at least parvati manages to pull the boy from beauxbatons!] with ron at the yule ball - is bound to share.

so sure. the couple that hates together stays together.

barty crouch jr./neville longbottom

which got a shoutout from another anon:

i have long maintained that barty crouch jr. is the best villain in the series, and his absolutely horrifying treatment of neville is but one reason why.

the pre-twist narrative of goblet of fire presents "professor moody" as eccentric, but nonetheless principled, brave, and one of the good guys - which is unsurprising, since the narrative is written from harry's perspective, two people harry respects [arthur weasley and sirius] speak highly to him of moody, dumbledore also respects him, and moody dislikes both snape and draco malfoy.

while harry is - understandably - shaken and upset when the lesson on the unforgivable curses reaches the killing curse [when he learns for the first time what his parents were murdered with], this isn't the case for the first two curses "moody" demonstrates. which means that the narrative ends up slightly underselling [even after crouch is unmasked] the fact that neville is deliberately forced to relive his parents' torture by the torturer himself.

and is then swept up by crouch in the aftermath of this ordeal and manipulated into becoming an accessory to his plan to kidnap harry and resurrect voldemort.

for obvious reasons, the denouement of goblet of fire primarily focuses on crouch and harry. but there is plenty of implication in the book that crouch also seeks out neville - above and beyond the other people he uses to further his harry-related plan - simply for the fun of psychologically torturing him.

i think this isn't given as much attention as it could be by the fandom, largely because crouch is basically forgotten in order of the phoenix, when neville's focus - like harry's, sirius', and the rest of the order's - becomes bellatrix lestrange, who's presented in that book as the ringleader of the attack on frank and alice longbottom and the person on whom neville would love to get revenge.

and while i think that we are supposed to understand bellatrix as the ringleader of her little gang of four, this seems to have coalesced - in lots of fans' interpretation of canon - into the idea that rodolphus, rabastan, and barty don't really do anything of note during the attack, and that they should be seen as falling somewhere on a scale from more sophisticated and restrained in their violence [especially common in portrayals of rodolphus] to followers who do as they're told to smol beans who were just there by mistake [very, very common with fanon!barty].

but barty crouch jr. didn't slay for a full year - with a packed teaching load as well! - to be disrespected like this. he's a solid-gold villain, he was directly involved in the torture on the longbottoms, and he's having the time of his life in goblet of fire attempting to also torture their son.

which can - if an author is so inclined - be taken to some very dark teacher/student places...

[shesmyboot]

No Matter What

*Gif belongs to its rightful owner, it is not mine*

Pairing: Matthew Casey x reader

Summary: From Anonymous: Hellooooo ‘Stay behind me no matter what.’ Matt Casey :) ~~ Matt Casey + Reader + Fire Call = Hookups in his Quarters (I don’t make the rules)

Words: 682

Warnings: Intimate moment, canon typical events

Read on Ao3 here

Notes: Sorry it’s so short, but I hope you like it Anon!

Join my taglist here

Tags: @mrspeacem1nusone @kiddbegins @pensfan5871

__

“Need any help with the inventory?” Sylvie asked.

“I think I’m finished up,” you laughed, "you bored or something Brett?"

"I know I've only been in Chicago for a few months, but this is the first shift I've had with no-"

"I'm gonna cut you off right there before you jinx us. Those who say the 'Q' word or even think about the lack of runs is a jinx to the whole house."

"How do you know this?"

"Candidiate a few years back-"

Battalion 25, Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, building fire, 723 North Wabash

"Looks like you are the new jinx, Sylvie Brett," you laughed, hopping into the passenger seat of 61, "and the jinx gets to drive."

Sylvie started the short drive to the scene, "how's it going with you and Casey?"

"Good, yeah, we're in a good place. It's weird to date someone you work with though. I'd never done that before Matt."

"Helps that your crazy schedules are synced."

"True that," you giggled, pulling up to the fire.

You hopped out of the rig and grabbed the jump bag before heading over to Boden.

"Where do you need us, Chief?" you asked.

"Two still inside, owner needs to be checked out."

As you and Sylvie tended to your victim, you could hear the commotion between truck and squad.

'Chief, I need a medic inside if you have one to spare' your radio buzzed. 

"You good here?" You asked Sylvie.

"Yup, go."

You threw your bunker coat on and grabbed the jump bag.

"Medic coming in now, Casey. Where am I going?" you said, hustling towards the fire.

"I'll come get you, we're turned around in here."

You stopped and waited at the door. 

"Fire is pretty much out," he announced, "follow behind me."

You followed Casey into the building and up the stairs. 

"Baby, I need you to stay behind me no matter what," Matt admitted, "I don't know what hapened in here and I don't want anything to happen to you."

You nodded and followed him up the stairs to the second floor of the building.

"Victim is over here. Burns and possibly a neck injury as far as we can tell.”

“Thanks. Conscious?”

“In and out.”

You leaned down beside your victim.

“I’m a paramedic, I’m here to help you,” you introduced yourself as you undressed the victim of his jacket. 

“Matt, you’re right. I’m worried about a neck injury. Grab the collar.”

Your boyfriend, now assistant, handed you your supplies.

“Help me get him out of here. It’s getting hotter in here.”

He nodded, picking up the jump bag beside him and handing it to you. 

“Got him?” You asked.

He nodded and brought your victim outside.

After finding Sylvie, you loaded up the victim while Sylvie got the oxygen ready for the ride to the hospital.

——

Returning to the house after your run, you looked in the ambo’s mirror.

“Brett, did you seriously let me ride around with soot on my face?” You laughed, trying to rub it away.

You walked into the now full common room with your partner.

“So are we finally gonna convince you to take the firefighter’s test?” Herrmann asked.

“Haha, very funny Herrmann. 61’s my home, always will be.”

“I’m sure we’ll get you over here at some point,” he chuckled.

You ducked out of the common room and into the bunk room, where you peeked into Matt’s office. 

“Got a minute?” You asked.

“For you? Always.”

You locked the door behind you.

“You know,” you laid down, semi-seductively, on his bed, “they way you said ‘stay behind me no matter what’ on that last call was-“

He leapt up from his chair and drew the blinds. 

“Was what?” He smiled.

“I was kinda sexy,” you grinned.

“Oh yeah?” He leaned in for a kiss.

“Yeah.”

“You know what else is sexy?” He broke the kiss for a moment, “you with all that soot on your face.”

“I guess we should do something about these feelings then, huh Matt Casey?”

“I think you might be right.”

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkess on Umbara Chp.13 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 12. Epilogue

Carnage Of Krell

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Canon character death, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Grief, betrayal, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

You abandoned the title of healer in order to pursue vengeance. It went against your oath. You were supposed to save lives, not end them.

But monsters shouldn’t be saved.

Which is why you joined the squad. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Kix, Tup, and other troopers of both the 501st and the 212th. Everyone around you wanted justice. 

“What I'm proposing is highly treasonous,” Captain Rex stood in front of you, speaking with authority, “If any man chooses to opt out do it now,”

Everyone remained silent but stepped forward, heads held high. 

“From this point forward we are entering uncharted territory,” The captain emphasized, “my orders are to arrest General Krell for treason against the Republic!”

You followed his lead. Pistol in hand, senses sharp, and focus hardened. Your gaze met the man you love, and you hoped he understood. 

I’d follow you into Hell, Rex.

Every step to the airbase had a purpose. Every soldier was geared-up and ready to take down the ruthless Jedi. Jesse and Fives were freed and given their own rifles. 

The ARC trooper looked especially determined to arrest Krell. It would only be fair that he was the one to toss the former General into a cell. You were just happy to be helping him achieve such a thing.

With your pistol loaded and ready, you kept your eyes forward as the doors opened to the top floor of the tower. Soldiers filled in, surrounding the Jedi. He didn;t seem bothered, simply staring out the window over the dark landscape. 

You followed Fives, deciding to keep out of Rex’s way as he walked forward, “General Krell, you're being relieved of duty.” 

The besalisk turned slowly, keeping his hands behind his back, “It's treason then,” He growled.

Rex aimed his pistols, keeping his voice steady but commanding, “Surrender General.” The other soldiers shifted with their leaders' movements. Everyone was primed, ready to strike. 

Krell’s steps were slow and deliberate as he walked forward before stopping, “You're committing mutiny, captain.” He sounded so…uninterested in the situation at hand.

Tup and Kix moved from their spots to keep their rifles pointed at the devious generals back. They remained firm and determined, fingers on the triggers of their guns. 

“Explain your actions,” the captain of the 501st snarled. They deserved an explanation for everything.

“My actions?”

“For ordering your troops against one another!” Rex snapped. 

Krell seemed smug, “Oh…That,” His tone was clearly that of someone who was bored with the topic, “I’m surprised you were able to figure it out. For a clone.” He spat the last word.

Fives motioned to the squad and they moved, taking two steps closer to the former general. Yet, he still seemed unbothered. 

“Surrender, General.” Captain Rex commanded, You’re out number-”

Krell stomped forward with one foot and shot all four arms out. He used the Force to shove everyone back. 

You slammed into the wall, knocking the wind right out of your lungs. The other soldiers were in a similar state, but everyone recovered quickly. You began firing your pistol, aiming towards the corrupt Jedi. The other soldiers did the same, hoping to overwhelm him with the sheer number of blaster bolts.

“You dare to attack a jedi!” the besalisk shouted, twirling his now activated lightsabers. He moved with practiced skill, deflecting every shot.

Damnit! Not good!

He leapt forward, slashing down two soldiers. They collapsed, dying almost instantly from the power of the strike. 

A 212th trooper rushed forward attempting to charge the bastard, but was swiftly cut down as well. His body was kicked forward, slamming into the wall, narrowly missing Rex. 

“I will not be undermined,” Krell twirled his sabers, pausing his movements to glare at the 501st captain, “By creatures bred in some laboratory!” He turned swiftly, breaking the window of the tower and leaping down to the airbase below. 

“Follow him!” Rex commanded. 

He, and the other soldiers began to rush down to the ground floor, but you stopped. Most lightsaber strikes were instantly fatal, but you checked for a pulse from the troopers Krell cut down anyway. 

Even if you craved vengeance, you were still a doctor. 

No pulse. Nothing. For all of them.

Confirmed to be dead, you left them and followed the soldiers down. Your steps caught up, and you kept next to Fives as the clones gave chase. However, the small group had been stalled by Dogma stepping out from behind a starship.

“Hold it right there!” He demanded.

Rex pulled his pistols and aimed on the younger trooper, “Lower your weapon, Dogma.” His voice was steady and calm, hoping to talk down the clearly conflicted clone.

He shook his head, “I can’t do that, sir!”

“That's an order!”

“It's my duty!” Dogma aimed his rifle at Jesse, then you, then Fives, “You’re all traitors!”

Your lover lowered one of his pistols and removed his helmet to speak, “I used to believe that being a good soldier meant doing everything they told you, that's how they engineered us,” He looked over at you before staring right at Dogma, “But we're not droids. we're not programmed, you have to learn to make your own decisions, Dogma.” 

Tup approached his batchmate before raising his own rifle on the panicked trooper. He kept calm, even when Dogma shifted and pointed his weapon directly at him, “Dogma, don’t do it.”

Thankfully, that's as far as Dogma went. He dropped his rifle and looked down. His turmoil was clear, even as he was tackled by other soldiers. 

“Take him to the brig.” Rex commanded, putting his helmet back on, “Troopers, don’t let General Krell escape!”

The chase was on. 

You remained out of the captain's way, pretty much attaching yourself to Fives. You’d defer to him if you weren’t able to stay close to your lover. Afterall, under your thirst for justice, you were still a doctor. A healer intended to protect and save, not fight and kill.

Krell broke something inside of you. You’ve abandoned your purpose, becoming a vengeful, angry shell of your former self. At least for now.

“I got you,” the ARC trooper spoke next to you as you both navigated the dense, black and red Umbaran jungle, “That's what you say when you take care of one of us,” His stepped over a glowing root, and you followed, “Since you’ve had all of us, let me have you this time. Follow my lead.” 

“Thanks, Fives.” You responded, keeping your eyes forward. The land was covered in a gray fog, making it difficult to watch exactly where you were going.

“Anyone got anything?” Rex spoke lowly into his communicator. 

“Negative, Captain. We lost him.” The soldier on the other end responded. However, after a second, the familiar sound of whirling lightsabers pierced through the communicator, “Wait! He’s too powerful!” Blaster shots echoed in the distance and the trooper cried in his com. You could also make out the distinct cruel laugh of the Jedi.

Fives knelt, focusing his scope, “He’s coming!” The ARC trooper warned. 

There was a thick silence that fell over every soldier around you. It was only broken by more gleeful laughter from Krell, “You should have listened to the ARC trooper from the beginning, Captain.”

You got back-to-back with Fives, pistol raised and ready. That damn Jedi’s voice seemed to come from every direction.

“He was right, I was using you.” More laughter from that bastard. Krell leapt from the branches above you and landed on top of a group of clones. His large foot crushed one of them, and his green lightsaber stabbed through another. He activated his blue saber and twirled the lethal weapons, “You’ve all been my pawns!”

“Get him!”

The corrupt General began laughing again as he was shot at. Unbothered by the blaster bolts, he dashed forward, cutting down the closest clone. He turned, slashing two others, sending them to their graves. 

You and the other soldiers continued to fire, hoping to find a way to get past the defense of his double-ended blades. He stepped forward, spinning his weapons, blocking every shot aimed towards him. Without even looking he managed to kill three more clones. 

This was a game to him. You realized with horror. He was having fun.

Something, the Force, wrapped around your body, restraining you. Krell had an open hand raised, laughing cruelly. You tried to aim your pistol only to fail, “You’ve fascinated me, Doctor.” He taunted before throwing you. Your back slammed into a tree, ripping a groan from your throat, “What do you see in these…inferior creatures?”

One of his large feet slammed next to you, the tip of his green lightsaber was level with your throat. Your pistol had fallen out of your reach when he threw you, leaving you unable to defend yourself. 

“Bastard!” You spat. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Fives trembling in rage and Rex damn near frozen in terror.

No pistol, but you had an idea. Your hand reached into one of your packs and wrapped around one of your surgical tools.

Krell didn’t seem very interested. He continued to use his blue lightsaber to deflect the blaster bolts as he stood over you, “That didn’t answer my question, Doctor.”

Your eyes glared up at him, “These soldiers are better men than you ever were!” In a surprisingly quick movement, you brandished your laser scalpel and stabbed his foot with it. You took a sick sense of satisfaction hearing him yelp in pain. 

“Ingrate!” He shouted, leaping back to defend himself from the barrage of blaster shots. The Force restrained you again, and the Jedi threw you. Your body hit the hard plastoid of a soldier's chest plate as someone caught you. However, they remained standing, wrapping one arm around you and keeping you up as well. Once you got your bearings, you looked up to Rex holding you with one arm as he fired his pistol with the other. 

“Hi.” You greeted him sweetly, “Thank you, for catching me.”

Now wasn’t the time, but…Damn, you really loved this man.

You felt his grip on you become tighter. He was shaking, ever so slightly, but remained focused. 

Krell Jumped forward, grabbing another soldier. The 501st trooper cried out in panic before being raised in the air and brought down on the general’s knee. The snap was audible and loud. To add insult to injury, he threw the trooper to the side like trash. 

Dead? Most likely. I need to check.

You broke away from your lover and ran to the trooper. Feeling for a pulse, you found nothing. 

His name was Faux.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. Forty. Thrall. Hardcase. Uno. Barr. Filter. Faux. 

You looked up just in time to watch Krell throw Tup deeper into the dense, dark jungle. Without thinking, you sprinted in that direction, hoping and praying your friend would be alright. Your steps slowed when you saw him get up and raise a hand to stop you. 

Behind him, the tendrils of a fanged beast underground waved around. The bioluminescence of its mouth was rather distinct. Tup saved Dogma from one of these earlier.

“Are you ok?” You asked him, taking slow and deliberate steps towards him. That beast scared you.

“I have an idea.” was his response to you. Tup got to his feet and activated his comm, “Captain Rex, this is Tup. if you can, force the General towards me.”

Rex’s confusion was apparent over the comm, “What? Why?”

“Trust me, Sir!”

With Tup’s certainty, you stepped a wide circle around the Umbaran creature, getting to his side. You had no idea what he was thinking, but you hoped it worked.

You really couldn’t handle losing another friend.

After a moment, Rex commanded through the communicator, “Troopers, listen up. Circle around, lure him towards Tup!”

“Tup…” You followed him, making sure to watch where you placed your feet. Your laser scalpel was warm in your hand, prepared to use it to fight that damn beast under the ground if need be, “Can I at least get a heads up before you get yourself killed?”

His rifle was tight in his hands as he watched the battle in the distance. Through the fog and darkness, you could make out the bodies of soldiers running past Krell, towards your location. Tup fired his blaster once he spotted the corrupt jedi. 

The former General skidded to a stop and whirled to face him. The trooper shouted, ticking him off even more, “Hey ugly! Come and get us!”

“Tup!” You stepped back, raising your small weapon. Mentally, you calculated how fast you’d have to get the fuck away from the deraged besalisk. 

Krell sprinted at the both of you. His sick smile became more and more clear as he approached. His lightsabers were activated at his side, prepared to kill the both of you. 

Tup didn’t move. He lowered his blaster and tensed, lowering his head. 

Was he trying to get himself killed!?

You took a step forward, hoping maybe you could tackle him out of the way before Krell got to him. However, it turned out that you didn’t need to worry. 

The Umbaran beast lashed its tendrils out, grabbing the Jedi and swinging him in the air. He cried out and grunted, waving his lightsabers around, trying to get the creature to drop him. His blades managed to sever the creature's tongue, sending the damn thing into a frenzy.

Tup you absolute genius!

Krell was thrown to the ground before getting picked up again. His green lightsaber slipped from his large hands and you dove down to grab it. Sadly, he still had his blue saber, which he used to kill two other troopers. 

Despite the disorientation, the Jedi proved to be a great warrior, managing to keep an eye on his surroundings. The soldiers had regrouped, firing their blasters at him, only to have their shots continuously deflected. The beast waved the besalisk around, giving him the chance to slice off the calf of a 212th trooper. 

Instantly cauterized. Pain management will be key. Calm him before he goes into shock.

Your instincts kicked in. You were a doctor, damnit! Abandoning your drive for vengeance, you skidded to the troopers side, immediately tending to him. The painkillers were in his system before he could fully process what happened. 

The sound of a lightsaber slicing followed by a thump and a groan filled your ears. You looked up fast enough to watch Tup fire a stun bolt on the besalisk. Krell let out a choked growl before collapsing on the ground. 

“I stunned him, sir.” Tup sounded triumphant. 

Rex kicked the Jedi rolling him on his back, “Nice work, Tup.” He nodded to the younger trooper.

Fives and Jesse got cuffs on the bastard, ending the fight then and there. 

“Get the fucker in the brig.” Your lover spat, “Drag him if you have to.”

It didn’t take long to return to the air base. Krell hadn’t managed to run far, so even with his unconscious body and the injured, you all managed to return before he even woke up. 

You wanted to be there when he did, though. So you asked Jesse to inform you when the Jedi opened his eyes. It gave you enough time to help any injured that survived the lightsaber wounds. 

Not many. You noticed bitterly. Krell killed too many good soldiers. 

You were putting one more trooper to his permanent rest when you got the com. You left the injured with Kix and left the medical bay. Rex, Fives and Jesse were at the tower by the time you and Tup both arrived. Wordlessly, all of you went down to the air base prisons. 

Dogma scrambled to his feet, seeing the captain again. Regret and shame was clear on the trooper, as he kept his gaze downward.

The Jedi was seated on the floor as if meditating. As soon as he heard you come down the lift, he raised his head and snarled. 

“Why, General?” Rex spoke first, approaching the cell, “Why kill your own men?”

Krell chuckled darkly as he stood, “Because I can.” His voice was smug, and full of ego, “Because you fell for it. Because you're inferior.”

“But you’re a Jedi! How could you?”

“A Jedi?” The former general laughed again, “I am no longer naive enough to be a Jedi,” His words dripped with hate and venom as he spoke, “A new power is rising, I’ve foreseen it. The Jedi are going to lose this war and the Republic will be ripped apart from the inside,” Even from a distance, the darkness inside of him was clear in every word, “In its place is going to rise a new order and I will rule as part of it!”

You turned, sharing a look with Jesse before staring back at the former Jedi. 

Rex growled, “You’re a Separatist.” 

Krell shook his head and stood tall, looking down at everyone in the room, “I serve no one's side. Only my own, and soon, my new master.”

Master?

“You’re an agent of Dooku.” Your lover stepped forward, keeping his hate filled gaze on the disgraced general.

“Not yet, but when I get out of here, I will be.” The fallen Jedi sounded certain in his words, “after I've succeeded in driving the Republic from Umbara the Count will reward my actions and make me his new apprentice.”

Dogma cried out from his cell, “How could you do this? You had my trust! My loyalty!” Even through the barrier keeping him in, you could see his eyes, glossy with tears, “I followed all of your orders, and you made me kill my brothers!”

You honestly felt bad for the poor trooper. He really thought he was doing the right thing.

“That’s because you were the biggest fool of them all, Dogma!” Krell cruelly laughed at the distressed soldier, “I counted on blind loyalty like yours to make my plan succeed!”

“Fucking bastard!” You spat, “That will never happen!” 

“You’re a traitor, General, and you will be dealt with as one.” Rex seethed, keeping eye contact with Krell. 

“You never learn, Captain.” He sounded smug as he turned and sat back down, “The Umbarans are going to retake this base, and when they do, I will be free.” The besalisk lowered his head and closed his eyes, as if meditating again. 

The conversation was over. 

“Sick, twisted fucking…” Fives crossed his arms and grumbled as you all got on the lift and raised out of the brig, “General Skywalker will want to punish Krell himself.” 

“Agreed.” Jesse mumbled. 

You stepped forward, taking a hold of Rex’s hand, “Cyare.” Your voice was soft, “It’ll be alright.” 

He looked back at you, giving you a ghost of a smile. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jesse nudge Tup before whispering, “Don’t say a word to anyone about the captain and doctor.” 

“Understood.” 

“Good man.”

Once the doors to the outside opened, you were immediately greeted by Hana, “Captain,” She saluted Rex, “We’ve repaired the transmitter. It looks like it was sabotaged,” The trooper explained, “Despite that, we’ve received a message from General Kenobi. His forces have captured the capital, but the remaining Umbarans are heading here.”

Another battle…

“Get everyone on the perimeter! We need to prepare for a full scale attack!” The clone captain barked his orders. 

“Yes sir!” Hana saluted before putting her helmet on and turning to rush off to do as he commanded. 

Rex turned back, facing you and the others, “Krell sabotaged the transmitter. He's been against us from the beginning!” Everyone has been played for fools, and the clone captain was taking it especially hard.

Without pause, Fives spoke up first, clearly angry, “If the Umbarans get to him, he’ll turn over all our intel! The defense codes, everything!” The ARC trooper took a step back, motioning to the door you all had just walked through, “He’ll strike a crippling blow to the Republic!” 

Jesse stepped up, “something has to be done! We can't risk the possibility that he might escape!”

“As long as Krell is alive, he is a threat to every one of us.” Tup reasoned, looking towards the Captain. 

It was clear your lover was conflicted. Clones were made to serve the Jedi and the Republic. Killing their General, even as an act of justice, goes against their very creation. It wouldn’t be easy…

“Rex,” You abandoned protocol. Right now, you chose not to be the 501st field surgeon. You chose to be his cyare. You took his gloved hand and squeezed it, “He’s a traitor. One who has done irreparable harm to you and your brothers. If the Umbarans let him out, he’ll hurt even more people.”

You could see the conflict in his beautiful eyes. With a sigh he nodded, “I…agree.”

The five of you went back into the tower, lowering into the brig. Once there, Fives approached Dogma’s cell and opened it, getting him to his feet. 

Rex stepped forward, keeping a steady glare on Krell, “Turn around, and step toward the wall.” He commanded, readied one of his pistols. 

The former General rolled his small eyes and turned.

“On your knees.” Your lover growled. 

Damn…not the time. But damn…

Jesse pressed a button on the console, opening the cell. Tup remained next to him, stock still.

The former Jedi chuckled darkly, turning his head slightly, “You’re in a position of power now. How does it feel?” He sneered. 

“I said,” Rex steadied his pistol, aimed right at Krell’s back, “On. Your. Knees.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” The disgraced General taunted, voice smug and full of hate, “But I can sense your fear.”

There was a shift in Rex. Suddenly, he seemed uncertain, and even scared to a degree. 

He’s trying to go against his very purpose. 

Your eyes roamed over to Fives and the rifle on his hip. If Rex couldn’t pull the trigger, who would?

Could you?

“You’re shaking, aren’t you?” Krell continued to poke at the clones' anxiety, “What are you waiting for? The Umbarans are getting closer.”

The captain tried to steady his trembling aim, “I have to do this.” 

What would happen to Rex if he did? Court martial? Arrested? Decommissioned? Would Kamino call for his mind to be wiped?

You took a subtle step towards Fives, hand slowly reaching for the rifle on his hip.

The fallen Jedi laughed, “You can’t do it, can you?” His fucking voice was smug and overconfident, “Eventually you’ll have to do the right thing and-” 

In one swift movement, you slipped Fives’ rifle into your hands and pulled the trigger, ripping Pong Krell's life away. 

He collapsed, choking on his last words and hitting the ground. 

Save them. Protect them. 

All of those Krell hurt and killed ran through your mind. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. Forty. Thrall. Hardcase. Uno. Barr. Filter. Faux. 

The 501st. 

The 212th. 

Your eyes met your lovers. Rex looked at you, surprised, fearful and devastated. You went against your purpose as a doctor. All so he didn’t have to. 

You’d do it again. To protect him. Save him. For him.

Rex.

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 1

read on ao3! (111k words) | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Story summary: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse.

Word count: 2k

Chapter 1: ‘Marked for Death’

Death coated the back of Juliet’s throat.

This was not unusual. The aroma of rot and decomposition was commonplace in the body disposal department of the Boston QZ. However, if Juliet could actually taste it simmering on her tongue, it meant one thing: she needed a new mask. 

The threadbare fabric tied tight around her nose and mouth was singed earlier in the day when her shift partner tossed a body, with more force than necessary, into the large fire pit in the middle of the square. A few wayward sparks had settled on her mask, gradually burning through the cheap material. 

Juliet often wondered how the sickly sweet smell of decay could still remain when fire and smoke cleansed the air.

It didn’t surprise her, though: death always lingered. 

It was hour eight of her usual Tuesday shift. One more hour and Juliet could collect her ration cards, find her way to the nearest fabric stall then drag herself back to her tiny apartment. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her today, settling in her bones and restricting her movements. Her shift followed a pattern: walk to the loading truck, pick up a body, place it in the fire and try not to look as the skin blackened and blistered. 

The same task, the same people, every week, every month and every year of her residence in the Boston QZ. Every day was a repeat of the previous but she was safe and she was hidden, which was all she could hope for. 

More bodies, more fire and her shift was over. Another day completed. Juliet used the stained fabric of her t-shirt to wipe the ash from her hands and forehead as she joined the ration queue. She was in line behind Joel Miller, a man who had worked at body disposal as long as she had, probably longer actually.

Tall, with broad shoulders and dark brown hair speckled with grey and ash, Joel Miller towered above her with more than his height. He was impressive, intimidating. Juliet watched as he stretched his neck to the side and wiped the sweat beading on his skin, his shoulders were tight, his stance solid. 

Joel had a presence difficult to ignore, being around him always felt like the air had a little less oxygen, as though he took up a bit more space than everyone else. He didn’t talk much, or ever really, just a few grunts and hard instructions grumbled under his breath to whoever was partnered with him on shift. 

Juliet found herself drawn to Joel, despite their lack of interactions. Her eyes would follow his movements as they worked, observing his cool indifference as he performed their grim duty. She would notice him around the QZ, too. He was a ghostly presence, often found haunting street corners and disappearing in a blink of an eye. 

Juliet knew little about Joel, only that he sold drugs to her weird neighbour who had drunkenly offered her some while attempting to break into her apartment the other night. She added another lock to her door after that.

“Next!” barked the ration officer, shaking Juliet from her thoughts. 

She took a step forward and watched as Joel disappeared around the corner, shuffling ration cards in his smoke covered hands. Juliet wondered if he, too, had grown entirely numb to their gruesome occupation.

Juliet wondered if something worse, something more ghastly, haunted his daily life. 

After collecting her ration cards and buying a new mask, Juliet made her way home to her crumbling one bedroom apartment. Home was perhaps a strong word, what with its peeling twenty-year wallpaper, mould stained ceilings and less than ideal neighbours. But it was her’s. 

Turning the corner onto her street, Juliet’s eyes landed on a hunched form on the front step of her building. Juliet let out a sigh, quickened her steps and forced a smile onto her face. Margaret was waiting for her.

Margaret was her eighty-five year old neighbour who lived on the bottom floor of their building. She enjoyed long conversations, hard liquor, and gossiping about the inner workings of her neighbour's lives. 

“Juliet!” Margaret gasped out.

“Hi, Margaret,” Juliet called as she approached, her plastered smile beginning to falter as Margaret struggled to stand.

Juliet moved to hold the woman’s frail arms, she was frantic, her hands grasping at Juliet’s shoulders, desperate to gain her full attention.

“No, you must listen,” Margaret began, before doubling over, releasing a series of strangled coughs and gasps.

“Someone,” she coughed. “Someone was here…” croaked Margaret while pointing her shaking hand behind her, towards the door. 

“What? Who?” Juliet asked, she had never seen Margaret so panicked before. 

“Oh it was awful,” Margaret began, once again clutching Juliet’s arms, her arthritic fingers formed in a vice-like grip. 

“I was knitting at my dining table, working on my sweater… I must show you Juliet, it’s looking so wonderful, I used…”

“Stay focused,” Juliet interrupted, her voice soft and pleading. “What happened?”

“Yes! So, then I heard what sounded like someone marching through the hallway,” Margaret continued, her words quick and tense. 

“I knew it wasn’t yourself or Kenny because you were both working. So I got up and looked out my peep-hole.” Margaret’s voice had grown quieter, now almost a whisper.

“And I watched as two men with dark jackets walked past my door and headed upstairs”

“Next thing I know, I hear this horrendous crash. Now, I know it must have been bad because I could hear it! And you know how terrible my hearing is.”

Shock covered Juliet’s features, their apartment building had always been quiet, always lucky to avoid the crime raging the Boston QZ. 

“Did you see them leave?” Juliet asked, her voice urgent.

“Yes, thank god,” Margaret answered. “But dear… I think it was your apartment they went into, and by the sound of it, they surely broke down the door.”

Fuck, Juliet thought. Her heart now feverishly pumping the familiar blaze of fear throughout her body. “Stay here,” Juliet ordered, her voice hard as she moved to release her arms from the old woman’s grip. “I’ll go check it out.”

“Please be careful,” Margaret urged, clasping her hands together in a silent prayer. 

Stepping into the building, Juliet paused, listening. So familiar with the hum of her neighbours’ usual routines, Juliet could recognise any foreign noise. But no sound was unusual, nothing was amiss… that she could hear anyway. 

Feeling somewhat certain no strangers were lurking in the building, ready to emerge from a dark corner and grab her, Juliet decided to keep moving.

Climbing the steps to the first floor, her body was on high alert; any weariness from her gruelling shift was gone, adrenaline now coated her muscles. Only a sharp, steady focus remained. 

Reaching her apartment, Juliet stopped, her feet frozen. The door lay open with three of her four locks fractured, surrounded by splintered wood and chipped paint. The fourth lock lay on the floor by her feet, where it must have fallen after being brutally pried from the door. Juliet felt a sinking feeling deep in her gut. Each lock had become an emblem of her security in the Boston QZ. Now they were shattered. A stark reminder that her safety was never guaranteed. 

Juliet reached out, her fingers grazing the fractured wood as she gingerly pushed the door all the way open, moving into her apartment. A deep breath and a long exhale later, Juliet stood in her dining area, eyes now locked on a piece of folded paper on her kitchen table. 

She moved closer, Juliet’s body had lost its stamina, her limbs weighed her down. Each step towards the yellowed piece of paper was like wading through dark, chilled water. 

When she was close enough to recognise the handwriting, everything stilled. The air, the room, her beating heart… all slowing around her. A chorus of no, no, no, no, no, surged through her mind, spiralling inward, forming a shield around the memories threatening to resurface at the sight of that familiar scrawl. 

One hand gripped the edge of the table, tangled in the tablecloth, while the other tentatively lifted the paper. ‘My sweet Juliet’ it read in writing she knew so intimately it could have been etched on her heart. Carved with a sharp, brutal knife. 

A high pitched ringing enveloped her mind, numbing all sound apart from the echo of her shallow breaths. Juliet’s ash caked fingernails traced the edge of the worn paper, she pulled it apart to reveal a message: 

‘Juliet, 

How does it feel living so far from home? Surrounded by strangers. 

I admit I was shocked that night you left, I wondered what more you could desire, out in the wasteland of our world, that I had not provided you with? I imagine you have come to the conclusion, by now, that there is nothing else worth living for than the love of our lord. You see, I have eyes and ears in places you could never imagine. My men know the power of our lord and live with his blessing every day. I sent these men to find you, Juliet. I sent them to bring you this message. 

I have your friend Ethan in my care now, he has taken your place until you return to me. I have every hope that will be soon my dear, Juliet. He, too, screams when the judgement of our lord is upon him.  

Travel safely; the lord does not bless the sinners of this earth, 

Your father.’  

Ethan… No.  

Three years, three blissful years only focused on her own survival, liberated from the torture of her childhood. She left Ethan behind, she thought he would be safe. She was wrong, so very wrong.

Why, though, had her father waited so long to find her? To threaten her with Ethan’s safety? His life? She must have hidden well, burrowed herself so deep in the mundane of everyday QZ life, that even her father’s men, dotted about the country, had not found her for three years. 

Yet now her nameless existence had come to an end, slaughtered in a matter of seconds. Juliet’s hand clenched, crushing the paper within her palm. 

She had to go back. For Ethan, she would go back. 

The thought alone made her choke on her breath, gasping for air in the silent room.

Experience had taught her not to take her father’s threats lightly. 

Her journey to Boston was monstrous. Juliet witnessed sights which forever scarred the insides of her eyelids, appearing before her on dark and sleepless nights. Could she travel that distance again? Alone? Knowing what’s out there? No… she would die and so would Ethan. 

Juliet stumbled to her moth-eaten couch and sank into the decaying cushions. She reached her shaking hands to her eyes and pressed her fingers to her eyelids, pushing harder until only a dark nothingness remained. Her life in the Boston QZ was over…for Ethan she would return to the man who haunted her every step, his existence always reminding her she would never be fully free. 

Reluctance acceptance washed over her. For Ethan she would return to her prison, almost assuredly never to escape again. 

Removing her hands from her eyes, Juliet released a trembling sigh. Accepting her powerlessness brought a distance from her emotions. The thought of Ethan and the immediacy of the situation had started to drown out her terror and regret, leaving behind a cold numbness. 

In her emotionless stupor, Juliet started to plan her way out of the QZ.

A loose floorboard hid a map and a variety of makeshift weapons, including a switchblade which Juliet liked to keep sharp. Both were now on the coffee-table before her, Juliet hunched over the map tracing her journey with the tip of her blade.

There was one problem she couldn’t solve: this was not a journey she could make alone. Juliet survived her journey to Boston on sheer luck and willpower. She would risk her own life, but not Ethan’s. She had to get there alive.

Her blade stilled, its tip pierced through the rough paper into the hardwood table. Juliet’s racing thoughts had settled on the one person she knew had both spent a significant amount of time outside of the QZ and had a route out…

Joel Miller. 

Fuck.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 23

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Murder, violence, torture, gore, sex

Blood & (Rearranging) Guts

There was a giddy atmosphere on the Victoria Punk. The crew was bustling around, pushing canons, loading guns, sharpening blades. Your weapon, of course, was already sharp and loaded, but you wanted something else, which is why you were rummaging around in the kitchen. You hoped Killer wouldn't mind if you borrowed some things. It wouldn't take long to catch up to the Marine ship, especially at the pace you were moving. Kid ordered the Punk to sail at full speed once they were sure they were pursuing the right ship.

Back on deck, Minerva found you and followed you to where Killer and Kid were standing. Whatever their conversation was, it stopped when you walked over.

"Don't stop on my account." You leaned against the railing, looking towards the bow, which would be approaching the other ship any minute. 

"Well, princess, we were just sayin how ya shouldn't expect any of us to watch yer back," Kid started. "Since ya like to remind us that yer not a part of this crew so much."

Your eyes rolled at the pet name. You were the precise opposite of a princess. "Don't expect me to watch yours either, Captain," You mocked. "Try to stay out of my way, would you?" You patted his back condescendingly as you walked past him, headed towards the bow. You wanted to have the first opportunity to board. 

Killer caught your shoulder, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "Those better not be from my kitchen, darlin." His low voice vibrated against your ear.

"Nothing gets by you, huh?" You motioned for him to bend down again so you could whisper back, "I'm sure I can make it up to you somehow." You winked at him and continued to the bow.

You sat on Mini's back, waiting for your chance to board. The ships were close enough to exchange canon fire. It seemed like Eustass was having fun flinging their cannonballs back at them. You made a mental map of the path you needed to take to get to Giemsa the fastest. You figured Kid would be distracted by killing the marine grunts, but you didn't trust him not to kill your prey if he found him first. 

Finally, the marine ship was close enough. Your fingers tightened in Mini's fur as she barreled towards them, using the railing as a kicking off point for an extra boost. To say the men on board were shocked to see an enormous hog land on the ship was an understatement. Using their moment of shock, you tore through them to get to the stairwell. You didn't even have to ask Mini to cover you. That was a given.

Everything else was tuned out the moment you put your hand on the handle of your gunblade. It was slower getting up the stairs, since you had the low ground. Normally, a captain should be fighting with their men, but you knew Giemsa was a coward at heart, only fighting people he could overpower. You were saving your bullets, however, the task of getting up the stairs was slower than you liked, and you were an impatient woman. Luckily, the stairs were narrow, which lended itself to lining the men up nicely for you. You plunged your knife into the belly of the man in front of you until the barrels of the gun portion of your weapon were flush against him. The line of men in front of you fell to their knees as you pulled the trigger. Infusing your weapon with haki let you shoot through the lot of them. Now, it was a semi-clear path, you just had to climb over some bodies or push some over the railing. You heard the wails of them behind you as Mini also stepped over them, a few hundred pounds heavier than yourself. You really didn't care if you killed them or not. They would die eventually and they would die suffering. Maybe they didn't even know about what their captain was up to. That didn't matter to you either. Guilt by association. Your moral compass had broken along with your spirit back then.

The closer you got to Giemsa's office, the more your heart raced. Not with anxiety or fear, but excitement. Just thinking about your plans for him brought a smile to your face. That smile was incredibly unsettling to the marines that encountered you. The ones who fought you were unnerved and some were frightened away altogether by what they saw. You let them go. The Kid Pirates were behind you after all. You wondered which enemy was more terrifying to them. 

Mini had a blast barreling through the throngs of marines that were trying to defend their captain. Her coarse fur and thick skin prevented their blades from doing much harm, even more so because the wielders were pathetically weak. The boar would spear through her adversaries with her tusks and shake her head back and forth to fling them off. And if she didn't kill them like that, she trampled them. Clearly, she had a lot of pent up energy from being stuck on a boat, unable to run around. 

Walking through the now-clear hall, you stood in front of the door you knew led to Giemsa. Instead of kicking it open, you knocked in code. It was something marines did sometimes to identify each other if they didn't know who was on the other side of the door. Thinking you were another marine, you were told to enter. He was facing away from you, hurriedly explaining the situation on a Den Den Mushi. "M-mayday! T-there's Kid Pirates everywhere. They-" He was cut off as you shot the snail from his hand. Good. He thinks it's only Kid Pirates. He did until he turned around. Then, whatever state of despair he was in was multiplied tenfold as his eyes went wide.

"Didn't I tell you I would come back?" You sat on his desk, across from him, gun pointed at his head. "Lose your weapons, pretty please." He did as he was told, pulling his sword from its scabbard and throwing it down. "Good boy, now strip." He gave you a pathetic look. "I don't trust you to actually disarm yourself, so strip." You used your gun to point to where you wanted him to stand. "And bring your chair over here."

He slowly started to disrobe. "Y-you know there's other marines on their way. A-admirals maybe even."

You put a warning shot through the wall next to his head. "Shut up and strip. No one is coming for your bitch ass." Where the fuck are you, Kid? I'm not waiting. You bit your lip. Maybe you could just do a tiny bit of torture and then heal him before Kid comes so he's a fresh canvas. You tied him to the chair with his own clothes, save for the jacket, which you were now cutting your trophy from. As you shoved it in your pocket for later, there was a loud commotion from outside. There he is. Giemsa's eyes shifted between you and Kid as the red-headed captain entered. As much as you didn't want to share this moment, you delighted in seeing Giemsa's hope of surviving this evaporate before your eyes. 

"Took you long enough."

"I was cleaning up yer mess! Ya left a bunch of them alive!" 

"They were gonna die eventually."

"Don't ya like to watch em die though?"

"You guys are psychopaths!" Giemsa couldn't stop himself from blubbering out loud. It wasn't the smartest move, drawing the attention of both of you.

You took a small paring knife out of your belt. Kid laughed behind you. "So THAT's why Killer was in a huff this morning."

"I'm borrowing it." 

Kid's curiosity was thoroughly piqued. Usually he went for the big knives if he wanted to torture someone. "Show me what ya got, Sea Snake."

You lifted Giemsa's chin in your hand. "Since you enjoyed so much what was done to my face, I'll grant you the honor of matching." 

Before you started, you tore a few strips of fabric from his discarded clothes. With some, you gagged him, and with the others, you wrapped them around your left hand. With the small knife, you started to trace a rough outline of your scars, replicated on his face. He whimpered. "Oh hush. I haven't even started. Just wait until I get to your eye." You took the little knife, starting from his head, and went over the small lines you had made, cutting until you could see the silvery sheen of fascia. Gripping the flap of skin with your fabric-wrapped hand, you started puling and cutting at the same time, no easy task when your materials were struggling beneath your hands. The fabric in your hand helped you keep your grip on the otherwise slick with blood flesh.

A hand came from the side of you and tightly gripped Giemsa by the hair so that he couldn't move his head. You gave a questioning look to Kid. "What?! The faster yer done, the faster I get a turn." Kid watched intently as you skinned half the man's head. No question you had practice with it. There was a finesse to your work. Even after blood was dripping down your elbows, you never lost your grip. Kid almost forgot to revel in the man's torment because he was so lost in the way your hands worked, and how good they looked glistening in red-brown hues.

It was satisfying to watch the skin peel away. Yes, you were aware that it was pretty fucked up to be enjoying this. No, you didn't care. He had it coming. Briefly, as you held up the skin you had cut away, you wondered if you could mail it to Marine Headquarters, similar to what the Warlord, Trafalgar Law, had done. You smirked at your handiwork. Just as your face had been marred, so too, was his. Flinging the skin towards where Mini was waiting, you went back to the task at hand.

Your hand squeezed over Kid's, making sure his grasp was firm. "Hold him tight. This is the best part."

Kid felt his skin heat up where you had left a bloody handprint. The way you bit your lip with concentration and how your voice was practically a purr when you gave him instruction made his heart race. 

You grabbed the side of Giemsa's head that was missing skin, causing an intense stinging pain to him, though you barely heard his shrieking through your intense focus. Sliding your thumb up, you dipped it towards his eye. "I really wish you could live and learn what it feels like to have your vision taken from you, but sadly, you do have to die." Pushing your thumb under his eye, it was warm and wet. You maneuvered your hand to loosen the muscles holding the eye in place. During this, Giemsa screamed so hard you thought he passed out for a minute. Finally, his eye popped out, hanging on by the nerve. Wrapping it around your finger, you yanked on it. You held it up in front of his other eye so he could see it, IF he could see it, given that blood and tears were running down his face. "Mini." The boar had been patiently waiting in the background, Killer had been, too, you noticed. She opened her mouth for you to toss your prize into. 

Wiping your hands on your clothes, you let out a sigh. Even though it should have been the opposite, for a normal person, you felt a weight lift from you. This was a catharsis. "Your turn, Captain." You walked past him towards Killer. "Try to impress me." Kid growled at your remark and immediately went to work on Giemsa, choosing blunt force as his tool.

It was hard to understand the flayed man, though you could make out him asking why Kid was now his torturer.

"Cuz ya fucked with me and my crew." Kid had the man encased in various metal pieces, crushing different parts of him as he pleased. "And based on what I've heard of ya, I can only guess what yer plans were with my girls." You could hear bones break from across the room. 

Killer had his arms folded, watching the little show in front of him. "Nice technique." 

You were sharpening the paring knife with a small whet stone, also borrowed from the kitchen. "Thanks," you grinned.

The blonde was definitely displeased with your use of kitchen tools. "You could have asked if we had any knives specifically for this."

"Oh yeah, Killer. Let me just ask for your finest torturing instruments." As if that was the weirdest thing that you could have done at this point. "You barely let me have my own weapon. AND I know the kitchen knives are way sharper."

"Not anymore." His voice was softer.

"Oh my god. Are you pouting?" It was in his tone. Cute.

"Don't push it. I didn't have to let you take them." Killer tilted his head. "I was curious about what you were gonna do."

"I told you I would make it up to you." 

"You will." 

His deep voice sent a shiver up your spine and you weren't mad at his threat. A particularly loud scream drew your attention back to Kid. "Don't kill him! That honor is mine, remember?" You got closer to see what he was doing. You could tell he overdid it. There were shards of metal sticking out of Giemsa everywhere and he was nearly unrecognizable with swelling and bruising. "Come on, Kid!" You pushed him exasperatedly. "He's practically dead!" 

"But he's not!" Kid wiped his brow, getting rid of sweat, yet smearing deep red across it. "I held my end of the deal up."

"Barely." 

"So-rry I don't have fancy knife skills like ya." He feigned an apology and snickered. 

"Okay." You said, nodding irritatedly. "Then you're gonna learn." You handed him the kitchen knife, handle first.

Kid's eyebrows knit together. "Hah??"

You thrust the knife at him again. "Take it." He took it, an unsure look in his eyes. "Okay, now take the other half of his face off. You were watching how I did it." You folded your arms. Kid looked at you again and started to emulate what you had done. Killer had walked up, too, out of curiosity, to see how Kid would fare. 

Kid cursed as the knife created a buttonhole in the skin he had tried to peel off. After a few more times, he threw his hands up. The man had little patience. "Are you happy? I tried." 

"Uh-uh," you tutted. "You didn't want to stop before and you're not stopping now."A wry smile crept onto your face. "If I can't finish torturing him how I want, then you'll do." Before Kid was able to protest, you put your hand over his that was still gripping the knife, comically small in his huge hand. His arm was a lot longer than yours, putting you in a somewhat awkward position, pressed against his side. It was hard to ignore the smell of iron and sweat that radiated from him, not unpleasantly so. You tilted his hand slightly, "Your angle is wrong." The knife glided more smoothly, but it still snagged and punctured through the skin. Your usual admonishing tone was replaced with an encouraging one, "Too much force. Lighten up." You could feel Kid was tense under you. Your hand slid to his wrist and shook it until he relaxed. "That's better." You let his hand go, resting it on his shoulder next to your other hand. Once you saw he had the hang of it, you let him finish the job. Somewhat regretfully, you let go off his shoulder and stood back. 

Kid was annoyed at first, you bossing him around. He only tried it initially to stop you from bitching at him. So what if he almost killed the guy, you wanted him dead anyway, and Kid wasn't used to sharing. When you put your hand over his, though, his thoughts were instantly clouded. Even more so, when he felt the rest of your body pressed up against his. He didn't even hear what you were saying, more focused on how your words tickled his neck than anything else. Kid was only shaken back to reality when you grabbed his wrist to get him to relax. He felt you lean on his shoulder, resting your chin on it while you were watching his progress. It was either the adrenaline or the testosterone pumping through his veins, maybe it was just you, covered in blood, with your sweet lips so close to his ear and your nails digging into his skin with every stroke of the knife, like you were enjoying it; either way he wanted to sling you over his shoulder and throw you on the bed in his cabin. Now, he watched you. After he had finished, it was your turn again, even though the poor excuse of a man was hanging onto life by a thread. Kid's eyes followed your grinning face as you took out your stupid gun/knife out and pressed it to the man's throat. A part of him wished he was the one under your burning gaze, maybe with a knife, maybe sitting on top of him. Slowly, you dragged the blade over Giemsa's throat. Instead of the red spray that was typical, there was a sad, red dripping line. The look you gave to Kid was withering as you stood in front of him, yelling something about how the guy's blood pressure was so low it wasn't even satisfying. His usual instinct was to yell something back at you, yet all he wanted to do was tangle his hand in your hair and devour your blood-stained body. 

"Aw y'all look so precious torturing together," Killer was smirking under his mask, you could tell. 

You didn't have a chance to voice your rebuttal before Kid bounced a bolt off his first mate's mask. "SHUT UP, KILLER."

Killer couldn't resist. It was an easy taunt. And judging from the way both you and Kid went red, well, it was hard to tell since both of your faces were spattered in blood, Killer was sure he would do it again. Kid was so cute when he got flustered. Killer couldn't blame him though; you were something else. Killer tried not to indulge himself in thoughts of you too often. He knew you would be a fleeting thing aboard the Victoria and he preferred to take his time getting to know someone. Pretty much the opposite of Kid, who liked to get to know someone starting at whatever hole he could get to first.

It was dusk when the three of you emerged on the deck. You hadn't realized how long you had been in there for. There wasn't a soul in white remaining on the marine ship. The only living occupants were the Kid Pirates looting it for maps, gold, and food. I'm hungry. 

As if reading your mind, Killer asked his captain, "So are we going to feast tonight or what?" He was watching several crew carry kegs filled with some kind of alcohol, and crates of food fresh from the island you had just left. 

"Fuck yeah," Kid replied enthusiastically. 

As hungry as you were, you were not about to eat without washing the gore off. And you had some things you needed to get out of your mind, especially before drinking, namely Kid's scent and the way you could feel his muscles move under you. Both of those things were easier said than done. The first problem was every other girl had the same thinking as you, so all the showers were full. The second problem was that Kid was very hot and it was hard to banish certain thoughts you had about him, chiefly since you couldn't find a goddamn shower to quietly relieve that tension. 

You paced the hallway, waiting for someone to finish up. "Other people have to shower too, you know!" You banged on the door. 

"I know where there's a shower." You turned to see Kid smugly leaning against his doorframe.

You looked him up and down. "Not a chance." You couldn't take the bait that easily. You would never live it down.

He shrugged. "Suit yerself." Kid vanished into his cabin. He knew you would be back. After all, he had used his powers to turn on the showers and lock the door of the women's bathrooms. They had been long finished by now. 

You paced for another 20 minutes before giving up. Fuck it. Sighing, you knocked on Kid's door. It opened almost immediately, like he'd been expecting you. "Can I use your shower?" You mumbled.

He put his hand to his ear, like he was waiting for you to say something else.

"Can I use your shower please, Captain?"

"Only because I'm so nice," He held the door open for you. "Ya know where it is."

You expected to be jumped, but Kid was busy looking at something on his desk, maybe one of the maps they had stolen. Your brows furrowed. You shrugged your jacket to the floor, sneaking a peek over your shoulder. Nothing. You opened the door to the bathroom but didn't close it, undoing your belt and kicking your pants off, as you leaned over to turn the water on. You could see in the reflection of the metal faucet that Kid still wasn't looking. It was making you a little mad. You didn't necessarily want him to be all over you, though now you were a bit offended that he wasn't. What? I'm not hot anymore? Another thought occurred to you. Did I go too far? He's turned off by what he saw me do? 

Kid knew you were looking at him. He was pretending to look at a map, though he was actually trying to gauge your true interest in him. He was always the one that pursued you and sometimes under very dubious pretenses. But now he was genuinely curious. Did you want him? Of course he enjoyed when you struggled, because he knew you were into it, or you were eventually into it. After everything that transpired, he didn't want to accidentally overstep. It wasn't enjoyable if you weren't also enjoying yourself. 

Now, you were standing in the doorway, stark naked and still nothing. Your eyes narrowed. Okay. I'll get his attention. One well-aimed shot did the trick. 

Kid's head snapped up, finally looking at you. "WOMAN, ARE YA INSANE?" That was so close he could feel the heat from the bullet. 

"You didn't even peek at me!" 

Kid slammed his fist on the desk. "Gods, ya know I wanted to! I thought if I ignored ya, ya might put yer titties in my face or somethin! Not shoot at me!" 

You shrugged. Yeah that's probably what a normal woman would do. "I guess." You walked over and stood in front of his desk, hands clasped behind your back. 

"Don't ya fuckin act shy now! Ya shot at me and tried to seduce me."

A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth. "I thought maybe..." You bit your lip. "I thought maybe I went a little... overboard earlier... and scared you off." 

Kid threw his head back and laughed. "Are ya fuckin kiddin me? I'm Captain fucking Kid! It was the hottest thing I've ever seen." Kid stood up and started to undo his belts.

"No. Stop." You walked around the side of his desk and gently pushed him to sit back down. "Let me." You slid down between his knees, a little too eager to get past the obstacles between you and his dick. He helped you tug his pants down far enough to let his cock spring free, sucking in a sharp breath when you spit on it and took it in your hand. You knew you would gag if you tried to take the entire thing so you focused on the tip and used your hand for the rest.

Killer chose that moment to pop his head in, since the door was wide open. All he could see was Kid at his desk. "Hey, are you gonna get in?" He said thumb over his shoulder pointing to the shower. "Water's been on for a while." 

Kid made some intelligible grunting noise.

Killer couldn't tell if that was a yes or no. "What?" He looked down at the floor, littered with your clothes, and back to Kid, who had his head tilted back. Killer was fairly familiar with that face. "You're gettin sucked off, aren't you?" He sighed. "Okay, well I'm gonna get in then." He started to close the door, mumbling about wasting hot water.

You heard Killer in the doorway ask Kid something, as you bobbed your head up and down. Remembering your promise to make it up to him for stealing his kitchen knives, you poked your head up. "You wanna join?" 

Killer faltered for a moment before slamming the door, making you snicker. 

Kid pushed your head back down. "Girlie, you're mine fer tonight. I ain't sharin," he growled, gripping your hair and making you go faster.

Your eyes were tearing up as his cock nearly made you choke every time he pushed your head down. Suddenly, he pulled you off him and up, pulling his legs closer together so you could comfortably sit on top of him. Kid was very obviously impatient as he grabbed your hips and pushed you down on his cock, filling you up in one swift motion. You buried your head into his head and moaned. His grip prevented you from grinding on him, which you desperately wanted to do, instead bouncing you up and down on him. With each downward motion, he was hitting your cervix. It was painful, but it was a good pain. You felt his tongue slide up the side of your neck, him moaning as he tasted the remaining blood and  biting at your ear. You yelped but returned the favor, alternating biting at his neck and licking at the blood that was dried on it, from his shoulder to behind his ear. "You're disgusting," you breathily whispered. "I like that about you." Kid laughed between panting and lifted you up, slamming your back against the desk, him hulking over you. As you cried out, he bent down and shoved his tongue in your mouth. Both of you sucking at each other's tongues and biting at each other's lips. Your hands found his hair and tugged him closer to you. He swallowed every moan you gave up for him. The way your thighs gripped him tighter and tighter gave away how close you were. 

"Hate me so much but yer little pussy can't get enough of me can it?" Kid teased. "Say it." Kid pressed his thumb into your clit.

"I h-hate you." You played dumb on purpose, defiantly smirking up at him. 

Kid growled and closed his metal and on your throat. "No, the other thing," he hissed through clenched teeth, clearly trying to hold out. 

"T-this..Nnnlittle," you couldn't think straight between his thumb rolling across your clit and the deep strokes he was pounding into you. "Fuck!" Your back involuntarily arched and heat filled your body, sending waves of shaking pleasure down to your curling toes. 

The rhythmic clenching of your sopping wet pussy drove Kid over the edge. He wanted to stay buried in it, but he pulled out and sent ropes of hot cum to splatter across your body that was so beautifully laid out for him on his desk. The only thing that would be better was if the blood was still wet so he could really make a mess of you and smear it together with his cum. You both stayed like that until you caught your breath. 

It sounded like Killer was done in the shower. He probably showered as fast as possible so he didn't have to hear Kid fucking you. Kid took off the rest of his clothes before slapping your tit and squeezing it. "Get yer ass in the shower. I'm tryna eat that pussy, too." 

He didn't have to tell you twice and soon your back was pressed against the cool side of the shower, both your legs over Kid's shoulders. His tongue and fingers were unrelenting as he ripped another orgasm from you. You doubled over, gripping so tightly at his hair that your fingers were cramping, toes curling so hard that they were cramping, too. "Ah! F-fuck! Fuck!" Partly crying out from pleasure and partly crying out from pain. Kid finally let you down, stabilizing you with his arm when your legs refused to stop shaking.

He taunted you, "Poor brat can't even stand on her own." 

"Shut up," you pushed his arm away. You started washing up, trying to get the dried blood out of your hair. Kid did the same. "Did I miss any spots?" 

Kid looked you over and used his thumb to rub away something from your temple. "What about me?" 

You looked at him with his wet, red hair plastered on his pale forehead. His appearance was so different without his lipstick and goggles. "Just your ugly-ass face." You flicked his crooked nose. 

"Rotten, yer so lucky I'm hungry or I would fuck ya until ya lost yer voice from screamin so loud." Kid squished your cheeks in his hand. "Then ya couldn't run that smart mouth of yers."

You giggled at his threat, turning your head to his thumb and resting your lips on it, playfully taking it in your mouth and coming off it with a 'pop'. "What are you doing after dinner?" Your lust-filled eyes slid up to meet his. 

When you both eventually emerged from below deck, everyone else was already deep into the festivities, and by festivities, you meant booze. Killer sipped through a straw and waved to Kid, leaning back in a chair. Everyone else was horsing around or stuffing their faces. You looked around and saw Heat beckoning you over. Next to him was Wire. 

"I see you're friendly with the captain again." Heat casually observed. He was doing something with a bunch of bottles half-full of liquid. 

You were surprised to see the marine ship still tethered to theirs. "Yeah, well, we were going over a map." You were certainly doing somethingover a map.

"Does that usually involve biting each other's necks?" Heat saw your glare and held his hands up. "Just askin. I don't know. I'm not a captain or anything."

Wire laughed at that.

"Fuck off, Heat." You laughed, touching your hand to your neck. You could heal them, but you really didn't care who saw or what they thought. Though you knew Quincy, Dive, and Emma would definitely give you a hard time. "Why is this thing still here?"

Heat was now stuffing rags into the tops of the bottles. "Every party needs a bonfire, Y/N." He handed you a few and lit the rags for you.

A grin split your face. "I see." You cocked your arm back and threw one bottle after the other towards the other ship. 

Wire and Heat did the same next to you and a few others joined as well. When the other ship was fully engulfed, the ropes tethering it were cut. You leaned against the railing and watched it burn. The heat from the fire rolled over your face. It felt good. One down. Two to go. You sighed. What would you do now? Leave at the next island? Stick around? No one had asked you to leave or stay. You were dragged out of your thoughts, no, literally dragged, you noticed. There was a purple glow and you felt some kind of metal around your center. Kid. He set you on a bench between himself and Killer. 

"Come sit with us, girlie," Kid slung his arm over your shoulders. "How does revenge feel?"

Killer set a mug down in front of you, complete with a straw like his. You took a long drink. "Feels even better with a lovely bonfire afterwards." The other ship was slowly drifting away. You turned back to Killer, who was taking things from his plate, like chicken bones, or other inedible scraps, and putting the under the table. You glanced under the table, already knowing what you would see, and looked back at him with a warmth in your eyes. Mini was happily munching on a pile of scraps that had been dumped at her feet, evidently placed there by not just Killer, but Heat and Wire, too, based on the cleanliness of their plates. 

Killer scratched behind his neck. "Seems better than tossing it in the garbage." Killer hated wasting food. 

You had wondered why Mini hadn't greeted you when you came on deck. Her heart had been swayed by chicken bones and apple cores. After eating your fill, you sat at the table and listened to Wire and Heat brag about who killed more marines. It was the most you heard Wire say so far. Kid joined the conversation, but instead of bragging about himself, he was telling them what you had done. 

"Ya should have seen it! Maybe the next one ya can show em." Kid elbowed you in the side.

Both Killer and you lent a sideways glance to Kid. Next one? 

Kid laughed. "She used Killer's good kitchen knives, too." He grabbed his friend's shoulder. "Probably only let her get away with it cuz she's got good-" It was your turn to elbow him. Hard.

"You talk too much when you're drunk." You got up from the table and went to find the girls. You wanted to hang out with them. If for no other reason than to avoid hear anything embarrassing come out of Kid's mouth. Just as you thought, they were unrelenting in their teasing when they saw the marks on your neck. "Whatever. At least I'm getting laid." You flipped them off. This started bickering between them when Emma was caught in a lie, claiming that she had, in fact, also gotten aid recently. Then Quincy started bitching about how there weren't many good options on board and she couldn't wait until they docked in another few days so they could hit the bar. You were in a fit of laughter as they started physically fighting, yanking each others' hair. You were all too distracted to notice Kid coming up and hoisting you over his shoulder. 

It was the best night of sleep you had had since the first time you had slept in this bed. You were tangled in sheets and covered in red lipstick. Black sheets were a wise choice when you went to bed in red lipstick all the time, you supposed. Kid was in a deep sleep, snoring the house down. How you slept through that, you would never know. You stretched out and finally noticed the reason you had woken up: Killer was staring at you from the foot of the bed. You sat up quickly. "Uh, a 'good morning' would be less creepy." 

He tossed a white piece of clothing at you. "Kitchen. 10 minutes." It was an apron.

You were still a little tired and sore from the night prior. But this intrigued you. You rushed out of bed, quickly washed up, and threw clothes on. Trying not to appear too eager, you went to the galley. "So am I making it up to you in this?"  You gestured to the white apron. 

Killer nodded. He walked up to you and adjusted the apron slightly. "Close your eyes." 

You did as he asked. Killer was a bit of a mystery to you, but you thought he was probably kinky. You felt his hands at your waist, lightly positioning you in front of the counter. He put something in your hand and curled your fingers around it. It wasn't what you thought it would be. You opened your eyes. In front of you was a cutting board and some vegetables. 

Killer was very amused by the confused expression on your face. "Get chopping, darlin." He started prepping some other things.

"What's this?"

"This is how you're making it up to me, line cook." 

You blinked at him. "Are you serious? I thought..." Your face flushed. The mood soured for you as you realized you would not be getting any morning action. 

Killer laughed. "You thought I was gonna fuck you."

"No!" It was hard to be mad at him when his laugh was so disarming. 

"You did." 

You channeled your frustration into chopping. 

Next Chapter

[jazzythursday]

Omg what’s sun summoner Jesper!?! 😱

Hi! I’m so glad you asked!

Sun summoner Jesper is a wip I started on a whim a while back. It follows show canon for sab but with Jesper in Alina’s place and Wylan in Mal’s (but with a lot of mixing and matching, i.e., Wylan is a cartographer and Jesper is a soldier, etc.) what I have so far is mostly based on the first 15 minutes of s1e1. Kaz and Inej also make appearances as Jesper’s friends and fellow soldiers (though I have Kaz as more of a strategist and assistant to Per Haskell, who in this is the lieutenant)

I want to tackle at least one other au before I dive into this one (probably my Rapunzel au) because if never written a long plot-driven fic, but I do definitely want to return to it eventually. There’s a lot still up in the air story-wise—I don’t know how Nina and Matthias will play into it, who the Darkling is, or if I’m going to use other characters to swap roles with the crows. I do know that it will span, at the very least, the plot of season 1 and probably a lot of season 2… and also that Kuwei is going to be Zoya.

You didn’t ask for a snippet, but I can’t really help myself, so here’s a decent chunk that takes place towards the beginning of chapter 1:

“Bit quick on the draw there,” Kaz chastens, as Jesper finishes re-loading the barrel of his rifle and pointing it at the target once more. He fires off a quick shot, one that lands directly between the eyes of the target dummie’s head. He follows it up with a second hit to the same spot, just to prove a point. Jesper cocks his head to the side, raises an eyebrow to match Kaz’s own arch look.

“You were saying?”

Unimpressed as ever, Kaz returns to his tent. That he expects Jesper to follow is just a given, one that he doesn’t bother with the directive for. He sits at his desk—a makeshift bureau of used crates and an old door strapped to the top—he finishes counting off his share of their earnings and passes the rest to Jesper.

“Don’t get cocky,” he says, continuing their conversation from before, “and don’t”—he points a judgemental, solitary finger at Jesper—“get fancy. I don’t need the other soldiers getting jealous enough to want to take you down a peg or two because of flash. Someone will get the bright idea to tell Haskell.”

“Aw, you think they’re jealous?” Jesper bats his eyes and pretends to swoon. “Of little ol’ me? Re-ally? Who? Tell me. Tell-me-tell-me-tell-me—”

“Bolinger looked like he’d rather use you for target practice more than that dummy after today.”

“Aw Kaz, are you worried? I never knew you cared.”

Kaz looks at him. If looks could kill, Jesper thinks, knowing Kaz Brekker would have killed him a thousand times over by now.

“Not just Bolinger. Keeg looked about ready to stage a mutiny.”

“Keeg’s a sore loser, that’s nothing new. It isn’t my fault he bet on the poor shot.”

“Would you just stop for—Hello Inej.”

Jesper blinks. “What?”

“Kaz is right,” says Inej, standing right next to them, and Jesper jumps.

“Fucking Saints!” he pants, hand over his chest to feel his racing heartbeat. “Warn the guy with the gun, people!” He lifts up his rifle and shakes it a bit for effect. “Gun, weapon”—he gestures to the rifle, then points to himself—“me, Jesper. What is confusing here?”

Kaz rolls his eyes and Inej smiles fondly at them both.

“What news?” Kaz asks her, their standard greeting.

“Nothing you don’t already know. Bolliger is whinging about Jes thrashing him in the match.”

Jesper can just feel Kaz’s eyes on him. There goes another life. “What else?” he asks, instead of giving Kaz the satisfaction of looking back.

“That’s everything. Oh”—her eyes widen—“and they just brought in a new caravan. Cartographers, from what I’ve heard. They're combining them with our unit to go south.”

Jasper starts walking straight out of the tent. He slings his rifle over his shoulder, tucking the prize winnings away, deep into his pocket. He doesn’t give his friends an explanation—he doesn’t have time to—he’s already striding across camp. Moving purposefully towards where he knows any new caravans full of cartographers would have been parked.

Cartographers, Jesper thinks, trying and failing to tamp down on the fluttery hope rising within him. Cartographers could mean—

“Jes!”

Jesper stops dead in his tracks. There's a swarm of butterflies made up of half hope and half fear flapping up his spine. He turns, and is met with familiar wild auburn curls and wide, crystalline blue eyes.

Jesper might not be special, but right now, he’s feeling pretty fucking lucky.

“Wylan!”

They run—literally run—to meet each other's outstretched arms, crashing and holding onto each other tightly.

“Wy,” Jesper whispers. He closes his eyes and rests his head on top of Wylan’s, soft curls pillowing his cheek. Wylan melts into him, head buried in Jesper’s large coat, hugging him even tighter.

Wylan looks up, but doesn’t try to put any further space between them in the slightest. He grins. “Jesper.”

It’s a good look on him, Jesper thinks. Smiling. It makes the freckles dotted all across the bridge of his nose to his cheeks crinkle up like clusters of stars. It makes his eyes look like precious gems. Like solid cut sapphire.

Thanks for playing!

[artemisia-black]

Hii! Do you have Lilypad headcanons?

Lilypad is now one of my top ships for Sirius so I have loads of thoughts.

Despite coming from different worlds, they’ve got this fierce resilience that draws them to each other. They know what it feels like to be the outsider and they both also share a dark, biting sense of humour that strengthens their bond, as they both like to crack jokes as a way of coping. (In my opinion, Harry’s sass is all Lily.)

Sirius is drawn to her intelligence and her ability to challenge him. He’s never been one to look for someone to follow his lead. She’s no pushover, and there’s a bit of danger to her that he finds just as thrilling (he canonically gets shook when she pulls her wand on him). And although Lily is incredibly kind, he knows she’s got a streak of fire beneath the warmth.

Also let’s be real, Lily is a baddie and they are peak bi panic as a couple.

Dates are never predictable with them, but Sirius wants to show her his London, and he likes to take her to hidden gems. But then there are those nights when he likes to pull out all the stops. For special occasions, it’s high-end restaurants and lavish setups, and he’ll even cover her outfit because spoiling her is almost like foreplay for him. Once, he got her a necklace that made her wince with how expensive it was.

Early on, when they’re sharing a few drunken kisses and casual dates, Sirius admits to her that he’s hesitating about this. It isn’t that he doesn’t want something real; it’s his family that holds him back. He knows exactly what they’re capable of, the lengths they’d go to stop him from “polluting” the family bloodline. Part of him thinks it would be better to walk away, avoid dragging her into that mess. But when she looks him straight in the eye and tells him she’d fight every last one of them, that’s the moment he truly falls for her.

He still finds himself fiercely protective of her, but it’s not because he thinks she can’t take care of herself. But she lets him be protective, and for Sirius, there’s something about that balance that feels right—he wouldn’t be drawn to anyone who actually needed saving, but he’s completely captivated by someone who’s dangerous, fiery, and lets him stand beside her anyway.

And Lily, doesn’t just melt for him like everyone else does, and that’s part of what makes her so appealing. He can’t just flash a grin and have his way with her, and that’s refreshing. And when she finally does give in to her attraction, it feels real in a way he’s never quite experienced before.

[heartthrobxhook]

@fornassau closed starter

After some long weeks of planning and convincing the other pirate captains of Nassau to work together, it was time to launch an assault on the blockade. The Jolly Roger had gotten past to begin with because she had was not a pirate ship on paper, having skillfully avoided leaving any witnesses when attacking the english whenever he had made port he was merely a merchant that imported goods. Now this fight would be a daring attack. Four english frigates and one large galleon flagship formed the blockade. The galleon was Killian's main target when he launched the attack, the other four ships would be who the other pirates would focus their attacks on.

That evening the backup hid in the shadows of the cliffside and come dawn the Jolly Roger began sailing right for the blockade. The english made no move to stop him, having the united kingdom's flag flying he was allowed to pass and they were all none the wiser. Once they sailed past was when the plan was set into motion. Killian began to sing, commanding his crew with a shanty as they took down the english colors and raised their pirate flag. The crew worked to the beat of stomping boots and Killian's voice as the cannons were loaded and the shipped turned to take aim at the galleon.

"FIRE!" With Killian's command the long range cannons shot out, all sixteen cannon balls hit their unsuspecting target. Early morning the navy was not ready for a fight so the pirates had plenty of time to quickly reload and fired upon them again before the ships began to react. This was when the other captains sailed out from hiding and began their own assault. The confusion of being attacked from both sides was their advantage as the navy would be frantic on who they should attack. Killian ordered them to sail closer and he brought James over to the unique mortar cannon. Unlike the normal cannons on a ship that shot straight out, the mortar shot up into the sky to drop the ammunition down onto the deck. He and two other of the crew would show James how to aim a lob shot like this and when they were within range Killian had the other captain be the one to ignite and shoot it.

After the mortar went off the pirate ship would turn broadside so the cannons that were ready would shoot as they worked together to load the mortar again. The navy would return fire but Jolly was already turning swiftly the opposite way, cannon balls whooshing past but not hitting the beautiful agile ship. With the mortar reloaded this time they aimed at one of the frigates, fired again this hit dealt critical damage having gone straight through the deck down through the hull that it began sinking. The ship would turn to it's other side, this time the call to brace for impact was shouted by Smee and the pirates had enough time to take cover as some shots blasted into the ships hull and one ripping through a sail. "RETURN FIRE!" Killian commanded and the cannons blasted, much closer at this point they did serious damage to the large galleon.

"RAMMING SPEED!" Killian called out with adrenaline and excitement of the thrill of battle racing through him. The helmsman spun the ship's wheel to turn Jolly to maneuver the waters to go around the galleon's side then face it head on. The captain rushed across the deck to the bow of the ship as his vessel charged forward. A reckless tacktick many would say was too dangerous as it could damage one's own ship and would leave them vulnerable to a point blank attack. But the navy did not expect this aggression and were completely rocked to their core upon impact. Killian was ready though, just after hitting he wasted no time climbing onto the railing and dashing over the bowsprit so he could leap onto the other ship. Some of his crew followed as their captain drew his sword and lead the attack, others took up to the smaller mounted canons on the front of the ship as well as rifles to shoot at the english crew.